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halfmoonshines · 5 months

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soft spot

damon salvatore x reader

summary; you're injured in a fight with a rogue vampire who breezed into town, and Damon is being weird about it

hurt/comfort

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You tried to stay hidden in the shadows outside of the streetlight, but your rapid heartbeat probably would've given you away either way.

"Who the hell is this guy?" You heard Damon mutter from the spot he was tossed just a few feet away from you, dusting the dirt from the trash cans he'd squished like cardboard. His ice blue eyes spared you a quick glance but didn't say a word, trying not to draw any attention your way.

Damon intervened as Caroline was struggling to grapple with the stranger. In the span of a moment, she was on the ground groaning with a broken arm and he had launched the assailant to give them a chance to regroup - right toward you.

You couldn't help the little gasp that you emitted, no matter how much time you spent around these creatures this was a vampire. One in particular who would have no hang ups about snapping your neck.

Per their supernatural hearing, it didn't take long for the mans vicious senses to find you, and took half as long for him to have a bruising hand around your neck.

The sound of Damon yelling your name was distant in the background, you were focused on the threat literally snarling in your face.

"Don't you smell good?"

That was as far as the stranger managed to get before Damon had the broken handle of a broom protruding from his back. His grip slipped off your throat as his body slid sideways and you toppled to the ground, heading bouncing off the pavement hard enough for you to see stars.

Damon's voice was faint to you again, but you could hear him begging for your attention. Caroline was in the background too, in panicked discussion with someone over the phone. You couldn't get your eyes to focus though, hair becoming wet and warm.

The eldest Salvatore's touch on you was feather light, his mouth still moving with words he wanted you to latch onto but you had already lost the dance with consciousness.

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The first thing you were aware of when you woke up in a bed was that it was decidedly not yours. The next thing you noticed was that you weren't in any pain, just a bit stiff when you went to sit up from the bed. Someone had definitely given you blood, which was against every rule her and her friends had discussed, but from the smell of the sheets behind you - Damon wouldn't have cared either way.

You made your way out of the room and down the stairs, vaguely knowing the layout of the boarding house from your handful of times actually coming inside. Over the last few months you had become dangerously intertwined in Elena's grapple with the supernatural, despite Bonnie's vehement advice to go as far as possible. You were emancipated, you could switch schools and move to Pennsylvania.

No, you couldn't. Once your conscious had been opened to everything around you, once you were aware of the dangers of the dark - you could never ignore that. Better the evil you know.

Speaking of.

You came upon Damon in his favorite spot, a tumbler of bourbon in his hand while he leaned up against the fireplace. The suit jacket he had been wearing earlier that night was discarded on the couch behind him, a small amount of blood on the collar of his shirt still.

"You always look so broody." Poking fun at him might not be in your best interest, but you figured you'd give it a go. Over the last few months, your and Damon's relationship had morphed into something you couldn't quite understand, but moments like these had seemed to become more comfortable between you.

"I believe you're confusing me with my much broodier younger brother." Damon's words were laced with sarcasm, but his tone didn't have a hint of amusement.

You felt suddenly awkward, in his space and home. Just because you had gotten kind of comfortable lately didn't mean he wanted to be around you.

"Well, thanks for the whole life saving thing." You began to babble nervously, a faint pink glow to your cheeks. "I'll get out of your hair. Sorry for taking your bed, I don't even know what time it is-" You had begun turning toward the door, making to just leave and find a way home. How you could this age and still flustered in front of attractive men, especially murderous ones was beyond you.

Damon appearing in front of you almost made your heart stop, hair stirring at his incredibly fast movements. He was barely a foot away, his piercing gaze holding your confused one. From this close you could smell just how much he had probably drank.

"Are you... okay, Damon?" Your voice wavered a bit under the heat of his stare and you saw the muscle in his jaw working overtime while he looked like he was debating whether or not he wanted to actually say anything to you.

"You don't have to thank me for saving you when you were in danger because of me." His eyes had drifted from your eyes to your neck, voice whisper quiet.

