#it seems so easy. but that's not a good option for me
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*sets the sofa, sits down* AND WE RIGHT AWAY START FROM THE PROWL IS AND WILL BE A MURDERED STATEMENT. GOOD AHAHAH Love how much Prowl improved in reading emotions. Orion. You ask Prowl something that he probably memorized from the book and he of course will tell you a book definition. Don't cut it with your merely "It's a massacre" Still wonder at the fact of how much functionists had to f*** up the whole situation for the beasts, who are more than capable of intelligent thinking and just different by their mode or different things that can not even appear in them in the first place, for this whole situation to appear that even the "compromise" seems like a hardly reachable option. I understand if other monsters who are, more bests than mechas. But most of them seem to be, decent, normal, minding their business, just trying to find a fuel/food, yeah, this last is easily solvable.
Yeah, Orion, exactly, let me sit with you
Oh, here we are, Orion snaps at Prowl. Do it, he went in a different direction, the one leading to murder and blood, you know. The problems that are solved hard way are never logical ahah, good luck, Prowl *looks at Orion trying to see a glimpse of emotion from Prowl for at least his own death to crack his logic* I need a minute Orion for god's sake could you like, fake laws and give him your own written full of ponies and funsies?? You were giving him official books with laws, I'm sure a lot of written by Functionalists and you expect to break the logic that was based on it??? OH RATCHET. PROWL CAN DO NOTHING. OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAYOKA YAOKAYAOKAY. OKAY. NO ONE SAID RATCHET??? RATCHET, COULD, JUST, ARRRGHHHHHH BASTARDS ORION AND SHOCKWAVE MAXED THE "LOOK AWAY IN TIME" ABILITY BUT NO ONE TOLD RATCHET? OH YES. GETTING RID OF YOUR OWN SIGHT AND LEAVE. I BET THIS IS NOT A LOGICAL THING TO CONSIDER FOR PROWL EHEHHEHEE OH MY GOD sorry I need to sit because. Yes clean floor is an easy goal. But Prowl. You are. About to get such a big and complicated to reach goal that it is so mindblowing to now look at you and consider other golems. (Eh, sudden thought of someone getting off his artefact) Prowl. on which side you play I don't understand anymore. Are you trying to make a god out of Orion to scare functionalists by actually making good for them or what.
PROWL YOU COULD. YOU COULD COME UP WITH SUCH GREAT PLANS OF MASS MIGRATION OR AT LEAST BETTER HIDINGS FOR THEM. TRICKING ALL THE TROOPS. YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO FIGHT EVIL, NOT JOIN IT. oh, CONGRATS, your education went to the point where it became wrong! Congrats, Prowl, we are on a changing point ahah! YES IT IS HIS ARMY. HIS ARMY OF POWERFUL, MAGICAL, SAVED AND THANKFUL BEASTS WHO CAN FIGHT FOR SHOCKWAVE, AND I ACTUALLY WISH THAT THEY DID. I WISH THEY DID BEFORE IT WAS TOO LATE. PROWL CAUGHT HIS BEFORE HE EVEN STUMBLED. PROWL MAKES WRONG THINGS BUT. BUT THE FACT THAT HE ACTUALLY COVERS HIM THIS WAY NO MATTER HOW BAD IT IS. I'M SURE ORION IS NOT HAPPY. SHOCKWAVE HAS NO ONE TO COVER HIM WHERE IT COULD KILL HIM. BUT EVERYTHING AROUND HIM IS BUILT WITH GREEN WALLS THAT ARE MUCH STRONGER THAN DENSE WALLS OF BLOOD.
I have several levels of uncomfortable feelings from this part
YOU DID NOT JUST GO TO SHOCKWAVE'S ACADEMY. THEY ARE NOT THE BEASTS YOU CAN TOUCH. EVER. OH MY FRICKING GOD OKAY HERE I CRY FOR REAL. THE SCENE OF HIM. SWORD AND BOOK. PROTECTING WITH EVERYTHING HE HAS. STANDING LIKE A MOUNTAIN AND THE PRIMUS ITSELF
THE COUNCIL WOULDN'T LET HIM DO THIS.... ..... what...... The burns are from?..
............ I just understand that. That I'm sure the way Shockwave "changed" is so many times harder and more powerful because of who he is and what he is capable of... Get Prowl, Orion nd Ratchet at one table and ask them if what they do will find a punishment from Primus.
............
....................... When Orion is in troubled feelings Prowl searches for Shockwave. All goals are tangled, lost and complicated. His goal became something he cannot reach no more since it evolved too hard. Oh my god I wanna see how... how that goal, something he cannot reach no more, just becomes a part of him, like a self forged motor heart of his, just to keep living. Are they... Shockwave's students?... F** THEY ARE I AM CRYING AGAIN SHIT F** YOU KEF I CANNOT NO MORE DON'T JSHDEDC AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OKAY BREATH, COMEONE. LAST WILL. *INTENSIFIES CRYING* F*** YOUUUUUUUUUU THEY. EVERYTHING. HE LEFT EVERYTHING TO ORION. SKIDS???? THUNDERCRACKER?? OH DID ORION NEVER HOLD SHOCKWAVE'S SWORD??? or just became too weak from all the events... OH MY GOD THE SCENE OF KNEELING, THE SCENE OF THE STUDENT OF THEIR PASSED MASTER ON THE VERGE OF CRYING AND ALL THE STUDENTS OF HIS DEAR FRIEND KNEELING BEFORE HIM. I AM DEAD NO ONE TALK TO ME. PROWL LOOK. LOOK WHAT AN ILLOGICAL LONG TERM EFFORT MAKES. IT MAKES LITERALLY INEFFICIENT MIRACLE. THE MIRACLE THAT IS WORTH ALL THE PERCENTAGES. YOU DO NOT KILL AND WORK FOR IT TO BE MORE THAN ONE DAY MERCY I mean Ratchet got a boyfriend this way come on
WEHGEHGEWFHWFEWE HELP. I imagined that Shockwave had a score system or something for Skids to actually say "Best student" as something not of a brag level SHOCKWAVE YOU SMART SWEET ROLL I LOVE YOU. HE KNEW HOW TO DO IT RIGHT. SUCK IT COUNCIL AND COUNCIL DARE YOU TO TRY TO USE IT IN YOUR ADVANTAGE.
PROWL I SWEAR TO ALL THE GODS
(side note can I kiss you for just... rotating every possible side of Prowl? Like, I am just, suddenly understood that just a thing of Prowl assuming that Shockwave could betray Orion is something so fittable for him since he considers everything but just... when you look at it from the side of coming up with it. I wouldn't??)
SHOCKWAVE WHAT DID YOU DO.
They are still not executed. So I am sure it isn't about the saving monsters thing. I think Prowl leads the idea in the right direction. I am confused though at why Shockwave turned into demon at this exact time. What was the trigger. I am leaning closer to the dark magic than betrayal anyway
THE GOD MUST BE WRONG
RIGHT DIRECTION, PROWL.
ARE YOU... did you just... led him straight to mimics plotline....
Part 2 of Golem!Prowl AU!
_____________________
âI hate it,â Orion sighs.
âIt's understandable. But you can't change the system from the inside without becoming part of it first.â
âI was hoping I could become part of it without becoming a murderer.â
âIt's okayâ says Prowl âYou don't have to. That's what you have me for.â
Orion twitches.
Part 1. Next->
The fic under the cut⤾ď¸
Orion looks...sick. Worried. Scared.
âProwl, do you know what the Great Hunt is?â
Prowl tilts his head keeping up with the lists he received from the Council.
âTraditional raids on monsters made to consolidate control over the land holdings of regular Mechs.â
Orion rubs the bridge of his nose
âIt's a massacre.â
Prowl twitches his wing.
âIt is a measure of intimidation against creatures that cannot be negotiated with. Brutal, I don't deny that, but experience shows it works. The destructive activity of monsters lessens considerably if they know their actions can be followed by punishment.â
Orion stares at him. For a long time. Silently.
Tensely studying him, as if seeing him for the first time.
âYou think killing them instead of finding a compromise is...right?â
Prowl thinks he must be treading on unstable ground.
âI think it works. That is all. Monsters do a lot of damage with their existence. They kill, destroy and pillage. If periodically reducing their numbers reduces their damage, it confirms the effectiveness of the strategy.â
âThey just want to live. Primus' sake, they want to eat.â
Prowl sighs. More for appearances than for any real effect.
âI suppose I can't judge them for wanting to survive. It makes sense.â
Orion nods.
He looks oddly pensive.
âRatchet keeps picking up wounded...â he stammers, apparently trying to find a suitable alternative to the word monster â...wounded beastformers. I've been to his house. It's generous, but I'm afraid of what will happen if he gets caught doing it.â
Prowl frowns
âHe should have stopped.â
âYou wouldn't understand.â sighs Orion âHim. Shockwave. We want to help. To make things better. I don't need you to chide me for disobeying the rules, I need you to figure out how to change them. Ghosts and insecticons deserve freedom as much as we do.â
âBut...â
Orion looks at him angrily.
âNo. Whatever you're going to say in response to that. No. I know you're driven primarily by logic, but I need you to remember it well. All sentient beings deserve to live free. Do you understand? All of them. Period.â
Prowl rolls up the lists and interlocks his fingers in front of him. There are small scuffs on his thumbs and index fingers from constant writing. He occupies himself with running his fingers over them, feeling the difference in texture.
âMech's freedom in such a case ends where someone else's hungry jaws begin. You can't expect monsters and Mechs to just coexist in peace if you give them freedom.â
âNoâ sighed Orion âThat's why I support Shockwave's idea with creating an academy for magically gifted Mechs. He's helping to show the world that so-called 'dark creatures' can be as civilized citizens as any Mech. He teaches them to find that compromise. We can't just expect centuries of hate and fear to be forgotten once the laws change. We must direct this process. To help the Mechs understand and accept each other. Guide them, you might say.â
Prowl feels a headache coming on, as it always does when Orion requires him to logically solve a problem the answer to which lies in the feelings rather than the intellect. He's not built for this. It irritates him.
Orion stops right in front of him and puts a hand on his shoulder.
âTell me what you think of this. If...let's pretend for a second that my morality fiddles don't matter anymore. That the problem of Mechs and monsters coexisting is something you alone need to solve. And solve it in such a way that the outcome is optimal for us as a society. To maximize the number of happy citizens. What would you do?â
Prowl is silent for a moment.
Orion squeezes his shoulder lightly before continuing.
â'Free from my judgmental conclusions, Prowl. From the standpoint of pure logic. What should we do?â
What to do...Prowl's thought process finally finds a direct and understandable train of thought. Monsters make up a paltry few percent of the population of all living Mechs. The numbers fluctuate depending on which region is being considered of course.
In some cities, some types of monsters are considered just fancy Mechs. Some monsters have risen from the status of savages to being respectable Mechs over the course of history. Even Orion's best friend, Shockwave, could be regarded as a mystical creature in some regions due to his gift of flight.
Nevertheless. The percentage is still minuscule.
But even that tiny percentage takes a significant toll on the economy and quality of life, because just one uncontrollable creature can terrorize an entire city.
He notes the weight of Orion's hand on his shoulder. Not judgmental. Orion promised he wouldn't judge.
âI'd get rid of the monsters.â
âOhâ Orion blinks âLocked them in cages? Chased them away? Killed them?â
Prowl twitches his wings
âBanishment will only move the problem in terms of space, and imprisonment isn't secure enough. It would make sense to get rid of the monsters. Once and for all. It wouldn't be pretty or merciful, but it would greatly improve life for everyone, at the cost of a tiny percentage of living beings who were already of no use.â
âAnd you believe that would be a good outcome?â
âI believe it would.â
âBut you're not a Mech yourself.â Orion reminds âWould you be willing to be exterminated along with the rest of the creatures if your plan were put into action?â
Prowl tilts his head slightly. Just to make it easier to look at Orion.
âYou created me to, as you put it, help you make the world a better place. Sometimes in order to improve something you have to cut out the factors that get in the way. It's simple logic.â
âYou didn't answer my questionâ Orion points out âHow would you feel if I decided to take your advice and destroy all mystical creatures, including you?â
âI am not made to feelâ straightens Prowl âMy job is to find solutions to problems. I gave you a solution.â
âYou don't include yourself in the reckoning.â snorts Orion âAgain. You talk as if you will never be affected by anything.â
As it should be, Prowl thinks. He's a conscientious worker and a ..seemingly law-abiding citizen. He does what he can to make Mech's lives better. Even though he may not be a Mech, he's doing the right thing. Why would something happen to him?
Orion removes his hand from his shoulder and shakes his head.
â'Alright. I've heard you. But I want to make it as clear as possible - what you suggested is immoral, cruel, and should never be implemented. Do you understand me? Never. If you want to build a better world, you cannot and will not build it on other people's deaths. Have I made myself clear enough?â
âPerfectly clear.â
âGood.â
-----------------
Ratchet looks...many words could be used to describe him.
He's standing in the center of the trial room with a lot of emotions written all over his face. But if Prowl had to describe - he'd say Ratchet practically radiates rage. Not violent. More of a powerless one.
The rage of a Mech who knows he's cornered, but refuses to even consider giving up and admitting defeat.
Prowl sits in a far dark corner, silently documenting the whole process.
The council is furious. They apparently discovered that Ratchet has been dragging wounded monsters to his house and healing them all this time.
Which is ... very much as expected from Ratchet.
Prowl wants Orion here, but both Orion and Shockwave are now on a diplomatic mission a few days away, so the only support Ratchet has is...Prowl. Who can't help in any way, so he just sits there and meticulously documents the whole process so that Orion can then be informed of every single detail.
The council doesn't look happy. They say that Ratchet is sabotaging the hunters' efforts to contain the monsters by his actions.They are angered by Ratchet's absolute determination to insist that he was doing the right thing.
Prowl would be impressed, if only Ratchet's stubbornness made sense.
It's simple math. Ratchet saves lives. Monsters take them.
Thus Ratchet's life has much, much more weight and is more valuable.
If Ratchet would just accept the Council's decision now and promise to stop curing monsters, the whole problem would be solved as efficiently as possible.
But Ratchet, of course, persists. Probably just because that's his nature.
Ratchet can also afford to be so stubborn because his skill level makes him incredibly valuable to the Council. Prowl knows for a fact that if any other medic were in Ratchet's shoes right now - they would have been sentenced to banishment or execution by now.
When Ratchet realizes exactly how the Council caught him, his rage is instantly replaced by shock.
This revelation is enough to startle him and make him back down. To nod and numbly swear that he will end his "blasphemous hobby."
Prowl carefully folds the scribbled scrolls into the case as the Council doors close behind both his and Ratchet's backs.
âOrion will be happy to know that you were prudent enough to avoid death.â
Ratchet shifts his gaze to him
âYou knew? Knew they could see through our optics? Did you know they could find out anything about any Mech at any time?â
Prowl tucks his hands behind his back and nods politely
âKnowing things is my job.â
Ratchet sighs. Heavy. Exhausted. Doomed maybe.
âHow does Orion deal with it...â
âOrion has a reputation with the Council. They consider him a decent, law-abiding Mech, so they see no point in keeping tabs on him.â
âAre you kidding?â Raetchet raises his eyebrows âOrion can't do everything he does and remain âdecentâ in their eyes. He and Shockwave practically cuddle with every possible creature every day and all they get is a little reprimand????â
Prowl tilts his head
âOrion learned to look away in time. And he has me for everything else.â
Ratchet doesn't answer him. He rubs the bridge of his nose tiredly and starts to walk away.
His shoulders look oddly tense. He looks defeated, but not in the way a Mech would describe a slain turbofox. No. There is a deep-seated, angry determination.
A willingness to act dictated by desperation.
The news of the surveillance has thrown Ratchet off balance but not knocked him off his feet as the Council had hoped.
Prowl looks at his back and walks off in the opposite direction. The problems of living, feeling Mechs have always been and will always be mysterious to him.
Ratchet does what no one expects him to do.
He doesn't stage protests. He doesn't accept the verdict.
He leaves silently, taking with him only medical supplies and an old lantern.
The council is furious, turning over every stone in an attempt to find him, but all in vain.
Prowl's daily duties now include âkeeping track of any possible news related to Ratchet.â
And then, no matter what he finds, report to Orion that he's found nothing.
Put on a little regular show for all concerned. Show the Mechs in the Council that Orion remains loyal and does his best to find and bring to justice any blasphemer whether it's a friend of his or not.
He is his purpose. But the more time passes, the harder it becomes for him to trace the path to the fulfillment of that purpose. He envies the golems whose only function is to scrub floors. Their lives are understandable. A clean floor is a temporary but easily attainable goal. They are happy to fulfill the goal for which they were created. And then they're happy knowing their job is done well, until the floor gets dirty again.
Prowl is walking towards his goal, but it's not getting any closer. He knows what he needs to do to get there, but the variables are constantly changing and he has to adjust his course of action each time according to new information, conditions, and Orion's opinion on them.
Politics is infinitely more complicated than mopping floors after all.
ââââââââââââ
Orion doesn't turn around on him as they walk down the hall. But Prowl can physically feel the attention focused on him.
âProwl. Did you know I was awarded today for my ''outstanding service'' by the entire Council?â
âI did not.
âThey've gone through all the reports and discovered that according to the logs me and my mechs are performing excellently when it comes to eliminating mystical threats.â
âCongratulations.â
âIt's funny that you feel the need to congratulate me tooâ Orion continues âBecause I certainly didn't give orders to eliminate anyone.â
Their pacing doesn't falter. They continue to walk calmly down the hallway as if nothing is happening. But Prowl can practically taste the increased tension.
âProwlâ says Orion âWhy is the Council rewarding me for murder? And where are the Mechs they think I killed now?â
Prowl checks the scrolls. Not because he doesn't remember. Just to buy some time to formulate an answer.
âThey were the inevitable casualties. I took charge of their destruction. On your behalf.â
âYou know how I feel about killing.â
âI know.â nods Prowl for some reason. Why? Not that Orion can see it âI also know how the Council feels about Mechs showing suspicious activity. They would have started watching you as soon as they noticed you were letting monsters slip away from you suspiciously often.â
Orion...sounds... conflicted. He sounds struggling.
âYou killed them.â
âI gave the order. As any other hunter would have done in my place.â
Orion stops so abruptly that Prowl doesn't catch the moment and bumps into his back.
âWe're supposed to be better than other hunters Prowl! How can you still not grasp that concept!!!â
Orion looks furious. Prowl discreetly looks around.
Around them is a relatively empty hall. Windows covered by heavy curtains. The cleaning golems scurrying back and forth.
âI understandâ he says âBut let me remind you that you cannot test their trust infinitely. Your 'being better' rests on your reputation. And it's my job to make sure your reputation lives up to it.â
Orion looks at him...Prowl isn't even sure how to describe it. Usually he has to argue with Orion's logic, proving his point but this time...Orion is the one arguing with him.
It feels strange. Uncomfortable.
He's doing everything Orion wanted him to do, but for the sake of it he has to do something Orion can't stand.
Orion clenches and unclenches his fists helplessly. Rubbing the fabric of his cloak.
âShockwave can save lives without killing anyone.â
âShockwave is one unfortunate act away from serious consequencesâ shakes his head Prowl âHis academy is looking more and more like his own small army every day. His students are not loyal to the Council, they are loyal to Shockwave. And the Council knows that. And will use it. And it won't be pretty when it happens.â
âNo...â shakes his head Orion, not addressing anyone in particular âNo no no no no...â
Prowl can understand why Orion is upset. But he also knows he's right this time. Shockwave may look like a fine example of mercy, but he walks on the very edge of the law and any wrong move will instantly turn him from âout of the box thinkerâ to renegade.
The Council will come for his head and the Council will get his head because Shockwave will have nothing to prove his loyalty with.
Orion will. Prowl made sure of that.
Orion can bend the rules, can borrow the Council's trust, can do all sorts of reprehensible things. He can stumble and fall and then fall a couple more times and find that it doesn't hurt him because Prowl caught him even before he stumbled.
He did it at the cost of lives. Yes.
But Orion's life is far more valuable than the lives of monsters.
Society doesn't need monsters to become better, but society needs Orion. Monsters need Orion. Because if Orion is gone, no one else will care about his idealistic goal.
âSometimes I forget how creepy you can be...â mutters Orion âYou're going to betray me sooner or later.â
âI could never betray you.â Prowl twitches his wing.
âYou've successfully betrayed what I believe in.â
âIt's fine with me if you hate me for it. As long as you are alive, safe, and can continue your quest.â
Orion falls silent.
He turns away to stare at a strip of light from a nearby window. There are beautiful, wrought iron grates that cast an intricate, curved shadow on the floor and walls.
A golem janitor hurries past them.
âI hate it,â Orion sighs.
âIt's understandable. But you can't change the system from the inside without becoming part of it first.â
âI was hoping I could become part of it without becoming a murderer.â
âIt's okayâ says Prowl âYou don't have to. That's what you have me for.â
Orion twitches.
Shockwave falls.
Prowl isn't there to see for himself, but a lot of rumors reach him. Lots. Lots of rumors.
The Mechs say the time of the Great Hunt has come.
They say that when the hunters arrived on the Academy's doorstep, Shockwave didn't let them in.
