#this almost certainly has mistakes bc i just. wrote it but go with it

[brickmvster]

please don't go (i'll eat you whole) | Leon Kennedy x Reader

synopsis: You make love to Leon before he leaves you.

word count: 1,906

warnings/tags: leon kennedy x fem reader, established relationship, smut with feelings, angst, pre-spain or just pre-mission in general, some light fluff if you squint kinda (i'm sorry), p in v sex/penetrative sex, unprotected sex, aftercare

author's note: i'm gonna be honest. i am a little nervous. more so than usual bc this is my first time writing for leon! i love him so much, he's definitely one of my comfort characters, and i wanted to write something angsty but also kinda bittersweet like this for a loooong time and i finally got around to it. i really hope you guys enjoy, comments are always appreciated <3 this has been proofread more than once, but just in case, any and all mistakes are mine! also, just fyi, i wrote this with re4r leon in mind, but you can imagine whichever leon floats your boat if you really want to lol.

p.s. it's not written in here but pls pee after sex 😭

minors do not interact, please and thank you!

You clung to him for dear life; as if he was going to disappear in front of your very eyes.

You were above him, peering down into his deep eyes. His eyebrows were knitted together in pleasure and his lips, which were currently rosy and swollen after the frequent kisses you had given them, were ever so slightly parted as soft groans emerged from his throat. His large hands never stayed still for longer than a minute – he gripped your waist before sliding them down to your ass, kneading the soft flesh before moving them up toward your breasts, squeezing gently, before bringing them back to your waist, where he helped with guiding your languid movements. You moved your hips like an expert, riding him as if you’d never have the chance to again.

With the rain pattering against the window and a sliver of moonlight filtering through the room, it was almost like a scene from an erotic novel. The room carried the scent of sweat and sex and was filled with the noises that spilled from your lips non-stop. You didn’t even know how much time had passed – but you knew it was late. You knew Leon had to be up in the morning. But you wanted to prolong this moment with him for as long as possible. Leon wanted to as well, as every time he got you close to your peak, he slowed down, dragging out your orgasm in a way that was almost painful, but you enjoyed every second of it.

You were growing tired, your legs beginning to shake as your rhythm became a bit off-kilter.

“Leon…” You moaned, his name coming out so softly it almost wasn’t audible. But Leon, ever so attentive, heard you loud and clear, and he knew what you were trying to tell him.

He flipped you over with ease, while he was still inside of you, spreading your legs further apart and starting up a steady pace. All you could do was grip the bed sheets, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he drilled into that spot that made you see stars. He wasn’t aggressive or rough, but his thrusts were certainly hard-hitting and relentless, and you knew you only had a few minutes.

At some point, you closed your eyes as you tried to focus on your impending orgasm, feeling as if you were in a complete haze – but Leon’s voice pierced through your foggy mind.

“Please look at me.” He said, his low voice sounding a bit strained and even a little desperate; who were you to deny him of what he wanted?

It took a momentous amount of effort, but eventually you were able to open your eyes and keep them open, looking up at him. Leon lowered himself a little, allowing you to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. The slightly different position made his thrusts feel even deeper, and you cried out into his neck, your fingers going into his shaggy blonde hair.

“Keep looking at me. Please.” He said softly, and so you did, maintaining eye contact with him the best you could as he continued to piston his hips into you. Suddenly, Leon was becoming blurry; you could feel the wetness on your face as tears began to fall. Leon often made you cry during sex – he was a fucking god in bed after all and usually made you feel so good that he’d leave you sobbing from the intense pleasure after multiple orgasms. And while that was definitely the reason you were crying now, you also knew that there was an underlying reason for your tears. Leon knew the other reason, too.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” He asked you sweetly, still keeping up his quick pace. All you could do was nod fervently, digging your nails into his back. He always loved when you did that.

“Yeah? My sweetheart is gonna cum for me?” He urged, and the pet name that rolled off of his tongue only made matters worse.

“Fuck, Leon–please, give it to me.” You said, your voice trembling. You felt all of the telltale signs. There was a tight coil forming in your lower stomach, ready to pop like a balloon. Leon could sense this, could hear it in your voice and could feel it in the way your pussy was squeezing around his cock. He raised himself just a bit, lowering his hand down between your legs, using his thumb to rub your clit in circular motions while he continued thrusting.

Leon’s name emerged from your throat so loudly that you even drowned out the rain. Your eyes squeezed shut, your back rising off the bed in a beautiful arch, your climax hitting you in waves. You felt like you were in heaven, the tears falling even more freely from your eyes now. Leon just ogled at you like you were a work of art. In his mind, you were.

He was also close, and mere seconds after your orgasm his own came crashing down on him too. With a few more sloppy thrusts he found himself stilling inside of you, his release filling you to the brim. The feeling of being so full of him was one that you would never grow tired of.

Eventually, you came down from your peak, your limbs feeling like heavyweights. All you could do was lay there and cry some more, letting every single emotion overtake you completely, your sobs shaking your entire body. Leon was comforting you in an instant, pulling out gently and lying next to you, allowing you to bury your head into his chest. The two of you laid like that for several minutes, with Leon cradling your head and rubbing your back.

You did calm down after some time passed, and that’s when Leon tried to get up, but you clung to him again.

“Please don’t go.” You said, your voice small and hoarse. “Don’t go, Leon, please.”

“I just wanna clean you up, okay?” Leon replied, wiping away the wetness on your cheeks. You didn’t even care that his cum was leaking out of you and making your thighs a mess – you just wanted him to stay by your side. But you knew he was just trying to take care of you, so you reluctantly released him.

Leon kissed your cheek before getting off the bed and going to the bathroom. While you waited for him, you tried to keep your eyes open. You didn’t want to sleep, because falling asleep meant that morning would come quicker, and truthfully you didn’t want the morning to come at all. You knew it would be coming no matter what, though – but goddamn it, you tried to prolong it the best you could, even when your eyelids were growing heavier by the second.

Leon came back, now clothed in his boxers (that you didn’t even notice he had thrown back on), a small washcloth in hand, and a glass of water that he set on the bedside table. He pushed your legs apart yet again and wiped you clean, touching you so gently as if you were some kind of porcelain doll. It only made your heart grow fonder. You were going to miss these moments of tenderness.

He made you sit up, just enough so you could drink the water that he had prepared for you. You took a small sip, to which Leon encouraged you to “drink a bit more, sweetheart,” so you did, and when he was pleased, the glass returned to its spot on the bedside table, and shortly after he was crawling underneath the comforter with you.

The warmth of the comforter and Leon’s body next to yours made it even more difficult for you to stay awake. Leon saw you struggling, catching the way you would doze off and then immediately wake yourself back up.

“Please, rest.” He muttered into your hair. You hugged him tighter.

“Do you have to go?” You asked him, even though you knew the answer.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Was all Leon could say in response.

You felt a lonely tear roll down your cheek yet again. But you were far too exhausted to cry some more. Instead, you sat up, looking at Leon intently. He returned your direct eye contact, sitting up himself to lean against the headboard and match your height.

“Promise me,” You started, holding out your hand. Without hesitation, Leon held it, locking your fingers together and giving your hand a slight squeeze.

“Promise me you’ll come back home.” You asked him, like you always did before he left for a mission. Every single time, he would give you the same answer.

“I promise.” He replied firmly. You knew deep down that asking Leon to make promises like this was unrealistic. He never fully understood what he was getting himself into until he arrived at the mission location – and you knew that despite his skills as a trained government agent, accidents always happened, and there was no way to know when things would go awry when he’s out in the middle of nowhere. But hearing him utter those two words before he left eased your worries just enough.

Trusting Leon was always easy.

“I love you.” You said softly, fitting back into Leon’s side perfectly, like you belonged there.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” Leon replied, before tilting your chin up with two gentle fingers and kissing you with a fiery passion. You two lazily kissed each other until sleep started pulling you into its dark embrace. You didn’t fight it this time, resting your head on Leon’s chest and drifting away to the sound of his steady heartbeat.

The next morning, the two of you shared one last breakfast. You mostly sat in comfortable silence. You asked a couple questions about the mission, but didn’t get straight answers – it was confidential. You knew that already but always liked to ask questions anyway.

Right as Leon was about to walk out of your door, you stopped him. You took a few moments just to stare at him – he was as handsome as the day you fell in love with him.

You brushed some hair out of his face, kissing him slowly, savoring the feeling of his lips on yours for these last few minutes. When you pulled away, you were sporting a warm smile, feeling your eyes sting as tears threatened to spill. You kept them at bay.

“Don’t you dare–” You paused, your trembling lips making it difficult to speak. When you collected yourself, breathing in and out, you continued.

“Don’t you dare ruin this jacket. I love it on you.” You said, referring to the brown leather jacket that Leon had bought himself recently and was currently wearing. He had a tendency to ruin clothing items on his missions, and you hoped this one would survive.

Leon chuckled. The sound immediately filled you with warmth. You were going to miss that sound; God knows how long you’d have to go without hearing it everyday.

“Copy that.” Leon replied, a laugh bubbling out of your throat.

You shared one more embrace. The final hug was one the both of had trouble ending. But it had to come to an end eventually.

And then, Leon was gone. All that was left was a memory.

[schumachersricciardo]

Shiver

Chapter Six - You’re All I’ve Ever Known

♡ Mick Schumacher x Reader, Best friend!Danny Ricc x reader

♡ TW: Swearing, inaccurate timeline of F1/F2/F3, badly translated German using Google, blood/injuries (not graphic, but there is are mentions of it!), i forgot how many days elapsed between scenes bc i wrote this in like two days. so ya know ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. INACCURATE DESCRIPTIONS OF ENGLAND???? I literally made up street names and i think a school, so don’t come for me. I’m just a girl. plus i’m american so like we already have enough on our plates. Ummm slight kidnapping vibes??? very inaccurate and probably wrong medical talk.

♡ She/Her pronouns are used, nothing descriptive about reader except that her hair is long enough to pull back into a ponytail or braid, no reader insert, timeline skips. ALSO: WARNING!!!! I will barely be mentioning Michael Schumacher. I do not presume to know what he is thinking, or would say in these fictional scenarios. I am trying to be respectful of their privacy and not make any assumptions!!!!!! He will be mentioned here and there, but I do not believe any dialogue will be associated with him. If you do not like that, then do not read it. :)

♡ 6.3k words

♡A/N: Again, posting this on mobile and will format it when i get back from work! sorry it’s a day late. yesterday was very bad lol ok love u bye

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It seemed like there was never going to be an end to the poking, the prodding, and testing on your body. Everyday, there was to be a new test or a repeat of an old one to be done. On top of already having been in the hospital for more than two weeks now, your memory was still not coming back to you. Sometimes someone would say something and if it as if your brain knew the memory tied to it, but it couldn’t relay it to your voice fast enough to recollect it. You didn’t know what was worse at this point:

“No, no threes. Go fish.” Your Uncle Sebastian echoed, stopping your train of thought.

Trying to focus your eyes, you looked at the pile of cards in front of you and drew another one.

“Do you… Have any… sixes?”

The four time champion just smiled and slid over some of his cards. You neatly made a pile of your finished “sixes” cards. Moments later, there was a slight knock on the door before it slowly pushed open towards the two of you.

“Hi, Mrs. Schumacher. It’s good to you see you again.”

So here’s the thing - You had been called that many times now. Almost every nurse and doctor has called you that… And since you had no room to counter, you never corrected them. Who knows? Maybe you and Mick actually got married after high school like the two of you talked about. And as weird as it was for you to be called that… It certainly felt right and didn’t make you feel uncomfortable - which of course made things curious and curioser.

“Mrs.… Schumacher??” Sebastian Vettel put his cards down and eyed the nurse and the doctor. There was a look on their faces that you couldn’t quite place.

“So sorry, no,” The doctor began correcting his mistake. He finally addressed you by your first and last name. “I’m sorry, again. Mr. Schumacher is your medical proxy and I forget that those in fact, do not have to be spouses.”

The doctor nervously chuckled as he prepared various medicinal instruments. It would happened two times a day where they’d check your cognitive function and your response to stimuli. Sometimes you’d say things that were a memory, but moments later you forget you said that. You even had times where Mick was in the same room, and you had forgotten who he was so you called him… Pleading for him to come back and comfort you.

He was the only constant in your life.

The doctor and nurses finished their exam and let you get back to your card game. You had no memory of the man who sat across from you, even though he said he was like family to Mick and that he knew you when you were little. He’d tell you stories about his time in Formula One, and how he’s focused on sustainability now and finding new hobbies. You truly were delighted in the presence of this man, but deep down inside you wished that Mick were there.

He had some press releases to do, as his racing came to halt when you crashed out in Silverstone. He was planning on racing the last 5 races as you were getting better now. Well, physically. Your leg was almost ready to be put in a regular soft cast once the rods would be removed. Your arm was out of its cast completely, and it seemed like your ribs and spine were doing okay. It was just your dumb brain that needing fixing.

“You alright?” Soon, Sebastian’s voice pulled you out of your endless thinking. “We can stop, if you’d like. I think you are beating me, anyway.”

Silently, you put down your cards and pushed the tray that was on wheels aside. You didn’t know what was coming over you. You felt an immense sadness and regret, but you didn’t know why. You were lost. Having your memories stripped of you is such a cruel fate… You rather have just not survived.

“I’m not good enough for him.” You plainly stated.

Sebastian blinked a few times as he put down his playing cards as well. He took a deep breath and tried his best to comfort you.

“Why do you say that? He’s been here every day since you crashed.” Sebastian’s tone was cautious, but caring.

“i mean… Look at me? I have rods sticking out of my leg… And I can’t remember shit. It’s pathetic.”

The former F1 didn’t have a response. He couldn’t imagine what you were going through, let alone the both of you. He just gently reassured you with a grasp of his hand on yours. Before you knew it, even his thoughts were halted by someone entering your hospital room.

“Hello, ma’am, I’m Nurse Elsie.” The brunette nurse beamed at you, and took the clipboard off of the end of the bed. “Do you remember who I am?” Her British accent was thick… You couldn’t place from where though.

You paused and did your best to remember someone named Elsie.

“You-You were there when I first woke up… And you were telling me to stay calm…”

The nurse’s expression immediately turned. Complete surprise and bliss overtook her as she grinned at you and Sebastian. She grabbed your hands ever so softly and opened her mouth to speak.

“Yes, that’s correct! I was here the day you came in, and I haven’t left since.” It truly warmed your heart to see someone that hardworking have some sense of relief. “And I am glad you’re speaking English again!”

“Was… I not before?” Your eyebrows furrowed and your focused shifted to Sebastian. He pressed his lips in a tight line, debating if he should answer for you when Mick wasn’t there.

Clearing his throat, he straightened his posture and exhaled.

“When you first woke up, you were only speaking in German. Mick had to translate for you for a while, until you felt comfortable enough to speak English again.” Vettel calmly responds, his hand scratching at the stubble on his jawline. You nodded along while he explained a few more things to you.

About twenty minutes later after another few tests were done, you were absolutely exhausted. You tucked yourself into the hospital bed with one of Mick’s blankets added to the pile for extra warmth. His scent was wearing off of the blanket as you pulled it up to your chin. Mick was familiar to you, and to your feelings - Yet, part of him remained a stranger. He was older, well you both were now.

He was not the shy little school boy anymore, but a confident young man. His muscles had grown noticeably and his hair was long, like you liked it. His jawline had formed into sharp corners where it meets his ears, as opposed to the chubby faced kid who would ride his bike alongside you and hold your hand in crowded places so you wouldn’t get lost. On the other hand and maybe the stronger one at that, you didn’t recognize him at all. Sure, he looked like Mick and sounded like him… But there was a piece missing to the dynamic between the two of you that you couldn’t quite place.

When he would be in the hospital room with you, it was almost as if he was treating you with a fragility that was completely peculiar to the way your foggy memory could recall him treating you. He was always kind and always held a special tenderness for you, that much you could remember… But be that as it may, he was handling you now with a delicate hand - so afraid of breaking you further. You couldn’t tell from where you sat if it was because of your injuries that he was being extra careful around you, or because there was something he wasn’t telling you.

“Knock, Knock.” The familiar voice of another doctor entered your stumbling train of thought as they entered your room. Sebastian stood to greet her and shake her hand.

“How are you feeling today, ma’am?” You shrugged and mumbled something incoherent. “Right then! My name is Doctor Wells. I’m the Chief of Neurology, and have been following your case closely.”

You honestly were having a tough time keeping all these doctors and nurses straight in your head, that you thought adding one more to the list might make you explode. But still - you politely greeted her as you told her your name.

“You’ve been making great progress physically, it seems. Your leg will be moved to a soft cast in two days time, and then in about a month, we’ll x-ray your leg to see when we would take that cast off, but again, it’s looking good.” The doctor smiled as her green eyes scanned the clipboard in front of her.

She began to hum to yourself as she jotted down some notes. You immediately noticed it, and Sebastian immediately noticed you. It was as though you couldn’t breathe all of a sudden and you had no clue as to why. Your monitors began to beep at a rapid rate, while the voices around you were telling you things but you couldn’t hear them. All you could hear was a loud, sharp and lasting ringing in your eyes as you sobbed. Soon, you felt the calming medicine go through your IV and settle your heart rate. It took a few more minutes to gain your bearings.

“Es tut mir Leid (I’m sorry).” You breathed out as you laid back down trying to get comfortable again.

Sebastian excused himself to go make a phone call, assuring you that he’d be back in a few minutes.

“That’s quite alright. Your body has been through a lot these last few weeks.” Dr. Wells smiled at you with an overwhelming aura of reassurance. She took a beat, and pulled up her rolling stool next to your bedside. “May I ask what I did to trigger that reaction? I want to know so I won’t do it again.”

You turned your head to meet her gaze, her eyes filled with worry and sympathy. You tried your best to think about the answer to her question. She could practically hear the gears turning in your head while you attempted to pinpoint what it was that upset you.

“The humming… When you hummed… It… I don’t know - did something to me.” Dr. Wells nodded in response and promise that she wouldn’t do it again. “Can I ask you a question, Dr. Wells?”

“Anything at all.”

You moved your hospital bed up so you could sit up and see the doctor better. You had very little to go on, but what you could go off of confidently was people’s expressions and the way their faces moved when they spoke to you.

“What are my chances of getting my memory back, and if I don’t… What do I do?” In turn, your facial expression was desperate, reeking of hopelessness and despair. She could see the devastation the accident has brought you, as it seeped out of the pores of your skin and infected your surroundings.

“Well, you’re making good progress and you remember Nurse Elsie which is a great sign… And the fact that you still know who Mick is a great sign,” Dr. Wells began slowly. “But, we really won’t know the extent of the damage the crash took, especially in regard to your memory. All your brain scans have thus far been clean, with no cause for concern.”

You started to feel tears brimming in your eyes as you bit your bottom lip to try and stifle back your cries. Shakily, you let out whatever air you had left in your lungs now.

“Sometimes things like this just happen and we don’t know why… But what we do know is that memories can always be created. You may not be able to remember the ones you had previously, but you can always replace them with new ones, better ones even.”

The pair of you talked for a few minutes more about your situation and how best to help it. She gave you some flyers for support groups and some numbers for therapists that specialize in what you were going through. She checked your vitals once more before heading towards the door and exiting, smiling a courteous smile as she disappeared into the vast hospital.

On the rare occasion you were left alone in your room, you liked to write things down in a notebook Mick gave you. It was your favorite color, with a giant ‘MSC47’ sticker on it. You had asked him what that was and he told you it was his racing number. To that, you asked why he didn’t put your racing number… And in response to that, he sheepishly admitted that it slipped his mind to put your number, but he was glad you always had a reminder of him. You didn’t even notice you were reminiscing until you caught yourself stroking the sticker on the front of your notebook. Blinking a few times to clear your mind, you opened it up to the next free page only to see that someone really tried not to write in their typical chicken scratch.

Smidge,

If you are reading this, then I must be away doing some press related things. I wish I did not have to, but duty calls and I also think Toto would come to my house and drag me there himself (in a very nice way, of course). Anyway, I wanted to write you a short note and let you know that I will be back soon, and hopefully you will be coming home after that. I have rented a place out here for you and me that will be sufficient enough until you decide where you want to fully rest and recover. We can go back to your apartment in Italy or to one of my family’s cottages in Switzerland. I would even take you back to the states to find respite at my ranch in Texas, but I know you do not have fond memories of Texas. I want to do only what you are comfortable with, Schätzen.

As for my last few races, I am on the lookout for the best home care nurse I can find while I am away. Sebastian offered, but he has a family and children of his own. When you feel up to it, I would also like your opinion on how you would like your care to be handled when I am at a race. I want you to feel as safe and taken care of as possible. It kills me that I have to go away to participate in the last few races, but part of me is also excited to get back to driving alongside Lewis. We (Mostly I) will dedicate every race to you, Schätzen. Maybe if you are healed and well enough, you may be able to attend the last race of the season. That would be very fun, as I know some of the drivers are dying to see you again.

I cannot think of anything else to write that might ease your mind while I am gone for now. I cannot imagine how difficult it must be to not know anybody there, but I do hope that with Sebastian being there it has calmed some of your nerves. He admires you greatly, and you have always been fond of him. I feel exactly the same way. But you can always text message me or call me, if you need me. I know you are not quite comfortable with that form of communication yet, but I just want you to know that I will always respond and pick up when I see your name pop up on my phone.

Anyway, I am excited and full of anticipation for when I get to lay eyes on the most beautiful woman I have come to know again. Your strength and perseverance through this entire ideal has been something to write in the history books about. I cannot wait to hear your laugh and feel your fingers interlaced with mine. I am looking forward to our days spent on the couch, sharing a blanket, with you tucked underneath my side - where you fit so perfectly beside me as if it were meant to be. And until we see each other again, just know I am thinking of you always and missing you every second of the day.

You hold my heart in your hands.

Ich gehöre für immer dir.

(I am yours forever.)

Love,

Mickey

There were drops of water scattered across the page as you tried to stop yourself from crying again.

You may not know him, but he knows you. And the feeling was overwhelming.

“Are you alright?” Sebastian’s quiet voice came into notice as you looked up at him with tearful eyes. He tilted his head to the side in concern.

“He… Wrote me… He wrote me… This letter… He knew I would find it… He knew this… That I would want to write things down, after the day I had… And he knew I would find his letter…” You spoke in between sobs, your chest falling up and down at a rapid rate.

“Okay, okay. Let’s take a few deep breaths and then we can talk about it, ja?” Sebastian began to initiate some deep breathing, hoping you would follow suit.

After many seconds of doing some deep breathing, you closed your eyes and did your best to relax your body.

“He loves me, doesn’t he?”

Vettel paused, taking his seat beside you.

“Yes. He does.” The German driver answered solemnly.

“And I don’t love him? Isn’t that right?” You glanced around the dry hospital room, smears of bright white and the smell of rubbing alcohol apparent.

“I don’t want him to love me. I don’t deserve it.”

Sebastian Vettel, four time world formula one champion, and one of the most formidable motorsports athletes the world has ever known, was stunned. He remained tight lipped and stoic. In frustration, you threw the notebook onto the floor and put your head in your hands. You weren’t crying, no. But you were exasperated . You could hear beeping as each finger pressed a key in the background. You didn’t know what was what, except what was shown to you: The voice of somebody you used to know.

Sebastian had put the phone on speaker and handed it to you.

“Smidge? Are you okay?”

“Hello? Smidge?”

“Was machst du (What are you doing)?”

“Ich vermisse dich (I miss you).”

Mick’s voice was like the half of you that you didn’t know you needed. It melded perfectly with what you were missing in this dark despair of recent days. His slight German-Swiss accent brought you comfort like you didn’t know you needed. He had picked up the call no matter where he was or what he was doing.

“Komm zurück zu mir (Come back to me).” You could hear Mick let out a strained sigh. He wanted to come back, god did he want to.

“Mickey, please…”

Completely taking you off guard, the line went dead suddenly and you were left with another kind of beeping. You slowly handed the phone back to your almost friend, Sebastian. The former driver could only sigh and sit back in the chair that he had been making his home since Mick left.

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Four Days Later

Your leg was finally out of those ghastly rods and into a softer cast. To think this feeling was heavenly, was something you would have never put on your radar thus far. Soon enough though as the many doctors and nurses came by, you were cleared to go home in the next 24 hours.

“We are glad to see you improving Mrs. Schumacher.” You did your best to make eye contact with the receptionist. “Please let us know if you need anything.”

“Thank you…” You started with caution.

“I’m not Mrs. Schumacher though… If you want to change that for your records or anything…” You tried your best to be nonchalant. The receptionist typed a few bits onto the computer in front of her.

Ushering for you to take a seat in the lobby, you tried your best to not think about the past.

Due to a reason unbeknownst to you, Mick was unavailable to take you home when it came to your releases date. You even braved the scary phone long enough to ask Sebastian if he could be there to take you to the new home Mick set up for you. He wished that he could, but evidently he had something to attend to.

Bravery aside, you sat curbside alone trying to figure out who to call. Your leg was in its soft cast, as you remained waiting for something or someone to come rescue you. You didn’t know where you were, you didn’t know any phone numbers off of the top of your head, and if it could get any worse, you were in England where it was raining.

“You’re going to catch a cold if you stay outside like this.”

Great. Now you’re fucking hearing things. Trying to shake the eerie feeling you had resting on your shoulders, you ignored the voice.

“Let me take you home, huh?” The voice repeated to you.

Your head turned to the left towards the voice. They were leaning against some concrete beam, cigarette almost totally nsmoked as they stepped towards you.

“John?”

“Hello, baby sister.”

