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queenshelby · 1 year ago

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Forbidden Desire (Part 14)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)

Warnings: Incest (at this stage accidental), Age Gap, PTSD, Domestic Abuse, Self-Harm, Fluff, Smut

Please comment and engage xx 😘

The following morning however, when you arrived at the factory office, Tommy was waiting for you, sitting behind his large wooden desk.

His presence filled the room, commanding attention and respect. He wore his usual attire: a dark suit, white shirt, and tie, accentuating his powerful physique.

As you walked towards him, you couldn't help but admire the raw masculinity that radiated from him. His muscular frame, piercing eyes, and rugged good looks made him truly irresistible. The sight of him brought back memories of the past, the passionate encounter that had left you aching for more.

But, his face was nothing but stern as he looked up at you.

"Come, sit," he said bluntly as he gave you an order

rather than an invitation. Tommy’s commanding tone sent a thrill through you, reminding you of the raw power that radiated from him. You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you wanted to be so close to him right now, but you complied nonetheless.

As you sat down, Tommy's gaze remained steady, unwavering, as though he was trying to read your thoughts.

"You are a Shelby now, whether you like it or not. And as a Shelby, you do not associate yourself with men like Liam O'Connor," your uncle explained and your pulse quickened as he spoke, feeling the weight of his words as anger rose from deep within you.

"Are you jealous Tommy or are you actually of the view that, as a Shelby, I cannot walk with a man of my choosing?" you queried with a hint of defiance in your voice.

"And why would I be jealous, eh? You are my fucking niece,"

he retorted, his eyes flashing with anger and possessiveness.

The tension in the room escalated as the two of you locked gazes, the intensity of your feelings for one another undeniable.

"I am your niece, yes, but some time ago, I was also your lover," you challenged, your voice low and measured, conveying a sense of power and control.

Tommy's expression hardened, his jaw clenching tightly. "What happened between us then doesn't change anything," he growled, clearly struggling with his emotions.

"No, it doesn't and that is exactly why you need to stay out of my private affairs, Thomas," you agreed, maintaining eye contact, refusing to be intimidated by his dominance.

His demeanour shifted, becoming less hostile as he sighed deeply, acknowledging your statement. "Alright, fine. But remember that the men I employ work for me for a reason. They are dangerous men, Y/N. Liam O'Connor is one of them and, I do no longer trust him now that he has taken an interest in you," Tommy explained after having slept on Polly's revelations and admissions.

His declaration hung heavily in the air, a threat and a promise rolled into one. It stirred a mix of emotions within you - fear, excitement, and longing.

"You still want me, don't you?" your words echoed throughout the room, causing a chill to run down his spine. There was a pause as both of you took in the gravity of your statement. Tommy's eyes narrowed as he studied your face intently, searching for any signs of deception. His expression turned thoughtful as he considered your question.

"It doesn't matter what I want Love. You are family and I need to protect you," Tommy determined with a sigh.

"I can protect myself, Tommy!" you argued, determination etched on your features. "I'm not some fragile flower who needs to be shielded from harm." Your defiance only seemed to fuel his determination to protect you.

"You may think you're stronger than you are, but the truth is, we all need someone to watch our backs, eh," he replied with a steely resolve. "You are my responsibility, whether you like it or not and unless you want me to tell my brother about your relationship with Liam O'Connor, I want to know when you are going to see him next, eh," Tommy told you firmly, his eyes boring into yours.

There was silence in the room, as you processed his words. Despite your resolve, you were beginning to realize that he was serious about his warning.

"Tonight... I am seeing him tonight," you told him, looking downcast and fueled with anger. The mere mention of informing your father about Liam made you feel uneasy, knowing how he would react upon finding out about your dalliance.

"Where?" Tommy asked, clearly satisfied with your response.

"At my house," you admitted, feeling a mixture of guilt and frustration welling up inside you.

"I will have your house watched by men who can be trusted, just in case, eh," Tommy stated matter-of-factly, his voice devoid of emotion.

"Fine," you conceded, unable to argue further.

You knew that despite your resistance, Tommy's protective instincts ran deep, and there was little point in trying to change his mind. He needed to ensure you stayed safe, even if it meant encroaching on your personal life.

"You may go now," Tommy eventually told you with a note of finality in his voice and the room fell silent once again, as you stood up and prepared to leave.

A heavy burden weighed on your shoulders as you realized the precarious situation you found yourself in. The complexities of your relationships with Tommy and Liam threatened to consume you. How could you balance these competing forces without succumbing to the whims of either man?

***

On your way home, your thoughts drifted to the events of the evening. A surge of adrenaline coursed through your veins as you anticipated your meeting with Liam.

Part of you was excited by the forbidden nature of your secret rendezvous, while another part of you felt consumed by guilt, knowing that you were still deeply in love with Tommy. You recalled the passionate moments you shared with him, wondering if they could ever be rekindled.

Arriving at your house, you carefully checked the area before letting yourself in. Your heart raced as you imagined Tommy's men watching from the shadows, their cold stares following your every move.

It was awkward to know that you were being watched, yet there was also a sense of safety that came with Tommy's protection. He may be harsh and domineering, but deep down, you knew he cared for you.

Liam was already waiting for you when you entered your house, looking eager and slightly nervous.

"Fuck, how did you get inside?" you asked, surprised to see him sitting on your lounge, sipping whiskey.

"Your mother let me in before she left," Liam explained, his eyes glinting with darkness.

"How do you know my mother?" you asked, suspiciously trying to gauge his intentions.

"I don't. But she saw Tommy's men outside and realised that I was one of them," Liam explained before advising you that, by now, Tommy's men would have left.

"He asked them to watch you, because of me, didn't he?" Liam questioned, his tone laced with subtle aggression. You nodded silently, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as you acknowledged the fact.

"There is something you should know about me, Y/N," Liam began, his voice taking on a deeper timbre. "I don't take kindly to anyone interfering in my affair, and that includes Thomas Shelby," he went on to say angrily, his gaze fixed on you, his intent clear.

"Listen, Liam," you tried to calm him down, but he wouldn't be pacified as, instead, he approached you, laying his claim.

"I love you, Y/N," he whispered tenderly, his hand caressing your cheek. "Don't let him come between us," he implored, his desire evident in his eyes.

You couldn't help but be swayed by his earnestness, his determination to stand against the seemingly insurmountable obstacle of your relationship with Tommy.

"Why should I believe you?" you asked, testing his sincerity.

"Because I am ready to fight for you, Y/N," he assured you, his voice full of conviction. "And together with the help of my acquaintance, Michael Gray, we can take over the family business,"

Liam continued, his eyes bright with ambition.

You hesitated, absorbing his words. It was the first time he had spoken about this alliance openly, and you couldn't ignore the looming presence of your uncle and the power he held over you.

"But what about Tommy and Arthur?" you questioned, genuinely concerned about the consequences of your actions.

"I don't care about them. They are two spent horses," Liam responded, his tone bordering on aggressive.

"Does Polly know about this?" you wondered aloud, your brow furrowing.

"Polly knows nothing," Liam insisted, a gleam of mischief in his eyes. "She would tell Tommy if she knew. We need to play our cards right." he suggested, and you could not believe what you were hearing.

"This is why you pursued me isn't it?" you probed further, seeking clarification while wondering where Tommy's men were at this point.

They were meant to be watching your house, but you felt as though they were neglecting their duties as, all of a sudden, Liam reached for your wrists.

His touch made you anxious, leaving you vulnerable. "What are you doing?" you asked, trying to remain calm as his attitude changed.

Liam took your hand in his, his grip strong and steady. "We are more than capable of seizing power from those who seek to control us," he said with confidence. "Thomas Shelby may hold power now, but it won't last forever. If we unite together, we can create something new, something better," he said, his voice dark and authoritative.

You looked around your house, thinking about a way to escape, but there was none. Your heart was racing, and your heart was spinning as you realized Liam's true intentions.

You understood now why he had pursued you relentlessly, using every charm and resource at his disposal. He wanted to make you fall in love with him so he could use your newfound affection to secure a position within the family business. It was a cruel twist of fate that put you in this predicament.

Liam watched you warily, his expression a mix of determination and anticipation. Taking a deep breath, you summoned all your courage and faced him squarely.

"So, you think that if I fall in love with you, I would help you make a move against my father and uncle?” you queried, your voice laced with disbelief.

"Yes, and I also believe that once we are together, we can form a powerful alliance and, together with Michael Gray and his wife, we can take over the business," Liam responded confidently, unaware of the trap he had set for himself.

Stunned by his audacity, you took a step back, processing his words. The truth was undeniably painful as Liam had used you to manipulate his way into your family, and you, unknowingly, had played right into his hands.

Your heart pounded violently against your ribcage, and you felt nauseous from the shock of the revelation.

“Marry me Y/N, and help us take over,” Liam's words continued to echo in your ears, reminding you of his cold, calculating nature.

"I am not going to marry you, Liam!" you gasped, fury and betrayal coursing through your veins. "And even if I ever was to consider marrying someone, it certainly wouldn't be you!" you ought to point out, fuelling Liam's anger.

Anger flaring in his eyes, Liam leaned closer, challenging you with his stare. "Is that so? Then perhaps you should reconsider your options, Y/N. Because if you don't cooperate, it won't bode well for you,” he threatened you.

Your heart raced, fearing the worst. "What do you mean?" you asked, attempting to maintain your composure.

"Are you threatening me, Liam?" you ought to clarify, albeit knowing the answer.

"Not at all," he replied, his tone eerily calm. "But I cannot guarantee that your father would put a bullet into his brother's head if he ever found out about your intimate relations with your Uncle Tommy," Liam exclaimed, his eyes narrowing. "Now, unless you change your mind, I will be forced to take matters into my own hands and have a word with the rest of the Shelby Family, disclosing your incestuous liaisons. Maybe the papers would take an interest in this too, seeing that Tommy is running for politics now," he went on to say, knowing that this could well and truly destroy the family business.

His warning sent shivers down your spine, causing you to realize the extent of the danger you were in. You trembled slightly, realizing the precarious position you were in.

"Do not threaten me, Liam! What do you expect me to do?" you asked, your voice quivering with fear.

"Simple," he replied coldly. "Marry me and help me and Michael take over," he repeated, and your heart plummeted into your stomach as you processed his demand. “Your Shelby name is what I need. It’s worth something,” he went on to say, causing you to shake your head again in disbelief.

Marriage? To this man? You couldn't possibly submit to such a life, bound to someone so cruel and selfish. Your resolve strengthened, and you spoke firmly, determined not to succumb to his threats.

"No, Liam. I will not marry you not only because of your despicable tactics but also because I simply cannot bring myself to love you. I will see Tommy about this, and I already know what he will do to you if he finds out about your threat," you told him sternly, frustration and fury lacing your voice.

His face clouded over with anger; his jaw clenched tightly. His hands shook, betraying his rage, as he tried to control his temper. Within seconds, he reached for your throat, grabbing it tightly with one hand. Fear flooded your body, your heart racing wildly as he squeezed harder. You gasped for air, tears streaming down your cheeks as he choked you.

"You will not fuck me over Y/N!" Liam cursed as his grip tightened, and you knew that he had every intention to kill you by this point, so you kicked and screamed.

"Stop! Please!" you gasped loudly, trying to fight Liam off and alarm anyone outside.

“Scream as much as you like. Tommy’s outside are dead,” Liam informed you, choking you harder as suddenly, amongst your struggles, you heard the sound of the door opening, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching rapidly.

You heard Tommy's voice shouting, full of rage, "Let go of her!" he yelled angrily, causing Liam to startle momentarily before tightening his grip on your neck.

By this point, Liam’s eyes flashed with murderous intent, almost ignoring Tommy's presence until Tommy approached him from behind, trying to pull him away from you with force.

Eventually, Liam let go of you, and you dropped to the ground. A fight broke out, and Liam drew his gun, raising it and aiming it straight at Tommy.

This caused you to panic as you knew there was no time to reason with him. Desperate, you lunged toward Liam, hoping to grab the gun from his grasp.

But, before you could act, Tommy pulled his gun and fired, the loud boom deafening the room. Liam dropped to the floor, blood seeping from the wound. With a chilling final glare, he lost consciousness.

Tommy was covered in blood, but the blood he was covered in was not his own.

You crawled towards him on the blood-soaked floor, your heart pounding in your chest. Tommy grabbed you by the arm, pulling you to your feet. The room was deathly silent as you watched the gruesome scene unfold before you.

Your heart hammered in your chest, the horror of witnessing Liam's demise etched into your memory forever. As your gaze met Tommy's, you saw the mixture of relief and concern reflected in his eyes.

"You shot him?" you barely managed to say, your voice merely above a whisper.

"Of course, I fucking shot him, Love. He fucking deserved it, eh" Tommy said roughly, his eyes hard and unforgiving.

The room went quiet, save for the ticking of the clock on the wall, as everyone processed the implications of Liam's demise. You felt Tommy's strong arms wrap around you, offering comfort and protection.

"I did not know about his intentions, Tommy! I really did not fucking know," you cried, your body trembling as you clung to your uncle, desperately seeking solace in his arms. You held onto him fiercely, your fingers digging into his muscular shoulders, as you both stood amidst the carnage that had befallen you all.

Inside, you couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline as you realized how close you had come to losing Tommy, the man who had always been there for you, offering support and love despite your connection.

It was at times like these that you understood the depth of your feelings for him, and you yearned to confess those feelings openly.

Tommy, still holding you tightly, looked down at you with a mixture of love and concern in his eyes. "You couldn't have known, Love, and it doesn't matter now. It's going to be okay, eh," he murmured softly, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"How did you know to come?" you asked while cupping Tommy's blood-stained face.

Your heart ached, and you could feel a tear forming in the corner of your eye. This was not how you wanted things to end, but it seemed like fate had taken hold of your life yet again.

"Moss informed me of the carnage Liam left on First Lane. He shot two of my men, so I came here as quickly as I could,’ Tommy explained with a heavy sigh, the exhaustion evident in his tone.

"Thank you,” you barely managed to say while Tommy’s hold on you tightened.

"I thought I would fucking lose you, Y/N," he told you while cupping your face with his blood-stained hands.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of love and concern resonating within them. You realized then just how deep your feelings for him ran, longing to express them openly but knowing that this wasn't the time or place. Embracing you tightly, Tommy looked down at you with a mixture of love and concern in his eyes.