They say. He stood in front of the gates.
With sword in one hand and the Primus Covenant in the other, and declared that his school was a sanctuary for all living beings in need of protection.
Claimed that anyone who dared set foot inside with a weapon would have to go through him.
âAnd they retreated!â gestures Orion frantically âThey didn't dare test him! They backed away from the walls of the Academy. I don't know how many monsters were left alive in the forests that night, but none of Shockwave's students were harmed...â
Prowl listens with a healthy dose of wariness
âThe Council wouldn't just let him do that.â
Orion begins nervously winding circles around the room.
âYou're right, you're right. You're right now and you were right back then. They're going to bring him before the Court by tomorrow, and...â
âThere's no chance of that ending well,...is there?" Prowl finishes his thought.
Orion looks pained
âThey'll be going through everything he's been up to. Every forged document, every enrolled Mech who by all criteria should be considered a monster. Every time he sheltered them from the Council instead of destroying them. They'll realize what he's been doing and they won't like it at all.â
Prowl...trying to sound reassuring.
âShockwave has tremendous support from his Academy. There's a chance the Council will be afraid of invoking their wrath and won't judge Shockwave too harshly.â
Orion continues to walk in circles
âYou think so?â
âThere is a good chance.â
Prowl finds Orion in Sickbay. Which is very disturbing and wrong, because Orion was supposed to be at the Trial. Supporting Shockwave and begging the Council to relent.
But Orion is in Sick Bay. When he shouldn't be.
And he's covered in ugly dark burns. From something Prowl can't recognize.
This is all wrong. It's all--
âWhat happened at the trial?â
Orion sounds. Startled.
âThere was no Trial.â
âWhat?â
Orion sounds as if something inside him has cracked. In every sense of the phrase.
âThe Trial hasn't even had time to begin. He...â Orion clutches his trembling fingers, hoping to still them, but it has no tangible effect. His shoulders are trembling.
He looks like his whole body could be torn apart with one careless touch. âThey asked him if he would plead guilty to aiding and abetting dark creatures. All they had time to ask was if he realized he was wrong.â
An uncomfortable, prickly feeling settles in Prowl's mind.
"And?â
Orion squeezes his fingers so hard the creaking of hinges becomes audible.
âIt...I...Prowl, his very spark began to ooze dark magic. It was horrible, it was like.. it was eating him from the inside. The entire courtroom became darker than night, many Mechs got burned. I've never seen anything like this before! He..It.. started attacking Mechs and destroying everything...it was like it went crazy...it attacked me and I had to...Prowl I had to fight it! I didn't...I'd heard about it happening but I believed until the last minute that I wouldn't have to face it...â
Gears of chaotic detail fall into place in Prowl's mind.
âShockwave...turned into a demon...?â
Orion nods shakily
âThe Council didn't even have a chance to sentence him or spare him or even sort out what happened.....
He stated that he did not consider himself guilty for what he had done and...Primus was the one who made the judgment before anyone else could...â
That's... terrifying really. For a number of reasons. Losing a close friend is awful, being subjected to such merciless punishment is awful, but also...
What sends a chill down Prowl's back is the moral implication that such punishment carries.
Orion, as if reading his thoughts, raises his gaze to him
âIs what we are doing...wrong? I don't...does Primus think helping monsters is worthy of punishment?â
Now that's a really reasonable question.
Shockwave would say that Primus is merciful and would never condemn a Mech for an act of kindness. But Shockwave ended up being condemned.
Ratchet would say that he doesn't care about Primus' opinion because Primus isn't real. But Ratchet isn't here.
Prowl wants to say that it doesn't matter whether or not Primus thinks they're wrong, what matters is that he can at any moment force his justice on any living spark, so his concept of right has to become Orion's too, or else he's doomed. But Orion is definitely in no state to have a philosophical argument. He looks shattered and Prowl almost instinctively is about to go and find Shockwave, but remembers that option is no longer available.
He's not made for this. Shockwave has always been the one to cheer Orion up on a bad day. Not Prowl, no. Prowl isn't sure what to do so he just sits down next to him and gently places a hand on Orion's shoulder. The one where he can't see the burns, so it shouldn't hurt.
âI don't. I'm used to always relying on your point of view as a reference for what's right and what's wrong.â
âI knowâ runs a shaky hand over his face Orion âBut it's not like I'm perfect. I try, god, I try but just like with the logical part - my vision isn't flawless. Have I been...wrong all this time? Trying to disrupt Primus' intended vision? Maybe what I've been trying to fix never needed fixing. Maybe it's just me being so stupid and not understanding things maybe...???â
Orion cuts himself off mid sentence, realizing that he's started raising his voice and waving his arms around again. He sits back down on the medical bed and curls back up into a miserable ball.
âWhat should I do....â
âI don't know,â Prowl repeats awkwardly.
He is his goal. But his goal ..doesn't exist anymore?
He doesn't know where to put himself.
Golems are made to fulfill requests. But Orion's request system has been evolving and complicating for so long that Prowl can't tell where its boundaries are anymore.
He feels lost.
ââââââââââ
Orion stops cold.
âWhat...â
Prowl, standing at his right hand looks equally puzzled.
They are in a spacious courtyard bordering directly on the Council building. It's a very beautiful, open and spacious place because it was originally built with large crowds of Mechs in mind. There's wide walkways, a massive circular plaza with fountains and statues.
And right now, it's filled to the brim with Mechs, most of whom Prowl is seeing for the first time. They're all wearing knight armor and carrying weapons, however still kept in their scabbards.
They look like a small army. A very, very diverse army, Prowl realizes. Because there are almost no regular Mechs among them.
Orion looks... distraught.
Mechs? Monsters? A few knights separate and come closer, bowing their heads respectfully.
âOrion Pax.â
There is so much grief and disbelief in Orion's eyes that it physically hurts to look at him.
When he begins to speak his voice sounds hoarse, like someone has poured sand down his throat.
âWhat...what are you doing here...?â
The knight standing in front of everyone ceremoniously places his palm on his spark.
âWe are here to fulfill the last will of our mentor and your friend. Shockwave has decreed in his last will that in the event of his death his legacy must pass to you and those of us who wish to carry on his work must publicly pledge our allegiance to your will.â
Orion clutches his hands together to keep them from starting to shake again.
âBut...I was there. I...your mentor was slain by my hands...how can you..."
"It doesn't matter. Everything that was his is now yours." smiles the knight sadly "We will make sure his legacy lives on. And even if the Academy falls - you can always count on us."
At the same time as he finishes speaking, the knight in blue armor drops to one knee, pulling Shockwave's sword from its sheath and holding it out respectfully to Orion... who looks like he's about to start crying.
He dazedly accepts the sword, twitching in surprise when it turns out to be heavier than expected and probably tries to say something, but all that comes out is a short sorrowful sigh.
He just.
Clutches the sword to his chest, watching in disbelief as all the arriving mechs get down on one knee following the blue knight. There aren't that many mechs, but at this point - they seem to rival the sea.
Prowl knows some of them. Many of them made their way to Shockwave after Orion found them. There's the harpy over there who nearly ripped Orion's head off the first time they met. A few ghosts he can remember the faces of but doesn't know the names. He'd had a long argument with Orion that day, trying to convince him that he shouldn't take their word for it when they promised to make it up to him.
And now they're all here. In beautiful new armor. Executing their mentor's last will and testament.
Just like regular Mechs, only a little eccentric looking.
The crowd of hunters that has come to find out what's going on looks as speechless and dumbfounded as Orion.
" What" Orion also gets down on one knee to be on the same level as the knight "what's your name?"
Prowl squints warily from behind Orion's shoulder. The blue mech looks normal, but to be honest, there's no way someone coming out of the Shockwave Academy is going to be an normal plain mech. There has to be a catch somewhere.
"My name is Skids," smiles the knight shyly. "I am...was...Shockwave's best student."
"You are very brave Skids" smiles Orion sorrowfully "I promise to do my best to take care of Shockwave's legacy. And you."
Orion drops his head on the table tiredly.
"This is crazy..."
Prowl pulls an important document from under Orion's head
"It's also quite devious. Shockwave told them specifically to swear to you where all comers can see it. So there's no way for the Council to accuse you of purposely swaying an army of monsters to your side. Everyone saw that this gift was given by force. Now you have many allies with unique skills who are loyal to you and the Council won't try to take them away because they are firmly convinced that you are loyal to the Council."
Prowl examines the document for damage before setting it aside.
"It is..."
"Shockwave gave you an opportunity."
"And I don't know what to do with it!" raises his head Orion "Shockwave was smarter than me and made a lot of plans in case of...I don't know...anything?? I didn't...Prowl. We've been down this path for so long and I was always sure there would be something good at the end of it. Or at least better than it is now..."
Orion rubs his chin and shakes his head awkwardly
"...But if there's only the wrath of Primus and endless darkness at the end...I can't ask anyone to follow me there. I'm not sure if I can keep going myself..."
He sighs helplessly
"I'm not even sure if that even matters."
"The chance that Shockwave would try to use you in some way was about twenty-eight percent."
Orion twitches
"What?"
"I understand that you're hurt by his...fate." Says Prowl "But have you considered the possibility that Shockwave was being punished for betraying you rather than the Council?"
Orion doesn't even answer at first. Just looks at him dazed and bitter.
"Prowl...no. He couldn't have."
"I'm just speculating" shrugs Prowl "Shockwave was punished but as far as I know God didn't bother to name the exact charge. We don't know one hundred percent what exactly caused his...sentence. He may have betrayed the Council's ideas, or he may have betrayed yours."
They both just exist in silence for a while. Processing the information.
"If...and I mean if!!! If Shockwave was convicted of harboring monsters, then everything we've been doing all this time can be considered useless blasphemy..." says Orion slowly "...but if he was punished for something else..."
"...then that would mean there's nothing wrong with your idea." finishes Prowl.
Orion frowns
"It would also mean that Shockwave lied to me..."
Prowl nods. The situation is ugly no matter which way you look at it.
Shockwave, as Prowl knows him, would hardly have framed Orion, but Mechs tend to go to great lengths to avoid execution.
If Shockwave had shifted some of the blame to Orion then, it would have partially saved him. Was that what he was going to do? Was this what Primus had stopped him from doing?
Orion's finials twitch slowly
"I don't know Prowl. I don't know what to do. I don't want anyone else to get hurt because of my fantasies."
Orion is hard to read, but right now he's an open book.
Prowl tilts his head
"You're scared."
Orion looks. Defeated. Crumpled.
Discolored.
" I am."
Prowl can't work with that. He's used to solving logical problems and making lists and strategies.
He doesn't know how to get someone to stop being scared.
"Is there anything I can do for you?"
"I don't know." mutters Orion "I don't know, I have no idea. It's too much...All these new knights, this whole council situation and now you're also saying that the mech I treasured the most could actually be a liar and...just leave me alone."
"But..."
"Just go away!" shakes his head Orion "Go find something else to do, find a hobby, I don't know! Get out of my head and out of my personal life!"
Prowl nods silently.
Places a couple papers in their places and silently walks out the door.
Gestures a greeting to some mech passing by.
And is completely unsure of what to do with himself.
Orion's too stunned by everything that's happened to give him a clear purpose. And without a purpose, he...he's gone.
He continues to stand by the closed door.
A thought runs obsessively through his mind.
If Shockwave was sentenced for something no one knew about, then punishing him the moment of that trial was a truly terrible decision and even worse timing.
But if Shockwave was sentenced for helping monsters...Prowl isn't sure why his mind resists the idea.
Maybe he's not being objective because he shares Orion's views and aspirations.
Maybe because he has looked at the entire square filled with dangerous monsters and has seen nothing but sorrow and respect in them.
The idea comes naturally.
Then God must be wrong.
He looks at the cleaning golems again. He envies them.
They are peace and contentment.
They are a clear and simple goal.
Probably the biggest stress that happens to them is random mechs passing by and interfering with their cleaning.
And then there's Prowl, standing by with no meaning or purpose and wishing he could throw something heavy because the one who gets in his way is an indefinable force of nature and a complex system of values and beliefs created by millions of years of cultural development....
But Primus can't stop him, can he?
Prowl is not alive. He has no emotion so that his intentions can be categorized as evil, but more importantly he has no spark so that its magic can turn him into a demon.
He is his purpose. His purpose is his god. And Primus stands in his way.
He turns around and walks away.
#I might be not as goo at it but I am jumping on my sit in every book comic or story#where the religious topic is risen in the way that can screw your head#and how f**ked up it is#I am having a mountain of good food right here beside Prowl's mind#oh my god#okay I'm dead#I love it#inspiration#Just....#so many things....#I am out of words....
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FAVORITE AUNT
Oscar Piastri X fem!reader
Summary: When Y/n needs to buy a birthday present for her niece, she doesn't know how to do it because she's never been that good with children. But Oscar sees at dinner how much the children love her.
Words: 2.8K+
Warnings: Cute, funny, Oscar being very affectionate (oh how cuteđ) And I think that's it
Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any spelling, grammar and slang mistakes that may be in the story. You can request stories on my profile. â¤ď¸đ§đˇ
MASTERLIST
The Australian sun seemed warmer that afternoon, painting the sky with golden hues as the sea breeze tried to alleviate the heat. The air carried a faint smell of salt mixed with the sweet aroma coming from the coffee shops scattered along Melbourne's busy streets.
Y/n and Oscar walked hand in hand through the shopping center, passing illuminated storefronts and listening to the lively buzz of people enjoying the end of the holiday season.
Oscar, who was on vacation after the end of the championship, liked the light energy that the city transmitted. He was used to the fast pace of the races, but there, next to Y/n, everything seemed to slow down in a good way.
They had already passed by several storesâbookstores, children's clothing stores, and even an educational toy sectionâbut Y/n still didn't seem satisfied with any of the options. Oscar, on the other hand, was already starting to find her indecision amusing.
"I think we've already walked halfway across the city," he commented, squeezing her hand lightly. "What exactly do you want to give as a gift?"
Y/n sighed, stopping in front of a large, colorful toy store. "I have no idea" She admitted, biting her lower lip.
Oscar arched an eyebrow, gently pulling her into the store. The atmosphere was vibrant, filled with children running between aisles filled with stuffed animals, dolls, cars, and board games.
"What do you mean?" He asked, watching Y/n look at the toys with a confused expression.
"I've never been very good with children," Y/n confessed, crossing her arms. "I don't know, I don't have that natural instinct to know what they like."
Oscar laughed, picking up a dinosaur doll that roared as he squeezed his belly. "Are you serious? You seem to be great with everyone." He asked a little in disbelief.
Y/n smiled, picking up a teddy bear and examining it uncertainly. "The kids don't really seem to like me," she confessed, pouting a little.
Oscar frowned, still a little skeptical. "You sound like you have a curse that keeps children away."
"Looks like I do," Y/n rolled her eyes. "One day, I was at the salon getting my nails done with Mackenzie, and the manicurist's daughter came in all excited, smiling at her and saying, "Cinderella Moana!"
Oscar frowned. "Cinderella Moana?"
"Yes! She was wearing a Cinderella costume over a Moana one, it looked like a Disney crossover." Y/n laughed lightly. "And I tried to be nice, didn't I? I asked smiling what that meant..."
"And what did she say?"
Y/n huffed and threw her hands up. She turned to me with the most sullen face in the world and said, "I'm not talking to you, I'm talking to my mother."
Oscar held back his laughter, not wanting to disappoint his girlfriend with a laugh, and then handed her another toy to examine.
"Okay, that was a good one."
"And there's more!" Y/n continued, picking up a stuffed toy without much enthusiasm. "Once, my neighbor asked me to take care of her son for half an hour because she needed to take care of something quickly. I accepted, I thought it would be easy." Oscar was already looking at her expectantly. "But the boy cried non-stop because he said I looked at him the wrong way."
Oscar almost choked, allowing himself to laugh now. "What do you mean?!"
"I wanted to know too! I asked him what he meant by that, and he just cried harder and screamed 'I don't like this!'" She puts on a high-pitched voice.
Oscar was still laughing when Y/n sighed and began walking slowly towards a hallway full of teddy bears. He could tell her frustration was genuine and, without thinking much, he placed a light hand on her back, offering comfort.
"But Mary really likes you," he said softly. "And not just her, but the others too. Whenever I go to family gatherings with you, you can see how much they love having you around."
Y/n sighed, putting one hand in the back pocket of her jeans. Her eyes wandered over the shelf full of colorful teddy bears. "They probably just like me because I'm family," she muttered. "Because I'm their mother's sister."
Oscar smiled slightly and turned his body a little to face her better. "That's not true," he said, picking up a small stuffed rabbit and placing it in her hand. "Mary would love anything you gave her. If you gave her a rock, she would scream with joy and say it was the coolest gift in the world."
Y/n couldn't help but smile shyly, looking up and running her hand through Oscar's hair briefly, in an affectionate gesture.
In fact, her nephews really enjoyed spending time with her. They liked to play games, ask random questions, ask for help with schoolwork, and even tell secrets that not even his parents knew. But still, an insecurity insisted on staying there, hammering in his mind.
"But sometimes I think..." She hesitated, biting her lower lip. "What if one day I become a mother and my children hate having me as a mother?"
Oscar paused. The lightness in his eyes faded a little, and he pressed his lips together, feeling his chest heave. "Y/n..."
"I mean it," she sighed. "What if I'm not good with kids? What if they think I'm boring, or weird, or... I don't know, what if I'm just not good enough?"
Oscar turned to her completely and gently cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. "You have no idea how lucky our children will be to have you as a mother," he said, his voice firm but sweet. "And honestly, I bet they'll love you more than they love me."
Y/n smiled weakly, feeling a cozy warmth spread through her chest. She wrapped Oscar in a brief hug, resting her face on his shoulder.
"Thank you for always being here."
Oscar smiled, placing a soft kiss on her cheek. "Always," he replied, before pulling away slightly and clapping his hands once. "Now, let's find a really cool gift for Mary."
Y/n laughed, finally feeling that maybe this whole kid thing wasn't that hard after all. After all, with Oscar by her side, everything seemed a little easier.
â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘
The warm Australian night air brought a comfortable breeze, making it the perfect weather for an outdoor party. The sky was clear, dotted with stars, and the streets were quiet, lit by yellow streetlights.
Oscar parked the car in front of Meredith's houseâY/n's older sister and mother of her nephews. He turned off the engine before turning to Y/n, who was holding tightly the wrapped gifts in her arm, almost as if her life depended on it.
He raised an eyebrow, a playful smile playing on his lips. "You're more nervous about delivering this gift than you were when we first went out together years ago."
Y/n let out a sigh, adjusting the package in her arm. "Because I am! What if she doesn't like it? What if..."
Oscar chuckled, leaning down to kiss her cheek softly. "She's going to love it, love." He said sweetly, getting out of the car and opening the door for his girlfriend to get out as well.
With a suspicious look, Y/n took a deep breath and walked to the door, knocking a few times. A few seconds later, Meredith appeared, opening the door with a warm smile.
"Y/n! I'm glad you came!" She hugged her sister briefly before looking at Oscar. "And Oscar! It's been a while. It's good to see you again."
Oscar smiled, greeting her with a wave. "Time flies, doesn't it? But I'm glad to be here."
Meredith made room for the two to enter, and Oscar took the opportunity to place a comforting hand on his girlfriend's shoulder.
"Breathe, everything will be okay."
Meredith, not noticing the brief moment between them, turned back into the house and called out excitedly, "Mary! Aunt Y/n and Uncle Oscar are here!"
Oscar couldn't help but smile a little when he heard that, Uncle Oscar. He has sisters, but he didn't have any nephews yet. It was sweet that Y/n's family made a point of including him like that.
They followed Meredith into the backyard, which was beautifully decorated with balloons, confetti, and red and silver ornaments.
It was then that Mary spotted Y/n. Her eyes lit up and, without hesitation, she dropped what she was doing and ran towards her.
"AUNT Y/N!!!"
Y/n bent down just in time to receive the little girl in her arms, laughing as she spun her around slightly in the air before hugging her tightly.
Oscar, taking advantage of the scene, began to greet Y/n's parents, Meredith's husband and her other sisters, but his eyes always returned to his girlfriend and niece, a slight smile on his face.
Mary pulled away from the hug a little, her eyes shining with excitement. "I missed you!"
"Me too, sweetie!" Y/n smiled, holding out the gift to her niece. "Here's your present, little one. I hope you like it... Uncle Oscar helped me choose."
Mary grabbed the package with excitement and quickly tore the paper open. When she saw what was insideâa huge unicorn plush toy, a painting kit, and a Barbie dollâher eyes widened with pure happiness.
At the store, Y/n had been at a loss as to which gift to choose. Afraid of making a mistake, she ended up picking all three, which made Oscar laugh at the time and say that she was exaggerating. But now, seeing Mary's reaction, he knew that she had made the right choice.
"I LOVED IT!!!" Mary squealed, jumping into her aunt's arms again, hugging her tightly. "Thank you, Aunt Y/n!"
Y/n laughed, caressing the little girl's back. "I'm glad you liked it, princess."
Mary pulled back a little, looking at Yin with a pure smile. "Anything you give me will be nice. Because I love you."
Y/n felt some tears wanting to come out, but then she smiled and hugged her five-year-old niece once more. "Oh love, I love you too!"