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You weren’t sure how you ended up at your brother’s flat in whatever country you were in at the moment. The legalization of Mick being your medical proxy was iron clad….

You never once considered an actual family member to be there for you. And as it were, your big brother had also aged some. You knew it was him immediately though. You could tell because he sort of looked like you, and his voice sounded like the only other voice besides Mick that you knew.

“Are we going back home?” Your brother was doing the dishes as you sat on the couch, your leg elevated to help relieve some swelling.

Again, you repeated the question. You could hear him turning the water off, and see him drying his hands as he turned to face you.

“No, we’re going to stay here for a little while.”

Confusion washed over you once more. Did Mick call your brother because he was unable to pick you up from the hospital? Did Mick even know you were here? All you could do was nod, while your brother excused himself to go lay down. It had been a long day of driving for him from where he came from. You remained in the quiet of your own company for a moment, trying to think of all the possibilities that could have ended up with you being in some strange apartment in a country you hardly knew. Finally, you pulled out your phone that Mick bought for you, and took a deep breath.

You: Hi Mick

…

Mick: Hello, Schätzen! It makes me very happy to see your text.

You: Really?

…

Mick: Yes, really. I would never lie to you.

You: That’s sweet.

…

…

Mick: I am so sorry I cannot be there to bring you home, but I will be there tonight and we can have dinner and watch a movie, if you would like. But, my very good friend Daniel is going to pick you up from the hospital, okay? He should be there shortly, if you just want to wait in the lobby where it is warm and dry.

You reread the message as your heart rate began to hasten. If Mick had already made arrangements for you to get picked up from the hospital… How did your brother find you?

You: Oh. I thought you called John, because he picked me up from the hospital already. A few hours ago, actually. I got released early and thought maybe you called him since you couldn’t get there in time.

Milliseconds after you pressed send on your text, your phone screen lit up brightly in your face.

INCOMING CALL: Mick Schumacher

swipe to accept

Your thumb danced over the bottom of the screen, only to have your desire to hear his voice once again take over your body. Slowly, you accepted the call.

“Schätzen, where are you?” You could hear the panic in his voice. How the fuck were you supposed to know where you were?

“Um… I’m in John’s apartment, I think.” You spoke in a whisper as to not to disturb your resting brother.

“Scheiße, Scheiße, Scheiße (Shit, shit, shit)!”

On the other side of the phone you could hear him getting up and gather his belongings wherever he was. You could pick up bits and pieces of what he was telling someone near him, but not enough to put together a full sentence. You patiently waited on your side of the line for him to speak again. What seemed like forever went by, before he talked to you.

“Can you describe where you are? Can you look outside and see any street names, or building names?” You could tell he was jogging by now.

“I’d have to get up… And my crutches are… On the other side of the room…”

Mick felt absolutely stupid for forgetting that you had a cast on your leg. And he felt even more stupid that he allowed your safety to be compromised… Again. In his defense though, he gave strict instructions to the hospital staff not to allow anyone to take you home besides himself, Sebastian, and Daniel. He even started calling you his Mrs. Schumacher for extra protection, but he’d never tell you that secret.

He was trying as quickly as he could to figure out what the hell went wrong, and how the hell your brother found you. Mick told you he’d have to call you back, but that he promised he would call back in five minutes.

As you waited for him to call back, you decided to try and hobble over to the window. It was gloomy, of course, but you could still see a few things.

House Street

Franklin Street

You decided to text Mick the names of the cross streets, just in case. Glancing around some more through the window, you saw to the far right what looked like a school or a church. You squinted to try and get the name of it.

Longfellow Grade School: Home of The Lions

You also added that to your next text message to Mick, as well as the few models of cars that were sat out on the street. Exhausted now, you hobbled your way back over to the couch and let out all the air you had pent up in your lungs.

INCOMING CALL: Mick Schumacher

swipe to accept

Faster than you did the last time, you accepted the call and raised the phone to your ear.

“Hi Mick, are you okay?”

“The police are on their way, Schätzen. Do not be scared when they arrive, ja? I will be there as fast as I can too. Stay on the line.”

You had a lot of conflicting feelings at this point. Why were the police involved now? Why did Mick sound so afraid? You couldn’t remember the last few years, but now you’re having to deal with all of this? It was as though your body was frozen with a mixture of fear and sadness. You could barely move from your spot on the couch while you anticipated the police’s arrival.

“Okay, Mick. What is going on, though?”

“I will explain everything once I bring you back home, to our home.”

Soon enough, there was a loud knock on the door. You could hear your brother curse loudly from his room as you shrank into the corner of the couch. You were very afraid. Your brother stumbled out of his room, rubbing his eyes as he opened the door to his apartment. One police officer held up a piece of paper to his face, while the other one peered into the space making sure you were alright. The male officer began to speak to your brother about whatever was on the paper, while the female officer approached you with caution.

“Hi, there. My name is Officer Clarkson. Are you alright?” Her voice was calming, and probably the most calming thing about this entire situation. She sat on the couch, keeping a good distance between you.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t know where I am.”

Mick had told the dispatchers that you were in a potentially dangerous situation, and that you had been in a bad car crash a month before resulting in some memory loss. He also told them that you in fact had a restraining order out against your brother, and that he had no clue how he got past the hospital staff.

“That’s okay, you don’t have to know anything right now. I’m just going to sit here with you, while my partner takes care of that young man. Is that alright?” Again, the peaceful cadence of her voice warmed you, and made you feel instantly safe.

“Yes.”

Your head quickly whipped to the side when your brother began yelling at the officer. He was pinned up against the wall, face to it, with his hands behind his back. The male officer handcuffed your brother and escorted him out to the police vehicle. It all happened so fast that you weren’t sure what to make of it. Officer Clarkson said some police speak into her walkie talkie that was on her chest, echoing some of the things being said back to her. She got up from the couch and looked around.

“Can you remember the last time you saw your brother?” You only shook your head in response. Your eyes followed the trail she was walking around the tiny apartment.


After a few more questions that you honestly did not know the answers to, you could hear the radio on her chest go off. The officer grabbed your crutches, and the bag you had at the hospital and escorted you downstairs. There was another police car, an SUV. Two more officers approached you, both women.

“This is Officer Hammond and Officer May. They’re going to drive you home, your real home.”

You thought you might combust trying to keep everyone’s names straight. But you still didn’t have any answers as to why your brother was sitting in the back of a cop car. And as you did so dutifully in the hospital, you did again as you just stood in silence allowing things to be explained to you.

“Your friend Mick - the one who called the us - Will meet you there. Your brother won’t bother you ever again, ma’am.” Officer Clarkson gave a promising smile and nod as she handed your bag to one of the other female officers.


Soon, you were in the backseat of the car as the three of you silently drove to wherever this new place was.

Two hours later, you were woken by Officer May trying coax you out of your sleep. You felt embarrassed for falling asleep, but it seemed like your body needed it. Rubbing your eyes, you looked over the officer’s shoulder to see you were parked in front of a modest one story home. You were in the countryside somewhere, and knowing Mick and his love for the countryside, you could tell that he put a lot of thought into this home. Even if it was going to be temporary, you enjoyed the thought of recovering somewhere private and secluded.

Officer May helped you out of the car and handed you your crutches. The sound of another car hastily pulling up made all three of your head’s turn sharply to the right. In true Mick fashion, he sported a big red truck as he parked in haphazardly. He couldn’t move fast enough though, as he jumped out of the car not even closing the door behind him. Mick ran up to you, his hands frantically searching your face for any wounds. He was rambling in German… Italian… Maybe even French as he brought you into a much needed embrace. He kissed the top of your head and looked at you with nothing but regret.

“Smidge, I am so sorry. I really do not know how this could have happened, but you are safe now. Okay? Completely safe from everything.” Mick profusely thanked the officers, and made a note to call and thank the other officers as well.

Mick helped you inside, before returning to the officers so that he could speak to them about the situation. They assured him that they would look into just how your brother was able to pick you up and take you out of the hospital. He wanted nothing more than answers at this point. (Join the club, right?)

You were still on edge when you heard the door open, your flinching making it clear. Mick walked towards you as cautiously as he could.

“It is just me, Smidge; Just Mick.” He stepped in front of you, his face softened by the sight of you. “I am sorry I scared you.”

“It’s just been a long day…” Mick led you carefully to the couch so that you could sit and rest your leg. Propping your leg up on some pillows, Mick moved to the kitchen to get you some water and some food.

The house was nicely decorated with accents of a familiar shade of red all around. The couch beneath you felt like a marshmallow compared to last couch you were sat on, and the hospital bed you had quite become accustomed to for the last month. Mick returned with a water bottle and a few snacks he might think you would want. Sitting beside you, but keeping a respectful space between you, the blond haired boy rubbed a very tired hand over his face. Leaning his head back onto the back of the couch and stretching out his arms too, he sighed a sigh of relief and closed his eyes. You watched him carefully, and more meticulously than you had in the hospital.

You liked the way his nose was slightly bigger than normal and the way that it curved downwards at the end. You noticed how his darkened blond hair curled ever so slightly at the tips. His lips were a pretty shade of pink too. You wondered if you ever had the pleasure of kissing them. His neck was bigger than you last could remember it to be. Mick’s Adam’s Apple moving up and down as he swallowed, sucking the insides of left side of his mouth. Mick always did that when he was overworked.

“Sind Sie gestresst (Are you stressed)?” Mick just hummed in response, your body relaxing at the familiar sound.

You remember how you reacted when the doctor hummed. Shuddering away that terrible thought, you scooted closer to him.

“Mir wird es gut gehen (I will be okay).” His eyes were still closed as he responded.

You took a beat and took a nice long deep breath. You remember what he had written in his letter. He probably had to leave his work to come find you. And the fact that he did made you feel something you hadn’t felt before - or at least couldn’t remember feeling. This man has always cared for you. Since you were children, he has always put you first and always made sure you were taken care of in every sense of the word. He was the only thing that connected you to your past and all of your lost memories. And surely he knew the weight of it all, yet he didn’t seem to be overwhelmed by it. He would carry the weight of the world on his shoulders if that meant he got to see you happy.

Something in the back of your head was telling you to reject these new feelings, though. You couldn’t tell what it was that was making you want to hide your emotions. The pull was strong. It was like The Force, pulling you into a dark deep alley where you were always meant to be: Alone.

You did your best to shake the distressing thought. Going back to happier things, you recited the letter in your head as you decided to be brave. After all, you didn’t survive a high speed car crash for nothing, right?

Nodding assertively to yourself, you managed to wiggle into Mick’s side. Your leg was still propped up, just now onto the coffee table in front of you. As best as you could and as comfortably too, you tucked yourself into him and his arm wrapped around you as if it were a dance you two had done a million times before. Your eyelids began to feel heavier and heavier as you felt the warmth of his body warm yours. It was not secret that the both of you were dog-tired as neither of you said a word.

The only thing surrounding you now was the sound of rain hitting the roof and someone’s arm wrapped tightly around you. And while you may not have any memories of the last few years, now was as good as time as ever to begin making new ones.

[palukoo]

ooh amy and toby because i would die for them

okay i know you sent others before this one but i really wanna answer this one! i meant to just... write about basically what i've said before with their unique combinations of idealism and cynicism but also with the vast difference in loyalty and also their similar political positions, but then i spent all afternoon uh. writing this.

amy and toby meet on some doomed campaign that he's running, and she's fundraising for, and they both know it's doomed but that doesn't stop them from trying. she tells him it is, at some point, and he knows she's right but won't say it, because it's different. amy's consulting for a dozen campaigns this election cycle, and toby's got one, and he likes amy, but she doesn't get to say that about his one.

they bring amy in for debate prep, at the candidate's request, and toby sits back and smiles a little at the hopefully-but-doubfully future senator's comprehensive answer until amy starts eviscerating the woman's answers. she does it with an awkward, regretful smile, and the candidate adjusts, and toby asks amy to step out into the hall, asks if she has a problem with their policies. amy says no, she loves their policies and that's why she's doing what she can to give them a shot. toby laughs bitterly.

"you said yourself that we don't have a shot! we're trying to talk about issues and you're taking the only place we can do that and have people listen and turning it into pithy soundbites like every other guy!"

"the pithy soundbites might stick," she says, mostly unfazed. "let me try to give you a shot. she thinks she has a shot."

he sighs. "yeah."

the candidate loses, 41-57. before amy had started working with them more, polls were at 30-62.

*

they run into each other, after that, both of them with tendencies towards certain candidates. amy's associated with more winning campaigns than toby is by a long shot, but she's never run one, winning or otherwise.

amy's talking to a candidate she's excited about for maryland's fifth district, who's leading against the old, far too moderate and out of touch incumbent in her primaries. andy wyatt. and then toby's beside her.

"oh, hey, amy, this is toby, he's my--"

"you're working with her?" amy asks teasingly before andy can finish. "but she might actually win."

toby laughs. "yeah, no, don't worry, i haven't lost my touch yet. i'm her fiancé, not her campaign manager."

amy tries to keep the surprise from her face. "you two know each other?" andy asks.

"we've worked together before. congratulations, by the way," amy says. toby smiles awkwardly. "don't let him anywhere near your campaign," she teases.

"don't let her anywhere near your speeches," he quips back. amy laughs.

*

it's catching up and some unofficial consulting in the primaries that amy would really rather stay mostly out of even though she has a clear favorite. she meets abbey and liz at a starbucks that was a little diner the last time she was in town, and they bring her back to "campaign headquarters" after bribing her with coffee and using their trademarked bartlet charm. which is really what will help him more than anything, at this point.

she laughs when she gets to the office and sees him bouncing a ball against the wall. "toby ziegler. i should've guessed that you'd be on this campaign."

he doesn't question her presence, just sighs. "because it's doomed?"

she beams at him, shaking her head. "because it's good."

his lips twitch into something resembling a smile, and she turns around to abbey and liz.

"with him and governor bartlet--"

"you can call him jed, y'know," abbey says. amy can't, actually.

"well, with the two of them, you're gonna need to find someone less... long winded."

he sighs and glares, and then his brow furrows. "why the hell are you drinking an iced coffee?"

*

she runs into them right after they've won the primary, which means everyone's uncharacteristically excited, meaning josh unthinkingly drags her along to their party, and jed kisses her cheek, and toby, by some miracle, hugs her and cj laughs and hugs her, too.

"you and toby get along?" she asks, surprised. amy shrugs and turns to toby, who also looks deeply noncommittal. cj laughs again.

the giddiness of the room gets to her. "i admire his integrity and his politics," she says, and there it is again, that vague, almost smile, brighter with the new victory.

"when he recruited me for this campaign, he called emily's list 'that women's group with the dumb name'," cj says to her, and amy turns back to him, suddenly far less admiring.

"dumb name. not dumb... mission, dumb name," he defends. she stands down, a little. "so, what have you been up to lately?”

"i'm political director for emily's list," she says, and he opens his mouth and closes it, and cj laughs again.

*

when the general election rolls around in november, amy collects bets from coworkers and friends and really whoever. she can't help but admire that toby only bets on losing candidates, but she also knows it doesn't matter to him. he won the thing that mattered.

*

"did you know?" he asks, tense.

"what?"

"that-- you've known the bartlet's forever. you... did you know?"

amy shakes her head, and forces her face into a neutral expression. "no, i didn't."

"are you--"

"i didn't run his campaign, toby. i voted for him, and i would've done it either way. and i'm not sure i'm in the majority there, and i'm glad he's there, so... i'm not mad."

he laughs bitterly. "you admire my integrity?"

"didn't say i shared it," she says plainly.

"you're not mad none of them told you?" he asks after a moment.

she takes in a breath and nods slightly. "well," she says like a concession. "mostly i'm worried," she admits, and toby nods, too.

"about him or the election?"

amy doesn't answer. she doesn't need to. he knows as well as she does that it's both.

*

"hey, amy, that speech you gave last week," he says when she runs into him in the hall. "did you write it yourself?"

"yeah."

"i could tell," he says, condescending and teasing at once. she rolls her eyes.

"nice job with the president's remarks yesterday," she says back.

"that was sam."

"yeah, i know. i could tell."

*

"i don't want to have this conversation with you," he says, and her eyes narrow.

"okay."

"not 'cause it's you, 'cause you're actually... i just don't want to have this conversation."

"toby, did something happen?"

he shakes his head and looks at the floor. "josh really cares about you."

she scoffs, disbelieving in a couple ways. "got it."

"amy--"

"as much as i agree that josh really can't take care of himself, he really doesn't need your protection from me, if that's what this is."

toby nods, and amy hopes they'll never talk about that again.

*

working with stackhouse reminds her of the old campaigns she's run into toby on, and it almost makes her nostalgic, except for the part where she's still mad at him, because he knew as well as josh did that the marriage incentives were shit. he knew as well as josh did that they could've made a play other than the one that forced her to resign.

still. she knows that if there's anyone as proud of the president's answer on needle exchange as she is, it's toby.

*

sam's campaign really feels like the old days once they’re in it, mishap after mishap, impossible odds, her trying to get funding while toby coaches him on remarks. she feels bad, having talked him into this, knowing he wouldn't win.

toby's used to the loss, she knows, but he's not used to this one. she buys them both drinks and gets on a plane to start her new job.

*

her first day, after the ceremony, after every exhausting, impossible thing, she still finds herself going back to her office. there's an unpleasant banging sound coming from inside when she gets there, and she'd be more concerned were it not for the secret service and her exhaustion.

she steps inside, ready for whatever new prank josh has set up, but instead it's just cj and toby putting her diplomas back up on her wall.

*

it's a week or so before she catches up and remembers to congratulate toby and andy, but neither of them hold it against her.

it's another few weeks before she leaves, and for that, she's sure he does.

*

"rafferty's speech was really good," she says casually. he nods vaguely in agreement. "toby," she says.

"what?"

"i could tell," she says pointedly, and he sighs. "you should've... i like getting women elected, you know."

"i don't need your help," he says confidently. she rolls her eyes.

"your track record--"

"she's not trying to win, amy," he says insistently, and she shrugs.

"neither was the president at first."

he exhales. "the debates have been better than i expected. santos did well."

she shrugs, and he rolls his eyes.

"i could tell, too."

*

she knows it's stupid, but here she is, so. she hits the buzzer.

"hello?" he asks.

"it's amy."

"wh-- why the hell are you here?"

"i'm not associated directly with the white house or the campaign, toby, just let me up."

there's a long pause where he doesn't say anything, but then the door clicks open. he opens his door when she knocks, and she hands him an iced coffee with a grin. "you didn't answer my question," he says.

"i'm... not mad at you," she says. he squints.

"okay."

"i get why everyone else is," she adds.

"okay. you're still not answering."

she sighs. "i thought you'd want to know that."

"i don't care if you're mad at me," he says gruffly, a bit rude.

"okay," she says, unaffected. "i also... don't want to have this conversation with you."

"what?"

"josh really cares about you," she echoes. he laughs humorlessly.

"i think josh wants to kill me right now."

she smiles. "that's another thing we often have in common," she teases.

"what's the first thing?"

she rolls her eyes and doesn't answer.

*

"should you really be calling me?" he asks.

"i know for a fact that both josh and donna call you. plus, congratulations, you're free."

"and you aren't anymore. didn't think you'd take it."

"i didn't, either," she admits.

"what are you calling about?"

"sam said you knew congressman johnson pretty well. i want him to swing with us for a vote."

*

"how are the kids?" she asks, and he smiles, which makes her smile, too.

"good. they're good."

"good. how's andy? do you... are you and cj talking again?"

he nods. "yeah, they're both... you talk to both of them more than you talk to me."

"and when i do, i ask about you," she counters.

"they're good. how're things there? josh, sam, donna?"

she laughs. "you talk to all of them more than you talk to me." she waits for his eyeroll. "they're all good. things are... you know how things are."

"not as much as you do."

"you can guess."

"yeah."

*

"how's teaching?"

he huffs. "college kids can't write."

"you don't think anyone can write."

"i think sam can write. i think will can write, on a rare good day. whoever you guys have is... fine."

"a glowing recommendation. i'll be sure to pass it along," she teases. otto probably would be flattered, really. "what's up?"

"how are your internals looking?"

she laughs. "did josh cut you off?"

he sighs. "maybe."

*

"i have some notes," he says.

"on... what?"

"the book," he says, like it's obvious.

"well, considering that it's been, a, published, and b, selling quite well, i think it's a little late," she says, arrogant and exasperated.

"i agree. you should've sent me the draft first."

she laughs. "content or style?"

"the content's great. you make good points, and it's compelling, and... it's very..." he trails off and sighs, and she takes the compliment. "it's too pithy."

she rolls her eyes. "how's yours coming along? how many pages so far?"

he pauses. "touché."

*

she's just finished a guest lecture when she gets the call, and she's surprised, a little, by the name on caller id. it's been a while. they'd had less to talk about, other than comments on each other's books, since she'd left the white house and started going back to lobbying and fundraising and debate prep between campaigns for old friends. though, when she thinks about it, it could be that last one.

"hey, toby," she answers.

"hey. so, rafferty's running again," he says.

she smiles. she's always liked rafferty. "okay." she thinks about it. "you... want help fundraising?"

he laughs. "amy. she wants to win this time." he pauses. "you should come up to new hampshire with us."

she gets a plane ticket.

[viharbinger]

Hi okay I have a really really cute ask So in the 3.2 trailer, it’s shows Haypasia lying down and Scara watching over her. If you don’t know, he’s doing this because she is his only follower, so he’s taking care of her/looking after her (bc she’s his ONLY follower) What I’m asking is if it’s literally just that concept, but Haypasia is replaced by us, aka, the reader. So it’s basically just Scaramouche watching over us whilst we’re lying down and then we wake up and see him and it’s all just generally cute stuffIt can be seen as platonic or romantic, I’d personally prefer romantic

pairings: scaramouche x gn!reader

warnings: hurt/comfort? Reader is a heavy sleeper lol — I wrote half of this when 3.2 archon quest was not out yet so therefore I'm writing everything blindly so this is either gonna be completely inaccurate or I just predicted the future B-)

a/n: LMFAO I find it funny af that scaramouche's only follower/worshiper is his PARTNER HAHAHA imagine having no fans 🤭

masterlists

Way before the Balladeer even became a God, you, his life partner stayed by his side the whole way. You hadn't ever renounced him after all he's done and been through but instead comforted him through it all.

You both lived in an isolated home somewhere in Inazuma's Narukami island, alone yet a long way from the city. Living like that has its advantages of course, mainly to protect yourselves against whatever meddling business the 6th fatui harbinger had gotten himself in.

Now that he's finally gotten the Raiden Shogun's electro gnosis from a certain shrine maiden, he's on foot again to archons-knows-where. And he tells you the news when you're both sitting on the porch of your tiny and cozy home.

"You're leaving already when you just got back?" Maybe it was the Gods playing favourites but the sun kissing your skin and the wind blowing against your hair certainly made you glow.

The sun was shining over the horizon, and the birds were barely awake. You were in your comfortable pyjamas and he on the other hand, was adorning his beautiful silk navy blue and white kimono that morning, rather than his usual fatui harbinger attire. Your eyes are struggling to keep open as you woke up a mere 10 minutes before.

Scaramouche brings himself closer to you as he sets his baggage down, the one that he needed to bring along as he was going to go out on yet another journey alone. He cups your hands together and brings it to his lips to give it a gentle kiss.

"It's just some unfinished business I need to take care of. I'll come back for good. I promise." He whispered, brushing the stray hair that was over your eyes. He kept his palm on your left cheek whilst rubbing his thumb under your eye gently. His touch was delicate, like as if handling you too much could break you like porcelain glass. He was almost too afraid to leave you.

Several weeks passed.

You barely heard a word from him, but you have heard such news of an eccentric wanderer roaming around the lands of Sumeru. It wasn't much to go by but alas, at least you're aware he's living and breathing.

Now after achieving the power of the gods, his mission was almost complete. The power allowed him to do all things necessary. He was about to make his next move when his ears perked up in alert; as if someone was calling for him.

He doesn't mistake it's your voice. The voice he's been trying to replay in his head for weeks. He's afraid that if he doesn't, he'll forget how you sound like, how your voice could make him feel like a bed of roses.

You were repeating his name, like you were begging him for something. His usually hardened gaze softened in guilt at the thought of you in despair of his absence. He wishes he could just teleport straight to you right then and there, but even gods have their limits.

By nightfall, Scaramouche was still adjusting to his powers. He wanted to try and do anything within his power to attempt to even be closer to you. That is, until he found himself in a dream-like state.

He felt he could move freely, almost as if he were a ghost. He prompted himself to take this to his advantage and visit you in your sleep. And there you were, cuddled up on your bed.

The home that was once cozy and sweet felt uncomfortable. The room you were in was unkept and the bed was undone, some pillows are on the floor and the blanket was dishevelled. He notices of course, that you were sleeping on his side of the bed instead of yours. And the tears that were continuously flowing from your eyes were hard not to notice.

He called out your name. You couldn't hear him. He was right next to you, within arms reach, yet you couldn't hear or even see him.

The puppet wasted no time in at least trying to comfort you. He kneeled down besides you and pushed the hair sticking to your face from the tears. He cupped your cheek, wiping the falling tears with his gloved thumb. He was like a guardian angel.

You were far too deep asleep to notice a thing, but he didn't want to wake you. All though it was very dark out, the dark eyebags were clear as day to prove to him that you needed the rest.

He leaned down to press a kiss to your temple, he whispers sweet nothings and an "I'll be back soon." It's not like you could've heard him but you definitely felt the breath of air onto your ear like as if someone was whispering a secret to you.

By the time you woke up you were met not with your partner, but his scent was in the air. Like it was when he was still around in the house. He visited you.