Then, Tommy's voice deepened, his warm breath ghosting across your ear as he spoke. ”There is something I need to tell you," he said gently.

"What do you want to tell me?" you asked cautiously, bracing yourself for whatever he might reveal.

Tommy took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before speaking. "Alright, here it goes," he began before inhaling again sharply while your heart thumped wildly in your chest, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

Then, Tommy's brow furrowed, his expression becoming intense. "I still love you," he admitted, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his voice. "And I promise you, I will find a way to make it up to you, eh?” he said. His words were honest and filled with sincerity, warming your heart even more.

Suddenly, you found yourself being lifted into Tommy's arms, his strong embrace making you feel safe once more. The room felt smaller now, just the two of you, surrounded by the echoes of your past mistakes. "You should never have to experience any pain for my sake," he continued his voice low and tender.

As Tommy spoke, your heart raced faster, feeling the intensity of his embrace. The world seemed to melt away, leaving you alone with him. In his arms, you felt a sense of safety and belonging and, despite the gravity of the situation, a wave of relief swept through you as you acknowledged your feelings for Tommy, recognizing the bond that connected you.

"I know why you did what you did, Tommy," you told him before closing your eyes and leaning against his broad chest, allowing the warmth of his body to envelop you, the strength of his arms providing a refuge.

"And I forgave you for it some time ago, but I couldn't forget. I couldn't forget about you, the kisses, the sex, everything we shared," you admitted, and a silence fell upon the room as you allowed your words to sink in. Slowly, the corners of Tommy's mouth curved upwards, a small smile emerging, betraying his emotions.

Without words, he lifted up your chin, making you look at him before brushing his lips against yours, tender and reassuring.

"Out of all the women in this world, I have to fall in love with my fucking niece, eh," Tommy smirked after pulling back slightly, eyes locking with yours as they filled with unspoken promises.

"Yes, Uncle Tommy. I am your fucking niece, and you can't tell me that the thought of this doesn't arouse you just a tiny little bit," you teased before Tommy lowered his head again, this time pressing his lips firmly against yours. It was a passionate, almost savage kiss that left you breathless. Every nerve ending in your body lit up with pleasure, sending electric currents coursing through your veins.

The atmosphere in the room shifted drastically, growing increasingly erotic as the sexual tension between you two escalated. , He bent his head down to press a light kiss on your forehead, the warmth of his lips sending shivers down your spine. "It does arouse me," he murmured softly, his voice thick with emotion. “A little bit,” he then added as you both stood there, covered in blood.

Unable to resist, you leaned in closer, your lips meeting his in a tender kiss once more. The world seemed to fade away, and nothing else mattered except the undeniable passion that ignited between you both.

Your kisses grew deeper, more urgent as you both tried to convey the intensity of your feelings through your touch. Your hands roamed over his muscular back, tracing the lines of his sculpted torso. You revelled in the power of his embrace, relishing the way his strong arms wrapped around you, protecting you from the world outside.

He pressed his lips against yours, his tongue dancing teasingly with yours. His hands roamed down your waist, drawing you closer and bringing your hips flush against his. As your hips moved rhythmically, Tommy's hand travelled lower, slipping beneath your dress to cup your derrière. You gasped softly, feeling the pressure of his palm against your sensitive flesh. With each passing moment, you grew more aroused, unable to resist the urge to explore the contours of his body, even in this somewhat inappropriate situation.

As your lips captured each other's, you felt the intensity of his passion surge through your core until Tommy finally pulled away.

"I will call Johnny Dogs to clean up this mess, eh?" Tommy suggested, seeing that you still had to deal with the dead body in your house, which, at least for the past five minutes, you had ignored entirely.

"Where am I going to stay tonight?" you asked almost teasingly, a small grin forming on your lips before you handed Tommy your phone, and he made the call.

"You will be staying with me, Love," Tommy told you firmly after having made contact with Johnny, his blue eyes filled with resolve.

He knew that there was no safer place for you than under his roof, especially after the events of tonight.

"And what will you do to me, at your house, Uncle Tommy?" you teased, letting your voice drop seductively. You let your hand slide down his chest, brushing along his hard abs before stopping at the button of his trousers.

"Well, first of all, I will get you cleaned up," he replied huskily, his eyes darkening with desire.

"And then, I will probably fuck you, that is, if you are a good girl and behave yourself, eh?" he replied with a playful wink, his hand moving underneath your dress, grazing the soft skin of your inner thigh.

You laughed, taking Tommy's hand in yours and placing it against your throbbing core. "I think I can manage to behave myself, Uncle Tommy," you responded seductively, arching your back to press your breasts against his chest. "Just make sure to remind me of your threats when the time comes," you added with a devilish grin.

Tommy's eyes twinkled with amusement and lust, and he pulled you closer, his large hands wrapping around your waist.

"Trust me Love, I will do more than just remind you of my threats," Tommy teased, a devilish glint in his eyes.

As your bodies swayed together, you couldn't help but marvel at the connection between you both. There was an undeniable chemistry that had always existed between you two, one that transcended the boundaries of blood relations.

"Now, let's go before more coppers get here, eh?" Tommy commanded, his deep voice resonating through you.

His fingers laced with yours, leading you out of the room and towards the staircase.

The atmosphere in the house was eerie, almost as if the air itself held a secret. Your eyes scanned the dimly lit hallways, searching for signs of danger or witnesses who may have seen what happened. As you passed through the grand entrance hall, Tommy guided you towards the exit, the cool night air greeting you as you stepped outside. He helped you into his car, ensuring that you were comfortable before starting the engine. The streets were deserted, casting a sombre shadow over the city.

"So, what happens to the body?" you asked as Tommy drove off into the night, his eyes focused on the road ahead.

"That's not your concern, Love. My men will take care of it," he replied gruffly, a faint trace of unease crossing his face.

"It sure sounds like you have done this before," you commented with a raised eyebrow, catching Tommy's hesitation.

"You know I have," he answered simply, his tone betraying a hint of darkness. "And don't ask questions you wouldn't want answers to, eh?" Tommy's warning was clear, yet you didn't back down, instead choosing to remain silent and let the conversation trail off.

"I still love you," you teased with a soft laugh, knowing full well how much Tommy craved your affection.

"Good," Tommy smirked arrogantly as he parked his car near his house. "Because I'm not letting you go again,” he announced as your gaze met his, the intensity of your feelings for each other palpable as you exchanged looks that seemed to hold entire universes within them. This wasn't merely a physical attraction; it was something far more profound, an undeniable connection that defied logic and reason.

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eccentricallygothic · 11 months ago

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Pairing: Soft Dom bf!Pedri | Tall brat gf!You.

Warning(s): D/s dynamics, power imbalance, light manhandling, stern Pedri, Daddy kink, allusion to spanking, Pedri puts reader in her place in a rather sfw way atypical to me. Please do not read if this isn't your cup of tea. Do not repost my works in any way, or use my ideas without permission. Minors do not interact.

Pedri raises an amused, perfectly shaped eyebrow at your little act of defiance. He has to crane his neck upwards to look at you from his half turned position a few steps away from you.

"I am sorry, what was that?" It's a rhetorical question but he understands that you're just a silly little baby who never really thinks her words or actions through at first.

He has to spell everything out for you.

Your cheeks are puffed as you pout down at him, protestant arms crossed over your chest. "You heard me!" You think that you have really done something with this, but when your boyfriend doesn't budge, you start getting restless and fussier.

It's really hard to hold his eyes in situations where he's clearly unhappy with you.

Well, so what?!

You are also very displeased with him!

Pedri slowly slithers in a frustrated sigh when some of the staff and other customers in the bookstore start to stare at the scene you're causing. He is still only half turned to look at you when he speaks.

"Put it down, mi cariño~" your eyes roll despite his open dislike towards the action and a dramatic huff escapes you.

"I've no idea what you mean!" The louder your voice gets with each word, the more his jaw tightens.

Now you're just asking to be pulled across his knee.

"Should I come and look, mi vida?" The sweet endearments are a sign. You are digging your own grave.

But alas, you're just a dumb little brat, aren't you?

You nearly waver at that and he has to bite back his smirk. You're wrapped around his fingers and he knows it. Just a fiddle for him to play as he sees fit.

"I- I…" You gulp as you rake your mind for the appropriate words but images of how he'd look if he did approach you are already flooding your mind.

"Yes, mi corazón, you?" Despite the difference in your heights, he always manages to make you feel like the smallest little thing ever.

You nearly falter, his sweet tone almost lulling you into caving but then your fingers subconsciously tighten around the book and you can't help but snap back into brat mode.

"No!" Pedri is in disbelief at your audacity. The way both his eyebrows raise is proof. "I am NOT leaving without this!" And the book that you had stashed in your fluffy coat finally sees the light of the bookstore when you pull it off.

It isn't about the money.

Your boyfriend sighs under his breath. "Bunny, you chose the three we will buy today yourself. When you finish them, we will come back here and get that one for you" he half nods in the direction of the book.

It is about discipline and order.

"But I want it NOW!" Pedri nods as if understandingly.

"Okay, so here is what's going to happen" folding the arm so he can hold the three books you had chosen for this haul up to you, he speaks in an unimpressed tone. "You are either going to put it down and be grateful for these three" he held his free hand out to you. "Or we will go home with nothing but a sorry brat" and suddenly, you're in a dilemma.

He seriously didn't!

"B- But…" You are conflicted.

"Five seconds, bunny" his eyes find the huge wall clock.

You panic at first but then your eyebrows furrow again when you gaze at the book again. Your nose flares and you square your jaw, ready to stand your ground.

But then…

Pedri lets out a sigh and nods to him, turning to put the books away. "Alright" your legs move faster than your mind and you nearly toss the book you're holding who knows where.

"I am here, okay, I am here!" You clutch the hand he had held out for you desperately, whimpering and whining as you push your body into his.

The look he gives you is enough to make your cheeks flush as you duck your head to nuzzle your face in his shoulder, muttering out apologies.

"What do we say when we act like an ungrateful brat?" You pout as you toy with the collar of his coat.

"S- Sorry…" You are a stranger to your prior volume.

"Sorry, what?" Before he pulls you away and makes you whine. "Say it properly" he keeps you still and unbudging by a hold on your forearm, nonchalant to your grabby hands.

You're forced to lower your head at the end and whimper out an, "I am s- sorry, Daddy…" He keeps you there to let you bask in your littleness for a good few moments before he releases you and makes his way to the counter.

You follow closely behind, a bunch of his coat crumpled up in the fist you hold it with. As Pedri takes care of the payment and packing up of your shopping, you stare at your feet and wait for him. When he's done and you're exiting the store, you want to hold your new possessions but he hovers them above your eager hands.

You need a maintenance session it seems. Since you keep forgetting all of your manners lately.

"Oh!" You gasp when you realize your mistake. "Thank you, Daddy" and you have to kiss his cheek to express your gratitude, of course.

Pedri hums in satisfaction as he finally lets you hold them, fishing out his car keys and unlocking the luxurious car with a beep.

"Since you have lost ice cream privileges, we will go home now" your bottom lip juts out. "And how you behave in the next few moments…" A gasp leaves you when he reaches for your nape and uses it to push you closer to him and the car. "Will determine whether that pretty little butt will be blushing before the night ends or not."

MASTERLIST

I've nothing to say except that I wish a speedy recovery to my Barca bofi <3

#pedri #pedri gonzalez #pedri smut #pedri fluff #pedri x reader #pedri x you #pedri x y/n #pedri fanfic #pedri imagine #fc barcelona #pedri barça #pedri blurb

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controld3vil · 1 year ago

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split

pairing(s): sub-zero/bi-han & reptile/syzoth x reader (seperate) synopsis: shang tsung’s proposition tempted you. his powers guaranteed so you took it. how can they see you now, when you’re going against your morals for yourself? alt: requested by this ask! notes: - reader is gender neutral - anon, thank uu for requesting !! i also wanna mention, im capable of writing for most of mk1 characters :] i should’ve specified on my pinned comment but as long as you read my rules, it’s all good - btw this was such a fun concept to write !!

BI HAN/SUB-ZERO -> It works in his favor, while Bi-Han struggled to make amends for the well-being of Lin Kuei. Circumstances were failing him - his father, no doubt, created a bad example for him. He could not guide him on the significance of maintaining order on Earthrealm. Your recent habits did not surprise him - you were always a kind-hearted person. You were the one who helped Tomas when he struggled to make a perfect score and who volunteered additional counseling for new Lin Kuei trainees - you were dutiful to follow his steps and to protect Earthrealm.

-> But perhaps on that day, when Shang Tsung turned Bi-Han against his brothers, it made you think twice about what was at stake. Kuai Liang knocks him out and brings him back to the compound in solitary confinement. “Kuai Liang told me you aligned with the enemy?” You questioned, him half expecting you to be furious at his endeavor. The Lin Kuei's Grandmaster scoffs at the mention of Scorpion, his scorned brother, the one to betray him. “He was a fool otherwise - What Shang Tsung offered will lead The Lin Kuei to glory.” Part of Bi-Han’s mind pondered your disapproval of his defiance - you always disliked the mistreatment of power, leaving no justice for those less fortunate. Why you are willing to stand by his stand is unknown to the Grandmaster. -> You do not visit for a few days, and the cryomancer grows wary of your rejection against him. Coincidentally, you were more aligned with his younger brothers, accepting the peace that Liu Kang made - you were never to oppose, even suggesting alternative solutions when issues struck. Liu Kang nonetheless appreciated your advice but never took upon your suggestions. Bi-Han feels enraged by this - you had many skills, faring better than some of his soldiers. -> The night he escaped the compound, Sektor and Cyrax reassure him of your safety. It was your idea, and Bi-Han feels relief when he encounters you keeping watch. Lin Kuei soldiers – devoted to him and your cause, are by your side, monitoring the site. The Grandmaster drained from numerous hours of inactivity, bolts to you. “I thought you would stay,” Left me – a fear he would never tell. However, you catch it in his eyes, promising, almost pleading for you. “I am by your side, Bi-Han,” you say, interlacing your hands with his. “Never forget that.” -> Your peculiar habits began bit by bit after the battle with Titan Shang Tsung. With the service of Sektor, Bi-han was able to elevate the Lin Kuei with cybernetic soldiers. He acknowledged this was the more reasonable choice than Shang Tsung’s soul stealers as it was discreet from Liu Kang’s notice. You believed the same - the Lin Kuei required more allies, and building their strength would be a nifty task. The revelation brought you to the masterful sorcerer. Shang Tsung is disingenuous but does not worry you. As long as he did his end of the bargain, you considered - would be adequate. In exchange for control, he could summon you at any time. An easy compromise that you assumed - would not disrupt Lin Kuei’s plans. -> Time after time, you were not like yourself. You felt you had gone through a dramatic shift after inheriting new powers. It was as if you were reborn with greater intention. The things you used to tend for did not feel the exact or vital. Scorpion and Smoke pointed this out when they witnessed you again in Japan. Things have changed — you have changed. They could see it in your eyes and demeanor. You were no longer the gentle and maternal figure they grew up seeing. [ bi-han ]: together, side by side, the lin kuei will fare no better glory. [ you ]: if only kuai liang and tomas understood this.