Oscar, who was very close, leaned over and whispered in his girlfriend's ear: "Did I tell you? If you gave her a rock, she would be happy too."
Y/n laughed, rolling her eyes before finally approaching her parents and other family members to greet them with hugs and smiles.
Oscar stood beside her, placing a hand on his girlfriend's waist while her father and brothers-in-law brought up the subject of racing, asking about the season. Meanwhile, Y/n's mother and sisters talked about random subjects, laughing among themselves.
Suddenly, an excited scream echoed through the yard, coming from inside. "AUNT Y/N!!!"
Before Y/n could turn around, three little 7-year-old hurricanesâthe triplets, her nephews tooâran up to her and wrapped her in a tight hug, almost knocking her backwards.
She laughed out loud, trying to balance herself, but it was Oscar who, in a quick gesture, held her back so she wouldn't fall. Making everyone laugh.
"Okay, okay, boys, I missed you too!" Yin said between laughs, kissing each of their heads.
The triplets had moved away a little, but now their focus was on Oscar, who was watching them with amusement. With the seriousness of growing boys, they each reached out to shake his hand firmly.
Oscar bit back a smile and returned the handshakes as if they were closing a big deal. "Hey, boys? How's it going?"
"Well, Uncle Oscar!" they replied together.
Y/n looked at her boyfriend and smiled. He was already part of that family, and every day that became clearer.
After the lively greetings with the triplets, Y/n's father, who was chatting happily with his family, suddenly remembered a funny moment from his daughter's childhood and, with a nostalgic smile, asked:
"Y/n, do you remember that time you tried to run away from home because I wouldn't let you eat cake before dinner?"
Y/n widened her eyes, already feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. She laughed nervously, hiding her face in her hands.
Her father turned to Oscar, eager to tell the story. "She was about six years old and decided she was going to run away. She took a little backpack, put two stuffed animals, a Barbie and... a piece of bread in it. She said she could take care of herself and that she would never come back."
Oscar laughed out loud, shaking his head in pure amusement. "Four years of dating and you still haven't told me that, Y/n?"
She laughed, embarrassed, and hid in his chest, making the family burst into laughter.
Before he could respond, Meredith and her husband appeared, calling everyone to dinner. The large table in the house was filled with excited voices, silverware clinking against plates and constant laughter.
The triplets and Mary were curious about Y/n's travels with Oscar. "Don't you get sick from flying so much, Aunt Y/n?" one of the boys asked, drawing laughter from the table before she could answer.
Oscar exchanged glances with Y/n during dinner, a discreet smile always present on his lips, as if to say that she did very well with the children.
After the congratulations and the cake being cut with Mary insisting that the first piece should go to Y/n, the night continued pleasantly. Y/n was chatting animatedly with the adults on the balcony when she felt a light tug on her dress.
She looked down and saw Mary, who was staring at her with bright eyes. "What's wrong, love?" Y/n asked, smiling.
The little girl fidgeted her fingers nervously before asking softly, "Can you and Uncle Oscar play with us? We have a cool game, but we're missing two people..."
Before Y/n could even respond, Oscar leaned over and said, laughing, "Sure, me and Aunt Y/n are going!"
He placed the glass of wine on the table and, in a natural gesture, took Y/n's hand, guiding her to the backyard, where the children were waiting anxiously.
The conversations on the porch died down when the adults noticed the couple approaching the group of children.
Y/n looked at her nephews curiously. "Okay, what's the joke?"
One of the triplets held up a plastic crown and placed it on her head. âItâs a wedding!â Mary announced excitedly.
Y/n and Oscar laughed out loud as they saw the kids putting on makeshift costumes. Mary clapped her hands to get their attention.
"Now everyone pay attention, because Aunt Y/n and Uncle Oscar are getting married!"
The game unfolded amidst laughter. The children improvised a speech, pretended to be priests and threw plastic flower petals.
Until Mary crossed her arms and looked at them seriously. "Now you need to kiss."
Y/n's eyes widened and she opened her mouth to respond, but Oscar just smiled at the corner of his mouth and, before she could think about running away from the situation, he gently held Y/n's back and waist and leaned her back, sealing their lips in a sweet and long kiss, respectful, but passionate enough to draw excited screams from the children.
The adults on the balcony whistled and clapped excitedly. When Oscar lifted her back up, Y/n buried her face against his shoulder, giggling shyly.
The night passed at a light and happy pace. Soon, Oscar and Y/n were at the front door saying goodbye to the family.
The children were the ones who took the longest to hug, holding Y/n tightly, and she ran her hand through each of their hair, promising that she would come back for them to play more often.
Oscar then held her hand as they walked to the car. He opened the door for Y/n and walked around to get into the driver's seat.
When he started the car, he gave her a long look before getting out.
Y/n frowned, laughing. "What is it?"
Oscar smiled. "Nothing... I was just thinking about how much the kids love you." He paused and joked, "I guess kids who don't like you are born with defects." Y/n laughed and pulled Oscar into a quick kiss, feeling his smile against her lips.
As they pulled away, he sighed, still smiling. "You're going to be a great mother, you know that?"
Y/n blinked, feeling her heart race. Before she could answer, Oscar continued, his voice full of affection: "I can imagine you going for walks with them, teaching them how to ride a bike, encouraging them in sports, cooking and reading stories before bed..." He chuckled softly. "And I'm there, by your side, watching it all happen."
Y/n bit her lip, feeling a warm warmth in her chest. "That sounds like a perfect plan." She smiled.
Oscar squeezed her hand gently before finally leaving with the car, guiding them back home, his heart light and full of love. Y/n knowing that now she knew that the children loved her.
#fanfiction#y/n#romance#imagines#one shot#formula 1#formula one#fem reader#imagines oscar piastri#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x reader#lovers
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hey, its me again, back with more Starscream thoughts, so you just know things are about to get uncomfortably real and introspective! Again, prefacing by saying that a lot of my analysis is based on my own eerily similar experiences to Starscream, so I'm not 100% sure how much of this actually rings true and what is just me projecting.
I have entirely fallen down the StarOp rabbit hole thanks to you, at a speed I never could have expected. When I first finished TFP and started browsing the tags, I'd see the occasional StarOp post and at best be like "alright, sure" and at worst a little confused on where it was coming from, given the infrequency of interactions between the two after like, early season 1. But since I sent that first ask in it just clicked and like.
Before, I was always of the opinion that Starscream joining the autobots was something that could never really work from a character perspective, not just because of his dependency on Megatron like I talked about last time, but like, even if Megatron was completely out of the picture I never felt like the full on redemption and becoming a functioning member of post-war society that becoming an Autobot would entail would particularly be desirable to Starscream (if even possible for reasons both in and out of his control.)
I sorta felt like any good ending for Starscream would have to entail him moreso escaping the narrative than anything else, given the extent to which he's stuck in this cycle almost on a cosmic level, with how he's unable to escape it in any universe, any continuity, which of course ties into wider thoughts on how this franchise seems uninterested in letting Starscream ever escape that cycle. A sort of El Camino style ending, where leaving behind everything you know and running away to Alaska is considered a good ending, all things considered. That naturally led to me shipping him with Knockout, given their chemistry and the fact that they were this close to running away together, it just felt like the most compelling option, narratively speaking.
But now that I've caught onto the StarOp agenda, I've sorta cracked the code and realized that you can make a compelling and believable path to Starscream becoming an Autobot by having him getting together with Optimus initially be on a subconscious level an outlet to recreate the cycle he was in with Megatron purely because he's used to it and doesn't know how to live without it.
Outside of the obvious ideological and moral differences, Optimus and Megatron have a lot in common, especially from the perspective of Starscream. They're both big, strong, masculine figures, and natural-born leaders that effortlessly compel those around them to fight for their respective causes. They both radiate power in a way that I imagine you can almost feel when around them (and in a way I know it, because that's often how it felt being around my personal Megatron, it's why it was so easy to fall back into his arms over and over.)
All this to say, when Starscream gets with Optimus, he's not escaping the cycle, he's changing his target. If he became an autobot he would instantly become the most dedicated autobot, not out of any ideological reasoning or particular desire to be good, but out of an intense loyalty he effortlessly placed in Optimus. But of course, the loyalty phase is only half of this cycle.
This next part I'm heavily basing on what I've realized about my own experiences, so bear with me for a second, (I also doesn't think it exactly applies to TFP as much as it does some other continuities, G1 maybe but I haven't seen much of G1 so idk for sure) but I feel like sometimes Starscream almost tests Megatron in a way when he feels like Megatron's priorities are drifting away from him, (since remember, he needs to be the most important bot in his life, Starscream is desperate for Megatron to be as obsessed with him as he is with Megatron.) so Starscream will sort of do something stupid, maybe he comes up with some harebrained scheme that's probably not gonna work, or he makes some tactical or administrative decision entirely based on what he's feeling on an emotional level, to see "will Megatron back me on this?"
because Megatron does stuff like that all the time, he's far from being a better tactician than Starscream, (notice how the moment Starscream leaves in season 1, the decepticons stop winning like, at all until he comes back?) and he makes rash decisions out of anger all the time, and Starscream goes along with all of it, every single time, so it's only fair that Megatron lets him get away with doing something kinda stupid this once. and when Megatron inevitably doesn't, either because it would work against the Decepticons own goals, or purely because he doesn't want Starscream to think he has power over him, (and despite how good he is at hiding it, Starscream does have power over him in a lot of ways, I might talk about that some other time.) Starscream lashes out, betrays Megatron, and leaves, because once again all the loyalty he gave to Megatron got him nothing in return.
and let's be clear, Starscream doing this is toxic as fuck, but at the same time of course it is, it's almost impossible not to become toxic in an environment like this. And that really comes back to bite you when you get out of that environment, but on a base level still have these habits and base level impulses that might have helped you survive back then but are terrible for the actually decent people you've surrounded yourself with now.
With that, we cut to today, where Starscream is an autobot and he tries to pull one of these "tests" on Optimus because the honeymoon phase is over and Starscream is instinctually ready for things to start getting worse, maybe they had like, one minor argument and Starscream instantly assumed the worst. and I imagine Optimus "fails" the test, says "no, I'm not backing you on this, I'm not gonna let you do that", but unlike Megatron who does so while prioritizing his own ends and his control over Starscream, Optimus is saying no for moral reasons. And I imagine he tries to explain that to Starscream, but that answer isn't hitting him properly because again, Starscream's only thinking in loyalty.
Everything Optimus thought was progress on Starscream's part in living up to autobot ideals was really just newfound intense loyalty to Optimus, his growth was really just him doing what he thinks Optimus would want him to do and what he thinks would gain him Optimus's loyalty in return. and, from Starscream's perspective, it didn't work, so he's thinking "obviously Optimus doesn't care about me at all, fuck him, I'm out of here." so he makes this big display of betraying the autobots and running away.
and from there, it's the question of if Optimus sees through what this is really about. The other autobots are probably no help in that regard, they all probably fall into one of two groups, the "At no point in time was I not 100% sure that this inevitably was going to happen" group, and the "I mean, I had hope for him, and it seemed like he was doing good, but I'm still not that surprised" group.
But of course, Optimus isn't Megatron, he does care about Starscream and wants him to know that, so I imagine he actually tries tracking down Starscream to have an actual conversation with him to try and figure out where his mind has really been at these past few months, and if he catches on to even a little bit of the subtext of what I've been saying here, he's gonna be like "oh shit, there is a lot more we need to work on than I thought."
and yeah, Megatron fucked up Starscream in ways that its gonna take years to properly unpack, so Starscream is lucky to have found quite possibly the best person to help him through it in Optimus. It's gonna be a rocky road, but Optimus is in for the ride.
and I do think this relationship could eventually become healthy, and I like reading fics where they've managed to make it healthy, but I do think at first it really wouldn't be, and as someone with the autism that makes you obsessed with themes and motifs and subtext, the process of seeing it become better, of seeing Starscream have to unlearn these old harmful defense mechanisms, THAT is really what makes my brain vibrate, especially because I've had to go through that same process myself after finally getting away from my personal Megatron for what I'm thankfully certain now is the final time.
also kinda realizing a lot of this kinda sounds like borderline personality disorder, which. that might be something I have to look into in regards to myself, damn. anyways, yeah, thanks for letting me kill the vibe again, appreciate it! I'll probably try and keep these shorter in the future, I imagine it's kind of a lot to suddenly have 1500 words of deep character analysis with hints of traumadumping suddenly thrown in your askbox lol. If this actually was a bit too much then I'm sorry, you can tell me to dial it down a little if you want.
and this, right here, is why starop is my favorite transformers ship.
you really hit the nail on the head with this one. when done well, it's not only cute and fun to explore, but it's also a deep dive into starscream as a character and what could possibly lead to a redemption arc. sure, you don't need starscream to fall in love with optimus to redeem him, but how that would actually play out is so fascinating.
sure, i love aus where starscream is an autobot spy the whole time. yes, i love aus where they were in love in the past and got separated. but the idea of starscream replacing megatron with optimus in his mind fits him so well, because, as an abuse victim myself, it's easy to find yourself drawn to people who remind you of your abuser.
and that's where optimus' kindness sets him apart, because when starscream pushes back on him, optimus doesn't do what starscream expects. he doesn't lash out or hit him or verbally berate him. he responds with honest concern, trying to figure out what's wrong.
and that kindness, that sincerity, is something starscream doesn't even realize he's been missing the entire time.
i do believe they have the potential to be healthy, but the fight towards them actually becoming healthy and helping starscream get out of his toxic mindset is part of what makes these two so damn compelling.
always happy to have another starop fan.
(also you don't have to worry about toning it down lmao, gods know i ramble like a maniac about my favorite things. i'm not gonna be the one to judge)
#there's a reason why this ship is so damn compelling for me#it seriously doesn't get enough appreciation and that's a huge shame#transformers#starscream#optimus prime#starop#starprime#starscream x optimus prime#maccadam#cw abuse#answering things
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hey remember when i was like "i should change my domain to milktooth.co to be more professional and clean" and everyone was like "yes" well i just went to my domain website to renew my dot gay and also snap up dot co and guess what. it's already registered to a PEDIATRIC DENTISTRY CLINIC IN CALIFORNIA
#AUUUUGH GIVE THAT TO ME!! I WANT IT!#that's so annoying. you're ruining my brand#i should've bought it when i was first thinking about it like a year and a half ago. so irritating#alright whatever so that's off the table. what should i do instead#i mean i could also break away from milktooth co if i wanted. there are OTHER companies using 'milk tooth' too#which is so annoying i decided on it in TWENTY EIGHTEEN none of these things existed then. I'M the genius around here#jk who knows. i'm envious of people who like their names enough to just go by them professionally#it seems so easy. but that's not a good option for me#anyway back to the drawing board i guess it remains milktoothco.gay for the foreseeable future#chatpost
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Thinking about marriage/women's rights on Vulcan Some may think that T'Pring not being allowed to divorce Spock was because he was going through the pon farr but if she were allowed to divorce him at all she probably would have done that a long time ago, confirmed by T'Pol when she's speaking with Koss, who isn't suffering from the pon farr. She says that he can choose another mate (without invoking a fight it seems: note the difference between a 'mate' and a 'challenger') and after he makes it clear that nothing she says will change his mind about marrying her, she finally threatens to declare a kal-if-fee. It's clear that Vulcan women cannot divorce/refuse to marry a man they've been betrothed to under any circumstances if A) He himself doesn't consent to ending their marriage or B) She doesn't have someone else waiting in the wings to be given to in his stead. Though, if the challenger she selects fails to win the fight, she'll have to marry her betrothed anyway unless (again) he decides he doesn't want her after the challenge. That seems like an incredibly unfair system, heavily biased towards men. SNW is an alternate universe in many obvious respects but most egregiously in that T'Pring has a lot of non-canonical agency over her relationship with Spock. It's interesting to me that Vulcan society has women in many positions of power and treats women as equal to men from what I've seen despite these laws. We don't really see Vulcans exhibiting a misogynistic attitude towards women in general but in TOS (perhaps because of its general writing style but it's still interesting to note) both Sarek and Spock take on patriarchal attitudes specifically regarding wives. Amanda says that 'of course' Sarek commands her because "he is a Vulcan and I am his wife." It's worthwhile in my eyes to note that she specifies 'wife' instead of attributing this attitude to women as a whole. Again, with TOS' writing style it wouldn't be out of place for her to say "he is a man and I am a woman." Spock, while in a pon farr induced irritation, states that it's "undignified for a woman to play servant to a man that isn't hers" - again implying that there's something specific about being a Wife in Vulcan society which is different from being a woman in general and demands subservience to a husband. This could perhaps stem from the extreme sense of ownership that Vulcan law has permitted men to have over women. A woman legally cannot point blank refuse marriage. There is no option which guarantees she won't have to marry her betrothed other than death. When T'Pau speaks of T'Pring she refers to her as being 'property' and Stonn, before being interrupted, states he's made 'the ancient claim' - we don't know what this is because he gets cut off but it's obvious they're both using the language of Vulcan law. Men are permitted true freedom to choose. If a woman wants to choose someone else to be with there is no option available to her other than the kal-if-fee which might result in the death of the one she wants to be with. And, if her lover fails, her husband can still just decide he wants to marry her and she'll be forced to. T'Pring gives two scenarios: One where Spock 'frees' her and one where he doesn't - it's still ultimately his decision which is clear when he ends the conversation with "Stonn, she is yours." This again isn't just because of the pon farr as T'Pol also goes through this. Koss can choose another mate and when the option is talked about there's no implication that this would result in any sort of fight (both by the casualness of its mention and by the fact that there's no formal word for it unlike the kal-if-fee.) Also, the fact that Koss does eventually grant T'Pol a divorce and it's all fine means that T'Pol isn't lawfully required to have another man waiting if her HUSBAND doesn't want her. It's ONLY required if SHE doesn't want her husband. Tradition must take precedence over individual desire UNLESS!!! You're a man. Then it's fine. Like, your parents might not be happy but legally you're golden.
#as a note do NOT read the comments on any T'Pol marriage clips on youtube they're full of 'haha women amiright' jokes about#how she's leading Trip on and being a bitch for not choosing him etc - if you become interested in female characters you learn#quickly just how much people still hate women displaying any amount of complexity/doing anything that isn't just falling into a man's arms#even if that hatred doesn't take the form of outright vitriol (aka: 'I feel so sad for Trip bc T'Pol's marrying some other guy')#Trip: T'Pol listen this arranged marriage stuff is no good - you've gotta be free! You have to do what YOU want to do!#T'Pol: -legally seen as property of her husband in the eyes of the law- ...............#<- not dunking on Trip it's just funny how easy it makes it seem - but!! He doesn't know all the facts#as evidenced by him saying T'Pol might 'call off the wedding' to her mother - T'Pol can't legally call off shit#It's also interesting how gender isn't really mentioned in any of the clips I've seen - it's very clear to me that T'Pol has no options#specifically because she's a WOMAN within her culture but that's almost like a quiet undercurrent and not focused on as a main#point of dissatisfaction - which I imagine it 1000% would be for Vulcan women when men have infinitely more freedom#Vulcan Man: I don't wanna marry this lady#Vulcan Law: Ok#Vulcan Woman: I don't wanna marry this guy#Vulcan Law: Noted. So - if you and your lover are willing to risk his life there's a chance (if he wins) that you can get out of marrying#him BUT if your husband kills your lover and still wants to marry you you DOOO have to marry him sorry you just gotta#<- this also makes it incredibly dangerous to in any way warn your legal husband that a kal-if-fee might be incoming#the element of surprise is a HUGE advantage when it comes to winning a fight to the death (which your lover can train for)#Vulcans#T'Pol#T'Pring#star trek#I don't think this is bad necessarily (as a fictional worldbuilding thing) but I wish it were explored more#It's especially interesting because it's an aspect of logical Vulcan society - it's clearly not logical but it's also clearly rooted deeply#in tradition which may mean Vulcan long ago used to have a much more extreme gender bias towards the male population#it just implies a lot that Vulcan has these old laws which are unfair towards women yet they still follow BUT women are treated as equal#citizens OUTSIDE of marriage! Maybe there was a feminist movement before? Is there another brewing? Where are the Vulcan feminists!
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everyone on earth probably has a hypothetical farming sim in their mind's eye that they daydream about on occasion because of the unfortunate situation that despite there being like a thousand farming games released every minute only like 4 of them are any good. and i think this is fun, i think its good to keep the imagination alive. if i made a farming sim i would bring back rival marriages from the old friends of mineral town. i want to steal someones wife.