Just days later, you heard a rushed knock on your front door. It was dawn again and your hair was a mess. You walked to your door barefoot, mumbling incoherent words that could be insults as you were woken up from your beauty sleep.

When you opened it, it was your partner. He was there, in the flesh. His breathing was haggard, yet he smiles anyway. His hat was held on his hands like he took it off when running so much.

Your eyes tricked with tears, and hugged him tightly. "You were there, right? That night!" You wailed and your head was on his chest. "Yes, and I'm sorry for not coming sooner." He rested his chin to your head and brushed your messy hair gently, careful enough not to tug on it.

You finally came to your senses and picked your head up from his chest. You backed up from him and pushed him in anger. But not in a way that could definitely hurt him or make him fall. "Just who do you think you are, waltzing back home like as if you didn't disappear after weeks and didn't even bother to send a letter!" You cried, yet he remained his composure from calling you stupid things. He knows what you've been through during his absence and just wants to be with you.

He cups your cheeks and rubbed the tears off with his thumb, as he's done many times before. His eyes wore a gentle glow and the sweet smile on his face was blinding. It's not often you see a man so in love.

"I'm done with everything. I took care of it, I promise I'll be here for as long as I live." He tells you, with genuine and charm in his tone. He leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead. And another on your cheek. And then another on your temple. And again and again in every other place and you couldn't stop yourself from cry laughing.

You stopped giggling when he makes sure to stop and leave a kiss on your lips. A long, tasteful and blissful kiss. You could still feel the warmth on your lips even after he pulled away. He ends it by just leaning his forehead to yours till the only thing you could hear from each other was your breathing. Even when he's away for so long, he'll always count on you to wait for him.

I hope u like this dear requester because I don't think I'm that good in writing actual fanfics LOL I'm only good at headcannons

[timelord-winchester-22b]

Losing you

AN: so this is just a quick thing I wrote up this morning bc I’m not projecting at all and it hasn’t been edited bc I have to run off to work, but I thought it needed to go up now, so don’t mind any mistakes, I’ll look over it again later. It is, of course, about tonight’s episode (I live in the US so I’m not watching it for hours yet) but there is no spoilers because, well, I haven’t watched it. I hope this brings some comfort.

You’d been distant lately, and she realisation of this haunted the Doctor. You were almost never distant with her, and you hated to be. So if you were, something was really, really wrong. But she knew you, knew how you would avoid the subject, try to ignore your own feelings until they were enough to drown you. It worried her that whatever you were avoiding seemed to involve her. She had ideas about what it might be, and she was most certainly not ready to be talking about that with you yet. But if it would cost her you, then she really had no choice did she?

But you would avoid it as much as possible, she knew, so she had to find a time where you couldn’t run off once she’d initiated a conversation. She found her opportunity one night when she wandered back into the console room, a few hours after you’d gone to bed, and found you sitting in the open doors of the tardis, stargazing like the two of you often did. So she braced herself for the coming conversation, and approached you.

“Mind if I sit?” It was as good of an opener as any.

“No” You response was not as encouraging.

She sighed, sat down beside you and watched you for a moment. You were always delighted by the universe, that was one of the things she loved about you. Now, though, the stars did not seem to offer any comfort, and the sadness in your eyes was wearing away at the both of you.

“What’s wrong” She asked, but it was more of a statement than a question, she didn’t want to give you too much room to claim there was nothing going on. Didn’t want to allow any interpretation of ‘is there anything wrong?’, as you sometimes tended to do. You shrugged.

“Hey” She all but scolded, and your gaze snapped to her in surprise. “I’m here for you, you know that. And I always tell you you can come to me, but this has been going on too long. You’ve been so sad for weeks, so please just tell me what-”

“I don’t want to lose you”

The words came out in a rush, accompanied by your gaze being fixed firmly back on the stars. The Doctor blinked.

“What makes you think you would be losing me?”

“Because I will” You scoffed. “You have to change soon, what if… what if the next you gets sick of carting around some silly little human who’s always causing problems for themself? I don’t want you to change, because you’ve been here for me for so long and I don’t know what I’m going to do without you. What if I can’t do any of this without you?”

You took a breath at the end and it was shaky, fisting your fingers into the material of your pyjamas. The Doctor thought she saw the light of the stars reflected in your eyes, and it hit her suddenly that you were crying, and you had been already, if the wetness under your eyes was any indication. How had she missed that? She thought over what you’d said, trying to find any way to comfort you, but this situation was not the one she had prepared for, and it was always a difficult one. It was hard for time lords, to adjust to the way loved ones would change every time, but she’d found it was far more difficult for humans. For them, it just wasn’t a thing that happened. So she could understand your emotional problem with it. But what she couldn’t work out was how to help.

“Well for starters, you can do anything you set your mind to” She began carefully. You glanced at her from the corner of your eye, seemingly not anticipating where she was going with this. “Sure, I’ve been here. But everything you’ve accomplished over these past four years, that’s all you. You did all those amazing things, I was just kind of, there” She caught your small smile, and knew she was on the right track.

“As for me leaving you” Your smile fell abruptly. “That is never going to happen, you hear me?”

“But you’ve got to go-”

“I’ve got to change” She corrected you. “But I am not going anywhere, I swear to you. No matter who I am, what I look like or how I act, every version of me will always be there for you, you know that right?”

You shrugged. 

“Hey” she chastised again, but this time it was lighter, softer, in that way she had always been to you. Even when she was stressed, when things got out of hand and she snapped at you, she had always seemed that way, soft, caring, and always there.

“I’m going to be different, of course I am. But we all do that, even all of you humans. I know the change is usually a bit more… gradual for you lot. But just like the way you do, I’m still going to be me”

She paused, and when you chanced a look at her, you realized that had been her plan. She gave you a sad smile, and you couldn’t help but return one, small as it was.

“I am always going to be here for you, for as long as you want me to be”

“I’ll always want you” You responded instantly.

“Then I’m not going anywhere”

She shifted, moving to wrap an arm around your shoulders, and you didn’t question it, leaning in to her touch. She didn’t like to do this too often, you knew this, so you took the chance whenever you got it.

“And maybe the next me will be a bit more of a hugger” She whispered, and you laughed. “I could even be ginger!”

“Imagine you’re black” You said, and the Doctor scrunched up her nose.

“What difference would that make?”

“Well you’ve never been black right?” You pointed out more than asked. “Like you’d never been a woman before this one. And you know how that changed the way people saw you”

“Huh” She said. “You’re right, maybe I’ll need to try that sometime”

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: I love your long posts which make for great reading and I wish you could do more because you’ve got such a range of astonishing interests. I’m hoping because you’ve served in the military you would have studied military thinkers. Do you think the Art of War by Sun Tzu is way overrated by everyone? I studied him a bit for my masters but I still couldn’t get my head around him. Interested to know your thoughts. Thanks!

“To lift an autumn hair is no sign of great strength; to see the sun and moon is no sign of sharp sight; to hear the noise of thunder is no sign of a quick ear." - Sun Tzu's Art of War, Chapter IV - Tactical Disposition, Clause 10.

Sounds cool, doesn’t it?

But what the hell does this quote really mean? Do you know what it means? Can anyone else tell me?

Look, I enjoy a good Sun Tzu quote as the next person. Only recently I was exchanging thoughts with a fellow blogger whose studying Thucydides, Clausewitz, and Kissinger for an advanced course at the US Naval War College. Even he prefers Sun Tzu over Clausewitz. I can see why too. If you can make sense of chapter one of Clausewitz’s tome On War you deserve a Nobel Prize.

Unlike my very learned fellow blogger, there are lot of folk who don’t know Sun Tzu at all. They can quote him, but almost certainly out of context. As someone who partly grew up in the Far East and even learned Chinese and Japanese (a pitiful but functional degree of fluency) I’m embarrassed (not hard since I’m English) when I hear other Western compatriots romanticise and elevate Eastern icons to mythic status that the Chinese themselves have never done.

I am even more bemused than embarrassed after having hung up my military uniform for ‘civvy’ corporate clothing at how badly abused Sun Tzu’s book is in the corporate world. In my workplace I grit my teeth at corporate high flyers who mistake a balance sheet for a real battlefield by quoting Sun Tzu out of their arse, and then as self-styled ‘corporate warriors’ work themselves up in a lather of testosterone induced self-importance to crush their corporate enemies into the dust.

This is why the The Art of War by Sun Tzu has invited a jaundiced eye roll. And rightly so. I can see why many view Sun Tzu as over-rated because many easily impressed people go all woo woo over anything ancient and Eastern.

It’s become a familiar trope to say the art of ‘strategy’ as a science began 2,500 years ago with the writing of The Art of War. I would dispute this. Not that the writing of Art of War was the earliest written but whether I would call it a manual of strategy per se - more on this below in my answer.  However you rate or overrate the Art of War it’s important to have perspective and remember this book is written in 512 BC. Other than the bible and some religious books, there are not many books that can survived thousands of years and still remains a steady bestseller and enjoys a wide influence in military academies and army staff colleges today and even as far into board rooms.

The question behind your question is just as interesting to me: why did Sun Tzu and his Art of War gain such traction in the West?

Sun Tzu (544-496 BC) wrote the original text of The Art of War shortly before 510 BC. During most of the past two thousand years, the common people in China were forbidden to read Sun Tzu's text. However, the text was preserved by China's nobility for over 2,500 years. The Chinese nobility preserved the text of The Art of War, known in Chinese as Bing-fa, even despite the famous book-burning by the first Emperor of Chi around 200 BC. The text was treasured and passed down by the Empire’s various rulers. Unfortunately, it was preserved in a variety of forms. A "complete" Chinese language version of the text wasn't available until the 1970s. Before that, there were a number of conflicting, fragmentary versions in different parts of China, passed down through 125 generations of duplication.

Indeed at the beginning of the twentieth century, there were two main textual traditions in circulation, known as the (Complete Specialist Focus) and (Military Bible) versions. There were also perhaps a dozen minor versions and both derived and unrelated works also entitled Bing-fa. Of course, every group considered (and still considers) its version the only accurate one.

When I last visited China before the Covid pandemic for work reason, I had time off to go to a couple of museums that housed the fruits of a number of archeological digs uncovering the tombs of the ancient rulers of China in which sections of Sun Tzu’s works were found. These finds have verified the historical existence of the text and the historical accuracy of various sections. I understand new finds are still being made.

The first complete, consistent Chinese version was created in Taipei in the 1970s. It was titled The Complete Version of Sun Tzu’s Art of War." It was created by the National Defence Research Investigation Office, which was a branch of Taiwan's defence department. This version compared the main textual traditions to each other and to archeological finds and compiled the most complete version possible.

This work was completed in Taiwan rather than mainland China for a number of reasons. Mainland China was still in the throws of the Maoist Cultural Revolution, which actively suppressed the study of traditional works such as Sun Tzu. The mainland had also moved to a reformed character set, while Taiwan still used the traditional character set in which the text was written. Only today is the study of Sun Tzu in mainland China growing, interestingly enough, through the translation of Sun Tzu into contemporary Mandarin. Based on the archeological sources we have today, we are reasonably certain of the historical accuracy of this compiled version that is the basis of what most people use today.

Surprisingly, the Art of War only came to light in the West around the 18th Century.  

Historians believe it was first formally introduced in Europe in 1772 by the French Jesuit Joseph-Marie Amiot. It was translated at the time by the title “The thirteen articles of Sun-Tse”. Joseph-Marie Amiot (1718-1793) was not just a Jesuit priest but also an astronomer and French historian, as well as fervent missionary in China. He was one of the last survivors of the Jesuit Mission in China (he died in Beijing).

Many of the historical problems with understanding Sun Tzu's work can be trace back to its first Western translation in French. A Jesuit missionary, Father Amiot, first brought The Art of War to the West, translating it into French in 1782. Unfortunately, this translation started the tradition of mistranslating Sun Tzu's work, starting with the title, The Art of War (Art de la guerre).

This title, copied the title of a popular work by Machiavelli (a criminally underrated writer on military strategy), but it didn't reflect Sun Tzu's Bing-fa, which would be better translated as "competitive methods."

We cannot say what effect being translated by a Jesuit priest had upon the text. It was unavoidable that the work's translation reflected the military prejudices of the time era when war was both popular and Christian. It was also unavoidable that most future translations would reflect some of the first translation's prejudices. However, war was on the verge of becoming much less Christian in the West since this time was the era of the French Revolution (1789).

The work might well of slipped into obscurity after its initial publication, but it was discovered by a minor French military officer. After studying it, this officer rose to the head of the revolutionary French army in a surprising series of victories. The legend is that Napoleon used the work as the key to his victories in conquering all of Europe. It is said that he carried the little work with him everywhere but kept its contents secret (which would be very much in keeping with Sun Tzu's theories).

However, Napoleon must have started believing his own reviews instead of sticking with his study of Sun Tzu. His defeat at Waterloo was clearly a case of fighting on a battleground that the enemy, Wellington, knew best. Wellington’s trick at Waterloo was hiding his forces by having them lie down in the slight hollows of this hilly land. This is exactly the type of tactic Sun Tzu warns against in his discussion of terrain tactics.

After Napolean, Sun Tzu's theories made their way into western military philosophy. Many of his ideas are reflected in the ideas of work of Carl von Clausewitz. who defined military strategy as "the employment of battles to gain the end of war."

The first English translation of The Art of War is less than a hundred years old. Captain E. F. Calthrop published the first English translation in 1905. Lionel Giles, an assistant curator at the British Museum and a well-known sinologist and translator, attacked this early translation, and he published his own version in 1910. It soon began to be read alongside Clausewitz’s 8 volumes of turgid German military prose.

It wasn’t long before military thinkers were ditching Clausewitz for Sun Tzu because no one could get past Chapter One of Clausewitz’s On War. The “Clausewitz is dead, long live Sun Tzu” school was first championed by the influential British military theorist B.H. Liddell Hart in the 1920s.  Basil Henry Liddell Hart (1895-1970) was a captain in the British Army. He was a very influential military theorist and historian, and author of several books such as The Future of War (1925) and Strategy (1954). Having witnessed first-hand the mechanised onslaught of the Great War, Liddell Hart sought a philosophy of warfare based in the prudent use of technology, psychology and deception - and the avoidance of the 'total war' catastrophes of preceding decades.

The main idea of Liddell Hart is to bring the set of principles of warfare in a so-called ‘indirect approach’ to the enemy. His advocacy in his scholarly work of an ‘indirect strategy’ over direct, frontal operations, was a reaction to the high casualties of the Western Front in the First World War. But his ideas were not simply about physically outmanoeuvring an opponent. Instead he pushed for a psychological scheme: to strike from unexpected directions, to generate strategic dissonance, and to induce paralysis. Hart’s well-known thoughts are “Only short-sighted soldiers underestimate the importance of psychological factors in time of war”, “Originality is the most important from all military virtues”, and “The principles of war could shortly be condensed in a single word: concentration”. 

Liddell Hart believed that distilling historical insights of strategy and operations would offer the chance to avoid the costly disasters of modern war and ensure a more cost-effective route to success. He imagined technological solutions in the form of air power and mechanised land forces outflanking and shocking an enemy at the tactical level. This would be complemented by taking indirect strategic ‘ways’. Like his contemporary J.F.C. Fuller, Liddell Hart considered concentrations of air and armoured forces driving deep into enemy territory to destroy their ‘nervous system’. The psychological aspects of this were central, since acquiring an advantage demanded moves that were unexpected, with precise attacks at the most vulnerable points. As the most influential military writer of the modern age, revered and reviled by three generations of strategists, armchair and armipotent, his controversial theories of armed attack laid the foundation of the famed German Blitzkrieg.

Hart’s championing of Sun Tzu’s work as articulated through his own works got a new lease of life as the world gingerly settled into the ice bath of the Cold War. The rise of Communist China, against all the odds having defeated the well disciplined nationalist armies of Chian kai-Shek, was a wake up call for the West. There was a general befuddlement among western military analysts to explain the secret of Maoist success. There was an intellectual inquest in the 1950s and 1960s for some way to explain (and, it was hoped, learn to counter) Maoist military doctrine. Sun Tzu was seen as one of the historical and cultural sources of some particularly Chinese or Asian way of war, and his work made its way into Western discussions of counterinsurgency and asymmetric warfare.

Into the breach - and with fortuitous timing - appeared a new translation of The Art of War that was to become the defining translation right down to our day. Liddel Hart provided the foreword to Samuel Griffth’s 1963 translated copy of the Art of War. It was to quickly become a key text in US war colleges and this version is still to this day favoured by most of these institutions. We also studied Griffith’s translation at Sandhurst alongside Liddell Hart’s ideas.

There is no question that Griffith’s translation has become the standard go to translation to this day in military circles - that is until James Clavell’s more populist and looser translation came along in the 1980s. One can see why. Griffith’s translation provided a number of historical Chinese commentaries on the text. It should also be noted that Griffith’s strengths was his immense experience in the military and knowledge of military history as a brigadier general in the U.S. Marine Corps.

However, this was also his version's greatest flaw. Like many other critics I have the impression that Griffith did not really believe or understand all of Sun Tzu. Indeed he would often explain away Sun Tzu's direct statements without making it clear that this was his commentary and not what Sun Tzu wrote. The other main criticism and this one is stylistic and therefore just my opinion, Griffith was also not much of a writer. By our standards today, much of Griffith’s language can seem awkward and dated.

Looking back it feels ironic of the US military were wrapping their heads around Sun Tzu as way to get inside the Chinese communist mind (of Mao the military strategist especially). Unknown to them Mao had desperately tried everything to get hold of a copy of the Art of War from the Chinese Nationalists. Cambridge historian and doyenne of intelligence history, Christopher Andrew in his book The Secret World: A History of Intelligence, wrote that the theory that Sun Tzu’s The Art of War was critical to mastering contemporary warfare is propagated through the use of a tantalising anecdote: “During the civil war between Communists and the Kuomintang regime [Mao Zedong] sent aides into enemy territory to find a copy of it.” The ancient text, ostensibly, was of such vital importance that Mao was willing to risk men’s lives to obtain it, while Chiang Kai-shek vowed to protect it all costs. It’s a questionable anecdote at best as there are no historical evidence of it.

We can say that the notion that Sun Tzu’s slim treatise is considered both potent and slightly dangerous - providing the master key to unlocking victory in war through the ages - is a compelling myth that refuses to die. Mao most likely never ordered a clandestine operation to pilfer the text, nor did Chiang Kai-shek give any thought to shielding its contents from prying eyes. Both men certainly read it long before the start of their civil war, both most likely had ready access to it during the conflict, and neither man won or lost based on adherence or divergence from its teachings. But undoubtedly it set the hearts of Western military theorists aflutter in trying to unlock the secrets of Eastern military thought.

Sun Tzu and his ideas in a reincarnated form took hold of the wider public imagination in the 1980s. The 1980s was synonymous with Japan. With the perceived rise of Japan as a global economic power and the changes in post-Mao China, there was a Western (meaning American) search for more explanations. What was the secret of Asia’s rise? How were Japan and China ‘doing’ this?

In Western business circles it was for a time trendy to read it because of the perception that it was part of what made Japanese businesses so successful during the 70s and 80s. Management gurus and other corporate consultants certainly latched on to it and touted it as a way for Western businesses to re-orient their entire management and business philosophy. I don’t know if that ever actually was the case in Japan - my father who worked in both China and Japan in the corporate world at a very senior level said it wasn’t - but what is true is that in the West as the Japanese economy languished into the lost decade of the 90s so too did interest in Japanese business practices, and thus Sun Tzu.

The idea that The Art of War was a kind of how-to guide to ‘strategy’  was made especially popular by Hollywood in the 1980s. Oliver Stone’s iconic film ‘Wall Street’ seemed to typify the ‘greed is good’ New York capitalist scene of the 80s and 90s. Hollywood mirror imaged the rise of the corporate raiders and junk bond kings like Ivan Boesky and Michael Milken. Hollywood sent thousands of American businessmen off to read Sun Tzu to look for ‘leadership secrets’. This is part of a general Western fascination with ‘timeless Asian wisdom’, the American idea that ‘the mysterious East’ is possessed of secret knowledge. American and European businessmen were enamoured of the idea that “a battle is won or lost before it ever begins”, a saying that reinforced traditional American business attitudes about a winning mentality and a ‘can-do’ spirit being two keys to success.

Because Japan and China were trendy in the 1980s and 1990s it also influenced Western popular culture, not just fashion (think Kenzo) but also comic books (manga) and anime. In this Eastern friendly climate it led a number of popular fiction authors to release their ‘own’ versions of the work to capitalise on its newfound popularity. These versions were more about the pop culture of the era than Sun Tzu. Unfortunately, though popular, none of these versions took advantage of the work completed in Taiwan creating a definitive version of Sun Tzu's text by this time. These versions were based either on old English translations (the Calthorp and Giles versions) or incomplete Chinese sources. However, all of these versions remain popular today, despite their questionable sources and poor quality of translation.

In 1983, James Clavell updated The Art of War translation of Lionel Giles and published it in a very popular version. This started a very common practice in English translation: creating a ‘new’ version from other English translations instead of going back to the original source. Authors today continue to follow this practice, which only perpetuates and exaggerates the problems with early translations.

Thomas Cleary, another well-known author, did his own The Art of War translation with historical commentary in 1988. Again, his name recognition did much to increase awareness of Sun Tzu, even if his work did nothing to improve the general quality of the translation.

Looking back the whole Sun Tzu as a business model fetish in the 1980-90s was really pretty silly, rather like 80s shoulder pads. Of course, there are some similarities in leadership regardless of profession, but the basic goals and working environments of war and of business are so wildly different that applying Sun Tzu to business is superficial at best.

So to me the problem is not that Sun Tzu is ‘overrated’ per se, the problem is that every half baked author out there try to apply its principles to every problems that mankind have. The Art of War, as the title suggest, is not The Art of Managing your Business, the Art of Winning in Competition against your classmates, The Art of picking up Women, The Art of Living Life to the fullest. It is, and only is, The Art of War. It is ‘overrated’ only if you expect it to answer every problems in your life.

The Art of War is not the word of God. It is a war manual advocating common sense with pithy aphorisms - and a very good one.

It’s not that I think the Art of War is over-rated it’s that the more common problem is that many people vastly under-rate Sun Tzu. By misreading Sun Tzu thoughts and ideas, I believe many are in effect under-rating the problems which Sun Tzu is addressing, namely war, or the continuum of conflict resolution where divergence in interests of multiple parties extends to the possible use of lethal force on a massive scale. A lot of people trivialise this problem with idiocies like “what if someone threw a war and nobody came” (clue, they would win, then hunt down and enslave or kill everyone too foolish to contest the issue, as has happened countless times in human history) or “ban war” (said ban apparently enforced by throwing flowers at soldiers).

Understanding that war is a very real and intractable problem is necessary to fully appreciate the genius of Sun Tzu’s work, especially where it avoids fixed and easily definable tactics specific to the Warring States period and instead illustrates timeless concepts of out-thinking the enemy at every level of conflict. That the text is still mostly readily applicable or at least reasonably insightful after thousands of years is a testament to the inability of humans to push warfare beyond the fundamental aspects of conflicting interests and continuum of forcible resolution Sun Tzu addresses.

Still, the particular translation matters far less than having an appreciation that, in war, you have an active opponent who is trying to out-think and counter any moves you make, and having an appreciation of non-dualistic philosophical reasoning more characteristic of Chinese classics generally. The classic symbol of Yin-Yang (and a number of derivative versions) illustrates apparent dualism as being a part of a deeper structural unity which does not permit a fixed division into separate parts.

Hence the difficulty of applying the principles of the Art of War to artificial ideas of “winning/losing” (or war/peace, right/wrong, us/them) as categorical absolutes rather than negotiated possibilities in a continuum of desirability/costs. And it is very difficult, no one should sugar coat that. Humans sort and construct their perceptions of reality by appeal to such gross simplifications. Binary logic is an immensely powerful tool in many areas because it leverages the ability to simplify complexity and then build valid inferences based on fixed premises. But at some point you have to go beyond that to have a more fluid response to reality as it is. Which Sun Tzu does for the reality of war.

I would recommend anyone to read it. At the end of the day it’s a book of highly general aphorisms that effectively synopsise the essential insights that apply to all kinds of human conflicts. Turning an enemy's flank has the exact same effect in 2500 B.C. and in 2000 C.E. and it has the same effect in the boardroom, or public market as it does on the battlefield. Deception and intelligence are still used in exactly the same way, whether conquering foreign lands, or stealing market share from a competitor. It's a book about common sense; but common sense must seem profound to those who have none.

Overall, I think Sun Tzu’s Art of War is a worthy read and not overrated because in our society of over educated achievers, common sense is in as short of supply as it has ever been; if this book can provide the meaningful framework for educating very bright people in down to earth common sense, that can only be a good thing.

The value of the book then is to drive home the fact that, in human conflict, there really is Nothing New Under the Sun (Tzu).

Pardon the pun and thanks for your question.

[ppersonna]

tempestuous - kth | m

tem·pes·tu·ous - adjective - characterized by strong and turbulent or conflicting emotion

↳ summary- There’s no one who riles you up more than Kim Taehyung, your best friend’s brother.  He knows exactly how to make you fly off the handle.