SYZOTH/REPTILE -> Syzoth is worried about you. Every minute you stand by Shang Tsung’s side, darkness infests your mind. Syzoth had bare witness to the mischievous schemes and understood it would be detrimental for you. Compared to him and everyone else, you were the last person someone would wish to pursue into madness. How should he explain this? -> When Syzoth met you, it was a pure accident. You were gazing through the multiple fruit stands the city had to show. He was performing a show per Shang Tsung’s persistence. To reveal his Zaterran qualities, Reptile continuously did tricks, transforming back and forth between forms. His stunts were not the first thing that captured your stare. But merely his smile - you knew what happiness and joy felt like. From afar, you saw how broken he was. At the end of the night, Syzoth scurried backstage to prepare for the following day. Unexpectedly, you arrived, arms crossed behind your back with a cutely curious expression. “You’re the performer, right? The one with Zaterran blood?” -> “What does it mean to you? Here to insult me?” His voice is sharp and rigid as he dismisses your presence, shaking the boxes beside his tent. Numerous strangers were keen to spend time with him. Most enjoyed the entertainment he produced. You saw the void Syzoth had, standing out on the podium like a puppet. It was degrading to a living being. You wanted to help him - however, Syzoth rejected it. If Shang Tsung witnessed your compassion, who knows what manipulative excuse he would use? -> Though it struck him by surprise what Shang Tsung told him the following morning, “A benevolent soul has sent their regards to you and has convinced me to travel with us. I must thank you, Syzoth.” Horror struck the Zatterian as if he had witnessed the most vile crime. His intent was never to pursue you into his mess. Nonetheless, he frets for your safety and what would happen to your mind once corrupted. -> Your innocence is what kept Syzoth going. In the opaque chasms of Shang Tsung's experiments, you were the one person he could lean on when circumstances had driven him mad. You are supportive and affectionate. And you know the ways and words to console him from his night terrors. While the longer you stayed with him, the more you saw misconduct and depravity. There was an appeal to the sorcerer. Born with little power, you became curious for a better life. Shang Tsung gladly offered and gave you what you considered a gift from the Elder Gods. Like day and night, you were conspicuous with your odd habits. There were times Syzoth questioned your motives, always collecting materials for Shang Tsung and Quan Chi. You were delighted to comply with their requests, even going out of your way to exploit their payment. -> However, one thing he knew that was true was your fondness for him. You deeply cared for the shape-shifting Zatterran. Always there to safeguard him from unwanted matters. All the horrific experiments tormented him. And when they fetch new subjects, the laboratory would be the worst place to reside. The nauseating smell of flesh and blood could never escape him. That is the burden Syzoth must carry forever. You were his guardian angel in some ways. In frantic need, you make all his fears go away. Simply by your presence alone, Syzoth will feel at ease. Where he is near, you are never too far off. You have sacrificed much for him.

-> The two of you looked out for each other. There was no line you would not cross to save Syzoth. Even now, as you two fled the wretched laboratory of his former master, you had suggested killing the Earthrealmers. Which Syzoth immediately brought down, scolding you for how casual you made it sound to be. Johnny, Kenshi, and Kung Lao were not like Shang Tsung. They were deemed trustworthy - for setting him and you free from imprisonment. He knew you meant no harm, simply looking out for his safety and yours. Syzoth hopes one day to change your perspective on outsiders and Earthrealm alike. He believes you would thrive better here at Lord Liu Kang’s sanctuary. -> Initially, the Fire God had given his friend, Johnny, a questionable look. After he deemed him, you, and Asrah compatible with Earthrealm's cause, you were welcome with open arms. It was the first step for you to contemplate and rehabilitate yourself. He hopes for you to stay away from harm. Syzoth all knew of the toxic threads Shang Tsung had placed on you - he anticipates you freed of them. And to allow yourself to aid people for the greater good. [ you ]: don't believe all of what liu kang has to say. [ syzoth ]: why? and trust shang tsung instead?

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deliciousangelfestival · 11 months ago

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Lovers Say Goodbye | 5 - B.Barnes

Character: soft!dark Bucky x ex-girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Bucky finds solace and love in an unexpected place, only to have his world shattered by a shocking revelation about the person he cared about.

Chap 1, Chap 2, Chap 3, Chap 4, Chap 5, -

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Please let me know what your thoughts are. I'd love to read all your comments. Thank you once again.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

The car's interior felt like a tomb. The air hung heavy and frigid, starkly contrasting the heat throbbing in your side. The three agents, faces in pale masks under the harsh overhead light, tried desperately to maintain an air of composure. Beads of sweat trickled down their temples, betraying the growing unease that gnawed at them.

"I took my job seriously," you said, leaning back in the plush seat, a predatory glint in your otherwise dull eyes.

"Chopping the body into smaller pieces wasn't just about convenience," you continued, a cruel amusement twisting your lips. "It minimized the amount of soil needed. A smaller hole meant less suspicion."

You spoke as if describing a recipe, a terrifying calm replacing the pain that should have been etched on your face.

Your words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. The young agent in the passenger seat swallowed audibly, his Adam's apple bobbing like a frantic fish. The driver's knuckles tightened around the steering wheel, his grip white-knuckled against the worn leather.

"And using the remains… well, let's just say the human body has surprising properties," you continued, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Compost of that nature makes for phenomenal fertilizer. That's why the roses in my shop always bloomed so spectacularly.

A collective shiver wracked the agents. The image you painted, of your idyllic flower shop fueled by a dark secret, was enough to curdle their blood. The line between professional and psychopath had blurred beyond recognition.

The quiet, unassuming agent they'd been tasked with escorting was a monster in disguise, and they were trapped in a moving steel cage with her.

They heard Agent ODIN is scary, but not this psycho.

"Most of the bodies I handled belonged to double agents," you mused, your gaze flickering to each agent in turn, a challenge in your eyes.

"Director Brandon always got his hands dirty through me, the silent cleaner. Now, after two years of his ungrateful service, he wants to dispose of me?"

The question hung in the air, a dark accusation that sent a fresh wave of terror through the agents. They were no longer just transporting an injured colleague; they were transporting a ticking time bomb, a weapon potentially more dangerous than any they'd ever encountered.

You leaned back deeper into the plush seat, a satisfied smirk playing on your lips. With a calculated movement, you crossed your arms, the gesture chillingly casual in the face of the horrifying confession you'd just delivered.

"So," your voice dropped to a low purr, "let me get this straight. You were sent to babysit me, not protect me." Your gaze flickered from one agent to the other, each flinching under your unnerving scrutiny.

The young agent in the passenger seat finally snapped. Fear had morphed into a desperate defiance. With a trembling hand, he whipped out his gun, pointing it straight at you.

"Don't move!" he barked, his voice cracking with a mix of terror and bravado. "We only follow orders."

You, however, remained undeterred. You'd anticipated this reaction, the hollowness of their previous assurances echoing in your mind. A heavy sigh escaped your lips, a theatrical display of disappointment.

"Three of you against one," you mused, your voice laced with a hint of regret. "Such a shame. Didn't you learn basic protocol? Always restrain high-risk assets, especially after they casually confess to serial disposal."

The young agent's face contorted in confusion, the trigger finger hovering uselessly above the gun. In that split second, you capitalized on his bewildered state.

With a lightning-fast flick of your wrist, you whipped out a small syringe from your pocket, the needle glinting ominously under the car's harsh light. It was a practiced movement, born from years of operating in the shadows.

"Because," you explained with a chilling smile, "right before you so rudely interrupted, I injected you both with a little… persuasion."

A wave of panic washed over the two side agents. Their skin flushed an unnatural red, a prickling sensation spreading across their bodies. Their breaths became shallow, gasps escaping their lips. The fear in their eyes was a stark contrast to the bravado they'd displayed moments ago.

You didn't waste another glance on their agonizing contortions. Instead, you turned your icy gaze to the driver, his grip now slack on the steering wheel. The fear was a tangible thing hanging heavy in the air.

"Let me out of the car," you commanded, your voice laced with a deadly calm. "And perhaps I'll consider letting you take your friends to the hospital."

The driver, paralyzed by a mix of fear and the poison's effects, could only nod dumbly. You offered him a small, humorless smile, a chilling promise of freedom hanging in the stagnant air.

A cold dread snaked its way down the driver's spine. The chilling words of their orders echoed in his head: "Make her gone, or I will wipe you and your family from this earth." He cast a terrified glance at you, your calm demeanor a terrifying counterpoint to the chaos within him.

"I'm sorry, Agent L/N," he choked out, his voice thick with a mix of fear and morbid defiance. "Let's die together."

Before you could react, the engine roared to life. The car lurched forward, accelerating at a terrifying speed. You swore under your breath, the truth sinking in like a lead weight. They weren't going to the safe house; they were eliminating you.

Panic surged through you for a fleeting moment, a stark contrast to the carefully crafted facade you'd presented. You lunged for the door handle, ripping it open just as the driver steered the car towards the looming darkness at the edge of the cliff.

With a sickening lurch, the car plunged off the cliff face. You managed to throw yourself out of the car at the last possible second, rolling across the hard ground as the vehicle exploded into a fireball below, a final, fiery testament to their desperate attempt.

Shoving yourself upright, you winced at the renewed ache in your side, the adrenaline slowly ebbing away. You gazed at the smoldering wreckage below, a dark humor twisting your lips.

"Tsk," you clicked your tongue, a sardonic sound that echoed in the stillness of the night. "Is this how they repay loyalty?"

You surveyed your surroundings, a cool night breeze whipping at your hair. You were alone, stranded on a deserted road with a body – well, at least the agents thought it was a body – to your name. A laugh escaped your lips, a dark sound that echoed in the stillness.

"Going back might be a slight problem," you mused, resting your hands on your hips.

The truth is, you never came here. The story you told the agents before was a lie. You just wanted to scare them. And you didn't inject the other two agents with poison. It's just a thin pick that you always bring if you get locked up.

You never intended for them to believe you were a deranged murderer, just someone they couldn't control.

But the satisfaction of manipulation was short-lived. Now, you were stranded in the middle of nowhere, with a very real problem: how to get back to civilization without blowing your cover.

You scratched your head in mock frustration, the throbbing pain in your side a dull counterpoint to the burning adrenaline. "Do I have to walk all the way down?" you muttered, gazing at the long stretch of deserted road leading back to civilization.

As if summoned by your thoughts, a low rumble echoed in the distance, growing louder by the second. A pair of headlights cut through the darkness, momentarily blinding you as they drew closer. A sleek black sports car screeched to a halt beside you, the engine purring like a caged beast.

The driver's side window rolled down, revealing a face you both expected and didn't. Bucky Barnes, his expression a chilling mix of amusement and something akin to grudging respect, stared at you.

"Need a lift, sweetheart?" he drawled, the familiar glint of mischief in his eyes.

You forced a strained smile and managed to mutter, "No thanks. I'll just jump," though the words felt heavy on your tongue.

Bucky chuckled, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine, causing your shoulders to tense involuntarily.

"How does it feel to be betrayed by someone you trust?" he asked, his voice laced with bitterness, his eyes piercing into yours, searching for a reaction.

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whumped-by-glitter · 10 months ago

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WOW's Birthday Event Day 4: Electrocution / Waterboarded / "Anything but that!"

⚠️ CW: Electrocution, Waterboarding, Non-Sexual Nudity (mentioned), Torture. (please let me know if I missed anything)

A HUGE shout out to @3-2-whump for beta reading so I could get this out today!

Day 3 Here <

Youngest was dragged off. They kicked and thrashed as hard as they could, cussing the men who held them out. One of them had finally had enough of it and punched them hard in the stomach.

“Shut the fuck up and cooperate, or you’ll get worse,” the man growled harshly.

Youngest doubled over, the wind knocked out of them, and collapsed. Before they could catch their breath, they felt themselves be hoisted up again. This time Youngest complied. They knew a cracked rib would make escape more difficult, they reasoned. They needed to stay focused on getting Whumpee and getting out of here. Maybe being captured isn’t such a bad thing, they’ll find Whumpee quicker this way, right?

When the hood was finally removed, they found themselves in a small sterile room with a single table that was about 6 feet long. The handcuffs were removed but before they could struggle, they were forced down into a high back chair. Their heart sank. This looked like an interrogation room. Whumpee was nowhere to be seen.

Their arms were secured to the armrests then their ankles to the chair legs. A sickening fear emerged when the head of a leather strap appeared in their field of vision. It was pulled across their throat by a set of dexterous hands. Youngest could hear it be pushed back through a hole on the other side of their throat before being pulled uncomfortably tight. They then heard it buckle behind them. They were completely immobilized.

Youngest could hear the door open behind them open. Whoever just came in caused the men on either side them to snap to attention.

“Well, well,” a voice came low in menacing before revealing itself. “it’s not every day my enemies come crawling to me on their hands and knees,” the man sneered, settling down in chair on the opposite side of the table.

Claudio! Youngest realized. They flushed red slightly at his taunt.

“So why did you come here?” Claudio asked in a light, somewhat amused tone.

“Release me, and release Whumpee to me and I will leave you unharmed,” Youngest demanded, summoning all of the bravado they could. Even to them the words sounded weak though.