#jk jk you dont steal anyones wife or husband. but it wasnt a popular feature because people felt like they were stealing someones spouse#plus the fact that characters married eachother after a certain amount of time made them unavailable for player marriage adding a timelimit#if the player wants to get married. but thats why i want it BACK i think its 1) hilarious and 2) interesting and makes the world feel alive#NOW part of the reason (outside of it being an unpopular feature to begin with) its not in like any modern games is probably because#devs don't know how to deal with non-gender-locked marriage candidates with this#i think its easy. everyone is bisexual. not just playersexual. textually bisexual#it'll be interesting if they always have a set pairup regardless of player gender but it could also be interesting if there was like#a little algorithm to give a couple non-player pairups as options. maybe make it random#or if a dev was tooooo ambitious they could add a matchmaking system that the player could be involved with if they wanted to play cupid LO#but that seems too much for a farming game. thats usually a whole other game in itself#but yeah i think its easy. its not like farming sim marriage candidates are all that deep characters to begin with#i think itd be fine if you had a couple randomized rival marriages...... i think itd be neat#my other farming sim daydream is NO fucking combat for the love of god FREE ME from combat#that is why i like story of seasons just a bit more than stardew#stardew has so much good farming mechanics but god i hate the mines. i think its so soso sososososososo boring#i also dont really like the turn based battles in atelier games and most atelierlikes either#(well i liked it in mana khemia but that was more turn based focused than alchemy focused)#i came here to farm. i came here to make potions. i came here to micromanage numbers. do not make me battle#but that is purely a personal preference thing LOL a lot of people really love farming game combat. i dont tho <3#MY DAYDREAM FARMING SIM HAS NO COMBAT... AND YES CUCKHOLDRY#(jk jk thats not what rival marriages are. but thats how people talk about them. which is fascinating)#(unfortunately it makes me laugh so thats why i keep making jokes about it. sowwy <3 )
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everything comes back to me thinking wow im solidly not a great person
#shitboxposting#as in i think im the most morally gray person around. i could be better and i could be worse. this is probably an L mentality but:#it could be worse#so . obviously that justifies it#being a people pleaser ended very badly & indulging in awfulness has consequences. i am a lover of the easy road on middle ground#i am quite literally ruled by 'easiest option' no matter what. im only gonna fix it when fixing it is easier than living with it#i also dont think about other people unless they directly tell me to so uh. that could use some work.#anyways tying my self esteem to performance at tasks instead of how much joy i put into the world is gnna be the death of me prolly#thinking about this is so much work in and of itself. ugh#i go back and forth on this so hard it cancels out into zero. 'i could be so much better' 'but i could be so much worse. and im not'#unfortunately it seems that i can't ''but you could be good'' myself into it. must find another reason
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Thinking a LOT about Lucifer in the latest Hazbin episode. Idk what I was expecting but not this??
As I was watching my immediate thought was just "huh... Lucifer is kinda of weird..." but as the episode went on I realized the issue
the dude is off the chain depressed, like he says it as a joke but holy cow it is SO BAD
He's manically just creating rubber ducks cuz his daughter really like it that one time but it's empty, it's never good enough but he keeps doing it, maybe cuz he doesn't know how to pass the time otherwise.
like I get the feeling he HAS better things he SHOULD be doing than making rubber duck after rubber duck. At first I was like, "Bruh why isn't the king of hell doing anything?" aaaaand then it became clear...
The dude is disassociating so bad he can barely hold a conversation let alone remember information. He clearly WANTS to, he wants to be involved with his daughter so bad, he wants to care about the things she's doing so bad, but his depression keeps interfering. It's like he can only hear every other word and he grasps onto the ones he does hear semi-out of context. Like you can see every time he catches something that he hadn't before and he just "well shit I didn't catch that part"
and that's why he reacts so weird when people talk to him. He is struggling so bad to engage with the conversation he's only getting 50% of it
does that look like the face of a man who knows what the hell the conversation is even about??? he is STRUGGLING
like Charlie spent so long telling him about the hotel, and he STILL didn't understand what she wanted. Yeah it comes off as ditzy but literally I've been in that position where your brain just "nope, not doing this right now" and nerfs your conversation comprehension. So as someone who's BEEN in that position, to me it feels exactly like what he's dealing with. He's sorta engaged with the conversation, but only as much as his brain will allow
For example, when I'm dealing with this, this is what someone talking to me feels like this where the crossed out parts are what I missed and bold is what I catch, "Hey! You know I was thinking for dinner we could either make some chicken with rice? But if you don't feel like cooking, pasta is super easy and you love that right? What do you want to do?" you can kinda get that someone is trying to talk to you about dinner, and towards the end you get the impression that they asked something that needs your input so you can decently put 2 and 2 together and try and pass off, but crucial bits were left out, I would have no idea that either chicken or pasta is in the conversation only having heard "rice". When someone is just talking at me, I can decently pass off as being engaged but the second I'm required to participate in the conversation I'm screwed. Seem familiar? At which point I have 2 options, try to give a bullshit answer, or admit that I missed what they were saying and ask them to repeat
Lucifer, unfortunately, is trying so damn hard to hide that he's dealing with like 24/7 dissociation, so he can't admit that he's missing entire chunks of the conversation, hence his really weird replies. He does eventually get the full picture and then he and Charlie start having the real conversation
Also, the Alastor/Lucifer rivalry was hilarious but also really indicative of more of what Lucifer is dealing with
Alastor is, unfortunately, really good at picking up people's insecurities, and thanks to Charlie's description earlier and watching Lucifer clearly trying to overcompensate, he immediately picks up on the fact that Lucifer KNOWS he struggles to be a good dad (we know cuz it's cuz of the depression, hard to be engaged when your brain keeps turning off) and decides to rub salt in the wound by pretending he's been acting as a surrogate father to Charlie. Now why Alastor decided to pick a fight with the king of hell is beyond me, I do not understand Alastor (and I LIKE IT) (maybe it's cuz Alastor thinks he's hot shit and was expecting Lucifer to at least have heard of him but Lucifer just treats him like a nobody? who knows)(why would Lucifer listen to radio anyways when he can't even pay attention to a conversation it'd just be white noise)
But yeah I just was expecting someone who oozed either charisma or presence and instead I got a depressed dad who's dissociating so bad he can barely function and be present in his life. The only thing it seems he CAN do is make rubber ducks cuz his daughter really liked it that one time
Idk Lucifer is tragic to me. Whatever the full details of what heavan did to him absolutely broke him and he can't deal with it. He's aware of it, and he doesn't know how to fix it, so he tries to over compensate and sorta makes an ass out of himself but no one says or does anything cuz this guy is supposed to be THE king of hell
Suddenly it's making a lot more sense why he just rolls over and lets heaven do what it wants and even told Charlie to go in his place the start of the show. He's not in any headspace to hold a basic conversation let alone negotiate! He didn't even know who Alastor was, he's been so out of touch
idk I like him, he seems sweet, I hope Charlie brings some light back into his life. He really needs to get out of that rubber duck room
#hazbin spoilers#hazbin hotel#lucifer#lucifer morningstar#analysis#dissociation#look idk what to tell you all#I watched the episode and everything makes so much more sense#when you realize he's only intaking like 50-60% of the conversations#he's not bad at listening his brain is literally preventing him from getting everything#literally I've been there#the difference between him and me tho#is that he can't show it#he's the king of hell#he has to bluff his way through conversations#but yeah literally rewatch the episode with this in mind#and watch him reply to the things he DID catch#anyways#NEW BLORBO????#who'd've thought I would go into Hazbin Hotel#and come out with freaking LUCIFER as my favorite character#I love him#he's so sad
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đ¨đŞđˇđđŽđťđŽ đđ¸đťđ
"đˇđđ đđ˝, đžđť đđđ đ¸đđđđš đđđśđđ đđ đđđ¸đ˝ đś đ
đđđśđđđđ.â CW: Fem reader (she/her), possessiveness, suggestive Note: This is my first time writing something like this and posting it...go easy on me o(>< )o
The chandlers decorated the ceiling above the spacious ballroom, giving a gentle glow to the people filling said ballroom. The social season has just started to blossom, giving men and women room to court each other if one is blessed with the opportunity for such an experience. Catching the eye of a reliable suitor is quite troublesomeâ most of the men here do not fit any of your requirements, and if they did, they would suddenly be caught in a scandal of sorts, causing them to be an outcast. Not a good look on you or your family name.
You idly toy with the fan in your hand, your gaze sweeping over the sea of faces in the room. The task at hand feels insurmountable, and finding a suitable suitor in this town is daunting. Perhaps, you muse, debuting late was a misstep, a decision that now seems to mock you. You could always become a spinsterâŚand ruin your reputation and lineage because you choose such an idiotic choice⌠regrettably it may be the easier option.Â
âPray tell why youâre glued to this corner as if youâre some wallflower,â A witty baritone voice whispers in your ear, the hairs of your neck standing upright while a cold shiver runs down your spine.
The sense of familiarity washes over you, and the resentment still lingers from years ago makes its way forward. The Earlâs son, your childhood close friend, who left you without a word after he said heâd be there for you.
What a bastard
âHave you ever heard of personal space? Or have you forgotten the amount of lectures your mother ingrained into your head on etiquette when you were just a brat?â You bite back with venom coating every word you spit out. You place your fan on your left ear.
âAh, I see.â He steps back and gives you space. âYouâve become cold-hearted towards me since my departure overseas. I was only gone for a mere moment.â He switches his position from behind you to in front of you. He takes up your whole vision, his maturity, more evident now since the last time you saw him as a juvenile boy. It's been a few years, hasn't it? Yet he still has his teasing nature; no boarding school or amount of lectures can take that away from him. He bows a little lower than he should, his right hand to the opposite shoulder and his left arm behind his back. He looks up at you with those oh-so-regretful grey eyes. âI wholeheartedly apologize for departing overseas in such an impulsive matter without even notifying you in any way. I shouldâve sent you letters and a hoard of messenger doves to accompany youâ. âBut I did not, and for that, my Lady, I've made a significant sin in your eyesâ I do not deserve your forgiveness, but oh, if you could grant me such a pleasure.â
His voice is as quiet and soft as a starving mouse stealing food from a kitchen, careful for only your ears to pick up his pleas for forgiveness. Just as though you were a goddess punishing him, which he should be reprimanded tenfold in his eyes, who was he to abandon you without a trace? Though the situation before was entirely out of his hands, he didnât want to go to that goddamned private school that was away from you; he fought tooth and nail not to go. Every house servant had to push and hold him down because he kept fighting; even his family members were victims of his wrath. His father, The Earl, still has fading scars from that night years ago.
He shouldâve fought harder for you.
People around you start noticing; who wouldnât? One of the most prestigious Earls of this countryâs only son is bowing dishonourably low, borderline grovelling like a peasant caught stealing a measly loaf of bread. You feel eyes turning onto you, women whispering between their fans to one another, wondering in what predicament the next-in-line Earl would be for him to be embarrassingly bowing to a one-of-a-mill daughter of a viscountâa rank lower than him and a woman at that; your fan placement is not making it look better. Immediately change the position of your fan from your left ear to twirling it in your left hand, hoping he understands the situation he has put not only him but you in.
 He only smiles in return. âStand straight; You look like a fool.â You hiss, âDo I have your forgiveness, Darling?â a scoff escapes your mouth. âThat is either here or there! Be proper. Others are watching.â That doesnt deter him, nor does he care about them. âSo my apology wasn't sufficient? Since you are thinking about everyone else but me.â More eyes make their way onto the pair of you, and whispers grow with the exchange of gossip. âYouâre acting like a child-â He cuts you off. âShall I go on my knees for you? I mean, I wouldnât mind, but preferably, I would love to be in a moreâŚsecluded environment.â A smirk graces his lips at the thought. âOr shall I kiss your feet-âÂ
âYou are a soon-to-be- Earl! Has that school taught you nothing? God, youâve become more insufferable, I swear.â Your face feels warmer now, and embarrassment takes over you from his childish yet sincere teasing.
The young lordâs eyes fixated on you, on your lips, how your dress accentuates your already perfect self, your hands, oh, how he wishes to feel them against his. The years it's been since he saw you, he could listen to you scold him for hours on end; it doesnât matter what you are saying. Just hearing your voice is enough. God knows it's been too long since heâs been deprived of you. He thanks his past self for sabotaging whatever male decided to even think of courting you. Though he was far away, his social standing never changed.
The lord decided by the second month he was away from you to pay his old servants to send him as much information as possible on the vermins that would try to nestle their way into your life. He wouldâŚNo, he has ruined anyone who wanted to get in between you two. And heâll keep it that way. Youâve stolen his heart since meeting him as a lad.
âSo you wish for me to kneel? As you wish.â He starts to kneel; gasps can be heard. But you stop him, holding his shoulders upright; his eyes widen as you touch him.
Youâre so close
âI forgive youâŚI forgive youâŚâ
âI forgive you, AmbroseâŚâ
OhâŚ
His name on your tongueâŚ.
His mind blanks. Has he gone to heaven? Oh, you sweet angel, you have him wrapped around your finger. And he wouldnât want it any other way.
His smile is blinding as he stands and looks down at you.
âThen now that's settledâŚMay I have the honour of a dance with yours truly?â
.." Or shall I beg more?"
End Notes: Fun fact (not really): I based most of this post on The Regency era, and that includes fan language! That is why I described the readers' actions with it. Placing the fan on your left ear means "I wish to get rid of you." Twirling the fan with your left hand means "We are watched." Thought that would be something fun to add (^.^)
#help idk what im doing#yandere x female reader#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere male x reader#yandere oc x reader#yandere oc x y/n#yandere imagines#yandere x you#yandere drabble#male yandere#soft yandere#yandere oc#yandere x darling#yandere blog#yandere rambles#yandere fic#x reader#oc x reader#oc x you#yandere male
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Every planet in the 12th: Observations
The 12th house shows you in which ways you can leave the biggest impact on the world in the purest most intentional way if you so choose.
*I didn't feel like proof reading spare me*
sun in the 12th often misperceived or seen as having underlining motives even when that is furthest from the truth. Actually quite often upfront with their intentions regardless if they know more than they've led you to believe. The projection others put on them is veryyy high, sun person unconsciously triggering deep seated wounds in others while they just assume theyâre having a normal conversation. They either love gossip or are always being brought up in gossip. Attracting secret admirers bc of the taboo aspect of their personality. They teach others how to be themselves through example and that gives them the popular loner vibe, everyone wants to know whats going on in their life. Though Its often not as interesting as the stories that are being created about them (probably at home chilling). Unintentionally very funny their light hearted nature makes others feel comfortable. They know how to create warm welcomes. They can read animals minds. They dress how they feel. Escape artist. Probably through music, film or imagination. Gift for photography.
moon in 12th romantic relationships have a big influence on these people. They'll change their whole life around to fit into their lovers life for better or worse. Naturally harmonious these people are seemingly unsuspecting until you piss them off then you realize they just choose to keep peace. Prone to escapism usually through some sort of creative pursuit turned business. Obviously not forward with their feelings ppl tend to label them as having their head in the clouds when in reality they have plans its just nobody else's business. There's a love/resentful relationship with the mother. The mother could've been a physical provider but not emotional. These ppl had to nurture and comfort themselves and it made them very good at being those things for others. Children and animals loveeeee them. They are givers and don't mind sharing for the greater good. Dependable and persistent they can stick out something they feel is important. But if they don't care... Oh its very obvious. That job they don't like? Oh don't even worry about it they'll quit. They don't like feeling stressed or unharmonious and don't mind removing anything thats trying to hinder that. In the lower natures this creates a person that ignores anything that would make them have to readjust their behavior. Extremely delusional and misreads the room quite often. Very emotional changing how they feel about you frequently. It can become hard to give and receive trust.
Mars in the 12th manifest things/experiences so easy especially through their connections. They know how to put themselves in the right rooms with the right people. They date people that improve their social standing and they do the same in return. When its comes to career they could've seemed like the runt in the group but they grew themselves to be well respected in their field. Often hearing ''you only got this because''. They attract a lot of haters jealous of their success or the way they got their success. these people are attractive and naturally have a body others envy, they always have options and good ones at that.
Venus in 12th boy oh boy the hopeless romantics, but whats so hopeless about it? Others may often wonder why you picked the person you did viewing you as opposites. There may be an age gap or cultural difference. The women often choose partners that have a different social standing or perception than their own. The Men do the same though their more willing to be in relationships with unrequited love. Have had their fair share of infidelity issues until they found the person that would ride or die for them and vise versa. Privacy and trust are high priority for these people. Very good at socializing they know how to read what is needed to improve the energy of a space. Their parties/hostings are always so inviting and rememberable. They work very well with children and animals. Especially those in need. Fostering is something they wouldn't mind doing, along with nursing things back to health. Examples hair, nails. Plants etc. Very crafty they'd create beautiful jewelry and clothing. Their style is unique and acquired taste even. Controlling an image or narrative comes natural these Pol could do damage control for celebrities. When Ppl are in a frantic state they know how to calm assist.
Mercury in 12th are good at controlling the narratives around themselves. People hand on to every word that's said. These are the types that prefer to talk when necessary and not give out to much information. Just enough to keep you hooked. They have a unique sound and are musically inclined it helps that they think outside of the box. Usually the leader of the group because of their ability to see the broader picture and keep everyones best interest at heart. They attract haters bc they set high goals for themselves they get viewed as outlandish or unpractical when actually they just believe in themselves and remain optimistic. They know alot about very specific niche things.
Jupiter in the 12th don't get the credit they deserve for being so iconic. They really are trendsetters that break molds and stereotypes and tend receive backlash for the things they say & do simply because they were the first to do it. Opening up the pathway for others to show up more authentically and protected. They have big expression and are passionate about the things they choose to do. Their not afraid to speak their truth and having a forgiving nature. Creative pursuits are well received by the public attracting sponsors easily. Its also easy for them to find/create a community ppl reall gravitate to them. Their kryptonite lies in their self esteem. If they can't face rejection they'll hide the best parts of themselves. Only seeing the beauty in others and not what they offer the world.
Saturn in the 12th need to know when to stop while their ahead. They get into unnecessary battles bc of a fragile or inflated ego. When the ego is healthy this makes for a very powerful person that commands rooms with ease. They make Pol want to sit up in their chair when they walk in. These Pol are stubborn but more often than not it works out in their favor. Very hard workers and the same energy they apply is expected from those around them. If they put in 80 hrs a week they expect the same from you, if I can do it why can't you mentality. They achieve alot and Ppl notice it but its like no one ever sees them working they just see the finished product and know a lot had to be done behind the scenes. For example let's say someone is very popular you know they would've had to built those relationships you just didn't see it happen. They could have a guilt complex about their achievements and feel like theirs still more they should be doing for other ppl. Growing up as the star, the golden child, the one thats going to help the family put a lot of pressure and responsibility on them. This could've also affected the relationship between the others siblings. Lastly these Ppl are either very serious about punctuality or show up whenever they want to. Maybe even both they could've started out one way and over time became another way. When saturn is damaged they run from responsibility and are viewed as childish and never learning from their lessons.
Neptune in the 12th know how to win over the audience. I chose the word audience bc they love an audience. Ppl will make excuses for their behavior like ''you know they had a rough childhood'' as if that excuses hurting others. Professional sympathy grabbers even when their not even trying and great ass kissers when they want to be. That is in neptunes lower natures ofc. These ppl speak their mind without a fuck given. This is like the only pile im cursing in and that kind of explains them. Their going to say what they want and don't mind shaking the room up. Image is important to them. They'll study their own footage to see what they looked like, sounded like, acted like, and change anything they deem as not fitting. They could be great actors or social media personalities. Also would be good at managing social media accounts. These ppl may be easily persuaded especially by those they view as having a higher social ranking than themselves. Knowing how to adapt to any environment is their strong suit. They act as a mirror in their environment and reflect back whatever energy you give them. To a T at that. They know when to play it up or be more lowkey. This is type of person to always leave lasting impressions on ppl. They could be the first in a taboo field to achieve something. Like being the first pornstar to get 100 million views. Its like when you think you have them figured out they do something else that shows there's many other sides to them. Often hearing ''i didnt think I would like you at first''. With a great sense of humor they know how to laugh at themselves and lighten the mood they don't take life to seriously. They attract a lot of unique ppl their friend group is very expansive. They could be friends with a stripper and an attorney. Hell they might've been a stripper and an attorney.
Uranus in the 12th they just pop up and ppl are surprised like ''omg what are doing here'' these ppl are held in high regard mostly bc their very selective with their energy, your viewed as a busy person so when you come around it makes ppl feel lucky. You treat others fairly and want everyone around you to feel accepted. You value keeping the peace. The fact that I'm even using you instead of they is a reflection of how inclusion is important for you. Having an eccentric vibe is more obvious here but alot of ppl go the opposite way and don't want to appear uniquely at all they actually want to be as plain Jane as possible. This can actually rub ppl the wrong way and make them feel something is being hidden from them like your pretending. Feeling criticized in childhood is why accepting others is something they prioritize. They end up in rooms with many different types of ppl. This placement has a lot of experience in a lot of different areas. With a free spirited nature they are open to trying new things pushing themselves outside of their comfort zone quite often.