↳ rating- explicit / 18+

↳ word count- 6.8k

↳ pairing- taehyung x reader

↳ genre- smut, minor angst i guess in the form of fighting, this is one big pile of smut, there’s some fluff too

↳ warnings- yikes where to begin.  angry sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don’t be like dis), slapping, spanking, pain kink, dom/sub elements, facefucking, really rough sex, finger sucking, derogatory names, uhhh name calling, hate sex, tae is fuckin nasty yall im thriving

↳ a/n- I HAD TO REUPLOAD bc tumblr sucks lol well folks. here we are.  i was given a prompt by @ladyartemesia​ so i blame her.  as for tae, he really came for me this week and completely wrecked me, love that for me. i really popped off here and it’s only edited by me so i’m SORRY if there’s a lot of mistakes.  fun fact i actually wrote almost 10k of another version of this but it frustrated me so badly i scrapped it lmao  🤡 HERE WE GO! Enjoy!  feel free to send in your requests and i promise to try and get it done for you! 

Kim Taehyung could only be described in a few words.

Infuriating, bothersome, vexing.

Gorgeous, breathtaking, suave.

Absolutely, inherently maddening.

And you hate how much you absolutely melt underneath his gaze, the way your heart leaps into your throat with a single word.  Your body, the ultimate betrayer, opens up to him as your brain screams to abort, reverse, go back to start and do not pass go.

Kim Taehyung is not just the bane of your existence, no.  He’s the little brother of your best friend, Kim Namjoon.   Joonie had been in your life since you were in first grade and he in second.  Taehyung was your age, but you hit it off with the older boy and haven’t separated since.  Your mothers joked that you would get married one day and continue on the Kim line.  Until they found out that Namjoon was 1) bisexual and 2) hopelessly in love with, ironically, a man named Kim Seokjin.   He reasoned to his parents that they would at least carry on the Kim name.  

Where Namjoon was sweet, caring, and deeply compassionate towards you, Taehyung was his alter.  Taehyung was brash, cocky and relished in watching you squirm, whether it be out of fury or the god forsaken sexual tension.  All growing up, he was the one to pull your pigtails, trip you into puddles of mud, and tease you in front of your friends. Namjoon, ever the faithful companion, was always there to pick up the pieces of what Taehyung broke.

It’s been that way with Taehyung ever since. A constant tug of war with each other, both unwilling to give a single inch to the opponent.  

Your relationship with Namjoon remained steadfast as ever.  Namjoon eventually moved in with his now-husband, Seokjin, who easily settled into your life as an additional partner in crime.  You spent most of your days and nights settled into the couch, snuggled somehow in between or next to one of the two men you cherished most.  You had the two best friends you could ask for and a happy life, blissfully Taehyung-free.

Until it wasn’t.

A loud knock wakes you from an unexpected nap on Namjoon’s couch.  Your eyes crack open against the glare of the sunlight streaming through the windows.  It takes a moment to gather your surroundings.  You recognize that you’re in Namjoon and Seokjin’s apartment, and judging by the silence, you’re definitely alone there.  As you reach for your phone, the screen lights up the time.  5:34 pm.  Well, shit. You remember eating brunch and drinking mimosas at noon with your best friends and then lying on the couch to watch Netflix.  How had you fallen asleep for five hours?  How did you not wake? What the fuck did Jin put in his mimosas?

The knock is insistent again, louder this time.

“Joon! Jin! it’s me! Open up!”

The voice sounds familiar in your sleep-addled mind, but not quite enough to pinpoint it.   You push your limp body off the couch and wince at the feeling of sore muscles.  Couch sleeping isn’t all it’s cracked up to be once you’re past the age of 25.

“Sorry, Namjoon isn’t here-,” You open the door to explain to the guest and you’re cut off.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

You rub at your sleepy eyes and allow your vision to focus, only to feel your blood stand still in your veins.

Kim Taehyung.  Of fucking course.

“What do you mean, why am I here? I’m always here,” you tut as you fold your arms to your chest.  “What are you doing here?”

He rolls his eyes and holds up his hands, two suitcases clutched in each.  Who the fuck carries 4 suitcases up three flights of stairs? Kim annoying ass Taehyung does, apparently.

“I’m moving in.”  He pushes past you and into the living room.  

Your mouth gapes open.  Namjoon certainly didn’t tell you this.  Taehyung looks back at chuckles at your reaction.

“I’m guessing your best friend didn’t tell you the happy news?”

You shut your mouth, quickly jumping back into composure.  “No, he failed to mention that,” you sniff.  “I thought you lived with your girlfriend in Gangnam?  What was her name? Rose or whatever?”

Tae stiffens, just slightly for a moment, before he plasters back on the bravado.  “Obviously not anymore.  We broke up, she kept the apartment.  Got tired of moping at my mom’s house and I told Namjoon I wanted to come back to the city.”

You feel a slight tug at your stomach, guilt, perhaps?  You clear your throat.  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

He laughs as he sits on the couch, instantly throwing his feet onto the coffee table, like a heathen.  “No, you’re not.”  

“What do you mean, no I’m not? God, sorry for being polite!”

This, you reason, is why you can’t sustain longer than 5 minutes of civilized conversation with your best friend’s younger brother.  He’s impossible.

He just smirks, and you know he loves the rise he gets out of you.

“Because I know you, and I know you don’t give a fuck about my love life.”

Au contraire. If only he knew just how much you gave a fuck.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t be nice to you!” you nearly stamp your foot in frustration but hold yourself back. That would be too good of ammo for him to use against you.

“Okay, fine,” he acquiesces. “Whatever helps you feel you’re a good person.”

You’re seeing red and you know you want to continue screaming at him but you will not stoop to his level.

“Christ, I haven’t seen you in months and you’re still an asshole,” you say as you grab your keys and shoes. “And also, Jin will kill you if he sees your feet on his coffee table.”

You whip yourself around and open the door to leave and hear him call over your shoulder.

“Good to see you too, doll! Love the hairstyle, by the way.”

You close the door with a growl leaving your throat.  The absolute audacity of that man.

You stomp towards the elevator to take yourself to the ground level, when you catch your reflection in the shiny metal. Your hair is in what you can only lovingly call a complete hornet’s nest. It’s ratted and sticking out in places and you feel your cheeks burn.  Your first reintroduction with Taehyung is with a fight AND with you looking like a fool.

This would not do. No, sir.

“Kim Namjoon!” you shriek into your cell phone.  You’re awkwardly pressing it against your ear with your shoulder as you walk out of the convenience store under your apartment building with 3 bottles of soju and a six-pack of beer. You needed to drown your shame and sorrow, and fast.

“Hello, love of my life and moon of my stars,” your best friend replies and you can hear Seokjin chuckle in the background.

“No!” You chide, already cracking a beer open as you storm into your apartment building. “Don’t you Khal Drogo me, mister! Why the fuck didn’t you tell me your fucking asshole brother was moving in with you?!”

Namjoon is silent and you can tell he’s wincing on the other end of the phone. “Oops?” He offers.

“Yeah, big oops! A heads up would have been nice! Like, ‘hey best friend, your worst enemy of all time is moving in today. Maybe you shouldn’t fall asleep on my couch and wake up looking like Frankenstein’s ugly wife. Oh, and also my handsome boyfriend and I will just happen to not be there when he arrives’.”

By this time, you can tell Namjoon has put you on speakerphone because you can hear their rich laughter loud and clear. Rude bitches.

You stab your key code into your door and lock yourself in, chugging as much of the beer as you could handle.

“At least, even in her rants she thinks I’m handsome,” Jin gloats.

“I’m sorry babe,” Namjoon sighs as he finally calms down. “I didn’t know he would be there today. I just found out about it last night.”

You nibbled at your bottom lip, the annoying pit in your stomach feeling simultaneously guilty that he went through a breakup, unbridled joy that something brought him down a peg, and just a dash of excitement that he’s single now.

You let out a breath. “It’s okay, Joon.  It just surprised me to see him.”

Jin butts in, “And because you have a big, fat, unresolved crush on him.”

“Jin!” You admonish. The couple laughs again and you roll your eyes, asking yourself why you put up with the two. “I do not!”

They both hum a non-committal answer, implying they don’t believe you in the slightest.

“Whatever.  What are you guys doing, anyway?”

“We just got home from shopping.  God, Jin looked so good in these jeans he tried on.  I was actually just about to suck his coc-,”

“Kim Namjoon, do not finish that sentence! I do not wish to hear it!” You try to remain firm, but dissolve into giggles with the pair.

You could never stay mad at Namjoon long, even if his brother was the devil incarnate.

“Darling,” Jin calls through the phone.  “I still expect to see you at our place tonight for our sleepover.”

Christ, you had forgotten all about your scheduled sleepover night.  It was tradition and one of your favorite parts of your friendship with the couple.  Jin, a literal chef, prepared a five star meal along with dessert for you while you binge watched Netflix and talked incessantly.

But you also usually slept in their spare bedroom.  The exact one that Taehyung would be occupying.

“Fuck, while he’s there?”

“Oh suck it up,” Jin chides, like he’s your mother. “He’s probably not even going to leave his room.  You’re not getting out of this.  I’m making strawberry cheesecake.”

Your mouth waters at the idea of Jin’s famous cheesecake.  

“Fine, but I get to lick the bowl and not Namjoon.  Those are my terms.”

Namjoon squawked in defiance as Jin laughed.  “I agree to your terms.  Be at our place by 8.”

As you hung up the phone, you checked the time.  6:40.  God, he hadn’t left you with much time to get ready, did he?

And you definitely needed to get ready.  There was no way you were entering a room where Kim Taehyung exists looking like booboo the fool, not again.

Your fingers press the 6 digit passcode to Namjoon and Seokjin’s apartment, arms heavy laden with your bag of toiletries and pajamas, and a bag full of wine.

“Honey, I’m home!” You announce as you toe off your shoes and slide into the combined kitchen and living room.

You receive no reply, but greeted with the amused face of none other than the object of your filthiest dreams, Taehyung.

“Pet names already?  We’re moving pretty fast, wouldn’t you say?” He asks you as he lounges at the kitchen table.  He watches you open the fridge to set the wine, as comfortable in their home as you are in yours.

“Fuck off,” you grumble. “Where’s your brother?”

Tae seemed absolutely tickled by your disgruntlement.  “I think they mentioned something about taking a shower.  That was 20 minutes ago, though.”

“Great,” you sigh. “Those fucking horn dogs act as if they’re still newlyweds.  We’ll be waiting awhile.”  

You tug off your sweater, leaving you to remain in a fitted tank top and yoga pants.  You tried to maintain a comfortable look as you dressed for the evening, while keeping in mind which leggings hugged your ass and showed off your toned thighs, and a tank top that dipped low to your cleavage.  Okay, so maybe you had ulterior motives. You wanted to make up for your dreadful appearance earlier and make him squirm, payback for the years of him doing it to you.

You watch him as he lets his eyes roam your body, eying you like he wants to ravage you completely. You feel victorious… and also turned on. Fuck, you played yourself.

You flop onto the couch in a huff and Tae snorts before joining you.

“What’s so funny?” You eye him suspiciously.

“Nothing,” his smile feigns innocence. “I’m not allowed to laugh?”

You sniff in annoyance, not eager to fall for his tricks. “You’re allowed to do whatever you want, your highness.”  Sarcasm drips from your voice and Tae finds it even more humorous.

“I see you’re still a sassy bitch.”

You gasp, audibly startled by his language and rise from the couch, fists clenched.

“I see you’re still a conceited dick!”

He rises to meet you where you stand, eyes boring into your own with his stupid sexy grin on his face.  “I see you’re still not one to back down from a fight.”

You step closer, close enough to feel his breath on your face.  Idly, you note it smells like peppermint and you move closer on reflex.

“Yeah? I see you’re still not one to avoid starting a fight in the first place!” you huff.

“Oh, I started it?”  

“Yeah, you started it! You called me a bitch!”

You can’t believe this is happening.  You feel as if you’re 6 again and fighting with him over a toy.

“A sassy bitch, actually,” he corrects, taking another step forward, bodies touching.

“Fuck you!”

“Only if you say please,” he quips before he closes the distance and presses his lips to yours in a scorching hot kiss.

There’s not even a moment of hesitation on your end, immediately pulling him even closer and wrapping your arms around his neck and allowing his tongue entrance to your mouth.  Your body reacts to his instantly, as if it’s wired to respond to him and him only. Your mind was blank of anything except Tae, only Tae please, and you acted purely on instinct alone.  And instinct was pulling him closer and begging, more, anything he could give.

The sound of laughter coming from the hallway pulls you apart, neither of you wanting to get caught by Namjoon or Jin.  You stare at him, his lips are cherry red and slightly swollen and the image burns into your retinas.  He has such pretty lips after you’ve kissed him.

“Oh hey! What’s going on here?” Namjoon asks as he notices the intense eye-battle you’re engaged in with his younger brother.

It shakes you out of the spell, eye contact broken and hypnosis halted.  

“Just, errrr,” you falter to find the right words to explain the situation.

“Just getting reacquainted.”  Tae sounds completely unaffected, as if the passionate kiss you shared with him seconds ago was but a distant memory.  Asshole.

“I’m surprised you two haven’t thrown anything at each other yet,” Jin laughs. “Or thrown yourselves at each other.”

Both you and Taehyung whip to look directly at Jin.

“Her!?” Tae is incredulous. “Gross.”

You’ll never admit out loud that his words wound you.

“You’re an asshole, Taehyung,” you punctuate your words by turning away from him and towards Namjoon, who appears amused as ever.

“Ah, I love when my best friend and my little brother are screaming at each other.  Feels like old times.  Can one of you cry now to complete the moment?”

Taehyung grumbles under his breath, something you can’t catch, and stalks off to his room.  The slam of his door reverberates in the apartment and Jin jumps and turns to yell down the hall at his brother-in-law.

“Yah! Don’t break my apartment! I still owe money on this!”

Despite Taehyung’s appearance every so often in the kitchen or living room, the rest of the night goes on with no annoying disturbances.

Jin spoils you and his husband with expensive food, and the best cheesecake you’ve ever eaten in your life.  Plus, you’re given the bowl to lick clean despite a desperately adorable pout from Namjoon you were sure would persuade Jin.

You’re settled on the couch, snuggling in the middle of the couple as an action movie flickers across the big screen tv.  Truthfully, you haven’t paid attention to a single thing happening, your thoughts entirely too absorbed in Taehyung and that deliciously infuriating kiss.  

Why did he do it?  You couldn’t comprehend his reasoning.  Perhaps he was doing it to piss you off.  He’s never angered you with that level of intimacy before, but you didn’t put it past him.

You’re surprised when the credits of the movie start rolling and Jin and Namjoon fake loud yawns.

“Oh man, I’m beat,” Namjoon lies.

Jin is quick to join. “Me too, I think I’ll pass out the moment I hit the pillow.”

You roll your eyes at the men. “Will you two please go fuck already, I know that’s what you’re going to do.”

Namjoon blanches, but Jin laughs and kisses your cheek. “Ah, my smart, beautiful and chaotic child,” he coos. He leans in to your ear, voice low to keep his husband from listening. “I don’t think I’m the only one in this house who’s going to get pounded into a mattress.”  

He pulls back and winks at you, deftly ignores Namjoon’s confusion and sadness of being left out, and drags him to their bedroom with a loud ‘goodnight’.

You’re left to stew in your own emotions, which is never a good thing.  Was the tension that obvious? You always assumed it had been one-sided, but the kiss befuddled you more than you’d like to admit.

It finally snapped in your mind, all the dots connecting. That’s why he did it.  

He kissed you so you’d stew and simmer and eventually erupt, like you’re doing now.  Taehyung knows you too well for your comfort.

You grab your bag of clothes and storm towards the bathroom to change, promising yourself to forget about the kiss and not give Taehyung what he wants.

Except you’re not very good at promises, especially to yourself.

You can’t say you’re excited to sleep on the couch again.  While it’s a nice couch, it’s definitely not a bed and your back will pay the price tomorrow.  You supposed it was better than the floor, but not by much.

After dressing in your pajamas, a purposefully picked out combination of tiny shorts and a sports bra in case Taehyung happens upon you, you return to your bed for the night in the living room.

Namjoon graciously left blankets and a pillow out for you, and you’re complaining internally about Taehyung the whole time you make yourself a spot to sleep.  If it wasn’t for stupid Taehyung and his stupid existence, you’d be sleeping like a baby on the guest bed that you loved.  But no, they relegated you to the couch like an animal.

Sleep was not in the cards tonight, it seems.  You toss and turn and try to press at the cushions to move a lump around and get comfortable, but it’s all for naught.  You’re wide awake and very, very uncomfortable.  You didn’t understand how you fell asleep on this very couch earlier in the day.  Maybe the mimosas you had at brunch with the couple had been helpful.

A thought crosses your mind. Alcohol.  Maybe a nice glass of wine would help tuck you into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.  A nightcap. Of course.  You were angry at yourself for not thinking of it hours ago.  

You slipped out of your disagreeable bed and into the kitchen, trying not to make a sound.  Jin’s beloved kitchen was also an echo chamber of noise, even the slightest sound bouncing off its walls and amplifying it through the whole house.  You still remember the way you jumped five feet in the air when Jin accidentally broke a plate.  It sounded like a bomb explosion.

You bite your lip as you carefully pry the cabinet of wine glasses open, careful to not even allow a squeak of a hinge.  You silently beg to stay silent and not wake anyone in the house.  You didn’t want to be caught drinking wine at 2 am in the dark, that’s difficult to explain without looking like an alcoholic.

With glass in hand, you tiptoe the fridge to pull out the bottle of merlot, thinking the heavy red wine would be the best to get you sleepy and quick.  

You tug the cork from the bottle and pour a healthy amount into the stemware with a smile.  Liquid sleep.  And you had done it without making a single sound. Perfection. The smell of the alcohol permeates through your nose as you lift the glass, placing it to your lips to take a sip.

“Wine at this hour?” the unexpected voice of Taehyung echos through the kitchen, making you yelp and jolting you hard enough that you drop the hard-earned glass of wine to the tile floor, red wine splashing as the sound of glass shattering is reverberating off the walls.

“Fuck!” You screech at the intruder.  Taehyung doubles over, laughing as if he’s seen nothing funnier than what just transpired.  “You asshole!”

You listen past Taehyung’s incessant laughter to ensure the owners of the apartment hadn’t awoken during the ruckus. You definitely did not want to face a tired and agitated Jin to tell him you shattered one of his Tiffany crystal goblets.

Beyond Tae, the house is silent and you’re thanking whatever god is listening for keeping your best friends asleep.

The wine is everywhere, spilling into the cracks of the tile and splattered on the walls.  The crystal stemware is too; it shattered with such force that you see flecks of the shrapnel in all four corners of the room.

Tae wipes a tear from his face and you square a tempestuous look at him.  

“Fucking help me!  You made me drop it!”

Through snorts, he replies. “I didn’t make you do anything.  You did that on your own.”  Although he is arguing with you, he’s gingerly stepping into the kitchen and kneeling to pick up shards of glass.

“I wouldn’t have dropped it if you had come into the room like a fucking normal person,” you grit.

He collects the glass, the delighted grin on his face now permanent.  He’s relishing in your annoyance, you know he is, and it burns you from the inside out.

“It’s not my fault you didn’t hear me.”

“You could have turned on the light! Why were you in the dark like a freak?”  You’re grasping at straws, anything to pin this all on him.  It would quell the fire in your belly to push it all onto him, make you feel as if you’ve won.

Taehyung levels a look at you.  “And you weren’t also in the dark? Pouring a gallon of wine for yourself?”

Your cheeks flare red. Fuck, he definitely caught you there.  You’re playing verbal poker with him and the hand you’re dealt falls flat compared to his royal flush.  He grins, knowing he has you.

“Fuck you,” you snark, you go to insult when you’re backed into a corner.

“Ah, doll,” he winks.  “We talked about that.  Be careful what you wish for.”

The fire inside you is roaring to an inferno now, flames licking to your core. It’s a complicated mixture of anger and sexual energy. It’s infuriating that he’s able to make you feel every single emotion to the extreme. You hate that arguing with him turns you on, like it’s some perverse foreplay.  

You moisten your lips with your tongue as you process his words, and Tae’s eyes hungrily track the appendage as it glides over your lips.

“Fuck. You.” You emphasize perfunctorily.

All thoughts of wiping up the mess are forgotten as Tae drags both you and himself off the floor and steers you to the living room, lips feverish against your own.  He pushes you into the couch and tugs his shirt off, before replacing his lips to yours.  

“Fuck, you’re so fucking hot when you’re a bitch,” he groans as he snaps the strap of your sports bra. “Seeing you get all worked up makes me so hard.”

He’s not wrong. You can see through his mesh basketball shorts that he’s sporting an impressive package, rock hard in its clothed prison.

“Yeah?” You bite at his lip.

“Hell yeah.”  His hands work to the elastic band under your bust and tugs the offending material off, tits springing free as he throws it to the floor.  

“Holy shit,” Taehyung breathes as he gets a good look at your chest.

You shake them gently, grinning as he watches them jiggle.  “You like what you see?”

He smirks and pinches a nipple, wiping the coy smile off your face and turning it into a moan.  “I like when you’re mouthy, but don’t push it.”  

He lowers his head to the nipple he’s still pinching in his fingers, licking at it and replacing his fingers with his mouth.  He’s moaning around the nipple, and you’re gasping for more.  His hot mouth sucks at you, teeth nibbling and pulling it until you’re whimpering in delicious pain.

“Fuck!” He cries as he pops away from your nipple.  “You’re so fucking hot.”

Your body warms at his words, arousal pooling between your legs.  You’re sure that your thighs are drenched in your essence.

He slurps your neglected breast into his mouth, ensuring your nipples are equally abused.  His tongue is skilled but his mouth is messy, saliva dripping all around your tit and it’s the hottest fucking sight you’ve ever seen.

He’s pulling away again and pinching both nipples with his hands simultaneously. “And you’re so fucking annoying.”

You’re pleading for more or to stop, you’re not sure.  He continues.

“Mm, I’m gonna fuck you until you’re a good little bitch for me. Listening to every fucking thing I say.”

He releases your nipples, and you finally find the ability to focus again, staring directly at him.

“Oh, you think you’re that good?” you sass as you attempt to catch your breath.  “Put your money where your mouth is.”

Tae grips your chin roughly, face inches away from yours with a sadistic grin. “You’re going to regret those words, baby.”

Instantly, he’s standing up and tugging his shorts down to let his cock spring free.  Your brain misfires as you visually measure his cock and your mouth goes dry. He’s thick and long. The bulbous head is dripping pre-cum, begging you to slurp it up.

“How about I put my money where your mouth is,” he suggests as he grabs a fistful of your hair.  

He teasingly rubs his cock on your lips and cheeks, makes you whimper with need. Your tongue is sticking out, desperate for him to lay it on you.

“Already so fucking greedy,” he grunts and in one motion, directs his dick into your open mouth. “I’ll fuck your throat, yeah? Greedy bitches love getting face fucked.”  He is still for a beat more, eyes searching yours for consent and you nod with his cock still in your mouth. He winks, then begins a rapid pace, his cock fucking into your mouth and throat.

You’re sure you look like a goddamn mess with saliva dripping from your mouth as Taehyung punishes your throat with his thrusts.  You gag and moan around him, and he tightens his grip in your hair as you see stars.

It’s indescribable. Never have you felt such pleasure from sucking cock, but Tae commands your entire body, willing you to drip with anticipation.

“My little fuck toy, god you feel so fucking good,” he hisses. “You’re gonna swallow my cum, baby.”  

His hips are stuttering, he’s close, and you’re sucking him harder, cheeks pulling in harder to vacuum him in. The pressure makes him groan out loud.

“So good, so fucking good. Get ready for your prize, baby,” his voice cuts off in a gasp, as his cock twitches violently. His legs shake and he doesn’t hold back the moans of his orgasm, gasping as he feels rope after rope spill down your hot throat.

Your big doll eyes are twinkling up at him, lips still wrapped around his cock. Taehyung is sure it’s the hottest thing he’ll ever see in his lifetime.  You on your knees, subservient to him and thriving for it.

“Mmm, I like it when your mouth is full like this,” he slowly pulls out of your mouth, albeit reluctantly. “Can’t talk back to me when you’re sucking my cock like a whore.”

You smile and stick out your tongue, pleased to show him you happily accepted his cum.

“Good fucking girl,” he coos as he grips your chin again. “Did you like my cum?”

You nod, brain fried from the heat of the room.

“Use your words,” he grits and grips your jaw harder. It’s enough to shock you into compliance.

“Y-yes! Fuck, I love your cum, Tae.”  Your words are breathy and raspy, throat raw from his barrage.

“I knew you would, filthy slut.  Sit on the couch.” He orders and you’re quick to scurry and sit on the makeshift bed you made.

His hands are tugging down your shorts quickly. No teasing or seduction here, not now. You lift your hips, and he throws them aside. Your legs close on reflex, making him growl.

“Do not hide yourself from me.” His tone is dark and you can’t help but shiver as you open yourself up to him. You want to talk back, want to fight and bite at him, but you’re quickly losing the ability to even speak, and you’re aching for him.

“Where’s my mouthy little bitch? You’re awfully quiet. Did I finally break you?” He teases, pressing your legs upward, knees to your ears. It’s pornographic how on display you are for him, soaking wet cunt front and center.

“The great Taehyung thinks he can break me with his cock,” you mewl, mustering all the false confidence you can. You’re lying through your fucking teeth and you both know it, but you continue. “You’ll have to do more than that.”

Your pussy is quaking with need now, desperate for a single touch. His hands maintain purchase on the backs of your thighs, holding them up.

“There she is,” he bites at the flesh of your leg closest to him which makes you jerk in his hold. “Gonna fuck the brat right out of you.”

He removes a hand from your thigh and you’re quick to pick up the slack, holding the thigh in place to maintain his open show of your pussy.

“Try me,” you murmur, and you’re instantly regretting your words as a harsh slap descends and lands square on your cunt.