Claudio gave a hearty, deep laugh. Wiping a tear of amusement from the corner of his eye, he replied breathily “Ooh, an ultimatum, I’m terrified. Exactly what do you plan on doing when you can’t even move?”

Youngest just spat at Claudio as the man leaned in to wait for an answer to his mocking question. Youngest flashed a grin when it hit him in the face.

Claudio’s face flashed anger momentarily before returning to his bemused expression and laughter. “Feisty, aren’t we? I like it.” He nodded at a guard that then proceeded to taser Youngest.

The electricity surged through Youngest’s body. They jerked and thrashed, their body moving on its own.

“Let’s get one thing clear boy,” Claudio hissed dangerously, “you are in no position to make demands, and certainly in position to be making ultimatums. Now, where’s the rest of your team? If you’re here, the rest can’t be far.”

“Bite me! I’m not telling you a damn thing, you bastard!” Youngest snarled in defiance.

“Cut off their shirt,” Claudio ordered one of the guards, grabbing the taser from the other. They strode confidently to the others side of the table. He leaned against it, not quite directly in front of Youngest. “Listen here you little shit, you’re going to tell me what I want to know. It’s up to you how much damage you're going to sustain before then.”

Claudio turned to the guard closest to him, nodding his head to the door, before following the guard out. “Bring me a dog,” Claudio ordered once out of earshot of his detainee.

It only took a few minutes before one of their trained attack dogs was brought to Claudio on a leash.

Claudio walked back into the interrogation room, the guard behind him had the dog in tow.

“Okay now where were we? Oh yes, ‘bite me’ I think was what you said. Say that again and Fido here will make it happen,” he gave the large Doberman a pat.

Youngest grew silent, eyes wide, flicking nervously to the muscular dog. They squirmed nervously.

“Now back to what I want know,” Claudio picked up the taser again. “Where are your friends hiding?”

Youngest flicked a glance over at the dog again, then back to Claudio. “Get fucked!” Youngest belted out, rashly. They did not want this man to know they were alone.

“Wrong answer,” Claudio chided menacingly.

The taser made contact with Youngest’s bare chest. Electricity tore through them once again. The restraints bit into their skin as their body contorted involuntarily with the current. Claudio hit them with it an additional two more times in quick succession, leaving Youngest panting for air. Their blood trickled out from under the restraints around their neck and wrists.

Before Youngest could get anything else out they were beginning unbound. Momentarily freed, they tried desperately to fight, but could not muster the strength. They were slammed to the table on their back, once again knocking the wind out of them.

Before they could recover Youngest found themselves being strapped to the table, once again completely immobile. They felt the legs of the table near their head be brought down. Youngest was now laying on an angle, their feet higher than their head. Claudio put a rag over their face, obscuring their sight.

“No, please! No! No!” Youngest screamed and struggled, realizing what was about to happen.

“You had your chance” Claudio sneered.

Youngest could hear the distinct scrape of a metal bucket against the floor. They braced themselves as best they, inhaling a deep breath.

Water began to pour over their nose and mouth. They almost instantly began to panic as the water burned going up their nose and into their throat. Their lungs began to ache then quickly burn. The breath they took in was forced out by the pain and fear. Instinctively they tried to gasp.

Gasping made it worse, so much worse. They gasped in water and wet rag, causing sheer unadulterated terror to engulf their body.

‘I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe!’ Panic rushed through Youngest’s veins. The panic and sheer terror intensified as they tried to thrash, to buck, to do anything, but they couldn’t move more than arch their back an inch off of the table.

Youngest had never in their entire life had ever felt terror so raw, so all encompassing. Their lungs burned, their throat burned, their nose burned. They couldn’t move, they couldn’t scream, they couldn’t BREATHE.

Finally, blessedly the stream stopped. Youngest gasped in air, more intensely aware of how precious it was. Their face was wet from tears and water as the rag was peeled away. They coughed and sputtered.

“Where is your team? Where is Leader?” Claudio asked, grasping Youngest’s cheek, drawing blood.

Youngest could do nothing but cough and pant. They couldn’t find their voice. Their eyes were still wide with fear.

“Tsk, no answer? Okay then,” Claudio laughed cruelly. He began to put the rag back over Youngest’s face.

“N-no, please, a-anything but that,” Youngest croaked out weakly, their throat raw. They started sobbing.

“Oh, so you have an answer for me?” Claudio cooed.

“I-I came alone,” they reluctantly admitted, finally cracking.

“Oh, you have, have you?” Claudio narrowed his eyes, causing Youngest to flinch and shudder. “I would say smart boy for fessing up, but it would seem you are incredibly stupid.” Claudio gave the still bound captive a condescending cheek pat, “you pissed yourself too, you’re stupid and a coward.”

Youngest laid there, exhausted and completely embarrassed. everything from last night and today hit them all at once. The fight with leader, the run, their capture. The physical and mental exhaustion from the torture made so that they could barely lift their head.

Claudio turned away from Youngest to the guards. “Strip them, then throw them in solitary confinement.” He instructed, then glanced back at his prisoner, “if he struggles, rough him up.” Claudio left Youngest alone and vulnerable with the guards and attack dog.

Claudio’s Parting words struck deep. Youngest had nothing left in them, just exhaustion, pain, and an unbearable shame that ran so much deeper than just pissing their pants. The only thing they could think was ‘will leader even come?’

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#wow birthday whump #wow birthday whump day 4 #electrocution #waterboarding #whump

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al-astakbar · 1 year ago

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☆ The Gift -- Thrawn x reader ☆

> title ☆ The Gift ☆part 4/?

> summary ☆ As congratulations for his recent promotion to Grand Admiral, Emperor Palpatine gives Thrawn a gift -- a young woman who has been trained as a pleasure companion.

> pairing ☆ Thrawn x reader ☆ word count [3.2k] ☆ warnings for this part ☆ explicit PIV sex, dubious consent, very mild/brief anal fingering, orgasm self-denial, Thrawn is not nice yet, he's rough and efficient and horny... > series warnings ☆ dubious consent; sexual slavery; concubine/ sex slave AU; will add more warnings as more parts are posted

>series navigation ☆ part 1 ☆ part 2 ☆ part 3 ☆ part 4 ☆ part 5 ☆ part 6 ☆ part 7

> posted on ao3

author note!! To be very clear, in this story reader is a concubine against her will and is gifted to Thrawn, but there is at no point any noncon between Thrawn and reader. Reader is never noncon with anyone, either referenced or explicitly, and there is never any explicit noncon. However, this is a darker take on Thrawn and he doesn't really have many hangups about putting his gift to use...

“Is this how it’s going to be?” You ask as soon as the hatch shuts behind him. “You’re just going to lock me in here while you go to work?” You hadn’t meant to be accusatory but emotion slips through, makes your voice crack.

Right now, he appears to be in no mood to entertain your insolence.

“Undress,” he orders darkly. “Then bend over the desk and wait for me.”

You stare at him, frozen for a moment. Then, compelled by some facet of his power, you obey.

His tone leaves no room for defiance, and his expression is one of unmistakable lust, his glowing red eyes fixed on you. Your arms and legs feel heavy, your fingers clumsy trying to work the ties and clasps. Your hooded robe with the veil attached comes off and you drop it to the side. Then your simple undershift, and finally you toe off your thin slippers. Those, too, you had chosen to embellish during your vigil, though the practice was uncommon. If Thrawn notices now, he says nothing. Gingerly, cringing at the cold, hard stone, you place yourself over the desk, wanting to appease him with your obedience and ignore the low thrum of arousal he struck in you with a simple command.

Coming to stand in front of the desk where you can see him, he pulls each of his gloves off, tucks them in his belt. “Tell me what you were reading,” he says before circling around the desk, behind you.

It seems foolish to try to lie, so you don’t. You recount what you’ve learned about him, all the while trying to keep the apprehension out of your voice.

“I'm not upset,” Thrawn says. “You have every reason to be curious and you took advantage of the resource available to you.”

“Does that mean you’ll answer questions?” You ask, a little dryly.

“Perhaps. The biographies are often biased and incomplete.”

“So is any of it true?” You try to sound nonchalant. “Or is it all just bantha shit.”

“Most of the accounts of the battles are accurate. Such things are the most easily provable, though in such chaos, details are often lost or distorted, even from recent conflicts. As for the other claims, I only stand by my deeds. Others may draw their own conclusions.”

You hear the quiet rumpling of clothing and then, unmistakably, the rhythmic sound of flesh on flesh. You peek back over your shoulder. He’s tucked the hem of his tunic up in his belt, and is pumping himself in his hand rather lazily. You swallow hard seeing how big he is. He wasn’t lying— it is familiar, just thicker and longer than any human’s you’ve ever seen. And, fascinatingly, a deep bluish-purple.

His eyes roam over your naked body.

He reaches for your hip, not grabbing or pawing roughly, but an inquisitive touch, like that of a new lover. You wonder if he’s doing it on purpose— either to make you feel at ease or mock you. You wonder if he’s enjoying it. He lingers, and the pressure in the room seems to change.

His hand drops lower, skimming your skin, and your breath catches in your throat. Lower still, your thigh, inside, perhaps testing to see if you’ll clamp your legs together to deny him access.

You don’t.

You won’t.

His fingers find your center. His approach feels like one of curiosity, rather than passion. A real lover would be pleased to feel the slight wetness, the beginning of your arousal. Your new master says nothing. You twist to look at him again and see his hand still working his cock with no real hurry.

He appears completely unaffected. He could be wearing the same expression giving orders from the bridge of his ship. His glowing red eyes meet yours and the intensity holds you there, not permitting you to look away.

Then, a caress. A deliberate roll of his finger over your clit that spikes desire— real, pulsing desire— through your core.

“Don’t. Don’t try to make it nice for me.”

“As you wish.” And with no other warning, he notches the head of his cock at your entrance and pushes in. You gasp at the stinging pain and your arms give out, your breasts press against the cold surface of the desk and all you can do is rest your cheek flat and submit.

The stretch is merciless, and he is so large that he can’t fully enter in one stroke. He does not stop at the resistance, not at your sounds, not when you cringe away. Not when you clench around him, so tight he grunts and grips your ass harder, fingers digging in to bruise and he keeps going— stars, he’s huge— working his thick cock into you, unrelenting, until all you can feel is him.

He only puts a firm hand at the small of your back as if to say ‘I did warn you’.

You are full of him, so utterly stuffed you can’t move and the frigid room and uncomfortable desk are a distant afterthought. To your embarrassment, you feel your face heat, tears welling and running down your cheeks. Not from the pain, which has faded, given way to an aching fullness, but from everything else. From this sudden, overwhelming intimacy with a stranger. From the humiliation of being used by someone who doesn’t really even want you. And worst, from the undeniable reaction your body has to him.

He pauses for a moment, when his hips finally press fully against the round curve of your ass and he is as deep as he can go, stretching you past the point of discomfort. Your hips are pinned against the edge of the desk, there is nowhere to go.

“Crying already and I’ve barely started,” he observes, though there is no malice in his voice. “Perhaps next time you will consider my offer.” He leans close, pumping into you slowly and shallowly. “You know it need not be like this every time. There is no reason for you to be in pain other than your pride.”

You attempt a derisive snort at that but only manage to sound bratty. “Fuck you.”

He rolls his hips, seating himself somehow even deeper and you can’t help but gasp again.

“Every—- every time?” You fish for something, anything to say to distract yourself from reality.

“Surely you didn’t think it would be just one time? And I will have you here.” He reaches forward to tap your mouth. “And here.” With his hand gripping your ass he brushes a thumb over the tight pucker.

The touch makes you squirm in shock and embarrassment and oh, yes, an unhealthy measure of arousal that you steadfastly try to ignore. Impossible. He can tell, and over your shoulder, you see him lick his thumb, then do it again, this time massaging his wet thumb around your rim, with just the slightest bit of pressure, and it makes you quiver. With just a bit more, he circles, and presses the tip of his thumb inside. You squeal at the intrusion and clamp down on him, hard.

His movement stutters for a moment, then resumes. “You are a plaything,” he says, and you hear new warmth in his voice, amusement, maybe. “And I intend to enjoy you. I am confident you will come to enjoy my company as well.” He plunges into you again at just the right angle, the one that had made you clench around him before.

“There,” he whispers, his breath hot on your neck as he arches over you, and repeats the motion slowly, rolling his hips just so. It pulls insistently at the thread of your arousal.

“Don’t.. don’t do that.” You strain to keep the note of pleading out of your voice.

“This?” He does it again.

“Y- yes.” Your breath hitches. With his thumb still hooked in your ass, and his thick cock splitting you open, you can hardly think, let alone resist.

You will not enjoy this, you repeat to yourself. It takes all your willpower to insist to yourself that you don’t like him. Dimly, you cling to irritation at his overconfidence, to your fear, to humiliation. You may grudgingly submit, but you will never enjoy his company. You are mounted over a Grand Admiral’s desk and he is using you as a toy, a convenient hole to fuck, and you should hate it.

Should.

“I see that you will require some additional training,” he murmurs. His accent has grown a little stronger, his movements a little more urgent. “To be of use to me.”

He braces himself with one hand flat on the desk, right next to your face. He rides you fast and hard now, forcing your cunt wide around him with every thrust. You shove away your arousal each time it rises, grasping at the edge of the desk and once, briefly, at his blue hand next to your head— which you release very quickly. You will not give him the satisfaction.

It swells in you, though, an insistent, pulsing heat, much too big to ignore, and makes you tight and slick around his cock, makes you pant and moan, makes you sob with undisguised need when he holds you down with a firm hand that nearly spans the width of your back so he can pound you mercilessly.

He loses none of his efficiency and control. Nothing rough, not like you had feared, but he makes it very clear that he owns you. He owns your cunt, your mouth, your ass, and he will, eventually, own your pleasure too.

He is quiet when he comes. Only a soft grunt. His movement jerks and stalls, and you feel a distinct pulsing within you. His cock seems to grow even larger, overfilling you as he pumps his cum into you. So much of it. It’s leaking out, dripping down your thighs even before he pulls away.

Wetness gushes from you when he withdraws. In the cold it runs sticky and sluggish down your legs.

You stay there, cheek flat on the desk, as your breath slowly comes back to you. When you move to stand up, he pushes you back down again.

“We’re not done.”