Vulnerability was the last thing you expected from the man standing over you. "What do you mean? It wasn't your fault. Just wrong place, wrong time and I so happen to be the weakest link." You hoped your voice conveyed even a bit of humor.

His eyes snapped back up to yours, head tilting slightly while he assessed you. Damon's hand rose to grab a lock of your hair, twirling it around his finger in thought. Your breath caught in your throat, feeling like you were on the precipice of something.

"My weakest link, maybe. Have I told you how much I like your hair?" His voice was still quiet, an innocent lilt.

Your mind was reeling, half drunk on his closeness and hazed by confusion. Where was this coming from? Had he drank a small liquor store and now he was confusing her for her much more appealing best friend?

"Damon, I'm not sure how much you've had to drink, but I'm happy to brew you a pot of coffee. Does that even work for vampires?"

You had started to pull away, making to turn toward the kitchen but Damon was infinitely faster than you. His drink was discarded, one hand going to your upper arm and the other to your waist, tugging you back into his vicinity.

"On the contrary, I don't think I've ever been so sure minded, sparrow. I'm sorry for not protecting you tonight." His voice was tight now, the warmth of his hands tingling down your body.

"It's not your fault, or job, Damon." Your voice had quieted to match his, all humor leaving. You didn't know where this guilt had come from, but it was misplaced. Since you'd met Damon he'd made some bad decisions, but you had also seen his sacrifice so much for the sake of the team. Even if others didn't acknowledge it, he didn't need to add anymore to his plate.

"I'd like it to be. My job." His reply was lightning quick, eyes pinning yours in place.

Were you dreaming?

Damon's signature smirk was visible for a split second, telling you that your confusion was written all over your face. "I think that I'm asking you, in the most coming of age movie way, if you'd like to go steady?"

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send any fic requests here!! all comments/criticisms/requests welcome

#damon salvatore #tvd #vampire diaries #tvd fic #self insert #damon salvatore x reader #damon salvatore fic #my work #my works

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saksukei · 1 year

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saving simon ghost riley’s life

masterlist | angst, injury mentions, he's being a bitch

they say some instincts are good, some are bad. yours have landed you in hell though.

being part of task force 141 had its own perks which included borderline deadly missions, a whole lot of adrenaline and a shit ton of risk taking. so that's exactly what you did when you saw a gun aimed at your lieutenant, more specifically, simon ghost riley.

you jumped in front of the gun without any hesitation, disobeying his orders to stay put. he was your senior, someone you definitely respected and looked up to. you were absolutely okay with letting yourself get injured for him. something about loyalty, right?

“a word, sergeant,” he interrupted your train of thought, his presence overwhelming the nurses present in the med bay as they stitched your wound.

“yes sir?” you thought he was gonna thank you for saving his life. apparently, he had other plans.

“who gave you the fucking right to disobey my orders?” he growls, his eyes piercing through your very soul. you imagine what it would be like if he didn't have his mask on, the very mask that is acting as a shelter from his rage.

you blink in confusion. “i beg your pardon, sir?”

“i said, who gave you the right to disobey my orders?” he repeated, his tone stern.

“i–sorry lieutenant,” you reply curtly, confused at his rude behavior. but then again, simon isn't known for his niceness.

“sorry isn't going to cut you the slack,” he retorts, voice laced with venom. “you are going to be reprimanded for failing to comply with your superior’s orders to stay put.”

and while you desperately want to argue, give him an explanation or maybe yell at him that you did save his life, you ignore and nod.

“i don’t hear a reply sergeant,” his voice booms.

“affirmative sir.”

with that he walks out.

the next couple of days are hell. rather than being treated like someone of your rank, the lieutenant decides to treat you like a rookie, making you run almost triple the amount of drills, ignoring the fact that you’ve had an injury.

when captain price decides to finally intervene on your behalf, he promptly replies about how insubordination must be set straight and that he's doing this his own way. soap and kyle both also try to intervene, but they can't seem to change the lieutenant’s mind.

you don't seem to fight it either, just silently accepting whatever task he's given. you know that there's really no room for disagreement given your current circumstances.

today he had pushed you too much though. drained, as you went back to your room, collapsing on whatever shit excuse of a bed you had. you couldn't even get up. the three firm and calculated knocks you heard on your door made you groan. who the hell was it at this ungodly hour?