You nearly scream, pain flooding your wanton pussy, before turning into delicious pleasure that stings and tingles right at your clit. It sizzles, and warmth blooms where his hand was.

“That’s for not believing me.”  His eyes are feral and you want to bottle this memory forever.  

Another slap has your legs trembling, eyes rolling back as the burn turns to a low heat.  You’re dripping your wetness down onto the couch and Jin will kill you, but you don’t care.

“That was for calling me a dick,” he smirks.

Smack.

Tears spring in your eyes as the slap brings more pleasure than pain, desperately close to your edge.

“Look at you, you could cum just from this, couldn’t you?”

“F-fuck! Yes, please, I need more, please!” Your cunt is clenching around nothing, desperate for friction and leaking out of you like a faucet. Taehyung marvels at you, legs spread so far, with a cunt weeping with arousal for more. He can’t wait to dive in there, but he’s not finished with you yet.

“More? I don’t know if you deserve more, baby, you’ve been awfully mean to me,” he tsks, breathing hot air on your clit, making you whine.

“P-please! I’m sorry!” You’re sure you will black out with how desperately you need him. You need him more than you need oxygen.

“Beg.”

You’re quick to submit. Thoughts of fighting back are long gone, you’re his wanton little slut now.

“Please, please! Pleaseeeee, make me cum! I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” He asks with an arch of his eyebrow.

You’re nodding wildly, gazing at him with desperate, watery eyes.

“Anything, I need you so f-fucking bad it hurts!”

By the time the words leave your lips, he’s thrusting two fingers into your cunt viciously, fingering you ferociously. He arches them, rubbing against your spongy g-spot and making you scream. He knows you’re close, knows you only need one little push off the edge. He plays your body like a skilled practitioner.

“Cum on my fingers, baby. Let me see my greedy little bitch milk my fingers.”

Your body and mind react accordingly, deep down you know your body is owned completely by him, all his.  Your orgasm explodes and you think you actually scream, your vision is black and your hearing goes silent for a moment as you cum harder than you have in your life.  You’re squeezing his fingers with your pussy so tight and Taehyung is gently licking all the juices from his hand with his fingers still inside you.

It takes time to descend from the separate plane of existence Taehyung sent you too, but you come back and watch as he laps at the liquid of your cunt and on his hand like it’s a vital necessity. His fingers remain in your walls, and he refuses to break eye contact with you. You’re positive you could cum again from the sight.

“My little cockslut tastes so good, just how I like,” he tells you tenderly. “Like cherries, so sweet.  My little cherry.”

Your cunt is aching and warming back to life as he pulls his fingers out of you. The loss is immense and you’re whimpering for more.

“Ah, ah,” he hushes you. “No whining. You’ll take what I give you.  Suck my fingers clean. Taste yourself.”

He presses his fingers into your mouth, earning him a sigh, the taste of you filling your mouth. You swirl your tongue around his fingers and suckle each one to ensure your tongue laves the entire surface.

“Fuck,” he whispers and it’s his first crack in his steel reserve. “Needy.”

He pulls his fingers from your mouth and presses against you to kiss. It’s gentle, sweet, and nothing compared to the man assailing your pussy with slaps moments ago. It thrills you just the same and you return in kind, threading your hands in his wavy hair.

He pulls away and presses his forehead against yours, a moment of gentleness you actively welcome.

“This little cunt ready for me?” He whispers and you’re whimpering your reply.

“Please, fuck me. I need you to fuck me until I can’t walk.”

He grins and presses a kiss to your lips again, sweet and chaste, before he pulls away and slides down to attach those same sinful lips to your pussy.

It’s so unexpected you flinch and manage a cry as his tongue slurps up more of your delicious essence and his mouth moves to suckle on your clit. You’re not sure where the fuck he learned these tricks, but you know now you will never let him go.

“Taehyung!” You cry at the sensation. “Fuck!”

After receiving the reaction he was desperate for, he slips his tongue into your walls deep and gathers as much of you as he can, before he’s pulling back and swallowing you down.

“I couldn’t resist. Your cunt was made for me to devour.”

He doesn’t allow for a response as he throws your legs over his shoulders and lines himself up at your core.

“Condom?” He asks you, and you level a quick look at him.

“I don’t live here! I don’t have any!”  You’re savage, terrified he’ll pull his cock away when all you want and can think about is the way he’ll feel pounding into you.

“Don’t be rude, baby,” he reminds you with a swat to your ass. “I’m clean, promise. You?”

You nod quickly, reveling in the spank’s tingle. “Same. I have an IUD too,” you sigh. Thank god for medical birth control implants.

“Good. You’re the only pussy I’m gonna fuck from now on,” he promises. You know you must talk about this later, when you’re thinking rationally and not with your aching pussy.  

Your heart stutters and leaps into your throat but all is forgotten as he plunges into your tight heat.

“Ohhhhh shit, ahhh,” he gasps. “Baby, you’re so fucking tight and wet.”  He’s on the verge of whining, becoming just as needy and greedy as you.  He wastes no time in setting a pace.

His cock fills you completely, his angle allowing him to go as deep as he can, pressing the beginning of your cervix.  This is surely what heaven feels like.  It feels like the completeness you feel with Taehyung fully sheathed inside you.

It comes alive with flames and explosions as he fucks you, hips pistoning to plunge in and out of you with tenacity.  He fucks you like he laces every single thrust with more, more than just sex. He fucks you with purpose.

You’re moaning like a pornstar now, high pitch wails and gasps and breathy moans are all you can manage. “Taehyung, yes! Feel so g-g-good!”

“That’s right baby, scream my fucking name. Make sure all the neighbors know who fucking ruined you,” he nearly spits, cock thrusting into your core at an impossible speed. “I want you to tell all of Korea who owns you. Who owns this tiny little cunt?”

The wind leaves you, and you’re gasping for air, gaping mouth open as you try to reply. It takes him fucking into you harder a few times before you feel it rush back into you.

“You, Taehyung!  You!  Fuck, I love your cock!”

His thumb rubs at your engorged clit, allowing it the friction it seeks.  He bends forward and wraps his other hand around your throat, squeezing.  

Losing air combined with the friction on your clit has you keening, so close to the edge. You try to babble his name but nothing comes out.

“Look at my pretty little slut taking my cock so well,” he praises.  “You have the greediest pussy, don’t you? You need my cock daily, baby. Need to put my mouthy bitch in her place, remind her who’s in charge.”

He slows his pace but his thrusts are punishing, fucking into you as hard as he can. Your orgasm is climbing so impossibly high.

“F-fuck!” You gasp as he releases his grip on your neck. “Gonna cum! Please let me cum!”  

“Yeah baby, cum for me.  Cream your greedy pussy all over my cock.”

The world stops spinning as you hit the height of your climax and plunge down.  Your vision goes black and your body is quivering and convulsing nearly as hard as your cunt is. Taehyung hisses at your walls sucking him in, as if you’re begging for his cum, begging for more.

“Fuck, good girl, baby, holy shit,” he’s breathless and so close.

You’re overstimulated, boneless, but he wrought two of the best orgasms you’ve ever felt in your life and you’ll be damned if you leave him high and dry.  You bite your lip as you move with him, hips pounding against each other. His face is scrunched up and you know he’s close when he’s stuttering on his words.  You take over for him.

“Please cum in me baby, please.  Fill me up. I’m yours, baby, mark my little cunt as yours.”  You don’t know where it’s coming from, but you keep it going. It feels as natural as fucking him does. “Please, Taehyung!”

At the sound of his name leaving you in a whine, he spirals down his own completion. He feels his cock pulse as he empties his load into you, your walls still reverently beckoning for him. He’s calling out your name, grasping at your tits as he finishes and you’re smiling from ear to ear. Your pussy is warm with his seed and you’re positive it’s the way you want to feel every single night.

“Holy fuck,” Taehyung rasps as he pulls his cock out of you. He thrills as he watches his cum follow, slipping out your folds and down your thigh. “I definitely marked you.”

You hum in reply, finally allowing yourself to soak in the haze of orgasmic bliss. Tae presses his head to yours again, kissing you sweetly.

“Come sleep in my bed?” He asks. He means more behind it. He wants to ask you to sleep in his bed every night, stay with him every day, be the one he grows old with. He knows there’s still more to talk about, wounds of the past to heal, but now you’re with him, and he knows he’ll work through anything.

You nod, and kiss him again, understanding his hidden meaning laced in his words.

A sly smile spreads across his face. “Last one to bed has to take the blame for the wineglass,” he teases. Your head spins as if you’ve got whiplash.  He can switch from dominating to sensitive to the little shit he is so quick.

“Hey! No fucking fair! You fucked my ability to run out of me!”

“Shouldn’t have been such a sassy bitch,” he winks before he tears away towards his room.

“Taehyung, you’re an asshole!” You call as you limp your way behind him.

From behind Joon and Jin’s door, a critical voice bellows, “YAH! I’ll kill you if you got your jizz on my couch! And what is this I heard about my glass!!? HEY!  Those are TIFFANY. CRYSTAL. THE DISRESPECT!”

You slip into Taehyung’s bed and wrap yourself around him, the two of you gasping with mischievous giggles.

Kim Taehyung will always be the one who knows how to drive you wild. He’ll always aggravate and infuriate you, send you reeling.

But now you didn’t think you minded it at all.

© ppersonna - 2020 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

[pappierus]

A Big, Fat, Disastrous, Idiotic Mistake // Nozel Silva

...5.4k words :/

(i wrote this on wattpad, not copying, just moved it here bc i liked the tumblr community a lot better)

erm ye. enjoy?

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

You made a mistake.

You made a big, fat, disastrous, idiotic mistake.

You'd made this mistake nearly six months before, and it was still haunting you to this day.

You decided to be a member of the Silver Eagle Squad.

Why was this a big, fat, disastrous, idiotic mistake, you may ask?

"Wow, I didn't think a commoner would last this long in this place, congratulations!"  your superior chuckled a s you walked out of your room, your superior chuckled.

Well, because you were a commoner in a squad full of arrogant noblemen.

____

You're not sure why Captain Nozel chose you in the first place; you were the one he despised the most. Even your breathing irritated him — not that you felt any differently about him, of course.  

He was without a doubt the most evil person on the face of the earth, w ith his menacing purple eyes and demonic braided hair.

Evil.

You were strong, and you worked hard to gain even the tiniest bit of his approval, but no matter how hard you tried, he dismissed you with a sneer.

Even now, when your squad reported to him after completing a mission, retrieving a fortune, and saving hundreds of lives, the majority of which was due to your magic—which your squad leader, bless him, pointed out—he still rolled his eyes when your name was mentioned. Which you took offence to and glared at him angrily, which he matched for the remainder of the brief meeting.

When your squad leader finished the report, he hummed his approval and dismissed you all, so you ended your glaring match and walked away.

You felt sick by even being in the same room with him.

yep, a big, fat, disastrous, idiotic mistake.

____

For the third time, you loudly knocked on Captain Silva's big office door, hurting your knuckle in the process. You knew he was in there because he never leaves unless he's on a mission, being the workaholic and perfectionist he was.

You didn't come here voluntarily, oh no, you would never.

You had to request a day or two off from your captain since your sister was getting married, she wanted you to be the best maid, and you were not going to miss your baby sister's wedding for the world.

Due to said circumstances, you were forced to endure the agony of seeing his face once more, or at least the part of his face that wasn't obscured by that unusual braid.

You were beginning to wonder who told him it was a good idea to style his hair like that, the devil? Because it was not, in fact, a good idea, but it was the braid that saved you the trouble of looking at his entire face. you began to wonder; did he braid it himself?

You laughed to yourself at the thought of your enraged captain braiding his hair like a little girl in front of a mirror, but your thoughts was cut off by the devil himself.

"How long do you intend to laughing to yourself like a lunatic?" When the door opened, you looked up to see your captain staring down at you with his trademark sneer on his lips. And with that, you smile vanished.

"sorry, I was just having a funny thought." you said, rubbing the back of your neck in embarrassment. He gave you a blank stare.

Great, you reasoned, he thinks I'm crazy, just another excuse to despise me.

"What do you want?" he asked. "Or do you enjoy wasting my time?" he snarled.

rude, you thought.

rude, you thought.

"Hey! I had to knock on the door three times before you heard me. My hand hurts." you said, it wasn't uncommon of you to talk back to the captain, you had a short temper and he had a large ego.

you said, it wasn't uncommon of you to talk back to the captain, you had a short temper and he had a large ego.

"You did?" he asks, and you gape at him, because he heard you laughing softly to yourself ( quietly, may I add) but not you pounding on the door? "Shut your mouth, it's incredibly rude."

''you're one to talk'' you mumbled under your breath.

"Mumbling is rude" he sneered, disapprovingly looking at you, "I don't like repeating myself, what do you want?"

You were so irritated that you almost forgot why you came here. You took a deep breath in and out to relax, then resumed speaking.

"Captain, I have a question for you." You said something, he rolled his eyes and went into his office; you followed behind him, not having time to properly look around but judging by his desk, he was certainly busy, almost making you feel bad for bothering him.

"You see, my sister's wedding is coming up in a few days, and I was invited to attend—" you sensed his glare but continued to talk, "-but I need to take a day off to do so." You finished quickly and waited for a response.

"Your vacation days aren't for another two weeks." "You're asking me if you should leave your duties to attend a party?" he said after a brief pause.

He said it as if it were the most ridiculous suggestion ever made.

"It's not just a party! It's a wedding reception! They're very serious."

"I'm sure anything like this will be thrilling to a commoner—"

"excuse me?  It has nothing to do with mme being a commoner; if you got married, wouldn't you want your siblings to attend?" you questioned, hands clenched.

"Well, I'm sure my wedding will actually be important—" he dismissively said.

"And this isn't important?" you cut him off. "Oh right, I forgot, I wouldn't understand because I'm a commoner,"   You said it jokingly, but you were truly offended. Nozel's eyes softened slightly as if noticing, but you were too upset to notice.

Nozel composed himself, "precisely, I'm so glad you understand-"

"I doubt you could ever get married anyway." you mumbled, you expected him to say something typical like 'mumbling is rude', but he heard you clearly.

"what's that supposed to mean?" he seethed, stepping closer in an attempt to intimidate you.

"I mean, I doubt any woman would willingly get married to you!" you yelled, your words seemed to anger him more.

"Oh please, no sane man would ever stay in a relationship with you," he spat back, rolling his eyes, and pinching his temples, "i shouldn't be wasting my breath on such a worthless commoner"

Worthless commoner...

why every argument you had ended with him calling you a worthless commoner?

yep... a big, fat, disastrous, idiotic mistake.

Both of you were angry, you hadn't intended for the conversation to yet again be another petty argument, but you should've known it wouldn't be easy convincing your captain to do anything.

You were both mad; you hadn't intended for the discussion to devolve into yet another petty argument, but you should've known it would be difficult to persuade your captain to do anything.

"Please, it's important to me..."  lowering your voice in the hopes that just being nice would sway him, but he simply glared at you. you sighed and your shoulders slumped, admitting defeat.

You turned away to leave when you heard your captain sigh behind you, "I'll give you the day off," you snapped back up and turned to face your captain, who avoided your gaze, "...but I'm taking away your next holiday."

You sighed once more, knowing that there would be a catch, but you were grateful nevertheless.

"Thank you!" you yelled, Nozel flinched from the volume, you were so happy you could almost hug him.

For once, you saw the captain in a less evil light.

"Are you trying to make my ears bleed" he yelled "Why are you still in my office, get out!"

...never mind.

______

"Did I allow you to speak with me, (Y/N)?" You were unfazed by your captain's snide remarks because you had grown accustomed to them.

"It was just a question. You're so sensitive, yikes",  I mumbled.  His head snapped towards me  

"I'm not sensitive, and you should know, mumbling is rude, " he glared at you.

you stared at him intently, at first, he tried to ignore your gaze but it soon became too obvious. he sighed, rubbing his temples,"What do you want?"

"For you to answer my question," you said bluntly, your eyes narrowing as you awaited his response.

"No, it was an idiotic question." he said, rolling his eyes, "now, go away." he ordered.

You didn't, instead continuing to look at him; he tried to ignore you again, but your stare became too distracting for him; why? He didn't have a clue. Normally, he'd threaten an annoying member of his team.

He glared at you and asked, "Is there something on my face?"

you tilted your head with a grin, unfazed by his glare, "yep."

his eyes widened in horror, had he gotten food around his mouth? or maybe dirt? the idea of dirt on his face irritated him, but there was not mirror for him to check. it was vital that he was always presented as a noble at all times.

You chuckled at his panic; it was unusual for him to lose his composure, and it made you laugh that something on his face had caused him to panic, of all things. It was good to see him not be so serious, you had to admit.

You may be wondering why you and your captain were alone together, not fighting or even attempting to kill each other. You were selected to go on a mission with your squad of three, but due to the gravity of the situation, your captain and another squad were forced to intervene.

The majority of the task had been accomplished, but you and your team had underestimated the complexity of the building from which you were retrieving stolen goods, and as a result, a few of you got lost.

To make matters worse, some of the building had begun to crumble, obstructing the exit from which you and your captain had entered.

You considered using your magic to blow one of the walls open, but it would just cause more parts of the building collapsing, and the majority of your squad was also trapped inside.

So, you and Nozel had been locked in the same room for an hour and had grown tired of arguing, so you decided to break the silence by asking him about the large braid that covered his ears.

"Well?" he started,  "Are you going to tell me what's on my face?" Nozel asked impatiently, you chuckled and decided to mess with him because you and Nozel had made a sort of truce.  

"Let me help," you said, walking over to the much taller man and reaching your hands up to help.

you lifted the braid from his face, so it was no longer covering it, and smirked "there, much better."

you looked at him, you had never realized how attractive your captain truly was since you have never really seen his face, but he was indeed very attractive, you wondered why he covered his face all the time if he looked like that.

"What makes you think you have the right to touch me, " he spat, letting go of your wrist, "A commoner getting comfortable with a noble, ridiculous" he seethed.

"Here we go again," you muttered, feeling dejected. He had to spoil your fun with the noble chat, of course.

You gave up, frowning and walking away from him. Of course, this wasn't the first time he'd done anything like this, but it always bothered you that it didn't matter what you di,d because you were a commoner.

Isn't it possible that you should just be friends? Could he ask you simple questions like, "How was your day?" or "How are you doing this fine morning?"

'How did the wedding go?' When Nozel asked you a question, your head shot up and you turned to look at him sceptically. Maybe he was making fun of you, or maybe he had read your mind.

"Sorry?'' you asked in case you misheard him, he didn't look at you, but you knew that look of annoyance was directed at you as he rolled his eyes.

He grunted and turned away from you, adding, "I don't like repeating myself." But after a while, he repeated himself anyway, "How was the wedding?"

Although it was a simple question, it still shocked you, but you answered anyway ''Uh, I-It was good, and fun... thanks for asking'' you added at the end, his shoulders stiffened.

it was silent for a while, neither of you spoke. there was a sudden, awkward change of atmosphere, not used to the casual confrontation you had.

After a while, you asked, "Nozel, can I ask you a question?"

"Not another one-''

"It's not about your hair, I promise!" you told him, a little smile on your face, amused at how such a small matter could annoy him so much.

"Ask quickly," he ordered, making you anxious because you weren't sure you wanted the answer.

he noticed your hesitation ''Well...?''

''why did you raise your hand?'' you forced the question out, anticipating his snarky remark, "to be a part of the squad, i mean"

"I know what you mean," he snapped, but the expression on his face was unreadable, he looked at you for a long while, ''why would you ask such a stupid question. You were strong.''

Your gaze grew serious and you pursed your lips before saying, ''but you hate me.'' he matched your hard gaze, ''you've always hated me since i was a commoner. so why would you pick a commoner for your squad''

Your staring match turned into a glaring match, ''I already answered your question, because you were strong''

''liar,'' you scoffed, ''there were other strong commoners, some stronger than me, and you didn't pick them-''

''-Because they weren't like you,'' he sighed angrily.

"How?" you pestered.

"Why does it matter?"

"Because it does. how? you continued to ask, it got on his nerves.

"I saw something in you that I hadn't seen before." I had a gut feeling when I saw you that I wanted you on my squad by my s-"

He abruptly cut himself off, his eyes widening slightly as though he had noticed something. You, too, fell quiet. You hadn't expected his outburst, and you had to confess that for the first time since joining the team, a feeling of acceptance filled your chest.

it was you first time seeing Nozel so flustered, but he quickly straightened his back, ''I needed you in my squad under my leadership. what sort of captain would i be if i ignored your power for such a petty reason.'' he shook him head ''But it it may have been a mistake.''

His last remark felt like a pang to your chest, hurting you much more than you thought it should've, ''w-what?''

He immediately recognized the hurt look on your face, his words had never done that to you before, and he felt a cloud of guilt descend upon him, but before he could respond, you heard the distant shouts of your squad mates, who had found you.

if only you could take back that big, fat, disastrous, idiotic mistake.

________

You had kept your distance from the captain, choosing not to bother him any further. So, instead of your usual glaring match, you kept your head down while reporting a task to him. You didn't object when he made you work extra hours or took away your free time for no apparent reason. When he insulted you, you didn't even react.

You were unwelcome on this team, you hoped that by joining it, your reputation would improve. Although it did, the other members of your squad rarely picked fights with you, and the mean looks were not quite as bad as they had been when you first joined, your reputation with your captain remained the same, no matter how much you contributed.

he didn't know how to react, the person you were now was completely different to the (Y/N) he knew, and he was the reason behind it.

So, when you gave him the letter, he should've anticipated it. "What is this?" he asked, furiously reading it over and over, as if that would change what was written.

well maybe if you stopped talking and actually read it- you though, keeping your calm, cringing as he crumpled the letter you put extra effort in to make your handwriting all nice-

"It says-"

"-I know what it says, I can read," he said angrily, rising from his desk and staring at you incredulously. "You can't be serious, a squad change?" he asked fiercely.

"That's what i wrote" you said bluntly.

"-I know what you wrote!", he yelled, you flinched, not expecting him to get worked up over something like this.

''why are you so angry? Captain Roselei said i could join her squad by the end of the month if I still wanted to, i just need your approval-" you tried to explain.

"I know what she said, i read the letter-" he cut you off again' "and I don't care", he took a deep breath in and sat down again, pinching his temples. "I cant accept" he said.

You instantly grew annoyed, "What, why? You can't do that! -"

"Actually, i can. I can't have you leave my squad, what will happen if the other captains found out one my own members hated it so much, she had to leave. I'll look like a joke!" he yelled back.

"What? You'll have one less commoner on your squad, that good, right? It's not like you appreciate anything i do here anyway-"

"I already said-"

"Is it really so difficult for me to earn a little bit of approval from you, even if it's just a 'well done'? I just wanted to impress my Captain, but it's obvious that he doesn't want me here! You really didn't think this would happen, come on?" You said back your voice raising slightly.

"You can't be treated like a child here, i won't treat you like one-"

"I thought you would be happy" you muttered, "You said it, yourself, you made a mistake."

Something flashed across his eyes, but it was unclear what it was. His face softened, and he began, "(Y/N)...", but his words trailed off.

"It's all right, we both did." "I shouldn't have joined this team," you said, he scrunched his brows at your confession. "I regret it too.". After all this time of keeping it in, it felt nice to finally say it, but you quickly regretted it when you saw his expression.

You had never seen him upset, but it looked like you had hurt him. a part of you thought he deserved it, but another part of you ached to see him like that.

His sad expression faded quickly, and he was replaced by a stern one. He took another glance at the letter before crumpling it up into a ball and tossing it behind him carelessly, "Hey!" you were about to yell, your sympathy quickly replaced with anger.

He replied softly, "I'm sorry," but it wasn't about throwing the letter away, and it had you silent. "I made a mistake; I shouldn't have treated you that way." "I'm sorry for everything," he apologised once more. "I'd take it back if I could."

"Take what back, picking me?" you asked sadly, "I know-"

"No, not that," he said, his voice becoming softer. "I'm sorry for allowing myself to-" he stopped himself before looking at you, shaking his head and saying "forget it, you wouldn't understand... you can leave the squad if you want."

"No, not that. " he said, quieter. "I regret allowing myself to-" he stopped himself before looking at you, shaking his head and saying "forget it, you wouldn't understand... you can leave the squad if you want."

he waved his hand dismissively, but you weren't leaving, "help me understand. I'm not staying in this squad unless you give me a reason to stay." you stated firmly, and he looked at you with yet another blank expression.

"You wouldn't understand." he repeated and you were growing annoyed.

"Then I'll leave" you stated, waiting for some sort of reaction, but there was none. you stayed in the same spot, just waiting for him to try convince you not to go,.

but he didn't, you weren't sure what you expected, but with a defeated sigh, you turned to leave. there was no place for you here anyway.

as you reached the door you heard him ask quietly, "do you truly have no reason to stay?" you looked back at him, and despite his strong, cold facade, he seemed so vulnerable.

"What?" you asked.

"I don't like repeating myself," he said before repeating himself, "Is there no excuse for you to stay?" he asked. "Nothing?...No one?" he enquired hesitantly.

At that exact moment, the evil Captain you've been so desperate to escape from made your heart swell. There was someone, you think. But you shook your head, slapping yourself internally from the thought.

"What do you mean earlier, at or mission, that you didn't regret picking me?" you asked, dodging his question with one of your own, remembering what he said earlier.

"You're avoiding my question."

"Your avoiding mine" you said stubbornly, and he rolled his eyes, something that made you smile, and with a reluctant sigh he answered.

"I never regretted picking you. Not once." He snapped quickly, trying to get the topic over with.