Before you can process what this means, he’s positioning his cock at your slick, open hole. Thrusts in all the way, so deep and hard the movement shoves you up the desk and forces more of his cum out of you with an obscene sound.

“Fuck!” You gasp in surprise. The sudden feeling of being stuffed and stretched doesn’t hurt now, though your nerves are raw. Oversensitized and keen to every little touch.

Thrawn seems to observe this. He presses in deeper, as deep as he can, and grinds his hips against yours. It makes his thick cock inside you hit just there, kindling again that slow, deep, relentless pleasure that makes you tremble.

Still, you resist it. You had agreed to his plan. His reasoning was sound. But this is a perversion and you owe him nothing more.

Thrawn leans down, his face close to yours. He brushes a strand of hair off your face. He continues rolling his hips, leisurely and measured. You get the feeling he’s studying you, and studying the effect he’s having on your willpower. “No?” His voice is like cool silk.

One small change of angle and he draws a helpless, broken moan from you.

“Fuck…” You can’t quite manage the ‘you’ part of it, but he catches your meaning.

“Very well.” He straightens up, resettles himself. One hand on your waist, the other gripping your ass. He pulls out, drives back in. Again, faster. He does not hold back this time, setting a brutal pace.

You feel almost distant from yourself somehow. You can hear yourself panting. The undeniable swell of need that rises in your core does not feel like it belongs to you. Split open on his cock, you feel yourself clench tightly around him, involuntary, and at that Thrawn gives a strangled growl. He lets himself drop to his forearm, bracketing you on one side. His other hand finds the bend of your hip, and he pulls you to meet each of his thrusts. He is flush against your back, his breath ragged and hot against your neck, balls smacking heavily as he hammers into you.

“Thrawn—“ you give an incoherent, needy moan. The sound he makes in answer very nearly sends you over the edge. Later, when he is gone, you will play it over in your head, the visceral memory reawakening the pulsing ache between your legs. “Thrawn, please—“ if he doesn’t stop, you’re going to—

The tension held in his body pulls tight and snaps, his hips stutter and he cums, his cock flexing and pulsing as he fills you a second time.

You hold yourself still through it, for worry you would follow him. It’s a relief, in its own way, not to give him the satisfaction.

He rests his head on your back, between your shoulder blades. He takes slower, large gulps of breath. He stays like this barely a few seconds before removing himself. You stay long enough to feel the cold again, and your breasts pressed naked against the cold hard stone of his desk.

Empty and aching, you lever yourself up and turn to face him. You resist the urge to cover yourself with your hands, as ineffective as that would be. He is already standing tall, uniform impeccable, looking no different than he had before he had bent you over his desk, except for one errant strand of hair. It gives him a rakish appearance, falling from the crown of his widow's peak.

He has made a mess of you. Your hair is mussed and tangled, your robe and veil in a crumpled pile on the floor, and his spend drying on your legs. Some of it ends up in a puddle at your feet.

Thrawn takes in this sight. “One moment. Stay.” He comes back with a cloth and cleans you up, wipes between your legs, your feet and then the floor.

You want to reject this. You don’t need tenderness or concern from him.

“You have been entrusted to my care,” he speaks, as if answering your thoughts. “I am responsible for your health, your well-being, and your safety.”

You shoot him a suspicious glare. Surely he knows how ridiculous that statement sounds given what just happened on his desk.

He picks up your clothes, smoothes them out and folds them neatly. “You should take more care of these. They are finely made.”

You almost work up the nerve to ask him if you could have an embroidery kit.

He proffers his arm to assist you, and you shove it away at first only to find your legs wobbly. He doesn’t offer again, but simply hoists you over his shoulder as if you weigh nothing at all and carries you through a side hatch, down a short passageway. His metal plate epaulets are cold and dig uncomfortably into your skin.

It is so undignified, you can’t even bring yourself to demand that he put you down. At the end of the passageway, through a second hatch, leads to what is apparently his sleeping cabin. It looks unused. The bed is perfectly made, and there is not a personal item in sight. You don’t have long to look before he brings you into the refresher. It’s not as cramped as you would expect for being aboard a ship, but then again, these are the quarters of a Grand Admiral.

“I have to pee,” you announce, as soon as he sets you down.

Thrawn does not move.

“You’re just gonna stand there and watch?” You snipe.

He raises a blue-black eyebrow. “Can you be trusted alone?”

So you sit, and wait, and have to will yourself to let go and the bastard just stands there with his arms crossed.

“The least you could do is politely look at the ceiling,” you say.

He doesn’t look away. When you’re done, he herds you into the shower with a quiet warning— “real water”— and pushes the button. You jump as it hits your skin, too cold for a few seconds. He watches you clean yourself, too, and you wonder how he would react if you splashed him. You resolve to try it the next time he insists on watching you shower.

“We lived right next to the Imperial Palace and we only got real water once a week,” you say, your thoughts distant. You don’t really expect him to respond, or have much to say to you at all. He said it himself, he has little use for you. For however long you’re with him, you can expect to be lonely. “The rest of the time it was sonics. We used to make bets about which one of us would get stuck with one of you and still not get real water.”

But he surprises you. “It is rationed aboard the ship,” he offers. “Mostly for drinking. This is one of the few quarters that has it available for washing.” You do not miss his gaze roaming over your naked form as you rub lather over yourself. If he weren’t here you would be tempted to seek the release you had denied yourself and him earlier.

Once you are clean and the soap rinsed off, he presses the button again, and towels you dry himself despite your protests that you don’t need help.

As he does, he speaks. “Tomorrow, you will make yourself ready for me. And you will fold your clothes neatly. I do not like untidiness in my quarters. Are my expectations clear?”

“‘Make myself ready?” You say back to him. You know exactly what he means, but it feels unfair that he should get to dodge saying it.

“Masturbate,” he replies, composure unwavering, though there is an edge to his voice. “Since you don’t want me to… touch you there. Get yourself nice and wet for me. I suggest at least two fingers. You seemed to struggle with my size.”

You swallow hard, and perceptive as he is, he does not miss your reaction. You can only wonder what he makes of it. How much he felt…

“One last thing. Tonight I was lenient. From tomorrow, I will administer discipline.”

He lets that hang ominously between you for a moment. You have, at least, the good sense not to ask exactly what he means by it.Then he brings you back into the bedroom and tells you that he has work to do. He orders dinner. You eat methodically, barely tasting it, and he eats nothing. Every time you interrupt him, though most of your questions are inane and just an excuse to get him to look up from his datapad, he answers calmly and patiently. Never dismissive. Though, you think you do get an eye twitch when you ask him why he’s blue. When you go to bed-- his bed-- he does not join you, instead he sits in an armchair in the corner of the room. He stays there long after you turn off the light, his glowing eyes and the dim datapad screen an unsettling reminder of his presence as you drift off to sleep.

☆ link to part 5 ☆

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#thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #thrawn fanfic #thrawn fic #thrawn x reader #thrawn x you #thrawn x y/n #star wars #thrawn fanfiction

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softquietsteadylove · 21 days ago

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Second prompt is a lil crazier but I can’t stop thinkin about it: what about a flash forward to older Heracles! He’s a big strong warrior now and an even bigger mama’s boy, respects his pops and somehow they end up in trouble so of COURSE he has to help them! He owes them everything! idk just a thought, do with that what you will and I’m excited to read it! Thank you <3

"Everyone, get back!"

The days of war in Athens had finally calmed, but now Deviants were more common than ever. Where they had been all this time was a mystery, but the attacks were now a daily occurrence.

"Off the battlefield!" Thena ordered as she swung first her spear and then her sword. The Deviant reared back after getting sliced through its eye. She turned. "Now!"

Heracles offered a grin, as if that would soften his defiance of her. "But the people need help!"

Heracles had grown from a mischievous human child into a man fit to be named a demigod by the people. Born a human but raised by the gods, Athenians would say. He was of towering stature now, hair golden and noble of character. He had a fine weapon, forged by the hands of the Great Champion himself.

Although it was said he could often be seen in town walking alongside an old mutt with a wooden children's toy hanging from his belt.

Thena huffed, turning her attention back to the battle at hand. "It was not up for discussion."

Thena circled the beast. It was massive, like the Bull back in Babylon. It was shaped like a cavalry horse, if massive. Perhaps the story of the Trojan horse would become muddled with this as time went on. "Up!"

Gilgamesh, as if apparating from thin air, appeared at her side and grasped her waist. He even made a full turn, using his strength and velocity to throw the Goddess of War into the air. He put his hand up to his eyes to shield them from the sun, admiring her like a shooting star. "Wow."

Even with Gilgamesh's help, she landed just above the creature's haunches. She closed both palms and dug her swords both into its wiry musculature. It reared up in pain, leaving her to dangle from them with only her own strength.

"Thena!"

"Hang on!" Heracles, having ushered the last of the citizens away from the immediate vicinity of danger, rushed forward. He ran straight at the creature, his eyes on the woman hanging onto its back.

Both Gilgamesh and Heracles swarmed like bees to a flower, watching and waiting anxiously to see if Thena would be thrown from the goliath's back from sheer force of its movements.

Upon its back, she gritted her teeth. "Accursed thing."

She changed the shape of her blades within its flesh, hoping to lodge them therein like fish hooks or poison barbs. But the horse was easily the height of the city gates back on its rear legs like this. If anything, it was only standing up too tall--too far back. She let go of her own accord, swinging herself around. "Gilgamesh! Send it that way!"

He frowned. He didn't want his choice to be between catching her and saving entire blocks of the city. But he raised his fist, charging his energy around it. It wasn't as if the fall could do any real damage. He just would prefer to be the one catching her.

Gilgamesh punched up in the creature's direction. No contact had to be made. He was able to avoid hitting Thena in the crossfire, sending a blast of Cosmic Energy up at the thing's back, forcing it to fall towards the cliffs and away from the edge of town.

Heracles caught her. He had taken a running leap and jumped at a height that was questionable for any human. He even landed successfully, his sandals sliding on the dirt path of the city's entrance for some distance. He looked at the Goddess of War, "you okay?"

Thena frowned up at him (the large child, as far as she was concerned). "Unhand me."

"What?" he laughed, as if this were all a game they were playing.

"I told you to get to safety, that is what," she huffed at him, standing from his embrace and dusting her spotless white dress off. "You are mortal, since it bears repeating."

Young man as he was, now, Heracles still turned his big, sad eyes on her. "I know. But the people need protecting, even if you and Pops have it under control."

She huffed. She could not deny that protecting humans was always the goal, and that surely having more help with it was not a problem. But that meant conceding that the human before her was no longer a child clinging to her with a snotty nose looking for pastry scraps.

She had to concede that he was grown enough to risk his life if he so chose.

"The citizens are clear of the area. They will need you to protect them if the walls are breached," she sufficed to say.

They watched as the massive horse fell, shaking the earth around them. Its back crumbled the cliffside and sent it tumbling down the side of the mountain. The road into the city from the shoreline would be compromised, but at least it and the city gates were standing yet.

Heracles looked at the Eternals, now both shorter than he. "Hephaestus is gonna be mad."

Gilgamesh crossed his arms at him. "I would think the mortal one here shouldn't be the most reckless one."

"Exactly my thoughts," Thena joined him in their united front against Heracles' disobedience.

The human blinked as both of them turned the disapproval on him. He took a step back, holding his hands up in front of him, as if choosing not to see their disapproving frowns would keep them from existing. "Hey, I was just trying to help."

"And since when do I need assistance?"

Gilgamesh snorted. Heracles had stepped right into that dung pile.

The young man cleared his throat, correcting his posture and leaning down in an invitation for her to ruffle his hair. "Never, Goddess Athena."

Thena uncrossed her arms, pushing his head up and away, which ruffled his hair by happenstance. "Agitating child."

He rose to his full height again with a grin. "Yes, Mother."

Thena gave up on lecturing him, choosing to examine the damage and peer down to see if the creature still breathed.

Gilgamesh chuckled at the mortal man, facing down the Goddess of War with such cheek. "You're lucky she's fond of you, or you'd be down there with that thing."

"You think I don't know that?" Heracles laughed. He had inherited Gilgamesh's mirth and zealous sense of humour, of all things.

"It's still alive."

The two of them rushed over. Heracles eagerly reached out to pull Thena out of the path of danger. Gilgamesh slid forward to take his place alongside her, in contrast. But it didn't matter; all three of them plummeted down the cliff as the Deviant attempted to claw its way back up to the city limits.

Its gargantuan hooves slapped into the cliffs, crumbling massive boulders in its wake and making it tumble down even further with every attempt.

Gilgamesh threw himself at both Thena and Heracles, holding his arms above his head. He grunted as he did have to endure a boulder or two before Thena added her power to his and skewered a few with her trident. "Where's Sersi when you need her?"

The dust settled and the three emerged. Thena looked at Heracles extensively. "Unscathed?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," he chuckled as she turned and twisted his head, poked at his arms, even jabbed him in the ribs between the plates of his armour. "Ow!"

"Do not leave your vitals exposed," she took the time to lecture before going to check on the Deviant again.

Heracles ruffled his own golden hair as he followed. "You battle in a toga."

Gilgamesh elbowed him. "Don't talk back to the Goddess of War."

The human sighed, knowing he was outnumbered by his unwavering mentors/parents. "Yes, sir."

The horse was indeed still alive. But as much as Eternals were not gifted swimmers, Deviants truly sank like stones. The monster was thrashing as it continued to tumble downward until it reached the shoreline. Its own mass would soon drown it.

"We should bring Sersi, tell her to expand the landmass and keep that thing's body contained within the rock," Thena declared, still watching until the fight left her enemy's body.

"That's gonna make for some wild fossils someday," Gilgamesh muttered to himself as he too watched. Of course, he only watched for as long as Thena did. He slid his eyes over to her. "Should we...go get her now?"

"We must be certain this thing won't try to claw its way on land again." The Goddess of War had spoken, and that was that.

Both men sighed heavily.

She turned back to them and their petulance. "We will have to climb back up the cliff regardless."

They had indeed fallen a great distance.

Heracles leaned over the edge slightly, holding his hand up mostly for dramatic effect. "It's in the water now, I'm sure it won't take long to be submerged completely."

"Great!"