Pluto in the 12th, a quiet energy standing in the back of the room scoping out the scenery. They notice more than ppl realize and are smarter than they let on. Often having their power tested bc of their calm observing demeanor. Ppl try to make them feel they don't belong in certain environments or that their not really qualified but they don't mind showing you why that perception isn't accurate. They know how to push back. The type to pretend they don't care about popularity but they work very hard at obtaining it. But maybe they don't care about the popularity just the power that it brings. Knowing the value of relationships they put alot into maintaining them. They are very giving to those around them. Self sacrificing even, its like they believe thats how you show someone you really care. These are some of the most passionate people you'll meet. They just know how to make you feel understood and seen. They make everyone feel special. This is one of the most intense placements for the 12th house. The transformations are deep, murky, confusing but it breeds and very self sufficient determined person. They question everything and are always growing and adapting. When they find something they like they become obsessive about it. They will work for extended amounts at a time. Like binging behavior. In Pluto's lower natures they develop a chip or their shoulder and use their influence to hurt others. If they are operating from that place they become very good at it. If they are never brought into awareness they continue generational curses but their children will have it worse than they did. These are the type of Pol that will tell you a traumatic experience in such a casual way and your just left like wtf you said that like it was normal. They also could've grew up experiencing their traumas being brushed off like they were normal. They were familiar with death from a young age and may have felt like they never really were a child. They build the trust of others easily and its bc their honest. It is what it is to them. They are natural born leaders it doesn't take much convincing & they don't mind leading the way as long as you give them their accolades for it. Mind you they could have a god complex but to be fair if you've experienced or achieved the things they have you might too.
#astrology#12th house#astrology101#astrologyfacts#8th house#astrologyzone#astro notes#astrologychart#pluto astrology#pluto aspects
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Writing Tools for Planning Your Story
I've tried tons of writing apps and sites, so you don't have to. Here's a list of free sites to plot out your novel, with my review and some images of how I use it.
Milanote
Milanote is like having a giant pinboard with folders. You can upload anything onto it [yes even your main doc] and then draw over it or connect things with lines and arrows
Milanote lets you add up to a hundred things for free, not including drawing. This is one of the downsides of the site as I've found myself reaching that limit recently.
For me, the best part is being able to draw over stuff, and the color swatches.
Milanote is a lot less structured than other sites I've used, and personally, I don't think their templates are worth using.
8/10 overall, Milanote is what I mainly use. Here are some pics of how I use it:
Miro
Miro is a flowchart website mainly used for corporate jobs, however, it can be a great plotting tool for that reason
Miro has a lot of great starter templates if you are looking for a more structured freeform experience. It also comes with a blank page as well.
Unfortunately, I'd argue that it's a bit of a hard tool for beginners to use without a template, I've learned copy-paste is my best friend with Miro the hard way.
It's much better than most platforms at making timelines though.
It has a limit of three boards which is a bit disappointing but overall, I think it's worth the try.
5/10 Miro is very middle of the road for me due to the limited ability to customize things and the free limit. Here are some pics:
[I wrote that part weeks ago, I am now fully using Miro and believe it's the best for making timelines and charts, I just wish it let me make more boards 8/10]
Hiveword
This might be someone's jam, I can't really say it's mine though.
First off, the unpaid version is really just a few boxes saying "Write a summary here." which makes it just not worth it in my opinion
There really isn't any way to customise things which is my favorite part of most of these softwares
I've barely used this, so maybe there's something I'm missing but
1/10, Just use Google Docs at this point, here's a couple pics
World Anvil
People like this software, it's mainly used for tabletop, which is just a different way of writing adventure, and I've seen it recommended by authors.
Unfortunately, I'm going to disagree with a lot of people and say it's hard to use and isn't even really good at plotting.
I may be biased on this one as every time I've tried to use it in the past I've struggled. However, it seems like another just write it in a document and create a folder.
I'd say it's closer to an organizing tool, but even then just use something else.
3/10, I have nothing to say about it but maybe you'll enjoy it, all here are two photos
Campfire
This is the one I think I've heard the most about, but have never actually tried.
right off the bat, I'm going to say this is 100% worth it, you'll see at the end with the photos but this is like if Miro and World Anvil had an organization baby.
It's extremely easy to understand, and it makes timelines, it's more for writing your whole book but idk about that yet.
7/10, its themes are really pretty but it limits how much you can do to 20 I believe. Here are the photos
That's all for now, honestly, I think you should use Miro if you are looking to plot things out, and Milanote if you want to collect and organize your thoughts for writing, as that's what I do. Obviously what I like won't be for everyone, but hopefully, this helped you see some options
#writeblr#writers on tumblr#creative writing#worldbuilding#plotting#writing advice#writing tool#writing#writers#writing plans
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THE CONTRACTED HEART â Rafe Cameron (01)
MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader
Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.
Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.
Word Count: 4.2k
Aliyah's Notes: this is my first series on here so go easy on me (#adele) pls + some things are not going to be obx canon ... at least some of yall are warned. anyw im so excited for this cause lord knows the amount of time ive wanted to make a fake dating fic!!!!!!! anyw i hope you all will enjoy this i had so much writing the first chapter
The clatter of high heels against the marble floor echoed in perfect sync with the ticking of your watch. Every step was deliberate, poisedâjust like your life had to be. Perfection, it seemed, was not a choice but a requirement for survival.
You adjusted your sunglasses, your gaze skimming over the glamorous expanse of the fashion agency's lobby. People buzzed around you like bees in a hive, their worlds spinning, fueled by the weight of names, status, and flawless images. You smiled politely at the receptionist, offering a nod, though your mind was miles away.
To the outside world, your life was golden. The covers of magazines, the invitations to high-society events, the million-dollar deals with luxury brandsâit was a fantasy that others could only dream of. It was your dream some time ago, too.Â
But today, your reality felt like walking on the edge of a tightrope, the safety net fraying below you.
Your phone vibrated in your purse, interrupting your thoughts. You fished it out, your pulse quickening when you saw the text from your lawyer. Three words that sent a chill through your carefully constructed façade.
"We need to talk."
Your heart sank. The issue of your visa had been hanging over your head like a storm cloud for months now, growing darker by the day. Youâd known this was coming, but knowing and confronting it were two different beasts.
Fame didnât shield you from the cold bureaucracy of citizenship laws, and your time was running out. One misstep, one delay, and your golden empire could crumble. In a matter of months, you could be deported, left behind by the very country that had built you up.
With a deep breath, you silenced your phone and slid it back into your purse. This wasnât something you could dwell on right now, not in public. Your expression remained serene, even though your mind was anything but. You had a shoot in an hour, a charity gala that evening, and at some point, you had to meet with the lawyer to discuss "options"âa word that had started to feel more like a trap than a solution.
As you exited the building, the cool breeze caught your hair, the city unfolding before you like a glittering stage. New York City. You looked out at the streets, the people, the life you fought so hard to build. The car pulled up to the curb, and you climbed inside. On your way to your lawyer.
You stepped into the law office, the familiar scent of polished wood and stale coffee wrapping around you like a tight band.
"Ms. Y/L/N, good afternoon," Nicolas Ramirez, your lawyer, greeted you, standing behind his desk. His expression was composed, but you knew him well enough by now to spot the unease in his eyes.
"Hi," you softly smiled at him. Your heels clicked softly on the floor as you sat down, crossing your legs tightly, as if holding yourself together. "Letâs just get straight to it, okay? How bad is it?"
Nico sighed, adjusting his glasses. "Your visa expires in less than three months."
You felt your stomach twist, your worst fear inching closer to reality. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. "And what about the appeals? The extensions?"
"Weâve exhausted every possible optionâwork visas, artist visas, even humanitarian grounds. Immigration laws are tightening, and without a permanent solution like citizenship or residency, youâll be forced to leave the country."
"Leave?" Your voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the full weight of the nightmare youâd been living with.Â
Leave? Go back there?
The country you had fought so hard to escape. The country where your childhood had been marked by suffocating poverty, where your parents had already planned your marriage before you even turned 15. Where your dreams had been a distant, impossible hope until that one person changed your life forever.
You felt your throat tighten. You couldnât go back.
Nicoâs gaze softened slightly, his voice gentle but firm. "I know what this means for you. I know how difficultâ"
"You donât know," you cut him off, your voice sharper than you intended. "You⌠You donât knowâI canât go back there, Nico. I just⌠I canât."
He nodded, giving you a moment of silence to compose yourself, but the pressure in your chest only grew. You took a deep breath, trying to keep the panic at bay.
"So what now?" you asked, fighting to keep your voice steady. "Is this it? Am I out of options?"
"Well⌠Thereâs one option we havenât explored yet." his tone was cautious, like he knew what he was about to say would open a new can of worms.
You furrowed your brow. "What?"
"Marriage."
The word hung in the air, thick and heavy. You blinked, unable to comprehend at first. "Marriage?" you repeated, as if saying it aloud would make the absurdity of it clear.
"Itâs one of the few legal paths left," he explained, leaning forward slightly. "Marriage to a U.S. citizen could secure your green card and, eventually, permanent residency. Itâs a legitimate routeâmany people in similar situations have done it."
You sat back in your chair, the tension in your body coiling tighter. The thought of marriage, of attaching yourself to someone you barely knew for the sake of staying in the country, made your skin crawl. You had already sacrificed so much for your freedom, for your career. And now this?
"Youâre telling me the only way to stay here is to marry someone I donât even love? Just to avoid being sent back to a country I donât belong in anymore?"
"Not necessarily," Nicolas said, his tone measured. "It wouldnât have to be a traditional marriage. Think of it as a business arrangement. Itâs a legal partnershipânothing more. And it could save your career, your life here."
You crossed your arms tightly, your mind racing. Marriage. It was a word that had haunted you ever since your parents had tried to force you into it as a teenager. Back then, it was their way of controlling you, of keeping you bound to a life you didnât want. Now, it felt like the universe was throwing the same chains back at you, just in a different form.
"Iâve compiled a list of potential candidates," Arjun continued, sliding a piece of paper across the desk toward you. "People who might be open to an arrangement like this. Athletes, businesspeopleâindividuals who might benefit from a similar deal."
You glanced at the paper but didnât pick it up. The names blurred in front of your eyes. This wasnât how your life was supposed to go. Youâd already lost your family, fought tooth and nail to get out of your country and build something for yourself in the U.S. And now you were at risk of losing everythingâagain.
"I donât know if I can do this, Nico," you said quietly, shaking your head. "Iâve already sacrificed so much. My family⌠I gave up everything to be here. And now youâre telling me I have to give up even more?"
"Iâm not telling you that you have to do anything," he replied, his voice calm but firm. "Iâm saying this is an option. One that could keep you here, legally. But the decision is yours. Iâm just laying out the possibilities."
You swallowed the familiar knot of anxiety tightening in your chest.Â
"I canât go back there," you whispered, more to yourself than to him. "Iâve worked too hard to get here. I canât lose everything."
He nodded slowly. "Then maybe itâs time to consider unconventional options."
You finally picked up the paper, scanning the names but not really seeing them. Your heart was racing, your mind spinning with a thousand thoughts. Marriage. It felt like a trap, just like it had back then. But maybeâjust maybeâit was the only way to keep your future intact.
"Iâll think about it," you said, standing up and smoothing the front of your dress. "But Iâm not making any promises."
"Of course," he said, standing as well. "Just let me know. Weâre running out of time, but Iâll support whatever decision you make."
You nodded curtly, turning toward the door. As you stepped out into the cool city air, your chest tightened with the weight of everything you stood to lose. The lights of New York City flickered ahead of you, just out of reach, as though the life youâd built here could vanish at any moment.
And for the first time in a long time, you felt truly afraid.
Your phone buzzed, dragging you out of your spiraling thoughts. You fished it out of your purse, heart skipping a beat when you saw the name: Nina. Your agent.
With a shaky exhale, you answered. âNina, hi.â
âHey, babe!â Ninaâs voice was all cheer, a stark contrast to the storm inside you. âSo, I have amazing news! Guess who just got major campaign offers coming in? You! Chanel, Loewe, and oh my God, donât even get me started on Louis Vuitton. The year starts beautifully for you!â
You shouldâve felt ecstatic, but instead, the words passed over you like an echo. All you could think of was the countdown Nico had set in motion: three months. Three months before everything youâd built here would be taken away from you.Â
âThatâs⌠amazing, Nina,â you managed, trying to muster some enthusiasm. âReally amazing. Thank you so much.â
âAre you okay? You donât sound like your sunshine-self.â Ninaâs voice softened, concern creeping in. âWhatâs going on?â
There was a pause. Nina had been there through all your ups and downs, from your rookie days as a model to your rise in the industry. But the immigration issues, the fear of being sent back to a life you couldnât return toâthat was something neither of you could control.Â
âThree months?â she repeated, her voice going higher. âOh my Godâwhat the fuck? I thought⌠I thought you had more time.â
âSo did I.â You swallowed the lump in your throat. âNina, I donât know what to do. Iâve called Nico and he tried everythingâextensions, appealsâbut the laws are tightening, and he said thereâs only one real option left.â
There was a brief silence before she asked, âWhat option?â
You bit your lip. âMarriage. Nico says I could marry someone for a green card.â
âMarriage?â Ninaâs voice came out in a shocked squeak. âLike a fake marriage? Babe, are you serious?â
âI donât know!â you burst out, frustration and fear colliding. âI donât know what to do! I canât go back there. I canât. My parents⌠My parents already wrote me off as dead, and if I go back, Iâm stuck in a place I spent my entire life trying to escape.â
Her voice softened. âI know, honey, I know⌠Iâm sorry. I didnât mean to soundâGod, I canât imagine how scary this is for you.â
You took a shaky breath, grateful for her understanding. Nina wasnât just your managerâshe was one of the few people who you actually close to. She was a 34 years old American-Filipina woman. You trusted her with your life.Â
âOkay,â Nina said, her voice more focused now. âOkay, now listen. Weâll figure this out. I know Nicolas wouldnât suggest something like this unless it was a real option. Do you trust him?â
You sighed. âYeah. I do. But the idea of marrying someone just to stay⌠it feels like another version of what my parents wanted for me. Like Iâm back in that same time of my life.â
âI get it. But this isnât like that. Youâre in control this time,â Nina said. âIf this is what you need to stay here, itâs not about love or being owned by someone.â
You nodded to yourself, trying to absorb her words. âWell, um, Nico gave me a list of potential candidatesâpeople who might be willing to make an arrangement. Youâll never guess whoâs on it, though.â
âWho? Shawn Mendes? Harry Styles? Tom Hollandââ
âRafe Cameron,â you said, cutting her off. âThe basketball playââ
âYeah, I know who that man is, Y/N. His reputation is a total mess right now. Itâs not surprising for him to be on that list.â
âExactly,â you muttered. âItâs a perfect business arrangement for him, too. He needs a way to look respectable again, and I need to stay in the country.â
âSo, youâre actually considering this?â
You leaned against a streetlamp, staring at the city around you. âI donât know. Maybe? It just feels wrong. Like Iâm giving up a part of myself.â
âAs nicely as this can be said, you are being dramatic here, babe.â Nina sighed softly. âLook, Iâm not going to push you either way, okay? But I do think you need to look at it from a different angle. Youâre not giving up on yourself. Youâre doing what you need to do to stay here, to keep fighting for your career and your future. And Rafeâor whoever youâll end up marryingâis not your parents. Heâs not going to control you or heâll get slapped.â
You closed your eyes, trying to let her words sink in. She was rightâyou were in control now. This wasnât the same as being forced into a marriage you didnât want. This was about survival. About keeping your life in the U.S. intact.
"Yeah⌠I guess youâre right," you said softly, feeling some of the tension release from your shoulders. "I just need time to think."
TWO WEEKS LATER.
The soft glow of the late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, casting warm light across your living room. After two relentless weeks of back-to-back fashion shoots, campaign meetings, and gala appearances, you had finally found a moment of peace. You curled up on the plush sofa, sinking into its embrace as the hum of the city outside became a distant murmur. The oversized, loose pajamas you wore were a far cry from the designer gowns and couture youâd been draped in recently, but they were yoursâsoft, comforting, and familiar. Your hair was twisted into a lazy bun under a satin bonnet.
You exhaled a sigh of relief, finally feeling the weight of exhaustion slip from your shoulders as you closed your eyes.
Buzz. Buzz.
The sound of your phone vibrating on the coffee table pulled you from the calm. You groaned softly, reaching for it with one hand, expecting to see another notification about a meeting or event. Instead, it was a message from Nicolas.
âAny thoughts on who you're going to marry? We need to move quickly if we want to ensure everything goes through in time.â
The familiar weight of the situation youâd been trying to avoid crept back into your chest. Two weeks had passed since your lawyer had first laid out the reality of your visa situation. In those weeks, you'd thrown yourself into work, hoping the constant flurry of activity would drown out the anxiety. But now, in the quiet of your home, the decision loomed large again.
You typed back, hesitating for a moment before hitting send.
"I havenât decided yet."
A few seconds later, the reply came through.
"We need to discuss this in person. Can you come to my office today?"
You frowned, your eyes darting around the cozy room, not quite ready to leave your home.
"How about you come here instead?" you typed. "Itâs been a long week, and Iâd rather talk in private."
There was a pause before the three dots appeared, and then the message followed.
"Sure. Iâll be there in about an hour."
You put your phone down and leaned back against the cushions, staring at the ceiling. This wasnât a conversation you wanted to have, but it was necessary. Time was running out, and you knew you had to face itâwhether you wanted to or not.
An hour passed in a blur, and soon enough, you heard the knock at your door. You padded across the room in your socks, your oversized pajama pants swishing softly as you walked. Opening the door, you found Nicolas standing there, looking as composed as ever in his tailored suit.
âCome in,â you said with a smile, stepping aside to let him in.
Nicolas entered, his eyes scanning the room before they landed on you. "You look... relaxed."
You gave a soft chuckle, gesturing to your pajamas. âDonât mock the pjâs until youâve tried them.â
He smiled slightly, but there was a hint of emergency in his expression as he took a seat in the armchair across from you. âI know youâve had a lot on your plate lately, but we really need to make a decision.â
You nodded, sitting back down on the couch, hugging a pillow to your chest. âI know⌠Iâve just been avoiding it.â
âAnd I noticed,â he said, pulling out a folder from his briefcase. âBut with the visa expiration approaching, we donât have much time. We need to find someoneâsomeone who understands the situation and wonât make things harder.â
You bit your lip, holding a smile, glancing at the folder in his hands. âYou bought the list?â
He nodded, and handed it over, and you flipped through the names, recognizing some immediately. Athletes, businessmen, even a couple of actors/singers. And then there was Rafe Cameron, his name standing out like a bold headline.
âIâve looked at these,â you said quietly. âI just⌠I donât know who to choose. None of âem feel right.â
Nico leaned forward. âIt's not about right or wrong. Itâs about who can offer the least amount of personal complications and help you secure your residency. Rafe Cameron, for instanceâheâs someone who could benefit from this arrangement as much as you. His reputation needs mending, and this could be a mutually beneficial situation.â
You stared at Rafeâs name, the memories of seeing his name in the news about how much of a womanizer he was⌠Could you really tie yourself to someone like him in a fake marriage?
âAlright, but I need you to help me decide,â you admitted, looking up at him.
He nodded, his expression understanding. âOf course, thatâs why Iâm here. Letâs break it down together and figure out who makes the most sense, not just legally but for your peace of mind.â
Nicolas opened his briefcase again, pulling out more detailed files on the potential candidates. He laid them out neatly on the coffee table, each name with a stack of informationâfinancial records, personal histories, public perceptions. It was all very businesslike.
You leaned forward, looking at the pages in front of you. Each one represented a major decision, a shift in your life you werenât entirely ready to accept, but you knew you didnât have much of a choice.
âLetâs start with the most practical options,â he said, sliding the file on Rafe Cameron toward you. âI know his name has come up before. Heâs wealthy, influential, and⌠well, letâs be honest, he could use a boost to his public image right now. Itâs a good match on paper.â
You stared at Rafeâs name again, tapping the edge of the file with your finger. âYeah, but heâs also a bit of a mess, isnât he? I mean, the media paints him as this⌠whore, and his personal life is always talked about. What if that blows back on me?â
Nicolas raised a brow. âThatâs something to consider, but you also have to think of the benefits. His public image might not be very clean, but heâs powerful. Marrying him would put you in a stable position, and if itâs a business arrangement, his private affairs donât have to concern you.â
You exhaled slowly, still feeling uneasy. Rafe Cameron was trouble, and you knew it. But at the same time, trouble might be exactly what could make this workâfor both of you.
âWhat about the others?â you asked, flipping through the files. âThere has to be someone whoâs⌠less complicated.â
âWell,â he said, tapping another file. âthereâs Owen Turner. Heâs a succesful tech entrepeneur, keeps a low profile. No scandals, no messy reputation. Heâs reliable, but youâll have to approach this differently. Heâs more private, less likely to want his personal life on display.â
âAnd boringâplus, he seems like the type of white guy to want a traditional wife. Like he would expect me to cook for him every night⌠and he has an ugly name.â
âOwen wonât be expecting home-cooked meals, Y/N. Heâs a tech guy; he probably lives on energy drinks and instant ramen,â Nico pointed out, trying to steer you back to the serious topic. âBut if we position it as a legal arrangement, he could see the value in it.â
You sighed, leaning back on the chair. âOkay, maybe Owen is the safer options. But can you imagine our wedding announcement? âSuccesful Tech Entrepeneur Married Famous Model: They Share a Love for Cats and Instant Noodle.ââ
Nico shook his head, trying not to smile. âFocus, please. This is a serious matter.â
âRight, right, sorryâŚâ you said, wavering your hand dismissively. âBut, what do you think about Rafe?â
âRafe Cameron is the most straightforward option,â he said, his tone now more measured. âHeâs already in the public eye, which means there wonât be as much of a shock if youâre suddenly married. Plus, his need for good press aligns with your need for stability.â
âAnd personally?â
He smiled softly, a rare gesture from him. âPersonally, I think you should go with the person you think you can manage.â
You nodded, appreciating his honesty. Staring at the stack of papers in front of you, Rafe Cameronâs name glaring up at you from the top of the list. Every name on the list had its pros and cons, but something about Rafeâs file felt different. Maybe it was the intensity of his media coverage, the scandals, or the way he dominated the headlines for all the wrong reasons. But as much as you hesitated, his name kept pulling you back.