"But you said-"

"I know what i said," he cut you off, again. he avoided your gaze, as if regretting bringing up this topic in the first place.

"I never regretted picking you for my squad, in fact I think it was one of the best decisions of my life." your heart stopped and you stared at him, it must've been hard for him to admit, as he looked down at the papers on his desk, about you didn't see the pink tint on his cheeks.

but rather than teasing him, you asked "Is that the truth?" and he continued to look away.

"Take it or leave it, it doesn't matter, i don't care." he said half-heartedly.

"should i stay?" You continued to press; a familiar mischievous spark rose from withing you.

"W-What? I don't care what you-"

" You didnt think i should leave earlier" you asked, pointing to the scrunched-up letter he threw away.

As much as Nozel tried to hide his embarrassment from his tantrum earlier, he couldn't hide the now obvious fact that he wanted- no, needed you here. he slowly looked up at you, wanting to glare but as soon as he spotted the blush on your cheeks, he couldn't retaliate.

after a minute of silence, he answered "It's the truth, what i said about you being on my squad" he admitted, and you felt your heart beat faster as you saw your captain in a strange new light.

"i told you already its your choice if you want to stay."

you rephrased the question, "do you want me to stay?"

When he saw you were being totally serious, his head shot up at you, his brows furrowed. His eyes opened, and he flushed red from ear to ear. He opened and closed his mouth several times, unable to come up with a response that would not further embarrass him.

"Just say yes or no, Nozel" you told him, noticing his flustered state, normally he would at once correct you to call him captain, but at this moment in time, neither of you cared.

You were not sure where your sudden change of heart started, but all you wanted to hear was on word, one simple word and you would be happy, and upon hearing his name roll of your tongue so causally, he knew exactly what he wanted.

"Yes."

his reply made the room fall to silence yet again.

he wanted you to stay?

"Please stay." he asked, as if answering your question and you weren't sure who the man in front of you was.

All you could do was stare at him, and he stared at you. his eyes were beautiful, you realized.

But eventually, the silence became too much to bear, and not knowing how to reply, you left his office holding your breath. He did not stop you, and watched you as you left.

Was talking to him a mistake?

_________

You foolishly assumed that talking to him would clear things up and convince you that you needed to leave, but you left with far more questions than before.

Everything you could think about was how much he wanted you to stay.

But why now, exactly? Why would he reveal anything right now?

You couldn't get the thoughts out of your head, so you buried yourself in work. You had until the end of the week to determine whether or not you wanted to stay.

"well done, all of you," Captain Nozel said to your team, and you met his gaze, but he averted his gaze first.

Despite the fact that he pretended the discussion never existed, he treated you differently, as though you were now on an equal level with him. you continued to stare at him with confusion, which would normally turn into a glaring battle between the two of you, but he avoided you gaze. The air felt heavy.

You shuffled nervously on your feet before being dismissed, and as the rest of the squad left, he called out your name, and you turned to look at him, heart racing, but he shut his mouth, as though at a loss for words.

"Yes?" You asked expectedly, he shook his head.

"I-... decent job today," he said, which admittedly surprised you and almost made you feel good.

"Thank you, Captain," you replied cortly.

What was the first thing he was going to say? You know you should probably leave, but your feet were firmly planted in place, and you wanted to ask if he had something else to say, maybe an explanation.

When he noticed your hesitation, he asked, "Is there anything you need?"

"Uhm... no, not necessarily," you said, forcing yourself to leave because you didn't want to be a burden any longer.

"Have you decided?" he asked abruptly as you reached the door. "I mean, if you want to stay."

You turned around again, but this time you chose not to look him in the eyes. "I think so, Captain.''

There was a silence, he obviously expected you to tell him your decision, but you couldn't, there was a lump in your throat that wouldn't let you speak.

Judging by the silence, the way you avoided his gaze and the fidgeting of you fingers, he knew what your choice was.

"I see..." he started, his voice laced with... sadness?

"I wish you the best, (Y/N)." he said shortly, there was more he wanted to say, much more, but he couldn't bring himself to say it.

you still didn't leave, and asked "Will you tell me the truth?", the question caught him off guard, and his eyebrows furrowed.

"The truth?" he asked, you met his gaze finally. it became harder nd harder to look into his lavender eyes.

"What is it that you regret? if it wasn't picking me?" you asked, recalling his outburst during your mission, but the continued to brush it off as something not important, but by the stiffening if his shoulders, you knew that was a lie. "If I'm leaving, can't you answer that one question?"

"...You're too stubborn for your own good." he dodged the question, but he held your gaze. He was right, you were stubborn, and by the look in your eye, he knew you weren't leaving without an answer.

"I suppose an explanation for my behavior is needed," and he turned away from you, not willing for you to see the blush on his face, and you smiled at his compliance.

"I didn't, as I've explained, regret picking you. I, I saw you and i knew i wanted you in my squad, but looking back on it, i regret being so selfish" he started.

selfish?

"... I knew as a captain i shouldn't have let my emotions influence my decisions, it was too irrational, to hasty. But i had what you call a gut feeling, that i would never regret picking you, having you by me, by my...by my side-" he paused, not sure if he should continue.

oh.

Your heart stopped beating, and as you tried to over analyze the meaning of his words, you knew that what he had confessed to you was that he-

by his side? you repeated in your head, you didn't dare to say anything out loud.

"I regret treating you the way i did, truly i do. i do not apologize often, (Y/N), but you deserve one. I am sorry for being so selfish. I just couldn't forgive myself for falling for my squad members, a commoner nonetheless." He admitted, and that is when you felt yourself hold your breath.

Captain Nozel, your captain... is he falling for you?

Is it possible that I'm falling in love with you?

You weren't expecting an apology, but this was unexpected. You hadn't asked for this when you asked for the truth. But it didn't bother you in the least. Was it as if this was what you... desired?

The devilish, arrogant, crude man you hated with all your heart had been in love with you, it was hard to wrap your head around, really, but what confused the most was why-

why did you feel happy?

" I thought it was horrible, really, a Captain, a noble, and a commoner. Perhaps that's why i treated you the way i did. I was ashamed." he said, and you felt yourself grow disappointed, your heart dropped slightly.

"Y-you were ashamed of me?" you said quietly, not anticipating you pathetic you sounded.

i knew it, you thought.

at the sound of your voice, he finally turned to look at you, "Of myself... I didn't care, but it didn't matter. if only i had known how pointless it was to- but i was too caught up with what i had been taught, i only now realize that it doesn't matter."

you didn't know whether to be happy or upset, angry or elated. Half of you felt giddy, the confession made your face grow hot and your heart beat faster, but the other half of you felt mad, mad at him for treating you that way when things could have been so different.

"Commoner or not, the feelings never went away. But I suppose it doesn't matter after all, you will be leaving soon." he said, his voice growing sad, and his lips turning into a soft smile.

You don't think he's ever smiled around you like that.

"Do you still regret falling in love with me?" you asked quickly, not knowing why you couldn't just leave.

He looked at you for a long time, before replying "...No, I don't. And i never will." he said.

"And what if i stayed?" you asked, "What would you do?"

would it be possible? How would your teammates react, his family, the nobles, if he dared pursue a relationship with a commoner.

"It doesn't matter." he brushed off, as if the conversation was now too much for him, "You're leaving"

"But what if i stayed?" you asked again, he stared at you for a long time.

you knew he was thinking carefully about what he should say, his eyebrows furrowed, he clenched and unclenched his fists multiple times, seemingly nervous. his cheeks were dusted with a light pink, and this time, you saw it.

Nozel was nervous, it was a sight you never though you would see, and it made you nervous too.

"then... woud..you" he mumbled and you couldnt hear what he had said, you were shocked by this more timid version of nozel.

"Mumbling is rude" you said in a cheeky voice, the atmosphere felt less tense as a smile found its way to both of your lips as you turned his own words on him. he met youreyes and saw the blush that also covered your cheeks.

"i said, then i would love you" he repeated with a newfound confidence, before walking towards you and closing the distance between the both of you.

_______

[tippenfunkaport]

Has anyone written a She-Ra flipped AU where Bright Moon is the bad side and Glimmer defects as She-Ra?

Picture Catra and Adora being the bffs who take her in, and they have the sheer chemistry that canon Bow and Glimmer have. Bow would be a good revenge strategist like Catra was. *I am indeed asking someone to write this*

So I know you sent this around to a couple of fic writers and idk if that was a mistake or not but I’m going to take it in good faith that you just goofed and weren’t trying to spam.

I have seen fanart of Glimmer as She-Ra and it’s a cool visual concept but... and I say this as someone with like a zillion Glimbow AUs in my head, I am really not that interested in Glimmer as She-Ra mostly because she would probably end the world and it would be a very short story.

I mean, I love the girl, but still.

I want to second what @imaginationfanstar said on another instance of this ask and recommend @caramelaire‘s fic Come With Me for my absolutely favorite take on Horde Bow and Glimmer in a very similar dynamic to what you describe... just with Adora still being She-Ra.

I have a Horde Glimmer AU (that is only a one-shot right now but I will almost certainly be continuing once I finish some of my other fics bc I wrote a bunch more) and you will meet my take on Horde Bow in my Beasts AU but I don’t have any plans for either Bow or Glimmer to turn into She-Ra either time soon.

But, hey, never say never!

[musical-chick-13]

And Theon bc I love him

WHAT A COINCIDENCE I LOVE HIM TOO (this answer is gonna be a combination of books and show)

Send me a character and I’ll tell you the following:

• Did they live up to their potential? / In what ways was their potential unachieved?

-I would say yes. The only negative I have about his general arc is his death (which, see below). But Theon from the very beginning was, though not a particularly nice person, still relatable. Feeling othered, wanting to be accepted by an immediate environment that doesn’t accept you, isolated from and ostracized by your family, and the tension that comes between serving the different types of familial relationships in your life. Theon has no idea who he is, tossed aside by his blood family for not growing up with them and being “soft,” aka sort-of moral and having emotions that aren’t selfish rage or smugness (which, yep, that second part is a mood, see: my entire childhood and how no one wanted to be around an “emotional” “soft” child). And from there, he spirals out of control in a way that, while certainly not admirable by any stretch of the imagination, is still understandable in the context of the narrative and his characterization. And from there, after going through hell and quite literally losing himself (even to the point of straight-up denying rescue), he builds himself back up gradually, to the point where he expressed extreme regret for what he’s done, helps an innocent woman escape a truly horrifying situation, acknowledges that his family is generally garbage, and (in-show b/c again books aren’t finished), helping to restore his sister to power, rescuing her after his PTSD relapses while confronting Euron, and ultimately opting to protect the Starks come hell or high water in order to genuinely atone for what he’s done. He is no longer conflicted because he wants to do the right thing, and that right thing is defending the kingdom from the White Walkers and making sure Sansa and Bran are safe. And it’s no longer about fulfilling a duty or finding a family to fill the void. Because now he has found himself. I will contend that Theon has one of the best, most nuanced, most organic redemption arcs of all time. I will forever be grateful that I got to see that piece of storytelling unfold.

Although, I would love to know what he thought of Dany. A missed opportunity, that.

• How they negatively and positively affected the story.

-Positive: His arc of identity and finding where your loyalties lie ties into the overall theme of “How do you find yourself in a world where goodness, authenticity, and honesty are often punished and increasingly rare?” And it proves that governmental politics aren’t the only defining factors in decisions: familial politics can be just as difficult and dangerous, which adds yet another rich, complicated layer to the overall story. He has a genuine, honest-to-Drowned-God redemption arc, which is...not really present anywhere else in the story (no, Jaime is not on a Redemption Quest, I will die on this hill). But I think the biggest draw of Theon’s presence is that it deconstructs the whole “Character Revenge Fantasy” idea. He does bad things. We want him to be punished. But not like that. No one deserves that. How far is too far? What does retribution really look like? Given how easily that idea can be abused and go off the rails, is retribution even something to strive for? What is the point of using extreme violence/torture/mutilation/breaking someone’s psyche when it doesn’t really accomplish anything? Isn’t atonement and genuine justice a better option? It certainly was for Theon. He could only piece himself back together and do anything meaningful once he was out of his abusive environment. All of these are imporant questions that are posed by his existence in the narrative.

-Negative: Idk if I have much to say here. My biggest problem is his death (see below), but that’s not really a negative story effect so much as...being disappointing and narratively irrelevant. I gotta say, his introduction via his sister was...really weird. I genuinely have no idea why GRRM wrote that. It never came up again or had any kind of narrative ramifications and kind of cast a strange, uncomfortable light on his relationship with Asha/Yara for the remainder of the story. I can ignore and enjoy their later relationship it if I don’t think about it too hard, though, so I guess I’ll chalk it up to GRRM having a Bad Idea.

• What my favorite arc for them is.

-All of it?? Theon’s journey is kind of...one big arc, which is why I think it works so well. He has this overarching redemption plot which spans the entire series and informs every decision he makes (for good or for bad, depending on where in the aforementioned journey he is). The redemption arc isn’t bogged down with side plots or other pieces of narrative clutter, meaning it has time to grow and, thus, be gradual and realistic. If I had to choose a specific point, it’s probably when he tries to reintegrate back into society via supporting Yara. Gaining the Iron Islands’ support for her ruling, spiriting away with Euron’s fleet, and ultimately rescuing his sister after her capture. He can’t just go back into society. He’s scared. He has really bad PTSD. But he recognizes that putting his home in good hands is something bigger than just him because it’s Yara’s home, too. I just...I really love family relationships, y’all.

• What I think of their ending.

-I’m not really sure how I feel about this one. I get that the series is GrimDark™ and that people who make the right choice and fight for good die all the time, but Theon dying just felt...wrong. To me.

And, like...I get it. It makes sense to parallel his original descent into villainy (cemented by executing those two boys and pretending they were Bran and Rickon) with him dying to protect Bran himself. It ties into the whole very common trope of completing a full redemption arc by committing a completely selfless act at great personal cost. It’s kind of like the whole Missy thing in Doctor Who (which...hoo boy, that post is coming, make no mistake), where selfishness is directly opposed by making the ultimate sacrifice with no motivation for personal gain. And the fact that the last words he ever heard were “You’re a good man?” I cannot even begin to describe how much that makes me sob. But...honestly, I’m really tired of this idea that redemption has to end in death in order to be achieved or “complete.” I think it’s much more poignant to have a redeemed character live to help build a better world. Because what’s the point of telling people to be better if the “reward” is death? No one’s going to want to reform themselves if they think that’ll be the result.

I think the thing that Bugs Me™ the most is that Theon never really got to have a moment of peace when he was alive. Sansa gained the North’s love and at least had a secure childhood. Ned and Cat were happily married for years. Arya had parents who loved her and a good relationship with Jon. Jon fell in love with Ygritte and found his Night Watch Bros, and Robb (in show verse) had some very happy moments with Talisa. Davos put great stock in what he considered fulfilling friendships with Stannis and Shireen; Brienne was treated respectfully by Renly, Catelyn, and Sansa; Missandei and Grey Worm had each other and their friendship with Dany, who herself had many personal successes in her quest for the Iron Throne and saw the death of her abusive brother. Cersei even had moments with Jaime (who himself had several notable military victories and at least some time with Myrcella, as well as being gladly and deeply in love, however dysfunctional that love was), times when she successfully fought off enemies (including her dad), and some sweet moments with Tommen, as well as a huge victory via blown-up sept at the end of season 6. Theon was treated as a second-class family member by the Starks his whole life by being “traded” to them as a condition of war resolution AS A BABY, is immediately disparaged and mistreated by his immediate family when he tries to return to them, makes terrible decisions that almost cost him his conscience completely, is brutally tortured by Ramsay, is on the run with his sister from Euron almost immediately after, and has a PTSD attack that ultimatly results in him having to launch a rescue mission. And then he fights ice zombies. And then he dies. He never really...got to be happy at all? There was never any kind of “win” for him. Not even survival. The narrative couldn’t even give him that.

TLDR: Theon’s death seemed less shock-value-y than others (like, for example, Shireen or Missandei or, heck, Melisandre even), and it isn’t the worst thing I’ve ever seen. It’s narratively-informed and it makes sense as an emotional through-line, but, ultimately, Redemption Cemented By Selfless Death is a tired trope, and I honestly thought this story (which...you know...serves as a deconstruction of common fantasy tropes/book tropes in general) was better than that.

• When I wish they had died. / If I think they should’ve died.

-So here’s where we get personal™ kids.

So, it’s no secret that I am...severely mentally ill. I’ve talked about expression/presentation of mental illness in regard to Cersei a lot on this blog, and how that (as paradoxical as it may seem) helped bring a sense of comfort and emotional resonance to me. Theon, post-Ramsay, has, I think, a very clear case of PTSD. Theon is one of the few characters I’ve seen where his mental illness isn’t the cause of the bad, violent, dangerous choices he makes. It only takes root after he has made the decision and conscious effort to better himself, and it, rather than demonizing him, serve to humanize him. His trauma didn’t define him. And although a PTSD attack led to him unintentionally losing Yara to Euron’s capture, he makes every effort to rescue her, a goal he does end up achieving. It is so rare I get to see a character who goes through these things, successfully fight them and come out with positive qualities at the end. Like...switching topics a bit here, Jaime going back to King’s Landing to (try to) escape and ultimately die with Cersei made sense to me because, as Jaime says, he is a hateful man. He never made much of an honest effort to be anything else. And he never truly wanted to be good; he just wanted to be liked. He wanted to adopt some personality that would make him feel less disconnected from the rest of the world. But Theon...genuinely feels remorse for everything he’s done. He makes a concerted effort to do everything in his power to improve the lives of people he believes are good and deserve to be safe. So, just...killing him off in a Completely Selfless Sacrifice (like...you know how a lot of mentally ill people put themselves through suffering-like OCD rituals, bottling feelings, self-harm, even suicide-in a misplaced attempt to “help” or “protect other people”) seemed antithetical to everything we saw of his arc.

Ultimately, with such a humanizing, empathetic portrayal of trauma and mental health struggles, seeing Theon be killed off just...pissed me off. I am so tired of seeing mentally ill characters die. I really want to believe that I can live through and thrive in spite of the things that afflict me, and I get example after example of characters not being allowed to do that. It feels awful, quite frankly. And it makes hope that much harder. 

I also just feel like...there was nothing the story gained from his death? I get the thematic parallels as mentioned earlier, but it didn’t really move the story forward in any significant way. It didn’t motivate other characters to do anything, it had no political ramifications, it didn’t serve to contribute to any kind of happy ending or commentary on society, it just...was sad. Again, I thought this story was better than that.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars XCI (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I'd missed this silly goose! tho the actors in hp for some reason look way older so he looks like a baby but pls imagine Erick like this older-looking student bc he should look that way jdhfd -Danny

Words: 2,195

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Twenty-Six: Talk it out.

"Hagrid!" Hermione shouted. "Hagrid, that's enough! We know you're in there! Nobody cares if your mum was a giantess, Hagrid! You can't let that foul Skeeter woman do this to you! Hagrid, get out here, you're just being —" The door opened. "About t — !" Hermione froze when she found Dumbledore there instead of their friend.

"Good afternoon," he said.

"We — er — we wanted to see Hagrid."

"Yes, I surmised as much," He said in amusement. "Why don't you come in?"

"Oh... um... okay."

Hagrid was sitting at the table, there were two mugs of tea. For the looks of it, he'd been crying.

"Hi, Hagrid," said Harry.

" 'Lo," he said lowly.

"More tea, I think," said Dumbledore, and with the flick of his wand, a tea tray appeared. "Did you by any chance hear what Miss Granger was shouting, Hagrid? Hermione, Mel, Harry, and Ron still seem to want to know you, judging by the way they were attempting to break down the door."

"Of course we still want to know you!" Harry said. "You don't think anything that Skeeter cow — sorry, Professor..."

"I have gone temporarily deaf and haven't any idea what you said, Harry," said Dumbledore, looking up to the ceiling with interest.

"Er — right... I just meant — Hagrid, how could you think we'd care what that — woman — wrote about you?" Hagrid cried silently, two huge tears falling down his beard.

"Oh, Hagrid, don't cry!" Mel's hand went to rest above his, looking almost comically small.

"Living proof of what I've been telling you, Hagrid," said Dumbledore. "I have shown you the letters from the countless parents who remember you from their own days here, telling me in no uncertain terms that if I sacked you, they would have something to say about it —"

"Not all of 'em," said Hagrid. "Not all of 'em wan' me ter stay."

"Really, Hagrid, if you are holding out for universal popularity, I'm afraid you will be in this cabin for a very long time. Not a week has passed since I became headmaster of this school when I haven't had at least one owl complaining about the way I run it. But what should I do? Barricade myself in my study and refuse to talk to anybody?"

"Yeh — yeh're not half-giant!"

"Hagrid, look what I've got for relatives!" Harry said in disbelief. "Look at the Dursleys!"

"An excellent point," said Dumbledore. "My own brother, Aberforth, was prosecuted for practising inappropriate charms on a goat. It was all over the papers, but did Aberforth hide? No, he did not! He held his head high and went about his business as usual! Of course, I'm not entirely sure he can read, so that may not have been bravery..."

Mel looked at her uncle knowing that there was certainly more he could say about their family, but she remained quiet.

"Come back and teach, Hagrid," said Hermione, "please come back, we really miss you."

"I refuse to accept your resignation, Hagrid, and I expect you back at work on Monday," said Dumbledore, standing up to leave. "You will join me for breakfast at eight-thirty in the Great Hall. No excuses. Good afternoon to you all."

When the Headmaster left the cabin, Hagrid sobbed for real, hiding his face behind both hands.

"Great man, Dumbledore... great man..."

"Yeah, he is," said Ron. "Can I have one of these cakes, Hagrid?"

"Help yerself," said Hagrid. "Ar, he's righ', o' course — yeh're all righ'... I bin stupid... my ol' dad woulda bin ashamed o' the way I've bin behavin'... Never shown you a picture of my old dad, have I? Here..."

Hagrid got up, went over to his dresser, opened a drawer, and pulled out a picture of a short wizard with Hagrid's crinkled black eyes, beaming as he sat on top of Hagrid's shoulder. Hagrid was a good seven or eight feet tall, judging by the apple tree beside him, but his face was beardless, young, round, and smooth — he looked hardly older than eleven.

"Tha' was taken jus' after I got inter Hogwarts," Hagrid croaked. "Dad was dead chuffed... thought I migh' not be a wizard, see, 'cos me mum... well, anyway. 'Course, I never was great shakes at magic, really... but at least he never saw me expelled. Died, see, in me second year...

"Dumbledore was the one who stuck up for me after Dad went. Got me the gamekeeper job... trusts people, he does. Gives 'em second chances... tha's what sets him apar' from other heads, see. He'll accept anyone at Hogwarts, s'long as they've got the talent. Knows people can turn out okay even if their families weren'... well... all tha' respectable. But some don' understand that. There's some who'd always hold it against yeh... there's some who'd even pretend they just had big bones rather than stand up an' say — I am what I am, an' I'm not ashamed. 'Never be ashamed,' my ol' dad used ter say, 'there's some who'll hold it against you, but they're not worth botherin' with.' An' he was right. I've bin an idiot. I'm not botherin' with her no more, I promise yeh that. Big bones... I'll give her big bones."

The kids shared nervous glances, but Hagrid kept talking without waiting for a reply.

"Yeh know wha', Harry? When I firs' met you, you reminded me o' me a bit. Mum an' Dad gone, an' you was feelin' like yeh wouldn' fit in at Hogwarts, remember? Not sure yeh were really up to it... an' now look at yeh, Harry! School champion! Yeh know what I'd love, Harry? I'd love yeh ter win, I really would. It'd show 'em all... yeh don' have ter be pureblood ter do it. Yeh don' have ter be ashamed of what yeh are. It'd show 'em Dumbledore's the one who's got it righ', lettin' anyone in as long as they can do magic. How you doin' with that egg, Harry?"

"Great," said Harry shakily. "Really great."

"Tha's my boy... you show 'em, Harry, you show 'em. Beat'em all..."

"But if it doesn't turn out as expected," Mel was quick to add. "Know that we are all proud of you as well, Hagrid. We love you very much."

"I'll follow Cedric's advice," Harry told her quietly before going to bed that night.

"Blimey, all it took was a crying Hagrid..." Mel raised her eyebrows. "Want help?"

"No," He replied. "Dunno... I'll let you know."

"All right," She sighed. "Good luck."

She had an important matter to attend that day in private and it could only be between her and Erick. She used the pocket watch he'd given her and informed him that she wanted to talk. On Monday, both students met at the far end of the library, Mel had no idea where to start.

"I won't apologize for what I said the other day, I know you hate it when I do that," She began, "but you're hiding something and I would like to know what it is, maybe I can help you?"

She was expecting many reactions, all except the one she got. Erick let out a long sigh and picked out of his bag one of the books she'd lent him.

"Persuasion?" Mel raised a brow.

"I take that you've read it?" He asked.

"I love it," She smiled at it. "The main character's name is Anne, right?"

"Yes," Erick shook his head. "The story... It made me think– What if I'm making a mistake?"

"What d'you mean?"

"What if I don't like Anne the way I think I do?" He elaborated. "I wrote and she wrote back every week, we never ran out of things to say, but the last week before going to my grandad's house she said something that... What if I just like her because she's the complete opposite of what my parents want?"

"I feel like those are unrelated, I'm not sure I follow," Mel frowned. "Since when you've been having doubts?"

"Since Anne and I started to talk more this summer. It's not exactly that I have doubts, I mean, I know I feel something, I just don't know what."

"I don't think there's a reasoning behind the people we like," She retorted. "...Right?"