By the time he turned, Thena was already in Gilgamesh's arms, held like a maiden. His jaw dropped in offense at the idea that they were leaving him there. "Hey!"

"Since you're so tough, you can keep an eye out until Sersi gets here," Gilgamesh chuckled, happily holding his Goddess in his arms and preparing to jump most if not all the height they fell.

"Indeed," Thena agreed, furthering the betrayal. "If you do not wish to listen to my instruction, then you can take the service roads back up to the city. As mortals do."

Heracles pursed his lips (a habit picked up from the goddess herself). "This is unjust."

"Have Sersi walk back with you if dusk falls," Thena pointed out lastly before Gilgamesh charged energy under his feet and took off like a rock from a trebuchet.

Heracles shouted after his petulant parents (always sneaking away to canoodle). "I am not a child!"

#Thenamesh Heracles AU #thank you so much for the ask I really hope you like it!!!!#this one is a little lighter than the last #I just think Heracles would be all fun and games #he grows up so fast #and he's fast and strong obviously #he got trained by two of the finest warriors the planet has ever seen #also yes I totally picture him like a blonde disney hercules #and he's so cheeky #he loves joking around like Gil #and he loves acting like a little mama's boy for Thena #she acts so annoyed but he can see how happy it makes her when he still comes over #tail wagging for her approval #the first time he wins in a battle or lands a bullseye or wins a race against Makkari's light jog #he's like did you see Mama Thena I won!!!!#Thena pretends to be uninterested but she couldn't be prouder #also he does still have that little sword she whittled for him when he was a kid #it's his most treasured possession #that and his old dog Odysseus #Thena still calls it Canis (Dog)#Heracles fights the occasional Deviant that makes its way into town #he protects the people keeps buildings from crushing them that kinda thing #Thena has to be both #proud of him for being such a noble protector of the innocent #and horrified that the little boy who used to cry to her for every little thing is now risking his life on the daily #and now that he's an adult #he realises just how ooey gooey and snuggly and gross his parents really are #he drags himself up the long way to the city like seriously?!!?!#Thena and Gilgamesh are having a romantic candlelit dinner feeding each other grapes #welcome back son have some dinner with your folks

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saintsenara · 1 year ago

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*rolls up in sexy nurse costume* i have those crack ships you ordered, doctor! extra strength unhinged.

firenze/narcissa malfoy

augusta longbottom/piers polkiss

colin creevey/the bloody baron

oh, you thought you ate with these, anon, but they're hardly unhinged at all.

firenze/narcissa malfoy

i wonder what returning to the forest would be like for narcissa in the years after the end of the war? it's the site of probably the most pivotal decision she will ever have made in her life - one which saves her son, but kills her sister; one which sees her family lose its status, humiliated by the ministry clearing house after the battle and dependent on the goodwill of harry potter to stay out of prison, but which still enables them to survive as a trio.

i seem to write, whenever i'm asked about narcissa, that she's clearly someone whose life is dictated by conformity to conventions - especially ones relating both to her gender and to her social class. with the end of the war, the mask behind which she has lived for decades is no longer available to her, and a woman who is clearly quite fragmentary is going to find herself trying to piece back together a person who hasn't been seen in public since narcissa realised she'd have to make up for bellatrix and andromeda's defiance by being a porcelain-perfect wife and mother.

and returning to the forest is going to stir up the same feelings in firenze. he was driven out for also making a knife-edge decision of huge consequence - agreeing to abandon the usual centaur policy of indifference to human affairs and working for dumbledore as the war ramps up - and which also results in a victory which is tenuous: he's absolutely right to recognise that there's a time for being hands-off and the government in being in the control of a genocidal terrorist kingpin isn't one of them; but, in being right, he ends up an outcast from his community, living as a second-class citizen in a society in which even the good guys think of non-humans as less worthy than themselves.

so you've got your forest-based meet-cute. you've got your central couple striving to come to terms with who they really are. you've got two people whose lives have been dictated by conformity to a set of social standards who no longer have the safety of those standards available to them. you've got a woman whose whole family are named after stars and a man [who is also a horse] who knows how to read the skies.

tell me you don't ship it.

augusta longbottom/piers polkiss

i've seen harold and maude.

colin creevey/the bloody baron

if you were adjusting to life as a ghost, having been brutally killed in a battle you shouldn't even have been fighting in, who would you want to show you around as you learn the ropes?

a forever-fourteen-year-old girl who literally doesn't stop whining

the world's most pompous partially-beheaded man [also fond of whining]

a mysterious and rude young woman who won't stop going on about how hot the man whose forces killed you was when he was sixteen

a drunken monk who represents the least interesting house and who's probably really into "looking on the bright side" and "manifesting", even though he's dead

5. an intriguingly blood-stained [always sexy!] anglo-norman nobleman who would help you tackle the big questions about regret and remorse and who could keep peeves away from you.

we all know what decision we'd make.

#asks answered #asenora's opinions on ships #unhinged and deranged ships #but maybe quite sweet as well

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kiyo-blog-and-translations · 8 months ago

Text

Translation Excerpt from Gundam SEED Novelization Vol. 4 (Mu and Murrue's First Kiss in the Bridge)

Seeing the kiss might have been a little too intense for them.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At the Archangel dock where repairs were underway, the area was nearly deserted and eerily quiet.

'It's like the calm before the storm,' Murrue found herself thinking.

In a few hours, they will be back on the battlefield. She found herself questioning her judgment as doubts resurfaced. What lay ahead was a battle against war itself, a profound contradiction. Even if Orb complied with the Alliance's demands, conflict was inevitable. She felt lost, unsure of what was right or wrong.

As she looked out of the window with a sigh, a voice from behind called out to her.

“What is it that you are lost in thought about, Captain?”　

Mu made his way to the bridge and stood beside Murrue.

“In the end, only eleven people stayed on board. Isn’t that amazing? JOSH-A must have really ticked them off,” he commented.

Most of the crew chose to remain on the ship, but what was the reason behind their decision? Did she unknowingly coerce them into staying? The thought leaves her feeling uneasy.

In the military, although she remained indecisive, Murrue could always fall back on the standard protocols and orders to issue strict commands to the crew. Despite her past doubts and acts of defiance, when those were stripped away, she was anxious about what to rely on to make decisions.

Suddenly, a question she had never asked before escaped her lips.

“Major… about JOSH-A, why did you come back?”

From that moment on, Mu defied his orders, choosing to return to the Archangel and rejecting his new assignment. What might have motivated him to take such action?

"Eh?!"

A look of surprise crossed Mu's face and his shoulders slumped.

"I didn't think you would ask me now..."

Instead of answering, he grabbed her waist and pressed his lips to hers. The unexpected kiss made Murrue freeze for a moment. She'd endured a lot herself—joining the military had made her a target for sexual harassment by impertinent individuals who didn't know their place, and she made sure each and every one of them regretted laying their hands on her. This time, however, she didn't hit him or throw him to the ground; she simply gave in to her feelings.

When they broke the kiss, Mu looked down at her face from up close and smiled with satisfaction. His smile was so cool that Murrue had to swallow the last of her pride to yell at him.

"I hate mobile armor pilots!"

Mu replied shamelessly, completely unperturbed.

"Oh, I'm a mobile suit pilot now."

Just as she was about to reply, Mu interrupted her with a second kiss. There was no point in arguing anymore. From the moment she didn’t hit him—no, even before that—he must have figured out her true feelings.

She wondered if this was the answer...

Maybe it was. Mu returned to the Archangel, and almost the entire crew stayed on board—that was enough for Murrue. What more could she ask for?

"Please excuse…"

Hearing the door open, the two quickly parted to see Neumann and the others who had entered the bridge standing frozen with their mouths agape.

Seeing the kiss might have been a little too intense for them.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thanks for reading this short translation. Initially, I may post Mu X Murrue moments (from analysis to translations) from SEED to GSF, since I love the couple so much since high school. However, in the future I might post stuff from other fandoms as well :).

#gundam seed #murrue ramius #mu la flaga #light novel #murrue x mu #murrue x mwu

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melishade · 1 year ago

Note

Number 12? Also, Happy New Year! Thank you so much for making 2023 exciting with all this amazing content, and I hope you have a wonderful 2024!

This ask game

And happy new year to you too! I’m glad that I could help make 2023 even just a tiny bit bearable.

Also TW Violence

Megatron grabbed the scout by the throat before lifting him his into the air. The city was burning around him as the scout kicked and scrambled, trying to get out of Megatron's grip.

"L-let go!" the scout cried out.

"You come into my territory asking to be released," Megatron practically mocked, "You really are just a sparkling aren't you?"

The scout winced as Megatron's grip around his neck got tighter.

"Tell me where the Autobots will plan their next attack," Megatron ordered.

"No!" the scout shouted.

"Do not think because you are young that I will show mercy," Megatron warned.

The scout was still in pain, but he looked so determined. He looked the warlord dead in the optics. "I...I will never tell you anything!"

The scout's defiance angered him. Such insolence needed to be punished. Just because he was young, it did not mean he was free of punishment. The scout's last words gave him a sick and twisted idea. "Then let this be the last words you ever speak."

The scout looked panicked as Megatron tightened his grip on his neck. "N-no!"

Megatron could feel his throat crush on under his servo.

"No!" the scout's voice became distorted as a claw pierced his voice box.

"N-!" the scout couldn't finish his final plea as Megatron crushed his voice box and tore it out of his system. The scout's body went limp as he threw the part on the ground before crushing it with his pede. He dropped the young scout to the ground in a heap. Megatron could see the scout's body twitch impulsively before stopping. Megatron raised his helm when he heard the comm. link go off.

"Lord Matthew, Autobots are moving in on your position!" Starscream informed him.

Megatron was confused. "What?"

"Matthew? Hello?" the voice had changed drastically.

"What kind of-!"

"Matthew!" Megatron quickly shut the book that he was no longer reading before grabbing his staff and aiming it at the voice in front of him. Megatron was stunned to see Udo and Zofia hiding behind a stiff Colt, who was at the receiving end of his staff. Gabi was trying her best to not look fazed, but the girl was clearly afraid. Falco was the one immediately trying to calm him down.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Falco apologized, "It's just time to train us."

Megatron didn't reply to that as he merely lowered his staff. "Fine. I lost my page anyway."

The apprehension in the Warrior Cadets evaporated as they quickly followed him to the training grounds. They kept asking him questions about what they were going to learn. The former warlord merely replied to them without thinking too much about it. He glanced behind them, and noticed the way they followed him without fear. When they reached the training grounds, Megatron ordered them to start running laps and they did so, but as they did, Colt remained behind.

"I'll make you run extra if you don't get started," Megatron warned in his other voice.

"Are you okay, sir?" Colt asked him.

"I've told you to drop the sir moniker," Megatron sighed in annoyance.

"You just seemed...distant," Colt chose his words carefully.

"...I f-...I live," Megatron answered him, "That's what matters."

"I am sorry," Colt apologized, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"...You and your cohort admire me," Megatron began, "Why?"

"Oh!" Colt was surprised at the blunt question, "Well...you treat us like people. My brother and the others admire you for that, and honestly...after you saved my life, I can't help but be grateful. It's nice to know that I can be accepted even though I'm an Eldian."

Megatron couldn't give a proper response to that and merely tapped his staff on the ground. "Go do your exercises. Run five extra laps."

"Yes sir!" Colt saluted before he started running. Megatron realized that he didn't complain or even fuss. The teen even looked content.

These children looked at him without fear. They looked at him with respect and admiration. He had killed in the past without discrimination. Yet these frail and fickle humans looked at him with admiration. He couldn't understand why. If they knew who he was, they would fear him. He understood that. And he thought he could detach himself from them with a clear conscious, but he couldn't. He felt...pity for these creatures. He understood their struggles and hated it.

Still their lives were a fraction of a second compared to him. Whether he showed them mercy or not didn't matter. They would die and be forgotten to time. He just knows...if he has to fight them...his mind won't be completely clear of guilt.

(I was originally going to have Megatron come back to the present in a different timeline, but I thought it would be good to have you guys see some more interactions with the Warrior Cadets. He feels pity for them...and hates it.

So I'm working on 50 right now, but you can ask me from the other items on this list. And happy new year!)

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padfootagain · 11 months ago

Text

Pirates! (VII)

Chapter 7 : The Moving Sands

Hello, lovelies! Here we go with a new chapter for this Caspian fic!

I’m sorry, I got the dates wrong on my planner, hence the little delay, I know this was supposed to come out yesterday… SORRY :/

I hope you like this new chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Caspian x Pirate!Reader

Warnings: depictions of violence in later chapters (fight scenes… nothing too terrible), slow burn, fluff!

Summary: As ships disappear across the sea, Caspian is forced to go investigate himself. But to win against the wild uncharted waters he must cross to reach his people, he needs to bargain with pirates. And then, he finds you…

Word Count: 2282

Masterlist for the series – Caspian’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Caspian didn’t know what to think of you.

You were a riddle, and he wanted to figure out how to read right through you.

On one hand you were a pirate, with a reputation bloody enough to scare your rivals. On the other hand, you were kind to your crew. When, four days after your departure, you crossed path with a merchant ship, you didn’t attack them. You let them sail in peace.

So, what kind of person were you? Good or evil?

As Caspian pulled as hard as he could on a rope, studying carefully the movement of the sail as he maneuvered, he let his mind ponder on this question. His aching muscles and blistered palms bothered him, but he did not complain. He was used to this, the pain through his arms, the shallow breath, the warm sun shining on his wet brow. He was used to it, it was a familiar feeling, really. And it stopped him from thinking, perhaps it was the fact that his hands were occupied in a task that required instinct more than thought. He could feel the tension in the rope, peek upwards to the movement of the sail and he knew what to command to his hands before he could properly think of it.

He loosened his grip only slightly, then pulled harder, using his weight to bring the sail about. And while he watched the red fabric catch the wind, he thought of you, of your features and your voice and the way you looked at him with mischief and defiance.

“Slow down!” you commanded, your voice steady and certain, and Caspian, like the rest of your crew, maneuvered the ship to obey your order without a second thought.

From the corner of his eye, Caspian saw you moving across the bridge, waving at Sophia and silently giving her an order to place the Dawn Treader behind your ship. You would be their guide.