âI know his reputation isn't spotless,â Nico said, sensing your hesitation, âbut in this situation, a clean reputation isnât the priority. You need someone powerful, someone with enough influence to make this arrangement stick without getting tangled up in emotional complications.â
You nodded, again.âBut I donât know if I can handle all the baggage that comes with Rafe Cameron. His public image is a trainwreck. Wouldnât that only complicate things more?â
Nico leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful. âPossibly. But think of it this way: his personal life is already so chaotic that a stable, respectable marriage might be exactly what he needs to repair his image. And thatâs where you come in. Youâd be helping each other.â
Your eyes dropped back down to his file. "Do you think he'd even agree to something like this?"
Nico chuckled softly. âIf thereâs one thing I know about men like Rafe Cameron, itâs that they understand deals. His reputation is hanging by a thread, and a marriage to someone like youâsomeone with a pristine public imageâcould be the ticket to restoring his credibility. Itâs a win-win, really.â
You considered Nicoâs words. He was right. Rafe had everything to gain from a marriage of convenience, just like you. And while his scandals were messy, they didnât define him entirely. He was still an elite athlete, one of the best in the game, and with the right PR strategy, you could both come out looking better.
But the thought of marrying someone like himâa notorious playboy with a history of messy breakupsâmade your stomach churn.Â
âYou know,â Nico continued, âif this were just about your visa, weâd be having a different conversation. But this is about your entire future. Your career, your freedom to stay here, everything youâve built. Iâm not saying itâs an easy choice, but itâs one worth considering.â
You sighed, the weight of the decision pressing down on you. "What happens if it falls apart? What if things with Rafe go wrong?"
"Thatâs why weâll draft a contract," Nico reassured you. "This wonât be a traditional marriage, Y/N. Youâll both have clear boundaries, and legally, weâll protect your interests. If things go south, youâll be covered."
You stared at the file a little longer, then closed your eyes.Rafe Cameron. He was cocky, possessive, and recklessâeverything you usually avoided. But maybe that was the key. You wouldnât have to worry about him trying to control you or make this anything more than a business transaction.
It would be messy. It would be complicated. But it would also keep you here, in the country youâd fought so hard to call home. And maybe, just maybe, it would be the solution you both needed.
âOkay,â you said softly, your decision finally settling. âIâll do it.â
Nicoâs eyebrows shot up, a little surprised at how quickly youâd made up your mind. âYouâre sure?â
âNo,â you admitted with a weak smile. âBut I think this is the best option. Iâll marry Rafe Cameron.â
Nico nodded, closing the folder with a satisfied smile. âGood. Iâll set up a meeting with him. Weâll get the ball rolling.â
Oh God, you were going to marry Rafe CameronâŚ
chapter two
#aliyahs works#the contracted heart#rafe cameron#obx#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron smut#rafe x reader#rafe cameron imagine#outer banks#rafe fanfiction#rafe obx#rafe cameron fluff#rafe outer banks#outerbanks rafe#rafe smut#rafe cameron x oc#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x female reader#obx rafe cameron#model!reader
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One-on-One
Pairing: Professor Henry Cavill x Student Male Reader
Genre: Fluffy Smut, MDNI
Kinks/Warnings/Notes: AMAB Reader; Calling the reader a slut, a whore; Calling the reader a good boy, praise; Slapping and spanking; Age gap; Professor x Student
Length: 5.1k words, Fic
Synopsis: You're one of the lucky few to have ever experienced one of Professor Cavill's lectures. And you are the lucky, singular person to have ever experienced his heart-racing one-on-one session.
A/N: oml hiiii! If you're reading this, then thank you very much! this is my first time writing something over a thousand words (of my own volition) in probably 3 years at least! It's also my first time writing serious smut GAHAHAHAH I would appreciate feedback (totally optional), but most of all, hope you enjoy :D
Credits: @/aquazero for the divider and @/starboye for helping me with formatting and tagging!! ^-^
I picked this one just for you! I hope itâs sweet and juicyâŚ
Youâve always liked your Ancient Mythologies Studies class. It was an easy A, one that came packaged with an interesting topic to boot. Who doesnât want to hear of the religions and myths of civilizations from thousands and thousands of years ago?
The answer is most people. It was one of the smallest classesâeven with a size cap of twenty, it had barely filled out ten slots. It seemed most people simply didnât take interest in the subject. That meant that most people were poor, unfortunate people, because they didnât have the pleasure of knowing Professor Cavill.Â
Professor Cavill had worked at the university teaching their Ancient Mythologies Studies class for the past several years. He was a graduate of this school and, after having established himself as a prominent archaeologist, he opted to take time and teach a course for two sessions weekly. In his words he, âWanted to help inspire any young people with a passion for learning about those that came before us.âÂ
You had found those words so, so interesting. But it was more so about the man saying them.Â
Professor CavillâHenryâwas a tall, broad-shouldered man in his mid-forties. He was kind and considerate to each member of his class, treating them with a warmth and manner youâd read about in an overly unrealistic romance novel. And yet, he was very much real. You had class with him every Monday morning and Friday night.Â
Classes which you would sit in, bouncing your leg and hiding a raging boner as you watched the man fiddle with and adjust his tie.Â
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
âY/N, are you sure youâd rather not attend the festivities?âÂ
Ah, just your luck, wasnât it? Your college had been holding a concert for a handful of its alumni to celebrate their bandâs first national tour. The university had decided that, due to the band falling under the alternative genre, they would allow classes to continue should any students or staff be disinterested.Â
It just so happened that, as much as you werenât opposed to them, you also werenât heavily inclined to actually attend their show. You had figured that at least one of your ten classmates would feel the same.Â
Apparently not.
Hence, you now sat alone in a small lecture room, the chairs beside you empty as you stared at your beloved professor, Professor Cavill.Â
âAh, no, professor. Were you looking to attend?âÂ
âMyself? My personal taste doesnât align with their music. As much as I love Clive-âÂ
Clive was the lead singer and, as you recall, one of Professor Cavillâs former students.Â
â-weâll be meeting for a congratulations dinner tomorrow evening. Weâve already discussed.â
He smiled, dimples forming, as he flipped open his files for the nightâs lecture.Â
Then he had to reach for his stupid tie.Â
âWould you mind if I loosened my tie? Iâve been feeling warm as of earlier this evening.âÂ
His large, somewhat hairy hand was already holding the knot one either side. He did it often; you had come to suspect it was an unconscious habit at times. He would tug at his tie, calling attention to his strong chest or those bulging bicepsâŚ
Damn his stupid tie. Today, it was his blue tie, one you knew to be one of his favourites. He wore it at least thrice a month, most often during Friday sessions.
Every time he would touch it, toy with it, it sent shivers down your spine and blood straight to your cock. You almost werenât sure if you hated or loved that he was almost never without one.
âAh, not at all, Sir. Go ahead.âÂ
âThank you, Y/N.â
God, your name sounded so good out of his mouth. He drew the syllables out, gave it this weight that you hadnât heard your name spoken with before. You could get addicted to the way he had said it just now. You were tempted to find an excuse to have him say it again.Â
That opportunity came as, for the first time, he pushed past absentminded tugs at his tie and now pulled the knot away from his chest. For the first time, you saw his neck without the tie drawing attention. It almost sounded manic to say but⌠the sight began to draw you in.Â
And then he overshot it. The tie came off, knot still done, but it was completely removed now. He stared down at the cloth before using his free hand to undo it, leaving it nice and straight in his hand.Â
âDo you mind if I forgo it?â
Eye contact. He made eye contact with those god damn near hypnotising eyes. They really were unique; the man had something called segmental heterochromia. He had mentioned it once before. It meant that his left iris, though mostly blue like his right, had a patch of brown in its upper half.Â
It felt mystifying, like a siren whose song you couldnât ignore. He continued to look at you, and without him breaking eye contact, you were hopelessly unable to do so yourself. Instead, you simply muttered a weak response.Â
âGo ahead, Sir.â
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Class seemed to fly by. Your hand wrote on its own as your legs bounced, mind and senses completely and utterly hinged on the manâs every word and movement. Though he entranced you each time you sat in on his lectures, tonight was different. You had always blamed his tie. Itâs the tie. The playing with the tie, his stature with it, thatâs what you blamed for your constant erections.Â
But it was difficult to deny it when, as the man orated with his tie discarded, you found your cock throbbing more eagerly than you can remember it having ever done before.
Sweat rolled down your forehead from the heat you were feeling. You cursed yourself, begging that the man would somehow not notice the warmth that afflicted you. But, as you let yourself look at him again, really look at him, you were both relieved and mortified to find that he was under the same circumstances.Â
âIs the air conditioning broken?â
His words were breathless as he fanned himself with his papers. He was tugging at his collar now, further exposing his neck, now slick with sweat. It seemed to be bothering him more than it was you, somehow.Â
âI-I think so.â
You could barely manage to let the words out. Your breathing had gotten unsteady, mind and body unable to focus as the man groaned from the discomfort. Seemingly without realising, his hand undid the two topmost buttons of his shirt. It exposed his chestâa strong chest covered in wild, dark black hair that you had been completely oblivious to the glorious existence of.
âY/N? Are you alright? Is something-â
Of course now he notices your stares. It couldnât have been when it was something that was easily explained away, like you were staring at him due to intent listening. No, it had to be when your gaze, which he followed, led down to his exposed chest. His exposed chest which had, mortifyingly, caused a wet spot to form in your pants.Â
âAh, my apologies. Let me redo my button-âÂ
âNo! I mean-â
Your words came out too eager. Your brain was screaming at your mouth not to speak, to not make an utter fool of yourself. But your mouth chose to go rogue, instead opting to speak like a horned-up teen begging his boyfriend to keep making out with him.Â
âY-you donât have to. I donât mind.âÂ
An eyebrow was cocked in your direction.Â
âIs that so, Y/N?âÂ
Your silence was used to scream, rather than actually think of anything remotely close to damage control.Â
âY-yes Sir. I donât mind if you keep your buttons undone.â
âIf thatâs the case, thenâŚâÂ
Was this⌠reality? Surely it could be. It was impossible.Â
You were sitting there, cock leaking with precum like you were a virgin watching your first porno, as your handsome professor began to undo buttons, one after another. He was exposing himself further and further with each passing second, each button exposing a new section of chiselled, hairy, sweat-covered skin.
His breaths were deep and heavy, sighs and groans of relief sending more and more sensations to your cock. Every vibration of his vocal chords seemed to be felt in full force by your erection, not helping your situation in any way whatsoever.Â
Then the man had the gall to take his shirt off, folding it neatly and placing it aside.Â
His body truly was magnificent. Plush, thick muscles were a constant, whether you looked at his chest, his abs, his shoulders, or any of his muscles. They radiated strength, covered in that same black hair as on his chest and equally slick with sweat. His body glistened under the dim light of the lights hanging above, almost like a gladiator fresh from battle.Â
How the hell were you supposed to react? What the hell were you supposed to do?Â
âY/N, itâs hot, isnât it? Would you mind if I further⌠undressed?â
How the hell were you supposed to say no to that?Â
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was almost pathetic how easily the man got you to fish your cock out of your strained pants. Little more than an offhanded request, actually.Â
Now you sat, pants and underwear around your ankles, your own shirt unbuttoned, as you feverishly pumped your erect dick. Your hand glided up and down due to the slickness of your overflowing precum, breathing unstable and desperate. But you were helpless, the possibility of you stopping a distant memory.
Professor Cavill was now nearly nude. He had discarded his elegant brown leather shoes and well-tailored pants, also in a neat pile on his desk. It left him, his statuesque form, completely exposed to you and your horny, unabashedly feral mind. It was a wonder you hadnât cum yet.Â
âKeep pumping for me, Y/N. Be a good boy and keep going.âÂ
Fuck, you couldnât stop. Not when he said your name in a gruff, demanding voice. Not when he called you the sweetest pet names. Not when he stared at you, panting and eager, with a hunger that a predator has for its prey.Â
Most especially when his cock strained against dark, black fabric, as he rubbed along his clothed shaft as he took in the sight of your desperate form.Â
âProf-âÂ
âHenry. Call me Henry, Y/N.âÂ
Shit, you could feel your cum about to well up and burst.Â
âHenry!âÂ
He gave you a curt nod of approval. Your stomach pulsed with excitement.Â
âP-please, fuck me-!âÂ
You looked at him, eyes wide and begging, and desperately awaited a reply. With mercy, he gave you one.Â
âAlright, Y/N. Iâll fuck you.âÂ
You let out a pathetic, strangled mewl as your cum sprayed up and onto your sweaty torso.Â
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Henryâgah, you got to call him Henryâhad a cock that you couldnât fully process was actually human. It was too perfect. It was thick, nearly as thick as your wrist though thankfully just short. It was lengthy, having had to be nine or ten inches at full mast. His balls were heavy, full of cum that he was eager to let out, and the base of his shaft was buried in a wild, thick, furry bush.Â
It was so close to you. It throbbed in front of you as you sat in your chair, the proximity allowing you to see the thick, pulsing vein that ran from base to near the tip. It let you watch as that fat, mushroom tip leaked a viscous, sticky precum. It lets you inhale that delicious, heady musk, intoxicating your mind and sending it reeling.Â
It was almost too much to process. Almost.
You were far, far too eager to begin sucking on the fat shaft. Who could blame you? People would pay good money to get a taste of a cock this perfect.Â
Fuck, the taste! A salty, somehow indescribably masculine taste, that flooded and overwhelmed your mind. It felt like you were at risk of addiction. Nothing had ever or would ever taste this damn divine. The copious amounts of thick, even saltier, precum being pumped into your throat was an excellent, equally addictive addition.
Even though it hurt and strained your jaw to stretch that wide and accommodate its length, the activity felt simply euphoric. If Henry would let you, youâd opt to do nothing more and nothing less than worship his cock, day and night.Â
âThatâs a good, good boy, Y/N. Lube up my cock.â
You always were one to follow Henryâs instructions. Always one to listen, to be a good, obedient puppy. Maybe thatâs why you were his favourite.Â
And, as he uttered praise and guided your head with a large handâs firm grip, you certainly werenât going to start disobeying now. With a hum of acknowledgement, you dutifully continued your task.
Once satisfied, Henry grunted and lightly tapped the back of your head.Â
âThatâs good, baby. Thatâs enough. Come, get off my cock now.âÂ
Part of you wanted to resist. How were you supposed to tear yourself away from his dick? It sounded impossible. But, you were eager for his praise, to hear him call you a good boy again. So, with one last deep dive down, your nose pressed into his hairy bush and your lips to the base of his shaft, you reluctantly pulled your face away and off of his delicious dick.Â
âGood fucking boy. Youâre a very, very good boy, Y/N.âÂ
Your cock throbbed with lust-filled need as you nodded with pure excitement.Â
âYou deserve a reward. Lay on my desk, Y/N, and let me take care of your now.âÂ
This was somehow the easiest instruction of the night to follow. You found yourself, now nude with your clothes having been folded just like Henryâs, laying on your back on his wooden desk. The surface felt cold and hard, but the feeling of a sturdy base comforted you. You knew that youâd need it.Â
As you took deep, steady breaths. The first of the night, actually. Your mind was trained on one thing, one concern rather.Â
How would you take his monstrous cock?Â
The answer would come soon. Without warning, your legs were lifted by two strong hands. You looked down, seeing as Henry in all his glory set your ankles on his broad shoulders. He began pressing light kisses to your skin, beard tickling your skin, as he maintained unwavering eye contact. It caused you to let out a soft laugh, which he opted to respond to.Â
âYour voice is beautiful, Y/N. Save it for me, okay?âÂ
You felt it then. His fat, throbbing, steaming hot cock was set beside yours, pressed between your dick and your thigh. He was slowly and subtly moving his hips back and forth, groaning at the sensational friction.
âYouâll let me hear you sing tonight, yeah? Let me hear your wonderful voice, Y/N.âÂ
His words were sweet like honey. It was almost enough to distract you from the prodding of his thick fingers against your tight hole. But, as you felt them push past your tight ring of muscle, your voice came out like the gates had been torn down, a moan resounding through the room.Â
âThere you go. Good boy⌠moan for me. Let me hear each and every one, okay?âÂ
You stared at him, eyes half-lidded, and nodded with an eager need to please.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
âDeep breaths, Y/N. Deep breaths for me nowâŚâ
How could someone so sweet cause so much pain? Henry was hunched over, his large, comforting hands on either side of your head as he hovered his face no more than four inches from yours. His heavy breaths fanned against your cheeks as he kept a steady, solid eye contact between you two. It was wondrous how much fire brewed within you from such a mundane act.Â
âAre you ready? Iâm going to insert the tip, alright?âÂ
He looked at you with such care and concern that it almost shocked you. He was a big, hulking man with a terrifyingly huge cock, but as it has come to be shown, a larger heart. It was so damn cheesy, wasnât it?Â
But that didnât matter as you nodded once again, body unable to take the anticipation, the waiting, for him to shove his fat cock inside.Â
âŚExcept maybe it had to. His cockhead slipped inside with ease, but that wasnât to say it wasnât fucking painful. You let out a strangled half-moan half-scream, and within seconds, those large hands were patting the side of your head.
âY/N? Is it too much? Iâll stop, okay? Should I pull out?â
Henry was kissing your forehead, your cheeks, the sides of your lips. He muttered small praises and comforts, every other kiss targeting a tear that had fallen from the pain. He kept true to his word; his hips remained still, his cock not pushing a millimetre further inside. It was from that moment of calm that, as you adjusted to the burning stretch, you were able to speak.Â
âD-donât. Just- give me a second to-âÂ
You huffed out, desperate for air.Â
â-adjust!âÂ
He smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips. He tasted, somehow, better than his cock. It wasnât quite something you could place, to be frank. It was a savoury taste, one with hints of candies you couldnât identify and a tea whose flavour you couldnât imagine. But it was entirely and wholly the delicious thing youâve ever or will ever have.Â
That was worth getting addicted to. And if Henry would let you, youâd chase that taste every single moment you can. Something told you that yeah, he would.Â
âYouâre doing so, so good for me, Y/N. So good, you feel so goodâŚâÂ
Henryâs voice was low and comforting, just as much, if not more than his calming touches. He spoke in whispers between each kiss, and it led you to slowly, but surely, adjust to the pain. Before you had even realised, all you felt was the desire for him to push even further.Â
âH-Henry, you can move now⌠pleaseâŚâÂ
âAre you sure, Y/N?âÂ
Hearing your name roll off his tongue, so casual by this point, only cemented your enthusiasm. You nodded slowly and weakly, smiling the best you could.Â
âFuck, youâre beautiful⌠Hold on to me, and tell me if I need to stop, okay?âÂ
Your cock nearly bounced at the praise. You eked out another nod as your hands came up to rest on his shoulders, leading him to return your smile with one of his own. And fuck, it was gorgeous.Â
He kept his movement slow. It was torturous, but you could appreciate the time and the caution he took. His face watched yours, now scanning for any sign of pain or discomfort. At every wince or scrunch, he would stop, waiting for a nod or smile as your sign of readiness.Â
âYou feel excellent, Y/N. Being with you⌠I could get obsessed with this feeling, you know?âÂ
He leaned down to kiss you yet again. He kissed you, giving you yet another helping of that impossibly lovely taste: his taste.Â
And then⌠then he brushed against your prostate, his cock like a mallet smashing into a button. Even slow, it sent a shock up your spine and a resulting heat through your nerves. Your loud, vulgar moans were taken with great joy and adoration from Henry, his smile only growing fonder.Â
âYou sound so good, Y/N. Let it out for meâŚâÂ
Perhaps you took it a tad too far as your cock, with the pressure to your prostate, burst with another spray of hot, sticky cum that painted both tour and Henryâs stomachs. Such a reaction was met with a warm laughter.Â
âNot what I meant, but Iâm not complaining. Itâs good to know you feel good, baby.âÂ
He leaned in for yet another kiss and, in the hypnotising exchange, you just barely processed a large, encapsulating hand taking hold of your cock. Henry began to spread your cum across your own shaft, using it to pump your still-sensitive cock towards unbearable pleasure.Â
âIâm gonna keep making you feel good, okay?âÂ
Sweat had beaded all over your skin now, streams running down your body as Henryâs own dripped down and onto your frame. He was pushing just a bit faster nowâyou almost couldnât take the wait any longer. That once painful stretch had evolved into pleasure. It had evolved from a burning heat contained to your ass and spread into this resounding, unending warmth washing through you. In the process, it had devolved you into a writhing, moaning mess.