"If there's no reasoning, then I guess it's all right, but if I'm supposed to have one... I don't have it. I can't tell why I like her."

"Well, you think she's pretty?"

"Yeah," Erick moved on his place awkwardly. "Although I think other girls are pretty too, and I could even get along with them as I do with Anne. If you were to ask me why I'm interested in her, I wouldn't know."

"But that's normal," Mel tried to calm him. "Love has no logic, that doesn't mean is bad?"

"Listen," He put a finger on the book and pointed harshly. "If I just like her because she's pretty and fun then it wouldn't be bad... Yet I think I'm around her because I know it'd make my parents mad, when I'm here, at school, I don't worry about her... I do wonder, but is not constant."

"So? I don't think about Harry all day."

"Aren't I supposed to be dying of solitude when I'm away from her? Maybe this is just a lie I tell myself so I feel like a normal guy, maybe I'm incapable of falling in love and Anne is just my excuse to be a bad son..."

There was a piece of paper coming out of the book, she took it without thinking. Erick kept rambling without looking at what she was doing and her eyes skimmed through the letter. The seams were so worn out that she could tell the boy had read it several times.

"Anne likes someone else..." She said quietly.

Erick's eyes landed on the piece of paper his face turned pale. "Give me that."

"His name's Stuart and he's nice...'" Mel read out loud. "Her boyfriend?"

"No," He said, seizing the letter. "He could be... but she's waiting."

"Waiting?"

"For me."

"And you don't want to say anything," Mel said slowly, "because you're not sure?"

"I can't be with her," Erick said with difficulty. "Not yet... I have two more years of school, even then I don't know when I'll be able to leave my parents' house..."

"But you like her."

"My parents won't approve."

"You don't have to tell them."

"I can't do that!" He said. "Imagine that Harry's parents were alive and they hated everything about you. That every time they see you they'd throw nasty remarks your way, and then Harry'd be out in the street with no money and without being able to give you a good life, imagine you're from two different worlds and nothing you have to offer can get him out trouble..."

"I think... I think we'd both be in pain all the time," Mel said quietly, "...Is that how you feel?"

"That's what will happen if I do the wrong thing," Erick ran a hand through his hair, ruining his neat curls. "I'd love to send a letter telling her everything... but we're young, I wasn't expecting things to move as fast as they did... she's great, she really is, but she doesn't even know I'm a wizard. There are too many secrets and I just think Anne deserves better. Maybe Stuart can do better."

"I think that in a way, you're right," Mel pushed the book towards him. "But I've seen you read and learn, get rid of so many prejudices just to meet her, not even knowing if she'd like you back... that has to mean something."

Erick supported his head in one hand, rubbing his forehead. "All I know is that if I pull her away from this boy without telling her everything... I'll end up ruining one of the best things that have ever happened to me."

"Then?" She frowned. "You're going to... you're just going to leave her?"

Erick swallowed the lump in his throat. "I want her to choose him... I'm not around anyway, I could even mention the ball and Daphne just to... to make her think..."

"You're gonna hurt her," She told him, not in a reproachful tone, but one that had to be said. "I guess this is the gentlest way you can do it... and it's not forever, right? I mean, if everything goes as planned, eventually you'll be able to try. It's meant to be."

"Meant to be?" He chuckled bitterly. "You sound too sure."

"I am," She responded sincerely. "You and Anne will end up together... just like Harry and me, if I'm lucky enough."

Erick gave her a look, a tiny smile on his lips. "Warming up to the idea then?"

"I've been too hard on myself and Harry," She shrugged. "I think life can be a fairytale if we do what we're meant to do."

"How are we supposed to know what that is?"

"Fate will find a way," Mel got up and patted his shoulder. "Just don't lose hope..."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha​ @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere​ @t-rexs-world

[kn1feinthec0ffee]

only angel - roman godfrey

roman godfrey x reader

title from the harry styles song of the same name

disclaimer: i’m not trying to distract from what’s going on by posting my work. that would never be my intent. times are trying, and i’m simply trying to provide some sort of entertainment or something to do with your time. i’m not fishing for any praise of any kind, i’m just putting my work out like i usually do. i love you all and please stay safe.

notes: in other news, if you haven’t noticed, i have a posting schedule now. it used to be every friday somewhere around midday, but that wasn’t really doing much with the algorithm, so i changed it to midday thursday. and i’ll be taking a week off next week bc i’m getting my wisdom teeth removed then. (which i’m incredibly anxious about) so if i go awol for a little while, that’s why. 

also, i have almost no knowledge of alcohol! and i don’t drink! so if i don’t have some commonly known drink or bartender knowledge, please forgive me.

***********

“i’ll take an old fashioned, please.” a woman asked politely, flashing her pearly whites.

“one apple martini with no olive,” a man requested.

“can i get a scotch on the rocks?” a man with a gruff voice asked. 

you were new to this job, but you had a bit of experience, both on the bartender end and the bar attender end. you quite liked this job; the customers were fairly friendly, and you were in a much less seedy part of town than the last dive bar you worked at. you didn’t mind it, though, it gave you your thick skin, something you need in a profession like this. 

you also liked this job better because you weren’t alone. this joint in particular had more bar space than seating space, so they commissioned two bartenders to work instead of just the one. the first few days you were a little rusty, not having worked in a while, but the two of you quickly got into the swing of things. 

his name was roman godfrey, heir to the godfrey fortune, who had a much different story on how he became a bartender. coming from such a wealthy family, he of course inherited the highest position at godfrey tower, which he quickly realized was way too much work for him to handle. roman had transformed from a spoiled rich brat to someone who had more respect for people who actually had to work to keep themselves afloat, and you’d say it changed him for the better. 

somewhere along the line he’d developed a respect for women, too, probably coming from some prior bartending experience. you admired him for that, mostly because you’d hate to work with the man he used to be. 

another reason you enjoyed working with him so much was the fact that his name was so well known across the entire state of pennsylvania that nobody really liked to fuck with him. they’d much rather stay on his peaceful side, because some, more than others, had seen his aggravated side before and were not too terribly inclined to see it again. this came in handy for you when a situation similar to tonight’s had arose.

it was a stormy night, much like many spring evenings. the bar was packed tighter than usual since it was raining much too hard for anyone to leave. it was nearing last call, and you and roman were trying to close up, much to the dismay of the customers. as you were starting to stack some glasses, a greasy older man sauntered up to the bar, plopping right down on the barstool you’d just cleaned.

“i’ll take a gin and tonic, and make it snappy, i’ve gotta get home,” the man demanded, tone devoid of any politeness. “and it’d do you some good to button that up a few more times.” he gestured to your uniform that had the first couple buttons undone to show some cleavage.

“excuse me?” you stammered, flabbergasted at his frankness. you paused what you were doing, frozen in shock.

“you heard me. now make me that drink, bitch, or i’ll climb over this fucking bar and make it myself.” the man insisted.

“you have no right to say that to me.” you defended. “this is my uniform, and if it makes me more comfortable to unbutton it, then i will. i don’t need input from people like you, and you certainly don’t deserve a drink for acting like that. we’re closing anyway, it’s too late.”

you’d handled customers like this before, but they tended to be much less blatant about their sexism and disrespect than this man was. you had started drying the glasses and putting them away at a much faster pace just to get this insistent man off your ass.

“come on, no ones over here, what’s it gotta take for a guy to get a drink?” the man’s inebriation became much more obvious now as he grabbed your forearm as you reached for another glass.

“let go of me!” you shrieked, much louder than you intended. this caught the attention of quite a few other customers and, of course, roman, who quickly made his way over to you.

“exactly what the fuck do you think you’re doing here, huh?” he growled, setting his piercing gaze on the man, who quickly unhanded you.

“i asked her very kindly if she would please make me a drink, and she said no.” he swallowed nervously, the mere presence and power seeping off of roman intimidating him.

“it didn’t sound very kind to me, man. i didn’t hear any fucking ‘please and thank you’s over here.” roman replied, trying to keep his calm with the man that he wanted to hypnotize into slamming his head on the bar.

the man stayed silent, his cocky asshole persona fading into fear at the hands of mr godfrey. roman nodded at his compliance and subtly placed a hand on top of yours on the glass you were holding.

“alright sir, if you would please kindly,” he put a strong emphasis on the word. “stop bothering my friend, get the fuck out of our bar, and head the fuck home, it would be much appreciated.”

as if entranced, the man pulled his jacket back up on his shoulders, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking straight into the rainstorm.

roman looked down at you and smiled his signature grin. usually that’d have your heart melting like a popsicle on a hot summer day, but you weren’t in the mood for it. the scowl on your face told him everything he needed to know.

“why the face? what did i do?” he asked genuinely. he had learned not to skip straight to defending his actions, finding that asking what his mistake was and how to fix it was a method much more popular with the ladies.

“you should’ve let me handle that myself.” you frowned, unhappy with the situation at hand.

“what? why would i do that?” he asked incredulously. “i’m not just gonna stand by and watch that cretin of a man treat you like that!”

“i know, and i thank you for that. your heart was in the right place, but you shouldn’t have stepped in.” you began. “for the longest time, almost every profession has been male-dominated, so us women get the short end of the stick when it comes to how we’re treated in the workplace.

“men have some sort of hero complex, thinking they can insert themselves into a situation they had nothing to do with and earn praise and thanks for their help that wasn’t asked for. men think that they can start confrontations with us and expect us to be silent and complient, to just sit there and take it because we’re not going to stand up for ourselves.” you watched the expression on his face morph to one of interest. “it was my situation, my job to deal with it, and my job to handle the repercussions, should there be any.

“men are accustomed to getting whatever they want, whenever they want it, and that’s got to change, and it starts with small things. small things like me, reprimanding that man for his actions and the way he spoke to me.” you took a breath. “i’m glad you recognized something was happening, but you should’ve only stepped in had things gotten more violent.”

roman looked stunned, almost like he’d gotten a slap across the face. you shouldn’t be surprised, this was usually the reaction you got from men when you tried to educate them on the trials and tribulations of women, but something was different. rather than shocked and confused as to why you would think that, he seemed more understanding of your struggles. sympathetic, even.

he stood still for a moment, as if he was a sponge absorbing all the information you’d dumped on him. “wow, i had no idea there was so much behind that. thank you for letting me know.”

“can i..?” his question trailed off as he leaned down towards you, lips meeting yours. you melted into his embrace, the weeks of yearning for this exact moment finally catching up to you. he started to pull away, but you stood on your tiptoes and chased his lips. you both pulled away breathlessly, lips wet and pink.

“wow, that was,” the rest of your thoughts fell short, but as you looked at roman it was apparent he had the same idea, whatever that may be.

“can i walk you home?” he asked, gathering his things. you nodded up to him, smiling sheepishly as he gently placed your jacket on your shoulders.

the two of you managed to close the bar for the night and fortunately, the rain had died down enough for you to head home. roman held his umbrella above both of you as you curled into his side to escape the cold chill of the rain.

he dropped you off at your place, turning to leave before you spun him around. you hopped up the first two steps and leaned down to kiss him again, easier this time since you were at his level. he smiled against you and kissed back fervently, placing a hand on the area between your neck and shoulder for some leverage.

you said your goodbyes, heading into your house, still feeling the tingling sensation where his hand was as you smiled giddily.

**********

ignore the ending i cant write endings it’s a problem

the feminist jumped out a bit sorry not sorry

i wrote almost all of this last night bc inspiration suddenly struck and i had to take advantage of it and this turned out waayyy longer than intended oopsie

tags: @emmyrosee @jadelynlace @copper-boom @babyboy-cody @goblincxnt @hecohansen31 @skrsgardspam @bill-skarsgard-owns-my-ass @little-grunge-flowerz @manicpixiedreamguurl

[astranne]

The adventures of Diana Thorsdottir-Danvers -An AU

Another idea. But this is an AU to a twoshot I wrote some time ago on Wattpad. It’s in german, but I summon it for you. 

After Infinity War, Thor’s depressed and Carol helps him out. They both go to space, Brunhilde becomes the queen of New Asgard. Long story short, Thor and Carol come together, fight against Kree, have a child and because the universe is screwed up thanks to Thanos, she becomes pregnant, makes some timetravel without knowing it and gives birth to a girl. Diana Thorsdottir-Danvers. She has  the same powers like her parents, but because she’s half asgardian, her powers of her mother are even stronger than Carols. Anyway. Diana is a sweet girl, grows up faster because of Thanos and her being an asgardian. So she’s in her late teenage ages, when her parents fight against Thanos and she suddendly disapears. In my story on Wattpad, she lands on Olympus, meets all the gods and after some drama and all, she comes together with Apollo. Her parents find her again, meet the gods, Thor and Zeus try to kil each other, Carol steps in and yeah. Diana becomes then the wife of Apollo and such. 

Now. In this AU, everything happens the same, but when she disapears, she lands in the DC universe. She knows, it’s not her earth, bc of her smart suit (she has one like her mom (her colors are blue, red and silver, basically the same like Carol)) and she sees some heroes and villians, she’s pretty sure they are not on her earth. 

So, what to do now? She has no way to go home and has not the nerve to interact with this arrogant heroes, so she starts to write. (Yeah I know,she shoud be start searching a way hime, but she’s immortal, she has plenty of time) About Captain America, then her mother, and then the first appearance of the Avengers. She writes about the Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., about Ultron, about Thanos. It takes something like one/two years until she wrote down the history (of the Avengers and all the other heroes) from her earth and then goes to a publishing company, who are mindblown. She wrote... wait a moment, I need to research all the movies and series- 35?40? books (movies with series, the whole mcu basically until infinity war) about a whole new universe, with whole new heroes. 

So, they start to publish the books and make three phases, like the MCU. While people read her books, she writes the final, endgame. And she calls it; Avengers Endgame, The End Of The Infinity Saga. 

People absolutly love her books, they are so realistic, even the heroes, they have mistakes and are just human, all the details match perfect with fantasy and what happend real. They absolutly love the different groups of heroes and also like it, that most of them don’t care about this ‘no killing’ rule. Because Diana was bored, she drawed the covers herself, the first movies (captain america 1, iron man 1, thor 1, black panther 1, spider-man 1, hulk, agents of shield first season, avengers 1 etc.) show the the upper body of the hero, without face. The sequels show more of the place where the book takes plase, Infinity War shows Thanos with the Infinity Stones and Endgame all the heroes against Thanos. In the books themself, she placed some doodles, while the characters do casual things or are in a fighting pose... and yeah.

Not even a year after the first release, Diana Danvers is famous and some filmproducer approach her, wanting to make movies. And there are only the books until the second phase released. Many fanarticles show up and Diana creates the firma MARVEL (breaking the fourth wall, heh) and makes millions in seconds. But she doesn’t really want’s this money, spends as much as she can and just uses the money she truly needs for herself and the company. People love her even more. And some hate her, but she doesn’t care.

She begins to write side stories, who still happen while the Infinity Saga, but are not that important. Now, she knew about the important things, since her mother is a part of S.H.I.E.L.D. and her father is important too. But what happend truly to Black Widow and Hawkeye? What did Captain America do, after S.H.I.E.L.D. has fallen? What did Thor do after New York? What happend to Loki, when he met Thanos? (Her fans absolutly love Loki and he becomes one of the most liked characters, after she writes, that he has been mind controlled)

Her fandom becomes bigger than the one of Percy Jackson, she’s close to Harry Potter. She broke some records and won many awards and after everything until Infinity War has been released, she was the most famous author of the world. (unrealistic, but do I care? nah not really) She solds more books than J.K. Rowling and even more await Endgame. When she announces, that the first movie is coming up (captain america), they loose their absolute shit. Because this is going to be fucking awesome. Diana herself writes the script, leads the casting and directs the movies. 

Now you certainly ask, but what about her home? Well, Diana clearly misses her parents, but that’s it. She doesn’t really have any friends, her whole life she fought with her parents against the Kree and other bad people, who tried to control other ones. She made her peace, that she’s now on another earth.

Anyway. She’s something like 23 years old, in the middle of writing Endgame, when she’s kidnapped by the Riddler. He asks her some riddels, admits he’s a great fan, while she just rolls her eyes. 

“Look, I’m in the middle of writing Endgame and I need every minute-” Riddler starts to apologize and releases her, asks for an autogram, while the whole world watched. Diana didn’t even need a hero, she just hugged the Riddler, told him he had some good Riddles, can she also tell one?

“What happend in Budapest?” The big fan Riddle is, naturally understands and thinks hard, until his eyes widden. 

“Are you writing it in Endgame? Or did you drop any hints and we don’t see the whole picture...” Riddle thinks hard and Diana just walks away.

The next time she’s kidnapped, it’s Joker. He’s much more serious about this whole thing and won’t release her so easily. Naturally the whole world watches again and can see, how she tells him to fuck off, because she has a time limit and she still needs some drawings. Joker snarls and slaps her, she just stares at him with blank eyes and spits in his face. He gaspes offended, grabs her hair and wants to yank her head back, but Diana headbutts him, stomps on his foot and slams her whole body against him. He definitly didn’t see that coming. Before anything more can happen, glass shatters and Batman comes to help. Or so he thinks. Because Diana keeps a groaning Joker on the ground, stares at him hatefully, hisses some cruses about him and how she needs to work. Batman just blinks, sighs and shuts the camera off. He helps her, knocks Joker unconscious. Diana thanks him and walks off. 

“If you would just kill him, then he wouldn’t cause such problems.” Batman blinks again, but the woman is already away. 

Her fans love her for kicking villain ass, being so sarcastic, almost cynical. Some villians try to kidnap her, but she becomes angrier every time. Because damn fucking gods, she’s trying to work, her book is going to be released in a month, the movie is in the middle of shooting and she doesn’t has the time for this shit. Her videos go viral, kicking male villians in the groin. Female villians don’t even try it, because first, they love her books and they would never hurt her. And second, they don’t want their ass kicked.  

After she’s caught in the middle of a gang war in Gotham (she’s there for some meeting) her partners/workers/assistants have enough. They force her to hire a bodyguard, because- No, Miss Danvers. You can’t march against the villains by yourself, you are still a civillian, let the heroes to their work. 

Because I love Jason Todd and he’s known as a bookworm, he becomes her bodyguard. He’s the head of security of Wayne Enterprises and Bruce rather likes the girl, he talked with her at a Gala and he wants her protected. Even if she doesn’t has black hair. But still does have blue eyes...

Anyway. Jason becomes her bodyguard and because she’s such an attraction for danger, he’s around her 24/7. They become close, he watches her work, while he ‘protects’ her and yeah. Some real cliché story about a rich girl, who falls in love with her bodyguard. ehm... I don’t care.

So, Endgame is released and is the most selled book from Diana. Her doodles became drawings, they are much more detailed and some even with colour. The fans finally know, how Diana sees her heroes and notice, they look like many known actors. 

“Well, some have to play my charakters, no? I saw their work, I have a good eye for these things.” Totally a thing Diana would do, cast actors for movies who are planned in the next few years. Not even asking them, because she knows, that they will do it. And then she announces, she’s going to be Captain Marvel, because Carol Danvers was inspired by her mother and she wants to honour her. The world loves it. The creator of this legendary books playing one of the most powerful charakters. 

Meanwhile, Jason became her assisstant/right hand and is still her bodyguard. He stops being Red Hood, because the Outlaws are just nothing and he had now not the nerve working together with his family. One day, Diana suddendly speaks up. 

“Why did you stop being Red Hood?” Jason jokes on his spite and looks at her shooked, but she just draws at her next cover. She finally writes about Budapest.

“What?”, he croakes out. 

“I asked you, why did you stop being Red Hood?”

“How?” Diana just raises an eyebrow. 

“It’s not that hard. I’m literally the creator of another group of heroes, where do you think I have my inspiration? And my father is a god, we have an eye for warriors.” Jason slowly progresses her words. 

“A god? What the fu-”

“Yeah. Thor, the god of thunder.” At his wide eyes, she talks further. 

“The asgardian with the hammer, you know-”

“You tell me, this whole thing you write is real? That Thor is your father and an Avenger?” Diana just smiles. 

“And Carol is my mother... where do you really think I have my inspiration? I’m not some genius, I just wrote down the stories my parents told me.” 

“So... there is another earth?”

“There are many earths... there is a multiverse. I’m just from a different universe.”

Jason definitly didn’t expect that. But is now even more interested in her stories. He’s the one, who tells her to become a hero. She becomes Tempestas, the partner of Red Hood. 

And yeah... this it is.

If anyone wants to write about this, feel free! Just tag me, so I can read and reblog it :)

Masterlist

[althealuisa]

Trust

BASED ON Doubt by @jinmukangwrites (this is the URL bc I don’t trust Tumblr yet) , one of my favourite authors that brightens my day, every day <3

Go read that first, it’s basically like part one. Please leave a kind comment <3 <3

Just as a disclaimer, I’m not native and I didn’t even check for typos more than once soooooooo... Expect to find a few here and there

I’m tired now and need to go to bed. i wrote this in class the last two days bc I was bored and  actually came up with this Idea while not being able to sleep after reading Doubt. Oh well.

________________________________________________________________

Twilight stood and stretched his hand out to Wild. “Let’s go back. The others are worried.” For a second, Wilds panicked mind told him to run. He didn’t want to go back to the others. He didn’t want to talk to them. He wasn’t ready to tell them yet. He never was ready to begin with.

They wouldn’t want to know anyway.

He grabbed Twis Hand and stood up. “You know that we need to tell them, right?” Twilights voice was wary, as if he was afraid to break something. Wild nodded. Twilight frowned. “I mean now. Like, I mean right now. They will want to know. And, I’m sorry, but they deserve to know” Wild stared at the ground, rolling the words around in his head. “Okay” He hated how sore and tired his voice was.

Twilight turned around and started slowly walking back towards camp, not noticing how Wilds back straightened, how his breathing evened into an forcefully slow and pressed rhythm, how the torment on his face faded into an emotionless mask. This wasn’t the first time he did this, and he guessed it wouldn’t be the last. He followed his predecessor, his steps too stiff and even, his movements too controlled.

Look at you. Do you think they won’t see right through you? This is ridiculous.

They won’t. He caught up to Twilight, walking just a few steps behind him. They moved in silence, the conversation they were to have looming over them. They could hear the others arguing from far away. “I just want to search for them, come on!”, “You can’t just waltz of on your own. Twilight can handle this.” Obviously, Twilight had been right. Wind didn’t seem too happy with just waiting for their return. Although Time seemed more than calm, Wild could hear the slight worry in his voice.

Twilight stepped into the small clearing and all the Links fell silent. “Did you find him?” Time asked concerned. Twilight nodded and continued to walk forwards without a word. His expression had changed into an almost angry stare. He sat down at the fire place and said nothing as Wild stepped out of the woods. “Wild! Are you alright?” Wind shouted, bolting forwards and throwing his arms around Wilds waist, breaking the upright posture he had remained in. Wild froze in place, not moving at all.

Wind let go of him after a few seconds and studied his face worriedly. “Come”, he said, dragging him towards the fire. He obeyed and sat down next to Twilight. The others followed them. The short, uncomfortable silence that fell was broken by Time. “What is going on Wild, what happened?” His voice was sturdy and calm, his features relaxed. Wild didn’t dare to answer. He knew his voice would fail him and he certainly didn’t want to break into tears in front of the others again. None of them noticed how he straightened his back again and raised his chin, but they all recognised how he lifted his hands.

It’s about the TriForce. He signed. Only Time spoke sign apart from him, so he sighed silently and began translating for him. “It is about the TriForce… He doesn’t have it”. He frowned at the last word as Wild lowered his Hands. A silence fell over the group. Wind shifted uncomfortably. “So?” asked Twilight. “What does it matter?”

“Well, it’s a sign Twilight. We all have the TriForce, we know that we are the Hero of our times because the gods gave it to us. How would we…” Warriors stopped himself seeing the look on Wilds Face. The Facade he had kept up had broken quickly. His features were twisted in pain and his eyes now stood out to them as red and puffy. He lifted his hands again.

“That’s not true” Time answered angrily to Wilds movements, but Wild shook his head and continued. “Time what is he saying?” Asked Hyrule worriedly. Time took a deep breath and began to translate Wilds signs. “He is right. It’s not only the TriForce, there is much more like that. I don’t belong with you, which is not true.” anger was shining in Times eyes as he said the last words. Warriors paled. “Wild, no. That’s not what I meant. You are as much of a hero as everyone of us.” Most of the others either nodded or hummed in agreement. Wild shook his head again. Tears were leaking out from his eyes as he signed. You don’t understand.

Look at you. They are lying to you again, trying to get your hopes up. They always have to care for you.

Time repeated him again and Twilight suddenly stood up, his face twisted in anger and sadness.

All because of you.

“How could you even believe for one second that you are not like us?”

Because you aren’t. You failed. So many dead people.

He spoke, his voice crumbling as he formed the words: “Because I am nothing like you.”

You are a failure.

“Why would you think that?” Hyrule asked, his voice soft and understanding. Suddenly Wild just wanted to get away. Panic flooded every inch in his body, his Head screaming at him to run away, to leave the others and to stop bothering them, to leave them behind for their own good and go back to doing what he did before he was a burden to everyone around him.

So, you want to be dead? Because every second of you being alive was a burden to someone, a problem in their way. How old where you when you pulled the sword? When your mother was killed because of you?

The image suddenly flashed through his mind, and before he knew it, he was sucked into the memory.

  The World was different. Brighter. So colourful. Every little creature strolling by or floating through the air brought joy to his little heart. His father was walking in front of him, a bright smile adorning his features, surrounded by a few more men, all clad in armour bearing the royal crest like him. “Come on my boy! It’s not much further!”