And he admired you, at this moment. Standing by the helm, studying the wind in silence and the shape of your sails as they expanded under the breeze. All leather and white shirt and sword and knives and a blue feather on your tricorne hat. There was something about you that drew him to you. He had noticed it already on Saint Iron, but the more time he spent with you, the more obvious it was…

“Steady on!” you ordered, voice ringing again across the murmur of the waves.

At the top of the mizzen mast, the two squirrels who watched your course silently indicated to alter course, aiming for the right. You guided your ship in that direction.

You were about to enter the Hundred Banks, that some also called the Moving Sands. A collection of tiny lands made of sand, that moved with the currents that carried the material to form and destroy the small islands. Some of them could barely be seen from the surface, still underwater, and caution was vital now.

Caspian’s eyes filled with wonder at the sight of the specks of creamy-white that erupted from the blue waves. Under the cloudless sky, some almost seemed like foam, others were large enough to be hosting the crew of both ships. A bad idea for a resting spot, though. The treacherous surface would capture your ships and you would be left stranded there, with no help in sight.

He heard you cursing under your breath, and he turned to you at the sound. He was, after all, standing on the deck, right under the higher floor of the helm.

“Bloody Narnians,” he heard you cursing as you turned around to check the position of the Dawn Treader.

“Peter! Get your arse up here!”

Your gentle mood had disappeared, and you were frowning in an annoyance that was bordering anger when Caspian hurried up the stairs.

“Yes, captain?”

“Tell your idiotic friend over there to stay behind us, if he doesn’t want to die stranded like a moron.”

You were surprised to see that he was refraining an endeared smile.

“Yes, captain.”

“Hurry, you’ve got work to do!”

He nodded, strode to the back of the ship, wrapped his hands around his mouth for his voice to be carried further upon the wind.

And you couldn’t help but turn around, look at Peter stand there, by the banister, the wind caught in his hair, the dark locks flying around his face. And he was all leather, and a large purple shirt, high boots that made your heart stutter.

You cleared your throat. After all, you needed to make him fall for you. It would allow you to get information about Narnia. Useful, even vital information, indeed.

The fact that your cheeks warmed up at the sight of the tanned skin revealed by the open buttons of Caspian’s shirt did make your mission more pleasant, there was no denying it.

“The Dawn Treader will follow,” he informed you, and indeed, the ship was already altering its course to follow yours to perfection.

“Good,” was all that you could manage as you noticed the glimmering sweat on his temples, and found the detail extremely endearing, for some strange reason.

“Can I do anything else for you, captain?”

There was this crooked smile of his again. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight…

But you shook your head, bringing yourself back to the task at hand. The purpose was to make him fall for you, not the other way around… by Aslan’s tail, you really did need to get a grip…

But how would you seduce him?

You put on a flirtation smile, tilted your head a little, your tone honeyed when you spoke again.

“Thank you, Peter.”

But you saw the small frown that flashed across his brow, the way he tensed at your tone.

You stood straighter, set your eyes on the horizon again.

“Now, get going. Try to make yourself useful.”

Too cold. You saw it in the way he gave you a short nod, in the slumping of his shoulders as if he was disappointed.

You let him walk away, focusing on the treacherous path again.

How to get under his skin, without letting him in?

The crossing of the Hundred Banks was long and tedious, slow progress made through treacherous waters. It was exhausting, for everyone in your crew, but most of all for you, as you stirred the helm without any break for most of the day and night.

When darkness fell upon the world, you ordered for two longboats to be lowered down, and a small group of your crew went ahead, using lanterns to guide you and watch out for treacherous sand you couldn’t see in the shadows of the night.

The sand now shone silver under the moonlight. You recognized the constellations above you, the long trace of purple and red that crossed them. You were still on course, despite the detours needed to safely go through these parts.

You barely noticed Charlotte walking up to you: through your exhaustion and your focus on the sky and the tiny flames up ahead, there was little your brain could notice anyway.

“You should get some rest. We have less than an hour left of night. Dawn will soon rise. You can get a few hours of sleep, I’ll handle it.”

You were too tired to argue, and agreed instead.

“Come and wake me up if anything seems off. And wake me up after we’re out of the sand.”

“Yes, captain.”

“Did you sleep?”

“Yes, I’ve slept with the first team.”

“Lucky you…”

“Come on, grumpy. Go to bed, before you become truly insufferable.”

“You’re talking to your captain!”

“I’m talking to a woman who hasn’t slept in over thirty-six hours and could fall unconscious any minute now.”

“And looks stunning doing it. You forgot that part.”

“It’s good to have dreams, apparently.”

“Shut it.”

You let her take the helm anyway, walked away with a silent thank you written in your tired smile, and headed for your cabin.

You noticed at once that Peter was up. He was watching the tiny boats ahead, leaning on the banister.

As you walked closer, you noticed that he had wrapped cloths around his palms.

“Are you hurt?”

He jumped at the sound of your voice, turned around in a jolt and you noticed at once that he spontaneously took a fighting stance, that his hand came to his hip looking for his sword. He heaved a relieved sigh as he saw you.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked.

There was a limited crew on the bridge now. Most were asleep, resting after an exhausting day. There was no one to hear your words, and only a handful to see the scene from afar.

You couldn’t push away the thought that Peter looked stunning like this, standing in the twin lights of the lanterns and the moon, a mix of silver and gold dancing over his features.

“Your hands,” you went on, a worried frown evident on your brow. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“Oh, it is nothing. Blisters.”

You nodded.

“My hands are calloused, but working the ropes for so long under such heat is a lot, even for me,” he smiled, but you didn’t.

You shifted, from one foot to the other, uneasy.

“Come, I’ll take a look.”

“It is nothing…”

“It’s an order, Peter. I’m still your captain. Come on.”

You raised an eyebrow as he smiled, amused.

“What is it?” you asked.

“Nothing, I just… I am not so used to being given orders, it is a nice change.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile forming on your lips.

“If you’re lucky, I’ll manhandle you too.”

He laughed, an earnest wave spreading in the space between the two of you. You liked that sound…

So, that was it. Playful. He liked it confident, but still kind. A little teasing, a little defiant, perhaps…

“I’m sure you would make it unbearably agreeable.”

You were surprised by his answer, and merely nodded towards the door leading to your cabin in response.

This time, Peter did not argue. He followed you, let you guide him towards your cabin. A simple one. A couple of lamps, a desk covered with parchments, maps, and ink. A bed. A large, locked chest. A couple of chairs.

“Sit down,” you pointed at one of the empty chairs, reached for a stool, some water and some cloth.

He obeyed, looking at the room while you settled before him. He let you take his hand in yours, unwrap the bandage he had made.

The water was cold against his hands, it made him jump, he apologized for it. He didn’t even flinch as you cleaned his wounded skin.

“Ask Amelia tomorrow, our cook. She’ll give you gloves.”

“It is nothing. Blisters come and go.”

“Your skin needs to heal. There is no need to hurt yourself.”

He noticed the way your fingers trailed across the unharmed part of his palms and fingers too, but he didn’t say anything about it. He merely stared at you, instead.

Perhaps it was because he was out of breath under your gentle touch, perhaps it was because he was underestimating you. Indeed, you recognized the patterns of callous skin on his hands. The ones owned by a warrior, holding a pommel and being highly trained.

Peter was a soldier. He was dangerous. Despite Bethy’s words, you couldn’t trust him. What if he was stronger than you in single combat?

Finally, you reached for some clean bandages, placed them around his palms.

You were surprised by his next question.

“Do you play chess?”

Before your frown, he nodded towards the set placed on a small table in a corner of your room. You couldn’t refrain a fond smile at the sight.

“I used to.”

“Not anymore?”

“I don’t have anyone to play with on this ship.”

“Really? Who did you play with, then?”

“My mother.”

You were surprised by your answer, by the fact that it was the truth and that it was natural for you to let the words out. As if you were not baring your soul, your past…

You shifted, uncomfortable. You were the one who ought to get under his skin, not the other way around…

“I apologize. I did not mean to intrude, or upset you.”

“I am not upset,” you lied, tightening the knot around his hand a little too tightly, and immediately regretting your gesture. You left it like that, though, as if it had been done on purpose.

“My father taught me to play,” Caspian spoke, his voice quiet. “A long time ago. I used… I used to play with a friend of mine who is long gone now…”

His eyes were unfocused as they stared at your board. He shook himself quickly, sadness lingering in his dark eyes for a moment longer, a tinge of melancholia that disappeared as he focused on you again.

“Thank you, for my hand.”

You cleared your throat.

“You’re welcome.”

When Caspian stood up to leave, you didn’t know what came over you exactly. Was it a plot to connect with him and seduce him? Was it earnest longing?

No matter why, the words were out before you could think them properly.

“Would you like to play? One day? When we have time?”

His features broke into a grin, and you hated yourself for the warm sensation spreading across your heart.

“I would love to, captain.”

His smile lingered on his lips as he walked away, and Caspian kind of hated himself for the warmth that was spreading through his chest at the sight of your smile.

#caspian x #king caspian #caspian x reader #caspian x y/n #caspian x fem!reader #caspian x you #caspian fanfiction #caspian series #caspian fanfic #narnia #narnia fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #writing

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apenitentialprayer · 4 months ago

Text

article by Sunita Puri, published October 5th, 2024. Bolded emphases added.

The first person who taught me something about death and defiance was the mother of a family friend, an older woman who had moved from Punjab to the United States to be closer to her son. I remember her as delicate and draped always in pastel salwar kameezes. After she was diagnosed with breast cancer, which moved quickly to claim her bones and her brain, her desire to return to Punjab intensified. When my parents told me about the end of her life, it was with a mixture of disbelief and conviction: She survived the days-long journey to the village where she’d been born—laboring to breathe for nearly the entire flight, grimacing through prayers when she ran out of pain medication—and died two days after she arrived.

I thought of her story this week as I read about former President Jimmy Carter’s intention to live long enough to vote for Kamala Harris. Carter, who has been on hospice for well over a year, turned 100 on Tuesday and has survived far longer than many expected he would. The notion that he has rallied in order to contribute in one final way to American democracy raises a familiar question that arises in my own work with patients and families: Do we have some control, conscious or not, over when we die? Can a person stretch the days of their life to include a last meaningful act or moment?

As a palliative-care physician, I have encountered the phenomenon of people dying only after specific circumstances materialize. There was the gentleman whose family held vigil in the intensive-care unit while he continued on, improbably, even without the support of the ventilator, dying only after his estranged son had arrived. There was the woman whose fragility precluded any further chemotherapy, but who survived long enough without it to witness the birth of her first grandchild. There was the woman who was deeply protective of her daughter, and died from cirrhosis only after she’d left for the night, possibly to spare her the agony of witnessing her death. The unexpected happens frequently enough that I tell patients and families that two timelines shape the moment of death: the timeline of the body, governed by the more predictable laws of physiology, and that of the soul, which may determine the moment of death in a way that defies medical understanding and human expectations. When people wonder about the circumstance of the last heartbeat, of the final breath, I can see how they never stop searching for their loved ones’ personhood or intention, a last gesture that reveals or solidifies who that person is.

Despite the prevalence of stories suggesting that people may have the ability to time their death, no scientific evidence supports this observation. Decades ago, several studies documented a dip in deaths just before Jewish holidays, with a corresponding rise immediately afterward, suggesting that perhaps people could choose to die after one final holiday celebration. A larger study later found that certain holidays (Christmas and Thanksgiving, in this case) and personally meaningful days (birthdays) had no significant effect on patterns of dying. But this phenomenon doesn’t lend itself easily to statistical analysis, either: The importance of holidays, for instance, can’t quite stand in for the very individual motivations that define the anecdotes shared in hospital break rooms or around a dinner table. And the human truth that many recognize in these stories raises the question of whether we believe them any less fully in the absence of proof.

Palliative care often involves helping people confront and develop a relationship to uncertainty, which governs so much of the experience of illness. And when my patients tell me about themselves and about who they are now that they are sick, willpower often makes an appearance. Many say that if they focus on the positive, or visualize the disappearance of their cancer, or fight hard enough, they will win the battle for more time. I hear in their words echoes of what Nietzsche wrote, what the psychiatrist Viktor Frankl used to make sense of his years in German concentration camps: “He who has a why to live for can bear almost any how.”

And we want to believe that love or desire or commitment or heroism is still possible right up until the very end. As my patients grow sicker, and as death approaches, I talk with them and their families about what they can hope for even if a cure isn’t possible. That, in fact, death can still contain something generative. A time that may have seemed beyond further meaning becomes instead an opportunity, or an extension of the dying person’s commitments to their country, their family, their dreams. Soon, President Carter will be able to cast that vote: Next week, Georgia registrars will start mailing out absentee ballots; early voting begins the week after that. His promise to himself is a reminder that dying cannot fully dampen purpose, even as a person’s life narrows.

The idea that willpower can be an ally against death is appealing too, because it offers the possibility of transcendence, of defying the limits that the body, or illness, may impose. But, having also seen the many ways that the body does not bend to the mind, I do find myself regarding willpower with caution: What if you as a person are a fighter, but your body simply cannot fight the cancer any longer? I wonder, with my patients, if they can strive for more time without shouldering personal responsibility for the limits of biology. Similarly, two people on ventilators may love their families equally. One may die only after the final beloved family member arrives, whereas the other may die before the person rushing across the ocean makes it home. We don’t always know why. If Carter casts his vote and dies shortly thereafter, that might affirm the notion that others, too, can write the final sentence in their story. But what would it mean if Carter died before casting his vote? If he lived another year, or if he lived to see Donald Trump take office again, or watch the election be violently contested? Living with loss requires remembering that we can locate the person we have loved or admired in any given set of events that comprised their life, not just the last one.

I try to imagine my family friend’s long flight from Los Angeles to Delhi, and her ride in the taxi back to Punjab. I think about how she found a way to endure what she was told she couldn’t, all to feel beneath her feet the soil she knew best, to die in the one place that she felt belonged to her. What if her doctors had been right and she had died on the plane? My family might have mourned her single-mindedness, or we might have admired her defiance nonetheless. What makes these stories so compelling is that they remind us that death, however ravenous, cannot devour hope or possibility, even if what transpires is not the ending we imagined.