His cock was large, that was certainly clear. It was the kind of large that made your stomach bulge, the kind that you knew you wouldnât ever be able to take with ease no matter how many times it had fucked you. And shit, you hoped that it would fuck you so, so many more times.Â
But your composure only broke down further when his cock seemed to reach so impossibly deep inside, spreading your insides apart like it was trying to break you. Moan after moan fell out as your back arched involuntarily, only accentuating the bulge in your stomach.Â
âBaby? Y/N?âÂ
You hadnât even realised it, but Henry had stopped pushing himself deeper. Now, as he buried into what felt like the core of you and sent waves of electrifying heat with even the slightest twitch of his dick, his hips were flush against yours. He had bottomed out.Â
âHenryâŚâÂ
Words other than the manâs name didnât seem to be able to form. He, however, had so much to say.Â
âFuck, youâre amazing, Y/N. Youâre taking me so damn wellâŚâÂ
The hand not on your cock let go of your face and glided down your body, tracing lines down your shaking body, and stopped just over the bulging portion of your stomach. He brushed it gently, causing yet another crackle of electricity to wrack through you.
âCan⌠can I start to move?âÂ
Oh, you couldâve broken your neck with how fast you agreed.
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âShit, shit! You feel so damn good, Y/N.âÂ
Henryâs calm demeanour had taken a backseat. It was still there, in careful touches to your face and sweet caresses of your body. You could still hear it in every little praise he threw out, and every loving glance he gave your half-lidded eyes.Â
His hips, though, had practically lost any form of restraint.Â
He withdrew and pushed back in with speed and force, hips slamming with a harsh and sharp slap. Your ass felt sore by this point, but it was a warm, comfortable soreness when paired with the sheer, blinding pleasure of Henryâs cock.Â
By the gods, the pleasure was insane. It was driving you mad, your vision going white. His cock, no matter how many times it was thrust into you, remained impossibly large and impossibly deep-reaching. It felt as though it only went deeper and deeper with each push, a result of your fractured state.Â
But how could one stay sane when their body was being overwhelmed with such unimaginable pleasure.Â
As drool began to spill and your eyes rolled back, Henry was quick to grab you by the chin and lock you into yet another kiss. Unlike the times before, though it carried the same sweetness, it was now heavy with a hunger, a need. He hungered for you, and he needed to fucking ruin you.Â
And Henryâs a man who accomplishes his goals, isnât he? He began thrusting into your harder, harsher than he had before. He thrust over and over and over again, his movements without a single missed beat or second of hesitation.Â
His kisses remained constant too. His thick, strong tongue had shoved its way past your pretty lips and began to gnash against your tongue. It was a strange but nonetheless mind numbingly good feeling to have him invade your body even further.Â
By now, his grip had transferred to and firmed on your hips. He kept you nice and planted in place on that damn sturdy desk of his, even as each thrust threatened its integrity. His pace was relentless, the wood starting to creak with his forcefulness.Â
He drew back, saliva still stringing your mouth and his.Â
âY-you feel good, Y/N?âÂ
Who knew this man could stutter? But fuck, he made it sound hot. He sounded so lost in the pleasure, and even then, so firm in his every word.Â
âY-yes!âÂ
He gave a crooked smile at your words.Â
âGood! Do you like the way I taste, Y/N? The way my spit tastes?âÂ
How vulgar was that? And how vulgar was it that, the second you tried to respond with a very clear yes, he decided to drop a fat glob of hot spit onto your cheek? He brought his thumb up to rub it into your skin and, hell, you were about to thank him for it.Â
You couldnât as he cut you off with yet another breathtaking kiss. You were left panting and unable to speak at all when he pulled away.
âYouâre a whore, you know? A beautiful, obedient, whore.âÂ
His words carried no malice, only a heavy lust that he was just barely stopping from pushing him towards ruining your body completely.Â
âBut youâre my whore, alright? Donât you ever fucking forget.âÂ
He slapped your cheek. It wasnât one of anger, moreso just trying to snap you into focus. He wanted an answer and, as his best and favourite student, he knew he would get a reply out of you.Â
âI-Iâm your whore, sir!âÂ
It was a miracle you could speak, really. It was especially miraculous because the second he heard that, with one resounding slam of his hips into yours, you felt it.Â
âFuck, Y/N!â
In the moment, as you arched your back and let your mouth flow with moans at the highest possible volume, Henryâs cock pumped gush after gush of burning hot, viscous, cum.Â
It felt like molten steel, an impossible extreme of everything that semen was meant to be. And as such, it brought the pleasure you felt from having your stomach pumped full of it to a high that you could never reach with any drug imaginable.Â
And through it, his hips hadnât chosen to stop. Every thrust was now being punctuated with a new load of cum filling your already full belly, each one followed then with another slap to your ass or lust-driven proclamation of love.Â
âGod, I love your tight fucking ass-â
You were screaming as you came at the height of the momentâs intensity.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You werenât sure when the night ended, exactly. It seemed that the man had fucked you for hours on end, until he had emptied his fat ballsâ storage of cum and filled your belly with it. He had fucked you till your cock hurt, and each climax produced a dry orgasm due to empty tanks.Â
He had fucked you till you were left unable to think of anything but his cock and the taste of his sweet, delicious lips. Â
And now, he was buried deep inside you still, pressing kiss after kiss to your neck as you desperately gasped for air.Â
âDid I go too hard? Are you hurt, Y/N?âÂ
Your body was, in fact, aching. It was this numb, almost muffled pain that was eclipsedâor perhaps even part ofâthis euphoric pleasure that continued to grasp you. Things no longer felt real, at this point, but a dream youâd rather not wake from.Â
But things were very much reality, and that included a high-off-sex and full-of-affection Henry.Â
âI apologise for the slaps, they were rather forcefulâŚâÂ
You managed out a shake of the head to signal a no. The laugh that he gave, boisterous yet quiet, made your heart pound again.Â
âI see. I suppose weâll need ample time to explore what we both enjoy, hm?âÂ
The idea of more time with Henry, more time doing this, was certainly exciting. He didnât need more than your dumb little smile, one you couldnât wipe off your face even if you wanted or tried to, to tell you thought.Â
âI can see you like the prospect, hm?âÂ
Another chuckle and another kiss. What bliss this was.Â
âIâm going to pull out now, so that we can both get cleaned up, okay? Just breathe for me, Y/N, just like earlier.âÂ
You tried to follow, you really did. But as your hole was quickly left empty, gaping and clenching around nothing, you couldnât help but whine unintelligible mutterings. Henry responded with even more pecks to your lips and caresses to your soft, delicate skin.Â
Henry was certainly a gentleman. He had taken some tissues from the box he reserved for students with colds and used then to to clean the outer portion of your sloppy hole. His hands, as large as they were, moved soft and delicate, careful not to press against any overly sensitive parts.Â
He had taken to cleaning himselfâdrying his cock, much to your dismay, with more paper towels. He had noticed your sadness and, with an admittedly smug smirk, said heâd allow you to suck his cock clean next time. It was still strange, even after the night you had had with him, to hear such lewd language uttered from the refined manâs mouth.
By the time he had dressed himself, your breathing had steadied. Your backside was still sore and leaking, but he had promised to help with that back at his apartment.Â
Wait.
His apartment?Â
âAh, would you rather not? I can clean you up in the facilities here and-âÂ
âNo, no! Iâd-â
You coughed. All the sweat, mixed with what was now cool night air, had left your body just a tad sick. Well, that and the exhaustion from having taken on such an impossible task and cock.Â
â-love to. Iâd love to go home with you, Henry.âÂ
He smiled like he hadnât heard anything quite as lovely before. You smiled back in return.Â
He was the eager to tug on your boxers and wrap you in his suit jacket as a means of decency. He lifted you up bridal-style and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The man was strong and, with the ease that was carrying you, he even held your folded clothing in the hand supporting your butt.Â
You even found the strength to be humorous in the moment, letting out a joking, âOoh, strong guy, huh?âÂ
He graced you yet again with one of those pure, unadulterated laughs.
âIâm glad to have had this one on one session with you, Y/N. Certainly was productive, wasnât it?â
THANK YOU to my lovely beta readers! There's a shit ton GAHAH
@inhumanshadows @worstwolverinesbf @darlingminjin @alatrysev @starboye @spermeboy @starrykie @sleep-0-deprived @slytherslvt @kurominis
Love you all :D you're all soooo nice and helped me finish this with your kind comments! Hope I didn't let you down with the end :>
#mango's harvest#henry cavill#henry cavill smut#henry cavill x reader#henry cavill x male reader#x male reader#xmalereader#male reader#x reader#gay#smut
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thereâs only one bed left - tengen, akaza, rengoku, giyuu
REBLOG MY WORK.
warnings : suggestive, fluff, smut in giyuuâs
a/n : theyâre so cute and fluffy i love and omg k want this to happen to me so bad. also, can you guys tell i love akaza???
TENGEN
you and your current boyfriend had offered to take you on a vacation to turkey. you agreed, happily ready to see the mountains and planes of turkey. upon arrival at the hotel, tengen took both of your suitcases, handing them to the bus boy that was at the door to carry your luggage for you.
âtengen, i couldâve held it.â you insisted. he shook his head. âitâs not very flashy.â
you raised an eyebrow, sighing and giving up because there was never any good reason to argue with him and win.
you two walked up to the reception, a kind old man standing behind the counter.
âa reservation for uzui tengen, please.â tengen crooned. his body seemed giddy and the hair on his arms rose. maybe he was cold?
the bus boy carried your luggage onto a cart. you felt bad for him. no one was helping him and he was pushing a card with a total of 12 suitcases with him. he couldnât see ahead of him but neither tengen helped him, nor did he allow you to.
you pursed your lips, hoping the awkward silence would pass by quickly in the elevator.
at the ding of the elevator, you all stepped out and tengen was gracious enough to carry 4 suitcases on his own, not even breaking a sweat.
his work out routine was rough.
upon arrival, you looked into the large spacious king suite. two beds settled into each side of the room, 5 feet of space between both of them.
tengen walked through the threshold in shock. the smile on his face replaced with a shocked and confused expression.
he threw his arms out forward, bending and looking at the two beds.
âwhat the fuck!? i asked for one bed!â
AKAZA
âthereâs only one room left and itâs got a single queen sized bed.â the receptionist said as she looked up at you and akaza.
you and him turned to look into each others eyes, dumbfounded expressions on your face.
âuhm⌠are you sure there arenât any more?â he asked her. she shook her head. âiâve checked twice, sir. this is the only room available. there will be more later tomorrow.â
you observed your situation. would you drive through the pouring snow for another hour for the next hotel, or sleep in your car and risk freezing to death?
what could you do? because youâd rather sleep on the edge of a volcano than sleep in the same bed as akaza.
not that you hated him or anything. it was his sheer attractiveness that pulled you in. he was so handsome and so sweet and respectful, but he was also strong and kind.
there was nothing to dislike and thatâs exactly what bothered you. you liked him.
so how could you be able to handle sleeping with him??
âdoes the room come with a couch?â he asked. the receptionist shook her head.
âiâm afraid not, sir. thereâs only one room available with one bed.â
akaza sighed and looked at you. âwe can stay if youâd like, or i can go find a different hotel .â he quickly offered. you shook your head.
âitâs too cold, akaza. just stay here, weâll figure it out.â
-
just like that, you two are forced to be in close proximity together. akaza had tried to take the floor but the cold marble was freezing and youâd rather not make him suffer through that.
so your next option was to sleep together with pillows put in between you two as a barrier.
the silence was awkward.
there was so much tension, it could have been cut with a knife. sleep wouldnât come easy either, you were too stressed ⌠and a little bit hot.
âakaza, itâs hot in here.â you whined. he sighed, knowing it was because the hotel had racked the heater up so high and the pillows and blankets you used to separate yourselves wasnât helping.
âletâs get rid of the pillows, then.â there was hesitation in his voice. he wasnât completely sure if youâd be okay with taking the pillows down. you sighed, thinking with your cunt instead.
âitâs perfectly fine.â you smiled, leaning back on your elbows as you stared at him from across your little wall.
the pillows were thrown on to the floor by the both of you in a comical manner. you pushed the comforter down a bit, revealing your tiny shorts and crop top.
this felt a lot better.
but akaza warmed up. he realized how close to naked you were lying next to him on this big bed. what was to stop him if he wanted you?
his brain, of course.
âcan we cuddle?â he asked. his voice was filled with that same hesitation from earlier. you turned your head to look at him.
âwhat?â you asked.
even in the moonlight, you could see the redness of his cheeks and the way his long lashes fluttered over his blue eyes.
ânothing, i-⌠i just-â
your wave of confidence washed over you as you turned towards him, hooking one leg over his waist and wrapping your arms around his neck.
his body was frigid. he didnât know what to do. your own was excruciatingly hot because how on earth did you manage to do this?
a moment of silence and pure awkwardness passed by until his arms wrapped around you, a little bit tighter as he nuzzled his face into your neck.
âyou smell good.â you two whispered at the same time. a laugh booming into the air as you realized your mistake. he laughed too, eyes shutting closed while peacocks formed at the corner of his eyes.
he looked back at you, smiling in content in this position he got himself in.
a hand trailed up your neck and as if the world has slowed down and the wind had began to blow, you felt the searing touch of akazaâs lips slot against yours.
you whimpered into his mouth, kissing back with just as much passion. he held onto your face he tenderly, cradling it as though you might break.
âi like you.â he whispered against your lips.
âi like you more.â
RENGOKU
ârengokuuuu!!â you wailed. he turned to look at you, his eyebrows knitted in concern.
âwhat happened, y/n?â the orange haired male asked.
you pouted, explaining to him that there was only one cabin left and the cabin only had one bed. rengoku smiled as if there were no issues. âthatâs quite alright. i can take the couch!â
you shook your head. âno, absolutely not. iâd feel terrible.â the smile never faltered from his face. he was an endless ray of sunshine that kept you warm for days.
âdonât worry, my dear y/n. weâll figure it out. donât worry.â
-
you wondered how heâd ended up in your bed. he was shirtless, hair sprawled out messily on the pillowcase and his abs were on full display.
you lay against him, his arm pulling you over his chest. then you looked downâŚ
âwhy am i fucking naked??â
rengoku was also naked⌠does that mean you two?..
you looked in the corner at the empty bottle of whiskey. your face felt impossibly hot but a wet feeling erupted in between your legs at the idea of rengoku being the one to pleasure you.
still, you sat there in shock. how could you have spent a night with rengoku and not even remember it?! this was absolutely atrocious.
âgood morning, my flower.â a voice interrupted your thoughts. it was deep, coming from the broad chest of the man you slept with last night.
âg-good morning, rengokuâŚâ you replied, swallowing an awkward lump in your throat.
ârengoku, did we⌠did we fuck last night?â you asked him sheepishly, holding the bed spread tightly to your chest. he looked confused, still half asleep.
he peered one eye open, looking to check if he was nude.
he was.
with that, he shot up. a blush enflamed his cheeks. what the fuck..he thought.
ân-no.. i didnât just fuck you for the first time and not remember it.â he whined, worry deeply set in his voice. you calmed him down, rubbing a soft hand up and down his chest.
âwe have many more opportunities to make love again.â you reasoned. you had been with the man for just a few months, wanting to take it slow and surely not sleep with each other until you were both ready but this⌠this was quite different than what you planned.
âi know, but angel, this was the first time.â he whined softly.
you pulled his head onto your chest. running your fingers through his hair, trying to get him to stop being mean to himself.
âitâs okay, baby.â you cooed. âwe have all the time in the world, donât worry.â
âwell in that caseâŚyou wanna go round 2 right now?â
GIYUU
âthereâs only one room left, sir.â the receptionist called out. giyuu sighed. âweâll take that one.â he didnât give you much of a choice. dragging your luggage and his with him up the elevator, he hadnât said a word.
you figured he was already quite annoyed about the pompous amount of rain outside. you two were traveling for a meeting and the rain had delayed both of you. it bothered him endlessly that he was going to miss such an important meeting.
you chose not to speak, not wanting to irritate the quiet male.
he set down your luggage on the side, next to the bed. his clothes came off next. jacket, sweater and a black tank top that he chose to leave on. he took off his jeans, lounging around in plain black boxers.
âtake the bed. iâll be fine on the couch.â he grumbled. you nodded, heading to the bathroom to change into something more comfortable to sleep in.
-
you walked back out in a large t shirt and panties. you figured it didnât matter much because your t shirt was so big that it reached the middle of your thigh, anyway.
but giyuu saw. he was turned towards you when you reached down to put your phone on charging, your ass on clear display for him.
he breathed sharply through his nose. it was simply a bad idea to even have turned facing your direction. he felt his dick semi-hard.
turning around, he ignored it, choosing peace instead.
it was later that night that something woke him up. was it the rush of heavy rain? the hotel telephone? or ⌠heavy breathing coming from your side of the room.
he quietly listened, steadying his own breathing.
his eyes widened as he heard everything that fell from your lips, dick straining against his boxers.
fuck.
you were touching yourself⌠to the thought of him.
the mewls were hushed, doing your best to keep quiet. the air was hot and heavy and when he slowly peeked to look over, he saw you with your legs spread. they stretched far apart as your pretty pussy was on display. he could hear how wet you were, fingers sloshing around in the mess inside of you.
âg-giyuuâŚâ you breathed heavily. he couldnât help but trail his own hand to his cock, rubbing it uncomfortably against the palm of his large hands.
âf-feels so good.â you whined softly.
he could only imagine. he could think of 10 different ways that he could make you cum. 10 different ways to make you go stupid and crying for him and his cock.
he rutted against his palm harder, trying to keep the grunts of pleasure in. he was so close to his orgasm, just needed a bit more, and you gave it to him.
â âm gonna cum so hard,, g-giyuu..â you cried softly, the tears in your voice apparent.
then what giyuu got up, trailing his way to your bed. he pulled the covers farther down, revealing your calves.
your eyes shot open as you stopped, the pleasure long gone.
âg-giyuu, this isnât what it looks like- i swear!â you shouted.
he put a hand over your mouth.
âshut up, iâll take care of you now.â
REBLOG MY WORK.
taglist form.
ÂŠď¸ tohokuu. do not steal or plagiarize.
#akaza smut#rengoku smut#giyuu smut#tengen smut#akaza x reader#rengoku x reader#giyuu x reader#tengen x reader#demon slayer smut#demon slayer x reader#kny smut#kny x reader#akaza x y/n#rengoku kyojuro#giyuu headcanons
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Analysis of each character's final words in the new Dark Urge evil ending
If you are romanced to a character, you have the option, when taking the new version of the Sins of the Father ending, to kill your partner in front of the others in your party, killing them with one last kiss. They then give their last words and pass away. I love each and every one and feel they are incredible characterization moments.
So let's break these down!
Lae'zel:
I... I am glad it was you. No other blade would have sufficed.
This is something that hammers home that, Vlaakith or no, Lae'zel deeply believes in all the ideals of a Githyanki. Life is a privilege for the strong, and death is the price of weakness. Further, if romanced, Lae'zel will affectionately call you "the source of my bruises" many times. If she has to die, if she has finally found the one person stronger than herself, then she is "satisfied" that it is you- who she both loved and admired. The only one she would ever consider worthy of besting her.
Karlach:
Fuck you.
Short, simple, and to the point, just the way Karlach does everything else. She's already gone through all her stages of grief with her engine- well, almost all of them. Anger still remains. She burns hot until the end.
Wyll:
I... I forgive you.
This isn't just Wyll being a good guy. This is heartbreak, and guilt. Guilt for not saving you from Bhaal's influence when he was so sure he had. Heartbreak that after he gave his literal soul to save as many people as he could, he couldn't save you- and couldn't save others from you, either. All he sacrificed, negated in an instant by the person he loved and trusted most. Of all the characters here, Wyll (tied with Halsin) sounds the most obviously broken, and it's easy to see why, given that he is self-sacrificing to a fault.
There was a set of scenes datamined from the game, where at the Morphic Pool, the Netherbrain would have taunted the players, causing them to hallucinate things related to their fears and insecurities. Wyll's would have been a vision of himself talking about how he was never a hero, how the Blade of Frontiers was a farce all along. One can't help but think about that scene here, wondering just how much blame, bordering on self-loathing, he might feel here.
Dark Justiciar Shadowheart:
I... I'm coming to you, Lady Shar.
Another short and simple one. By becoming a Dark Justiciar, Shadowheart has fully embraced the nihilism of Shar's teachings. Why be saddened or angry at her own death when this is just what she's embraced with all her sacrifices?
(Sidenote: this does also answer a question I had, namely, what was going to happen to everyone Durge kills. Thankfully it seems they aren't actually going to be sacrificed to him as such, and will indeed end up in the realm of their deities. This makes Bhaal's plan even DUMBER, because deities in DND lore need worshippers to have enough power to exist. Killing everyone at once just guarantees that soon after Durge dies as the last person alive, so too will Bhaal fade from existence.)
Selunite Shadowheart:
I... I thought we were going to save each other...
This Shadowheart rejected everything she knew. She was scared to defy her goddess, but worked up the courage- thanks to you. She thought you would have a new life together. She believed in you. She thought she would get to return the favor, and help you turn the page on Bhaal, too.
She's not just heartbroken for herself; she's heartbroken for you, too. Heartbroken at the life you denied both her and yourself.
Gale:
You made me want to live...