He was right. Only a few minutes later they stood in front of a dense forest. Although he was little, he noticed the uneasiness with which the guards were looking at the fog wavering through the trees.

“The princess and the king are going to be here soon. So, do as I taught you son!” He smiled at him proudly as Link stiffened his back and brought his feet parallel together. They stood to the side as Princess Zelda, barely 6 years old, arrived. Her face seemed too serious, her eyes just too old for her age as though she had seen more than even she herself could comprehend.

Her father walked right behind her, his face more relaxed and happier than you would expect him to be. “Let us begin. As I promised, your Son is allowed to come with us Soren.” The King said and nodded to Links father. The knight nodded and stepped into the fog, tightly holding his sons Hand. “Stay close to me Link.” He drew his sword and walked onwards in a seemingly illogical pattern. The Princess, the King and the knights followed them close behind.

When slowly there appeared, what seemed to be an entrance into a brighter part of the forest, Link had the strange sensation, that it could have been a mistake to follow his father to this place. They stepped through a huge hollow tree trunk and suddenly stood in a brightly lit area. “We have arrived, Sir” Links father said and stood to the side. The Royals walked past them and took the lead further into the forest.

Zelda stopped in front of a big stone pedestal. She looked up at a massive tree right in front of her. “Great Deku tree. Hear our prayers.” Even her voice sounded mature for her age. “We have heard of a prophecy that has told of the return of the great evil, Ganon himself. We seek your advice in this time of need as the gods have proven themselves deaf to our pleas.” She fell silent. A dark chuckle filled the air. “Princess, you have come here without knowing that you have searched in vain.” The Kings shoulders dropped.

“Because what you need has been with you the whole time. As the ancient legend tells, a legendary hero, wielding the sword of evils bane that I have been guarding over the past millenium , and a sacred princess, with the blood of the goddesses have sealed the evil away in the past. You, my dear bear the blood of the goddesses. And the legendary hero is right here with us.” The trees voice sounded almost sad, like he didn’t like what was going on. Links father suddenly paled. He grabbed Links shoulder so strongly, that his knuckles turned white.

“What do you mean?” The king demanded, his voice echoing though the empty forest. “The young boy behind you, he has been chosen by the goddesses. As you know, only the chosen hero himself could pull the sword from its pedestal. Let him try it.” Shocked silence had fallen over the group. The King and his daughter spun around and stared at Link. He was hiding behind his father, panic in his eyes. He didn’t understand all of it, but enough to know that whatever was happening wasn’t good.

“Link.” The King said, his voice sounding almost sorry. “Do as the tree said.” Link didn’t move. “Soren, step away. I am sorry, but if the tree is right…” His father swallowed and stepped aside. Link stared at him, his eyes big and scared. “Do as the king said Link. Like I taught you. Be a good boy…” Soren didn’t look at him as he said those words. Link turned and walked past the King and the princess. Panic was brooding in his stomach.

He could see the sword, its blade buried in the ancient stone. “Pull at it, boy. And don’t let go, whatever happens.” The tree boomed. Link grabbed the hilt, his teeth clenched. He pulled at the handle and suddenly pain fired through his body. He screamed, but he kept pulling, thinking that he might die if he wouldn’t.

He pulled and shouted and screamed, his father screaming something behind him. But Link knew that the tree had been right. Light was erupting from the pedestal and the blade was coming lose. Suddenly, with a loud sound it slipped out of the pedestal. The light died down and the princess shouted something seemingly surprised.

Link sank to his knees, his body shaking and his hands firmly grabbing the hilt of the sword in his hands. He heard faint steps behind him. “Link?” His father asked scared. “He is the chosen hero, Hylian.” The tree said thoughtfully. “I reckon that you will take such actions as to prepare the boy for what is to come. You have loads to do” He continued, directing his words at the King.

Suddenly the scenery changed. Link stood in front of a big door, listening to the argument going on behind it. “He is only five sir! You can not ask something like this of a boy this young! He can barely lift the sword by himself, how is he to already train with it?” He heard his father shout, his voice exhausted but determined. “Soren, this is nothing we can debate about. I can not change his destiny as the gods have chosen him. He will begin his training soon. Travel home and let him say goodbye. He will not return for long. That is an order.”

The scene changed again and Link and his father were approaching the door of their home. His father stopped and looked at his son for a second. “Whatever your sister and Mum say, It doesn’t matter.” He kneeled down. “It is not your fault my son. I know you think that I am sad because of you, but I couldn’t be. I love you boy.” He hugged Link for a second, then stood up. Without another word, he knocked at the door. Nothing was to be heard from inside the house. His father opened the door and stopped the second he entered.

He sank to his knees right behind the doorframe. “What’s going on Father?” Link asked worriedly. As he received no answer, he squeezed himself through the gap between his father and the door frame and then turned. He froze in place. His mothers corpse lay on the floor, a big bloody wound in her chest. His father suddenly jumped to his feet. “Stay back Link.” He snarled without looking at him.

He pulled his sword and walked further into the house. Suddenly, a loud cry sounded and the clanging of metal. Another cry followed and another, suddenly 4 people appearing seemingly out of nowhere. One of them was fighting his father, while the others approached him. They were laughing with glee and raising their strangely curved swords, ready to strike him down. He backed away, his way to the door cut off.

But he didn’t need to worry.

Before they could even touch him, they were dead, his father standing above them panting. “Yiga…” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “How could we forget…” suddenly a small cry was to be heard. His father rushed forward and opened the closet. A brown shadow jumped out and threw its small arms around Link’s father. “Daddy!” the little girl cried, tears streaming down her face. The man kneeled down, hugging her close and trying to comfort her. Link watched from afar, the pained expression on his fathers and sisters faces seemed to clench his heart together.

  “I think he’s waking up guys! Wild!” someone shouted as Wild snapped out of his memory. His muscles collapsed beneath him and he tumbled to the ground. Shouting surrounded him that blurred into a confusing mess as he turned to his side and threw up into the grass. His body was trembling, his vision obscured by his tears, his throat seemed to be on fire. He choked as his body was held by two hands, helping him to stay more or less upright. The images of his newly acquired memory were flashing through his mind, confusing him and making his head feel like it exploded. He felt sick, seeing the images of the corpses, but most dominantly guilt seemed to have stuffed his throat.

“Wild calm down!” Twilight shouted, bringing him suddenly back to reality. They helped him sit back up against a tree and tried to hand him a bottle of water. He waved them away as his stuttering breathing started to calm. But the shivering that was rocking his body back and forth only continued on stronger. Time and Twilight had each grabbed one of his shoulders and were holding him tightly. But their firm grip only reminded him of his fathers hand, digging into his back. He choked again, coughing on and on while tears ran down his face. After a few minutes he calmed, his breathing levelling out at least a little bit. “Wild, are you alright?” Time asked seriously. “Yes” Wild choked, His voice hoarse and weak. “You saw one of your memories, didn’t you?” Time asked cautiously, loosening his grip a bit. Wild just nodded in response. “One you knew? Or a new one?“, „A new one”, he answered quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. He could see that the others knew that it couldn’t have been a very pleasant memory. They all looked like they pitied him.

There you go. You finally did it. You managed that they care about you enough to feel sorry for you. And what good did it do?

He lifted his hands and clutched them at his head. The dizziness was confusing him and clouding his mind. “That’s not true”, he whispered quietly. “What do you mean?” asked Hyrule confused. Wild froze. A shadow seemed to go over Times Face. “Wild who were you talking to?” His voice was more than concerned, but he also sounded somehow angry.

“Nobody”, Wild answered carefully, almost scared. Time crouched down, so that he looked into Wilds Face, just a few inches away. “Listen, Wild. You need to let it go. It doesn’t matter how true it sounds, It’s not. Forget it and tell us. Talk to us. We miss you, the way you were before you thought all that nonsense. You are not a burden, you are our friend.” The others looked at Time surprised, but Wild took his hands away from his face and stared at Time, his eyes widened in shock.

“How do you know?” He asked quietly, tears still running down his face. “I knew someone” Time said, looking at him with sadness written all over his features. Wild bit his lip, staring at the ground.

You aren’t strong enough to do this. You are more than just weak. Just give up and let them go.

No, he thought, suddenly determined. They believe in me. I don’t need to protect them. Sometimes… it’s okay to need someone.

“I’m not like you because I failed. I let everyone down. So many people died because of me” he said silently, trying his hardest to keep his voice steady.

What do you expect them to do? To tell you that no one died?

“You didn’t let them down Wild”, Legend said carefully. “You gave your life for them. You did all you could and more. How could anyone tell you that you failed?”

Lies. All lies.

“Sometimes all you have isn’t enough Legend”, he whispered sadly. “So what?” asked Twilight irritated. “After all your torment, after you gave your life, after you saved the kingdom all on your own, without any help, how would anyone still even dare to question what you did? I mean, it was practically the embodiment of heroism if you ask me” Twilight huffed annoyed.

Don’t believe their lies, they are trying to blind you.

“There are so many differences between all of you and me. Different people and villages, even languages in my time. Heck, even the monsters are different!” Wild shouted frustrated throwing his arms around in the air. “We are all different, that’s just the way it is”, said Time slowly.

Distractions. Empty promises. Empty words. Don’t listen to them.

“I think”, Sky started nervously, “That we all feel guilty at some point or another. That we could have stopped the evil earlier. Saved more lives. But the truth is, we couldn’t have. All of us did our best. And although we just don’t seem to understand that, it’s the truth”, he smiled.

NONSENSE!

“I… I think you are right”, Wild slowly nodded. “I’m sorry guys. For all the drama.” He looked down.

THIS WON’T FIX IT!

“Don’t be. We all need that kind of episode sometimes”, Four shrugged. He smiled. “Must be a part of the spirit of courage. You will be very brave but also immensely dramatic when you feel bad. Too bad for you.” The heroes laughed and even Wild managed a smile, a real, genuine smile.

THEY ARE right. I should trust them more.

He felt like a big stone had suddenly been removed from his head. He breathed in slowly.

“I just don’t want to annoy you”, Wild said carefully, but still happily. Time put a hand on his shoulder.

“You couldn’t. We are family, Wild.”

[pilyarquitect]

Asterix - Getafix’s mistake - Chapter 1. The confusion

Hello everyone! Here in this day October 12th, I bring you a new story. Actually, is a translation of another story I wrote. I really hope you’ll like it!

Well, I’d like to give a special thanks to @drummergirl231-2​ . She’s amazing! Without knowing anything about Asterix, she accepted to edit the translated story so I could bring you the best possible version. I’m really, really, really grateful to her, she’s awesome!

Okay after say all this, here you have the first chapter of this story, I hope you all will like it!

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The year is 50 BC. Gaul is entirely occupied by the Romans. Well, not entirely…

The sun rose in the east as every morning. Its rays gradually illuminated a small village that was on the shores of the ocean while a soft wind carried with it the final remains of the mist that always formed at dawn. The village was populated by indomitable Gauls who still held out against the invaders. This small village was surrounded by four Roman camps, Totorum, Aquarium, Laudanum and Compendium. Behind the walls of this small population, there lived people who weren’t willing to join Roman Empire, or submit to Julius Caesar.

What was the secret of that resistance? How could simple villagers so masterfully resist such a great opponent? The answer was found in a magic potion – a potion that gave superhuman strength to anyone who drank it. The hamlet druid prepared it for its inhabitants, and over the years had endowed that town with the fame it now so well deserved. But it wasn’t only the potion that made the village famous. Some of its inhabitants, specifically two of them, were known for the many adventures they had experienced over the years. Naturally if someone asked for them, their names are: Asterix and Obelix.

These two men have always been friends, from the moment they were born – because in them there was the unusual case that, despite belonging to different families, they were born on the same day and at the same moment. That generated in them a strong bond of friendship that to date has never been broken. It was true that sometimes they argued, but deep down they both knew whatever the other said, he was never serious.

The same was true of the rest of the villagers. They were all friends, although many times there were discussions… especially about how fresh the fish Unhygienix sold were. These discussions were normally initiated by the hamlet blacksmith, Fulliautomatix and the already named fishmonger. Their discussions used to grow into fights that ended up involving the entire village. But contrary to what anyone could think, for the villagers, these fights were pure fun, and after each one, they always reconciled and went about their routines as if nothing had happened. The chief Vitalstatistix, despite having that title, was one more inhabitant of the town, and everyone considered him a friend, although, of course, they showed him loyalty and submitted to him as ruler of the hamlet.

On the other hand, there was the bard, Cacofonix, who seemed to live slightly apart from the rest of the village; not because the others despised him, but rather because none of the inhabitants seemed to share his musical liking. For this reason, the man lived in a cabin on top of a tree – a place in which, as he said, it was easier for him to be inspired to compose his odes and songs.

These were the main inhabitants of the hamlet, all of them with their routines and their chores. Everything seemed to be as it always was. It seemed that nothing was going to truncate that peace and tranquility that the village enjoyed. Little did they know what was going to happen…

That morning, the druid Getafix was in his cabin experimenting with new potions. In his last meeting with other druids to celebrate their periodic contest at Carnutes – the druid’s forest – Getafix had presented his famous magic potion, a potion that led him to victory. The druid thought that, for the next time, he wanted to bring a new spell or potion. To do so, he thought of something that might be useful. One of the druids that took part on the contest presented a potion that allowed him to take food from boiling water without burning. Ingenious! It was a simple potion, but truly useful for everyday life.

Getafix thought that he, too, wanted to do something useful for everyday life. He thought about it for a long time until finally an idea came to mind: make a variant of his magic potion. While it was true the potion provides superhuman strength, it is also true the drinker didn’t feel the potion had any effect on his being. Realizing this, the old druid began to think about the possibility of making a potion that would make the person feel more rejuvenated and able to endure the work of the day.

That would certainly be of great help, especially to people who considered themselves more of a hindrance than a help since they tire so easily. If his potion produced the effect he hoped for, that could be one of the greatest achievements ever.

With this idea in mind, Getafix had inadvertently spent the whole night working in an attempt to achieve this goal, although he still hadn’t obtained the expected results. When the man realized that it was already dawn, he also found the villagers slowly beginning their daily work routine.

Getafix smiled to himself. At this point he couldn’t remember how long he had lived in the hamlet, but he did remember that he had seen almost all of its inhabitants grow. He had taught them… had educated them… shared his knowledge with them… opened their young minds to the world around them. And he had helped them defend themselves against the Romans with his magic potion…

Thinking about the magic potion, Getafix checked his supplies of the potion ingredients and saw that some of them were starting to run out. It was time to go for more. Fortunately, he always kept a spare pot for emergencies, as well as a canteen for Asterix since the warrior, given his adventurous spirit, had become accustomed to always carrying his personal supply of magic potion.

Getafix also knew it wouldn’t be long before the blond Gaul came to him to ask him for a new consignment of the liquid that had freed them from so many dangers to date. He prepared a green canteen for when Asterix arrived and also put the remains of the potion he had been working on in another canteen, this one brown. Later, he would carefully study the ingredients he used – the quantities of these elements – and would test to see if the effects were what he expected or not. He hung both containers together near the fireplace and while waiting for the warrior's arrival, he prepared what was necessary to collect the ingredients he needed to make more magic potion.

"Good morning, Getafix! Oh druid, how has your night been?" The village warrior suddenly greeted from the door of the hut. The druid looked at him with a smile and replied:

"Good morning Asterix, the truth is that, thanks to Belenos, I’ve advanced a lot in my new potion."

"Really? By Tutatis, don't tell me you've spent the whole night working.” said the little Gaul with genuine concern for his druid.

Getafix looked at Asterix. The Gaul was not very tall. He was actually quite short for his age, but the old druid considered him one of the greatest men he had ever met.

"Asterix, you don’t have to worry about me. You know druids can handle more than the others." the older tried to reassure him.

"It may be so, but you are still human. And you too should rest, oh druid."

“I’m close to success. As soon as I succeed, then I will rest, Asterix. I promise you. Now, I’m sure you’re here for the magic potion, aren’t you?” Getafix said trying to change the subject of their conversation.

"That's right. Obelix says that he has to deliver a couple of menhirs this morning, so we’ve agreed that I’ll go for breakfast and we’ll eat it together in my cabin. But as you know, against Romans, it’s best to take all precautions."

"Certainly, Asterix," the druid replied as he unhooked the brown canteen and handed it to the warrior. “But remember that the potion is only an aid in the fight against the Romans. In my opinion, the most important thing is what we have in our hearts and minds – that is, courage and intelligence, and you have both, my friend.”

"Thank you, Getafix." replied the blond Gaul as he tied the canteen on his belt. Then he said goodbye to the druid and went to the forest to hunt a couple of wild boars for breakfast.

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When Asterix reached the forest, the warrior inhaled the pure air. He had always found the forest very pleasant. As a child, he had gone loads of times with his friends and played there while his parents fought… or rather, crushed the Romans. The forest was always a pleasant place to go, except when Cacofonix decided to compose new songs. On those occasions, the forest was the least advisable place to be.

Asterix walked among the trees looking for his breakfast when a Roman patrol appeared before his eyes. Oh well, I'll be able to have some extra fun, the Gaul thought. The patrol spotted the blond warrior and their faces immediately blanched until they almost looked like corpses. Instantly they took a desperate flight while the Gaul in turn took chase. In the process, he grabbed the canteen and took a drink from it.

What happened next was totally unexpected for both the Romans and Asterix himself. First, as soon as the warrior took a sip of the drink, he immediately realized that the taste was quite different from what he was used to. Strange, he thought, but almost immediately he realized it wasn’t so strange. He came to the terrible conclusion that what he had just drunk wasn’t magic potion, but was probably the new potion that Getafix had been working on. Asterix didn’t know what that potion would do exactly. He only knew if the Romans realized that it wasn’t magic potion what he had taken, he would be in big trouble…

Before he could make a decision, Asterix noticed a sudden pain in his chest. That pain made him stop, and when he stopped, the Romans also stopped, surprised that the little warrior hadn’t reached them yet. Then the legionaries witnessed something incredible: the Gaul was on his knees, with one hand resting on the grass and the other clutching his chest tightly. His face had taken on an expression of what seemed like deep agony. It was surprising to see one of the most feared Gauls – Obelix undoubtedly ranked first – in that position. Suddenly, Romans watched in amazement as the warrior's body began to decrease in size, his mustache disappearing as Asterix was getting smaller and smaller. Also, the clothes that the man wore didn’t change, so they were increasingly larger for the warrior's body.

"By Jupiter! Does anyone know what is going on here?” one of the legionaries asked.

"Well, the truth is that I have no idea, what about you?" another replied.

"No, no idea."

"I don’t know either."

"What do we do now?"

The patrol was stunned at the spectacle they were watching. When it was all over, Asterix passed out because of pain and what the Romans saw before their eyes was a three-year-old boy.

This image is a picture made by @zeragii​

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Well, here ends the first chapter. What do you think about it? Asterix will be in a big trouble, won’t he? Or maybe the Romans – knowing how dangerous the Gauls are – won’t do anything to him so this way they surely won’t pay the consequences? What do you think they’ll do?

Also, what do you think of this potion? Do you think it have more effects than just change body’s size? Is it temporary or permanently? We’ll find out in next chapters! Have a nice day!

[langdvnshepherd]

Imagine that Duncan has a mummy kink that you discover one night when he drank too much and that he feels bad that you've discovered - but that does not bother and leads to a new kind of game 😉

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Pretty self-explanatory lmao, drunk sex, unprotected sex, mommy kink, choking

A/N: We LOVE accidentally finding new kinks in this house!!! I wrote a lil sum sum for it really quickly so it’s not anything too special but I wanted to do it anyway! I’m trying to add a cut but Tumblr is being an ass so I’m sorry if I don’t figure it out eventually. Hope you enjoy bc I definitely can’t stop thinking abt it xoxo

There were a few things you were certain of.

You were in New York, celebrating a milestone for The Shepherd Freedom Foundation with Duncan. The party was held in an event studio in Brooklyn, overlooking the infamous bridge and skyline of the city. The walls were covered in red brick and the low-hanging, exposed lightbulbs cast an amber glow throughout the entire space. You had worn a black dress, the one that accented your figure in every feasible way, the one that always made Duncan eager to ditch whatever plans you had and stay in for the night.

There were a shit ton of people there, most of whom you had seen in Duncan’s office building at least a time or two. Duncan had to have been extremely comfortable around them, as he had gotten the kind of drunk you’d only ever seen him get at his mother’s Christmas party when he was surrounded by his family and friends. He is a very serious man, meaning he never even gets past tipsy around his business partners or those he was trying to impress. He has to be stern, in control, and too much alcohol hinders him from doing so. But not in this case. There was no reason to put up a front, as the goal had been met.

As soon as you’d reached the fourteenth floor of the building and made your grand entrance to the party, Duncan escorted you straight to the bar and immediately ordered the two of you a drink. And then another. And then another. And then another...

Which led you to the things you were absolutely fucking clueless about.

You had no idea how long you’d stayed at the party. It could have been for a couple of hours just to make the necessary rounds, or it could have been until the entire space cleared completely and you two were the last ones out the old, wooden door. You didn’t remember how you’d gotten home. It might have been one of the company’s drivers, it might have been a taxi. Regardless, you had no recollection of teasing Duncan in the backseat, palming him through his Tom Ford trousers until his thick cock was straining against the charcoal grey fabric. You also had no recollection of riding the glass elevator up to the penthouse suite of your hotel (had you been in there just one minute longer and Duncan would have had you stripped bare with your front pressed against the cool glass while he took you from behind). And you certainly had no recollection of how you’d ended up on your shared California King bed, riding Duncan against the headboard with your head thrown back in ecstasy while he was clutching so tightly onto your hips that you’d certainly have deep blue and lavender marks on your hipbones where Duncan’s thumbs had been.

The honey-blonde was in an upright position, using his grip on your hips to hold you as close to him as possible. Your arms were wound tightly around his neck, more or less smothering his head into your chest while you bounced up and down on his cock, but it’s not like Duncan minded. He would have been happy to go right then and there if it meant he could feel you expertly clenching around his cock like you were right now. The quick huffs of warm breath that accompanied each groan that escaped Duncan’s lips fanned over your breasts, hardening your nipples into firm pebbles.

You were lost in your own world, skewering yourself onto Duncan’s cock like there was no tomorrow. The combination of Duncan’s body heat and the copious amount of alcohol flooding your system set your soul on fire. Every nerve ending in your body felt electric as your walls stretched around your longtime boyfriend’s girth. The burning in your thighs felt delicious as you filled yourself to the hilt with each roll of your hips as the alcohol helped to numb most of the pain. At the time you could have sworn you’d never been this wet before in your life. That was until...

“Mommy.”

You heard it. Plain as day. It slipped right out of Duncan’s lips as he briefly detached his spit-slick lips from sucking on your nipple in a moment of ecstasy. Immediately, you snapped out of your drunken state, becoming completely lucid and aware of the fact that Duncan just called you fucking mommy.

You froze in place, your thrusts coming to an abrupt halt. Never in your life had you heard Duncan say or do anything that insinuated he would ever be interested in something like this, and it was clear Duncan was just as alarmed at the word he’d just said out loud. He seized his moaning in a matter of seconds, his body becoming rigid and still.

You instinctively ripped his head away from your chest to be able to look him in the face, tugging rather harshly on his once perfectly gelled locks to tilt his chin up to meet yours. It wasn’t meant to be malicious, but a shiver erupted from Duncan’s chest at the motion.

“What the fuck did you just say?” you demanded to know, breathing heavily in between each word.

He didn’t say anything. It was obvious that he was embarrassed. He couldn’t look you in the eye, and even in the dark of your hotel room where the only source of the light was the nightlife of the city tens of stories below you, you could see the crimson shade of red that trickled down from his stubbly cheeks down to his neck.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that,” he tried to excuse his behavior, but you could still feel him inside of you, achingly hard and twitching, even after you’d yanked his hair by the root. Which means he definitely meant it.

And for reasons that you couldn’t even begin to explain, you felt yourself becoming increasingly aroused as well. You tried to suppress a shutter yourself by clenching onto Duncan’s cock as a fresh wave of your slick coated Duncan’s cock and leaked out from below you, trickling slowly onto his balls. 

You had never felt this way before. There was no denying that you were both plastered and not in any condition to be having a serious conversation, but you couldn’t help but wonder where this all came from. Was he just testing the waters? Or had he always been spurred on by shit like this and was just too timid to bring it up? It was normally Duncan that enjoyed taking control, being called daddy as he pounded ruthlessly into your pussy with a vengeance. Now the tables had turned, and you were almost certain that you liked it. A sinister grin overtook your features as you forced Duncan to look at you with his crystal blue eyes.

“You didn't?” you asked mockingly, removing your grip from the back of his head to apply gentle pressure to his neck whilst lowering him onto the bed simultaneously.

“Because I think you did,” you continued, the last word coming out as a whisper.

Duncan’s breathing quickened and his jaw tensed. The thumping of his heart could be seen on the outside of his chest. He suppressed a low, “Fuck,” with all of his might at you talked down to him. You felt him twitch once more inside of your warm, spongey walls.

You leaned down to level your body with Duncan’s, hovering your head just above his. You licked a flat stripe from the base of his throat to the soft spot just behind his ear, and you tugged just slightly at his lobe when you reached it. 

You’d never been this bold, and it felt good. Perhaps this drunken mistake could work to your advantage, knowing that the almighty Duncan Shepherd that no one dared fuck with had a weak spot.

“C’mon Dunc-” you teased, applying an increase in pressure with your fingers to his neck.

“Are you gonna cum for mommy?”

//

Only tagging a few cuz this is short and also  t r a s h:

@avesatanormalpeoplescareme @venusxxlangdon @langdonshell @divinelangdon