#death #ars moriendi #palliative care #Jimmy Carter #Viktor Frankl

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tiedyeflannels · 11 months ago

Text

Adventure of a Lifetime

Kim Taehyung x reader

Chapter 4 | Masterlist

A/N: What up! This is the first half of the "date" with Tae and the second half will be next! Enjoy!

“Shouldn’t we tell the others where we’re going so they don’t worry,” I asked as we were walking around, looking at the stalls that lined the edges on the path.

“I suppose we should,” he dramatically sighed as if this was something tedious.

I playfully rolled my eyes as he took out his phone and texted Jeong-Gyu.

“Alright, I texted him that we’ll be walking around so they can do their thing and we’ll pick a place to meet up later for the fireworks,” he said, turning off his phone and sliding it back into his pocket.

I nodded in acknowledgement as a question popped into my head.

“What time are the fireworks?”

“Hmm? Oh! They start around 8, I think.”

“What are we gonna do for 4 hours,” I questioned.

“Our date,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“And our first stop is…” He gently took my wrist in his hand and tugged me over to a food truck.

As I looked up at the sign on the side of the truck and read, “Funnel cakes?”

He happily nodded, “Mhmm!”

He slowly became wary as he looked at my expression, “Unless… You don’t like them, then we can get something else!”

I was quick to shake my head in protest, “No, I love them! I just didn’t expect that this would be the first place we would go.”

His smile returned, “Great!”

We both turned to look at the side of the truck that had what you could get.

“What do you want because I was thinking that I’m gonna get-”

“One with strawberries,” we both said at the same time.

We looked at each other in surprise, then smiled.

“Well then! That settles that,” he laughed as he started to take out his wallet from his back pocket.

“I’ll get us one with the strawberries if you want to grab a table while we wait,” he said, pointing over to the group of tables a few feet away.

I nodded and started to reach for my wallet in my bag before I went to sit down.

“Do you want to split the cost for the funnel cake,” I asked and opened my wallet to pull out some cash, but Taehyung was quick to shake his head ‘no’. I raised my eyebrows in question, “Are you sure because-”

“Y/n! It’s fine! We’re on a date so… I’ll buy it,” he insisted.

We entered a little staring contest as I narrowed my eyes at him before sighing and shaking my head.

“Fine… BUT! I’m paying next time,” I exclaimed.

“We’ll see about that,” he smirked in defiance.

“Yes we will,” I challenged back and walked over to a table under the shade before sitting down.

There was a slight breeze that gently rattled the leaves of the tree I was under. It was one of those spring days where it wasn’t cold enough to need a jacket, but not hot enough to make me regret going out.

It was the perfect day to go out with your friends or on a date and…

Speaking of a date, I looked over to where Taehyung was waiting for the order and I couldn’t help but notice how nice he looked. Though everything he was wearing was very casual, something about him made it seem like he had just walked off a runway.

I looked down at what I was wearing and slightly chuckled at how plain my clothes were in comparison. I didn’t get a chance to really think about it before Taehyung set down the funnel cake and sat down while handing me a fork.

“There we go! The perfect pastry to start off this mock date,” he said as he smiled.

I used my fork to get one of the strawberries that were sitting on top of the funnel cake.

“I would feel severely under dressed if this were an actual date,” I said before eating the strawberry.

He dramatically scoffed, “What are you talking about?! You look great!”

I deadpanned at him before I looked down at my clothes and back to him, “Really, because there’s nothing really fancy about a t-shirt and shorts.”

I pulled a bit of the funnel cake apart and took a bite. “Unlike you, Mr. Model.”

He scoffed although a smile still played on his lips, “Come on! I just threw on whatever I could find.”

I playfully rolled my eyes at the statement.

“Mhmm. Yep. And that’s why you’re the best dressed here because you just threw something on,” I teased and took another strawberry.

“Well… I might’ve put some thought into it,” he said, looking to the side with a not-so guilty smile.

I laughed, “I knew it! That fancy jacket could never fool me!”

He laughed with me before we calmed down.

“Okay, let’s change the subject,” Taehyung said, ripping a piece of funnel cake.

“Agreed,” I said, mirroring his action and munched on the piece.

“So,” he spoke up once he was done, “How did you meet?”

My eyebrows arched in surprise at the question as I was still eating a piece of the funnel cake. He placed his arms on the table and rested his head on his hands as he looked at me expectedly.

I swallowed before asking, “Me and Jeong-Gyu?”

He nodded, “Yeah, what’s the story behind you two?”

I thought for a second as he continued eating, “Hmm… Well, we met in our first year in an art class. We were a few weeks into the semester when we were supposed to do a painting assignment and I chose to do watercolor. While I was working, here comes this clumsy guy with a long roll of canvas fabric and accidentally knocks over my cup of water onto the painting.”

“No!”

I nodded, “Yeah! So I looked over to see who knocked the cup and I must’ve looked really angry because Jeong-Gyu started to visibly panic and quickly set down what he was holding to rush to get paper towels to help with the spill. He started to apologize profusely when he came back and I just sighed, telling him that it was fine and that he should go work on his project.”

I smiled at the memory.

Taehyung chuckled.

“That was smooth,” he sarcastically said.

“I know right! It wasn’t that big of a deal looking back at it now, but I was pretty frustrated with him. I thought that he was one of those guys who wouldn’t talk to me after apologizing so I didn’t think I would see him anymore after that event, but as luck would have it, as I was leaving the class he came up to me to apologize again and offered to buy me lunch to make up for it and the rest is history.”

Taehyung leaned back with his arms crossed, “Wow. That’s quite the story.”

I nodded, eating that last few pieces of the funnel cake before dusting off my hands.

“So, how did he meet Y/s/n,” he queried.

I hummed, “It was during Thanksgiving break. I invited him over since our break was kind of short that year and he wasn’t able to go home so that's when they met. She was playing video games while waiting for the food and they instantly clicked,” I nodded at the end of the story.

We talked for a little while more. He threw out more questions to learn more about me like what my major was, what my interests were, how I learned to speak Korean, things like that. He knew how to keep the mood light as we laughed over some stories.

Soon, he slapped his hands on the table and stood up, “Alright! I think it’s time to continue this date, so…”

He grabbed the empty plate and walked over to throw it away before coming back to me and extending his free hand out to me to grab. I gently placed my hand in his, standing up before he started leading me away.

"Let's get going!"

Chapter 5

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@maple-leaves-in-the-wind

#bts fic #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bangtan #bts #bts fanfic #bts x you #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung #taehyung

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bragganhyl · 2 years ago

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38. “i’m not scared but if you are, you can hold my hand.” fluff prompt with Aloth and Guara. Bonus points if Aloth is scared :D

Thank you, Anon, here you go 😊 It's not quite as tooth-rottingly fluffy as I planned, but it's still soft. It takes place at the beginning of Act 3 of PoE 1 so after a certain reveal

Word count: about 1630 words

There were nights when Caed Nua felt like a realm of its own: a strange pocket of space and memory somewhere midway to the In-Between. The night sky was clear and the full moon shone so brightly, that it’s gentle light managed to burst through even the thick, drawn curtains concealing the windows to Gaura’s room. The moonlight mingled with and clashed against the light of the Watcher’s face in the otherwise dark room and as her ears were filled with the voices of long dead souls still lingering by her home, she couldn’t help but feel like she was looking at a reflection.

She hasn’t heard any recent news about the riots since she fled Defiance Bay. For all she knew, it might have been still happening in that very moment, deep in the night. It was late, too late, to have such thoughts on her mind, to have such worries plaguing her. If she allowed them to linger within her, she wouldn’t sleep that night at all. She got out of bed and put on her boots. She made a silly sight wearing the finely made leather footwear and her ill fitting nightgown, but it was a passable attire for a late night stroll.

The Watcher quietly left her room and sneaked downstairs, but just as she was about to leave Brighthollow, she noticed light coming from one of the rooms – based on her familiarity, she assumed the hearth was lit by the reading corner she had set up. She cautiously approached the source of the light, only to find Aloth sitting by the fire, arms wrapped around his knees, seemingly doing nothing, watching the logs burning deep in thought. He looked up as she slowly made her way to his side. He only seemed surprised by her for a fraction of a moment, and even then his reaction was dulled by his exhaustion.

‘Can’t sleep either?’ Gaura sat beside him. Aloth took note of her proximity and seemingly shrunk where he sat.

‘I can’t stop thinking about Defiance Bay,’ he spoke quietly as anguish flashed in his eyes, then just as quickly as it appeared, his expression was replaced by one of guilt. For a moment, silence filled the small space between the two of them. Only the shadows moved, dancing on the walls to the soft crackling of the hearth.

‘Yeah, me neither.’

The Watcher wasn’t sure what else she could say. They haven’t had a chance to talk, alone, just the two of them, since the riots began and Aloth confessed about his affiliations. He was a member of the Leaden Key. The group behind the riots, behind the murder of Lady Webb, behind Waidwen’s Legacy. The group that marked her and Kana for death.

And yet, when Gaura found their hideout under First Fires, she could walk right in there and walk out without anyone noticing the infiltration. It seemed to her, no one knew more than the least amount of information they needed to complete their missions. Not even the higher ranking members asked more questions from their underlings than what they absolutely needed answered. Chances are none of them even knew about the kill orders Thaos placed on her and Kana.

None of them, except for Aloth.

She has given him so many opportunities to turn on her. He could have given her identity away when she entered the Temple of Woedica. He could have helped those of his fellows that waited for her and her companions by the entrance of the Endless Paths, after they recovered the pieces of the Tanvii Ora Toha. He could have just pretended a spell of his went astray, during any of the battles they fought together. During any battle where she took it upon herself to keep him safe and in turn he watched her back. He could have struck her down in her sleep in the home she shared with him.

Now he sat beside her, tense, as if it took every last bit of his strength to avoid looking at her, to stop himself from asking for the comfort she was more than willing to give.

‘Do you want to talk?’ The Watcher broke the silence. Aloth gave her a look that she couldn’t quite read.

‘If… If you want to learn more about the Leaden Key, I’m not sure if I can help,’ he said. His gaze slightly drifted away, and lingered on a spot by her shoulder. ‘I feel like I learned more about their motivations following you, than I did working for them,’ there was a hint of gratitude hiding in the tone of his admission. ‘And you have seen how they operate, I’m not quite sure what else I could add about that.’ Aloth’s gaze met hers again. His look was apologetic and tired.

The Watcher shrugged hesitantly. ‘We can just talk. About anything. It doesn’t have to be about the Leaden Key,’ to give her words some weight, she moved closer to him. She half-expected that he would keep his distance, that maybe he would move even farther away from her than their original distance. But Aloth stayed where he was, seemingly taken aback by the offer, then a moment later a shy smile tugged at his lips and he turned away.

‘Forgive me, I’m… not really accustomed to…’ as he was trying to find the right word, something seemed to have occurred to him. A short laugh bubbled up from him that seemed to have removed an enormous weight from his shoulders. Gaura was almost convinced Iselmyr came forward, but Aloth continued. ‘You, I suppose. And to the kind of acceptance you have been showing me.’ He sighed as he looked towards the hearth, reminiscing. ‘I don’t think you realize what this means to me.’

The Watcher felt her hair flutter. ‘Don’t mention it,’ she hastily smoothed down a mischievous flame, ‘I… I meant what I said on the bridge.’ She averted her gaze from him as she took a deep breath. ‘I need you by my side.’

Aloth didn’t answer at first. When the silence started to grow uncomfortable, Gaura risked a glimpse, only to see the wizard shift, moving to sit on his trembling hands.

‘And I needed to hear that,’ he responded eventually, ‘more than I realized. Truth be told, I was terrified coming forward about my allegiance to the Leaden Key and… even the best case I had in mind didn’t involve… being treated as a friend.’ The wizard shook his head. He flinched at a thought and Gaura knew, it was best not to ask what the worst case he thought was. ‘All my life I have been following the paths people more powerful than I laid out ahead of me,’ he continued. ‘Whether it was my father, the erl he worked for,’ he let out a bitter, rueful chuckle, ‘even joining the Leaden Key was a desperate attempt to free myself from them. I remember those days… it felt like the world was closing in around me, until there was nothing left but the path I never wanted to take. So I… to use your words… exchanged one master for another,’ he sighed. ‘I was somewhat aware of the danger of doing so but I didn’t realize the true cost that I would have to pay, until I met you. I… I apologize for thinking you wouldn’t be any different from them. It was unfair of me to think so, you’ve never given me a reason to think that way, I just…’

Unable to explain himself, Aloth shrugged. The movement looked stiff with tension, however.

‘No need to apologize. You said it yourself, you… didn’t know how to expect better.’

Aloth turned to her. He watched her intently, as if he wanted to etch that moment deep into his memory. He watched her as if he discovered something rare and… awe-inspiring.

‘The world feels a lot bigger right now,’ goosebumps formed on the wizard’s arms as he came to the realization. ‘I admit, I’m a little terrified of it.’

Gaura smiled at him. ‘You sound like a novice expeditioner,’ she chuckled as she thought of her homeland, ‘the fear will go away, once you’ve done a little exploration and developed a taste for it.’ The Watcher then stood up and reached down towards Aloth. ‘Until then, if you’re scared you can hold my hand.’

Aloth blinked up at her. Then he looked at the hand she extended towards him. Gaura could’ve sworn she saw a faint blush color his cheeks as he placed a hand in hers. She pulled him up with a light tug and guided him away from the hearth, up the stairs, to his room.

‘Get some sleep, we have long days ahead,’ the Watcher said good night, only to find that the wizard wasn’t ready to let her go. He slightly raised their clasped hands and placed his free hand on top of them. He let his eyes close as he took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, he looked like he gained whatever comfort he needed.

‘Thank you,’ he ran a thumb along her knuckles as he spoke, ‘for everything.’ He let her go reluctantly and entered his room. He looked back at her, half-hidden by the door to wish her a good night.

Gaura was alone again. As she made her way to her room, the warmth of Aloth’s hand lingering on her palm, she remembered his words and she agreed: the world felt much bigger in that moment. She couldn’t afford to be afraid when Defiance Bay needed her to set things right. She had no reason to be afraid when she was safe in Caed Nua, surrounded by people she could trust. With her life.

#pillars of eternity #aloth corfiser #aloth x watcher #wrytinge #gaura sélfolgh #oc fic: gaura

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