From the moment the orb entered Gale's chest, he knew he was at risk of dying. Then Mystra all but marked him as a dead man walking. But despite that, he finds love with you- and for the first time thinks maybe there is a purpose for him beyond Mystra. That he isn't more useful to the world dead. More than that, he wants to live to be with you, to enjoy your company and companionship. And then you kill him, and do the one thing WORSE than what would have happened if he'd never been pulled from that rock.
It almost would have been kinder to just hack his hand off the first time you met him, though Gale may or may not agree.
Spawn Astarion:
I should have killed you when I had the chance...
The angriest, most bitter response out of all the romanced companions, a step beyond Karlach's "fuck you." This is beyond "fuck you" and even beyond "I hate you." It's "I regret every moment I spent with you." You made him believe he could have better. That he could recover from what Cazador did. You even convinced him to spare the 7,000 spawn and that he could be something better than Cazador.
And now you reveal it was all a lie. Astarion is probably thinking that you talked him out of completing the ritual solely so he'd be easier to kill right here and now. How many regrets are flashing through his mind, how many moments where he wonders if things could have been different if only he'd done this or that, even aside from killing you?
All he wanted was to live as a free person. And then the first time he thinks he has that at last, he loses it as the world ends.
Ascended Astarion:
No... no, this can't be... I can't- you can't- no...
In contrast to spawn Astarion, ascended isn't angry, because he doesn't have the clarity, the ability to process what's happening. Spawn Astarion could tell he'd been betrayed.
But Ascended? Ascended, who went through so much to become one of the most powerful beings in the world, only to STILL lose without fanfare? And by you, his own spawn who he thought he had under his control? It isn't betrayal, because he is bluescreening; he can't comprehend what happened or how or why. How could he have been killed, and by you of all people? Was all he went through killing Cazador really for nothing? How could it be when he was supposed to be the most powerful? Was power actually meaningless all along?
He doesn't say anything of substance because he can't understand what's happening here.
Halsin:
Thaniel... goodbye...
Halsin is the oldest of all the companions. He's experienced the most loss of anyone; his birth family, his fellow Druids, and, for a time, Thaniel. He has had more than enough time to contemplate his own mortality, because he's already lived multiple lifetimes.
So here, two things are happening. One, he isn't expressing anger or betrayal at his murder- because he is more than wise enough, and humble enough, to understand that there are worse things than what has been done to himself. Instead of himself, he is thinking of the world he's leaving behind that is about to fall- and most of all, of his most important person, the one who gave him a purpose, who was there when no one else was, who he failed once and only just got back. The closest thing to a child he'll ever have. In his last moments, instead of himself, Halsin is thinking of those he loves.
And second, it's an almost deliberate snubbing of Durge. He willingly walked into that kiss, knowing full well it would be the last thing he ever did. He gave you his death, he pleaded with his own god to forgive you and him both. He gave you everything he felt he owed you, and no more- no begging or sobbing. Instead, he comes as close as he ever gets to selfishness, and spends his last moments thinking about the thing that makes him the happiest- which could have been you, in another life, if you hadn't done this.
Minthara:
No... we were meant to do this together...
Heartbreak, disbelief, and betrayal. You spent so many nights planning this out. She had been cast aside by her people, her goddess, and she was going to get the last laugh. She was going to crush them personally under her heel and prove she was the best (or second best, behind you) of all of them. She's devastated she won't get to help you torture all those souls and take what she feels was owed to her. But interestingly enough... no anger. Probably because it was overshadowed by the sheer heartbreak, but also a sign that even in those moments, she still admires you for your ruthlessness.
#halsin#shadowheart#astarion#gale dekarios#karlach#lae'zel#minthara#wyll#wyll ravengard#jenevelle hallowleaf#halsin silverbough#astarion ancunin#karlach cliffgate#minthara baenre#bg3#baldur's gate 3#dark urge#the dark urge#spoilers
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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader
Author's Note: I had a comment left on my post HERE. The person who commented brought up this scenario of Simon being dared to kiss you and you think that he won't, but he actually does and sparks end up flying. So, of course, I had to write it because... I mean... Come on... (lol). And here it is.
Fandom: Call of Duty
Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader, Soap
Summary: During a game of Truth or Dare, your lieutenant is dared into giving you a kiss, but something about the way he has been acting lately may mean this is going to be more than a quick ordeal. And the way you have been feeling towards him won't be helping.
Word Count: 4k
Part 2: READ HERE
The night has started innocently enough: you and your fellow officers sit around together in the rec, blowing off a little steam after another successful mission. Some nice, simple fun of playing cards and shooting the shit like you usually do when leaving the base to go down to the bar isnât an option. Everyone happens to be here tonight, including that brooding, mask-faced lieutenant that you canât seem to keep your mind from drifting to as he stands against the wall behind you.Â
Maybe itâs just your imagination, but youâve noticed that the lieutenantâs presence has become more and more common lately, especially when youâre around. He keeps mostly to himself, staying on the edge of the fun by just watching, yet you swear that if you are stealthy enough from out of the corner of your eye you can catch his gaze lingering in your direction.Â
Whether itâs just a trick of your mind or the truth, either way it makes your pulse race. And tonight is no exception.
All has been pretty calm so far, nothing too rowdy or out of hand. At least, it was until now as the night has waned on and inhibitions have fallen. What was once an innocent bit of fun has turned a bit more risque as Soap decides that cards arenât enough to keep everyone entertained. What game is it he always seems to pick when everyone is more loose? One where the consequences always end up interesting: Truth or Dare. Â
Several rounds have passed already where the truths have consistently gotten more honest and the dares even more spicy. No one is ready to call it quits just yet, but there is one person that hasnât had a turn after all this time and that just wonât do, not if the Scottish sergeant has anything to say about it. Taking matters into his own hands, Soap turns his attention to the big man standing with his arms crossed, watching quietly.Â
âOy, Lt. Come on, youâre already âere. Ya gotta join us,â Johnny says through the raucous laughter to drag the silent lieutenant into the merriment. âOr are ya chicken, hmm?â
As much as you want Lt. Riley to join in, you would rather him stick around and something like this could get him to walk out; you donât want that to happen. âFucking can it, Johnny,â you say as you strike him in the bicep with your fist. âYouâre talking out of your ass, alright? Knock it off.â
To everyoneâs surprise and yours, after a momentary pause, Lt. Riley steps up closer to the table with his arms still crossed. â âs fine,â he dismisses your concern. âBut, one round is all youâre gonna fuckinâ get from me, sergeant, so better make it count.â
Johnny nods his head in agreement, actually caught off guard that he is even able to get this far with the ever stoic and cold-shouldered officer. It all seems a bit too easy, but Soap isnât going to pass up an opportunity like this to get the lieutenant involved. Heâs gotta make this good whatever it is that gets chosen and so he pauses a minute to think of an idea for either scenario before speaking up. âAlright Lt, ye know how it goes. Truth or dare?â
Truth is never going to be an option for Lt. Riley, not with the level of secrecy he keeps to at all times when it concerns his life; he knows if he gives Johnny an inch he will take a goddamn mile. So, there is only one other option and though he tries to hide the fidgeting in his hands, he picks it. Â
Maybe itâll be something thatâll help him strike up a conversation with you later. âDare,â he says.Â
The grin that lights up Soapâs face instantly lets the entire table know that he is up to no good and the words that follow are a testament to that fact. You thought you knew Johnny well enough by now, but not even you could have been prepared for what came out of his mouth then. âAlright, I dare ye ta kiss our sassy little sergeant right here,â he says as he looks at you with an unwavering gaze.Â
You meet his blue eyes and hold them in stunned silence. Is he fucking serious? As if Lt. Riley would ever go for something so fucking dumb as this. Johnny has to be out of his goddamn mind to put you in this position; itâs like he knows something he shouldnât. Again your immediate reaction is to sock him in the arm, this time a bit harder to drive home the point that you are done with his bullshit.Â
And yet⌠shockingly⌠you hear the lieutenant speak up.
âFine,â Lt. Riley agrees to everyoneâs amazement.Â
You turn your attention to face him. âAre you sure? Johnnyâs just being a dick, you donât have to listen to him, sir,â you reassure as you shoot a glare that has the Soap nervously shifting in his seat, worrying about what is going to happen to him later for pulling such a ridiculous stunt.
âSaid itâs fine,â he repeats, his gruff tone metered. âBut I ainât doinâ it âere though; youâre not gettinâ a free fuckinâ show if thatâs what youâre after Mactavish.â
âAlright, alright, Iâll give ya that,â Johnny concedes. Those blue eyes scan the room for a solution. âHow about âround tha corner there.â
He points to the bend in the wall a few feet away; far enough from the group that they wonât be able to tell whatâs happening behind it. Since there are now stipulations that the lieutenant has set, Johnny is going to add his own as well for good measure. âHowever,â he pipes up, âsince it ainât in front a us here, ya gotta stay in place for 10 minutes. I doubt yeâll actually do anything, but might as well make ye both have ta awkwardly stand there for a bit. And donât think yer gonna pull a fast one; Iâm gonna be countinâ.â
You look back at the lieutenant and he gives a nod. âFine,â you agree as well. How you are able to keep your voice so steady when you feel that jolt deep in the pit of your stomach is a mystery, but you pull it off just fine.
With the rules set Lt. Riley stares at you as if waiting for you to get up from your seat first before he moves. You do and he immediately follows close behind as you make your way over to the wall just past the corner amidst the sounds of whistles and whoops. With a quick flip of the bird back over your shoulder to the group, you both vanish around the side and come to a stop a few feet from the edge.Â
You lean your back up against the wall as he comes to stand in front of you, watching you intensely through the opening in his thin balaclava. As you wait to see who will speak first, you notice a tension in his broad shoulders that hadnât been there before. This is the first time you both have ever been this close to one another and you canât overlook the fact that he seems even bigger now that you are standing so near; you canât help but admire how small you feel next to him. Â
The longer he stares at you with those golden eyes, studying your face as if he is deciding something, the more rapid your heartbeat thumps heavy in your chest. He takes a step closer and then another before coming to a stop again. Now there is less than a footâs distance between your bodies and suddenly there is a shift in the atmosphere around you both, a thick tension that is growing harder to ignore.Â
The sounds of laughter filters over to the both of you, breaking you out of the haze of your thoughts. âYou know, we donât have to do anything. If you want me to lie, itâs fine, sir,â you speak before he has a chance to. âFuck Johnny for putting us in this situation. We can just stand here in silence until we get called back.â
He clears his throat. âWho said anythinâ âbout lyinâ?â he asks with a raise of his eyebrow that you can make out through the mask. âJust donât wanna, is that it?âÂ
Something in the way he says the statement catches you off guard. Why does he sound slightly disappointed? Did he want to actually do this? You couldnât really believe that; no, you must be reading this all wrong. âNo, thatâs notâŚâ you stumble over your words; why is it getting harder to speak? âI just⌠didnât think youâd want to⌠but⌠if you do thenâŚâ
âYes or no?â he cuts off your string of stammering.
âYes,â you confirm.Â
Nothing else needs to be said other than that. His hand moves to his face, his fingers finding the bottom edge of his mask, and now you canât breathe as you wait to see whatâs under there. This is the first time youâll be able to see more than just his eyes and that leaves your mind reeling.
Okay, you prepare yourself, itâs just a kiss, right? Nothing to it; youâve been kissed before. This will be no different. Just breathe and weâll get through it.
The mask is wrenched up above his nose so that his mouth is revealed and spread across waiting for you is a subtle, cocky smirk. Your cheeks flush as your eyes are drawn to the facial hair covering his jaw and outlining his lips; short, light brown outgrowth from not having shaved today. It accentuates his strong jaw perfectly and though you try, you canât look away.
Still focused on his face you miss the warning as a strong hand suddenly finds its way onto your waist as he moves against you. His broad chest is pressed up to yours, you can feel it through the thinner fabric of his shirt, and you canât tell whether itâs your own pounding heartbeat or his that you feel. That tension is suffocating now that he is this close, the air so thick it feels like you can cut it with a knife. You wait impatiently for the moment to finally break. Â
It feels like you are holding your breath when after a few more seconds he finally speaks. âGood,â he says with a bit of breathiness to his voice, âcause Iâm no liar.â
Leaning his head down slowly to reach you his lips inch ever closer until you can feel their warm, ghostly presence brush over your mouth causing your eyes to flutter shut as the ecstasy from the anticipation of them making contact overwhelms you. They are there, right there, and you plead with the universe to finally let them touch. You feel him inhale sharply and with that they are crashing against yours. It is with such an automatic, visceral intensity that it knocks the wind from your lungs.
Simon had been certain until the second your lips made contact that he could keep himself under control, that this was nothing more than sinless fun, but as he breathes in the hot, moist air from your mouth while he captures it again, he already knows that this is not going to end how he has intended. There is an immediate magnetism that you both cannot pull from and what is supposed to be something quick, turns mind-numbing in an instant.
Time stands still as your lips twine together in that familiar back and forth and what can only be a few short seconds extend out into an eternity. Itâs like flicking on a switch how easily you melt into his embrace, like acquainted lovers, like your lips have always meant to be pressed tightly together.Â
How can this be the first time you have ever kissed?
The stubble covering the exposed half of his face pricks along your cheeks the more he advances; the skin around your lips and your jaw growing more raw each time he moves, but the way it makes your face burn is far from painful. His breathing has become more strained, muscles tensing as he risks nipping carefully at the skin on your lower lip.
You inhale a sharp breath through your teeth and then it happens: an unconscious reaction to the pleasure surging through your veins like liquid fire. You canât stop yourself as a sneaky moan creeps up your throat and before you can swallow it back down you hum it into his mouth.Â
That low, alluring sound leaves that hulking military officer hungry to hear more. Those large hands of his desperately want to paw at your body, to caress all those silky curves against the coarse skin of his palms, to let his fingertips linger at all that delicately soft flesh for as long as he can. A deep, gnawing ache settles itself in his chest as he takes your lips with more feral aggression; Simon has never craved something more in that moment than to keep you like this entangled with him.Â
The longer he goes, the more there is nothing tentative about his movements; he kisses you like he owns you. Lt. Riley steals from you as if your lips are air and he will suffocate without them, his desperation is the kind that feels like this is life or death and he needs you to survive. You are unprepared for the fucking bliss of it all, the raw, unbridled passion that his lips create as the friction abrades the tender skin of your mouth.Â
And your thoughts scream for him to keep going.
You match his intensity with your own, kissing him back with everything that you have in you. He opens his mouth slightly and without thinking your tongue moves in and presses against his, trying to shove its way into his mouth. Fuck, he is not prepared for you to be so keen and it throws him off for only a moment before he leans into that passion and comes back with his response.
The lieutenant braces one of his large hands near your hip, pinning you to the wall while his mouth engulfs your own as he slides his tongue in between your teeth to fill the cavity full. It slithers over the surface of your tongue towards the back of your mouth, the taste of you intoxicating so that he cannot get enough. The pleasure is so intense that it severs his connection with reality and everything outside of your joined mouths fades away into background noise. His other hand moves from your waist and is suddenly wrapped around the back of your neck, his thumb holding steadily against your jaw to keep your head securely in his grip so that he can pull you as tight against his face as he can stand.Â
Your head is reeling from the potency of those hot, feverish lips that are suck yours into their desperate embrace. Then his knee forcefully pries its way between your thighs and you are sure that you will not come back from this. Itâs too much to handle and youâve lost all control⌠no, thatâs not right. Youâve yielded everything completely to him without even having to think about it and he has taken every single ounce of what he has been given as if it has always been his.Â
Leaning up into him, you stand up on the balls of your feet as he guides the movement of your head by tilting it from one side to the other in that natural dance that happens when lips play. You are both insatiable as that carnal need to devour the other makes it impossible to not relinquish yourselves to the ecstasy that overwhelms in that moment.Â
Never in your life have you wanted a man to possess you more than you want your superior to right now. Images of him picking you up and slamming your back into the wall, making you encircle his waist with your legs, his cock straining and throbbing between your clothed sex as you plead with him to take you, fill your mind until they make you light-headed.Â
Lt. Riley is not faring any better and he has to focus his entire will into keeping his hands engaged so that he can resist the tingling in his fingertips to find the button on your pants and undo them. If you were alone without the threat of interruption, you might already be half undressed by now, but just as that urge reaches its peak and his fingers are moving in, you both hear the words that make your hearts sink.
âEh, you two,â you hear Soap calling out from a distance, âtimes up.â
It is torture to pull away from you; Simon is on the verge of combusting from being forced to stop before he is ready. But he has to or else he might be found out and there is still hesitation to admit that he might actually want more of this. Even after the ecstasy you both had just shared he isnât sure how far he should let this go and so with a sigh of defeat he releases your lips from his own.Â
By the time he lets you go and moves out from between your legs, your stance is unsteady and your mind fuzzy. The sudden lack of pressure against your mouth leaves you feeling empty and you have to stop yourself from whining aloud. As your eyes slowly flutter open you look up into his face and are met with that chocolate brown gaze lingering on you. There is something swimming in the depths of his eyes: a question, a statement, youâre not sure, but he doesnât say it aloud. The need to say something yourself eats at you, but you close your mouth tight and bite your tongue to keep silent.Â
You canât bring yourself to risk admitting that you donât want him to stop; what if he doesnât feel the same? The pressures of putting it all out there at this moment is too much to handle. Instead, you let the moment die away quietly as you breathe deeply through your nose.
âTimes up,â Lt. Riley repeats the phrase softly as he situates his balaclava back down under his chin to hide himself from you once again. The others are cheering for your return, giving you no time to collect yourself, so you simply sigh and stride back to the group together.
Heads turn your direction as you reappear back into the main room. âWell?â the heavily accented voice of the bastard that has orchestrated this whole thing questions you both.Â
Trying not to stumble back to your seat, you play it off as if you hadnât just had your soul sucked out through your lips. âWell what?â you return as the lieutenant passes you up and takes his place back behind the group.
Soapâs brow furrows. âDonât play dumb with us, lass,â he chides. âWas he any good?â Â
You cautiously take your seat back where you had been as everyone waits for your answer, trying to give yourself more time to calm your pulse that is still racing like wildfire through your tingling limbs. âIt was fine,â you say, hoping you are collected enough to pull off such a bold-faced lie.Â
âOh really?â Johnny asks skeptically as he eyes you up and down to read your body language. Your heart leaps in your chest as you think youâve been found out, that the bloom in your cheeks is still too noticeable, but he continues like nothing. âI think yer full a shit. Probably didnât even get a peck, knowinâ LT. I bet ye did nothinâ back there, but stand in silence.â
You snicker at him, carefully adjusting yourself in your seat so you can squeeze your legs together to relieve the throbbing in such a way that it doesnât draw attention. âAww... Guess thatâs only for us to know and for you to spend all your time worrying about, bitch. Itâs gonna eat at you, isnât it? Gonna lose sleep thinking about me and the lieutenant, hmm?â you pick back, which seems to get him off your case.Â
âYe wanna add anythinâ here?â Soap asks as he turns to the mask officer.
You risk a glance over your shoulder back at your superior, knowing that this could undo all your progress at regaining your composure, and you catch him completely lost in thought, not having heard a word that Soap just said. Quickly he recovers, clearing his throat. âWhatâre ya on about, Mactavish?â he questions back.Â
âI asked if ye had anythinâ to add to her account of events,â Johnny chuckles. âOr are ye too stunned ta speak?â
The lieutenant shoots him a glare before pulling his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. âDonât push yer fuckinâ luck, yeah?â he answers it like a threat as he flips open the pack and places a cig in between his fingers.
Soap holds up his hands innocently with palms facing out in agreement not to start any trouble. âYe must a been terrible, lass,â Soap picks as he turns his attention back to you to keep the jovial atmosphere up.Â
You slug him hard enough to make his chair squeak from the force before joining in the others laughter to disguise the heat still burning through your cheeks. Simon takes the opportunity to slip out unnoticed, though you let your eyes follow him one last time. It is a monumental task that he has to perform to actively put one foot in front of the other, to calculatedly focus his breathing to stay calm, and make it out of the door without anyone noticing that his composure is clearly broken.Â
Once out of sight he hurriedly steps out into the cool night air and immediately rips up his mask as he lights his cigarette, taking a long, heavy drag off it as he leans up against the brick of the building. The nicotine tingles his throat and he hopes itâll be enough of a distraction to stop the intense pounding in his chest. Breathing the smoke out in a weighty sigh he adjusts the crotch of his pants as they have suddenly become too tight for his comfort.Â
âFuckinâ hell,â he mutters under his breath as he leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes, desperately trying to focus on anything in a vain attempt to calm himself, but he already knows its no use.
The second his eyes are shut all he can think about is that kiss: he can still feel his arm around you, detect the ghost of your lips against his, sense the warmth of your breath in his mouth. He tries to push the delectable sensations from his mind, but they arenât going anywhere anytime soon and he knows it.Â
Opening his eyes he stands back up off the wall with a need that compels him, making him move strategically so that he can peek through the door without being seen. Sneakily he stares back into the building, those brown eyes catching the sight of you smiling and laughing, those full lips making his blood pressure rise as he watches them move about as you speak, still red and swollen from being claimed.Â
This is a problem, a big fucking problem. Now the only thing that that hardened military man can think about, instead of keeping his distance, is how he can recreate that exact scene with you again.
And maybe, just maybe, take it even further.
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