“come in,” you yell out.

and in walks the man you've been dreading to see the most. the lieutenant himself.

you immediately stand up and salute him, ignoring the pain your body is in.

“at ease,” he mutters, as you sit down on your bed. the air is awkward between you to say the least, but boy does it get worse, when the lieutenant kneels and lowers himself right at your feet.

“what the hell–lieutenant?” you question.

“quiet,” he orders, his tone stern. you have no choice but to comply and watch, as he takes out a bandage from his side pocket. “your feet are bruised,” he mutters. why was he acting like he didn't know the reason? that he had been making you run triple the amounts you normally do.

“permission to say something grossly insubordinate sir?” you ask, trying to control your seething anger. what the fuck is his problem?

he nods.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” you yell and it catches him off guard, his warm green eyes meeting yours. “first you punish me for saving your life, make mine a literal hell and then you come in here and act like you care?” your voice raises without you even realizing.

he sighs. he doesn't have a response. you're right. he has been in the wrong but he didn't intend to punish you that far. it just sort of happened. he was so angry, not with your disobedience of course, but because of the fact that he had missed a corner and let you get hurt. he was at war with himself on this one.

so simon does what he does best, ignore your anger filled speech and continues bandaging your feet.

“s–stop it,” you try and push him away. he doesn't budge and you feel yourself reduced to tears. when he does look up and see your eyes coated with them, he stops and says words he hasn't said to anyone in years.

“m’ sorry,” he admits, softly. tears begin to slide down your face, no matter how much you try and hold them back.

and out of instinct, simon reaches out. for the first time, simon riley scoops up someone into his arms, rubbing your back, muttering a thousand apologies for his behavior. god, it would be better if you had let him get shot that day, than seeing you cry like this.

he had made you cry.

“m’ really sorry,” he whispers in your ear. “i was just so upset that you got hurt because of my stupidity, sweetheart,” he tries to explain but his persona is crumbling. he's been so unmerciful to you. “i was wrong, so wrong for doing this,” he repeats again. how could he be so rude to someone he loves so dearly?

he keeps you in his arms. his hand, running through your hair, with his gloves long discard at the side.

you mutter something about how bad it is for you to be crying in the arms of your lieutenant and he tuts, saying that firstly, you should call him simon, and secondly, you can cry as much as you want.

you’re the only one he wants in his arms anyway.

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theemporium · 1 year

Note

!! could you please write something where james is arguing with someone abt something or he’s just big mad but all reader can focus on is how FINE he looks?? like the tensed jawline? the curvature of his pecs from his heavy breathing?? running his hand through his hair from frustration and his bicep bulges LMAO idk but i’m just down bad rn

no because this reminds me of hockey boys and how hot they look when they get into fights and it just makes me😵‍💫anyways thank you for requesting! i’m a whore for james potter!!🖤

The sight shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it did.

It was nearing ten when you stumbled out of the pub, your arms wound around one of James’ as you used him as your personal crutch. The alcohol flowing through you numbed the pain of your heels but that didn’t make it any easier to walk in them.

But you didn’t care. You were happy and buzzed and your big, handsome boyfriend was all but prepared to carry you to the club you were meeting the rest of the group at for a fun night out.

Until someone all but shoved past you, their shoulder knocking against yours and making you stumble, though James’ quick reflexes saved you from busting your ass on the cobblestone floor. However, you laughed it off, not letting it ruin your mood as you held onto James and made a move to keep walking.

But James stopped you, his hands dropping to your waist to give you a soft squeeze and make sure you were okay before he turned to the man who barged past you.

“Oi, dickhead! What the fuck was that?”

Now, somewhere in the back of your head, there was a voice telling you that you should intervene. You should pull James back and calm him down, reassure him that it was no big deal and that you were fine and it wasn’t worth the hassle. You should have stopped it before it escalated, before it broke out into something more serious and someone walking past on the street called the police.

You should have.

But you didn’t want to.

Instead, you stood there, still a little tipsy and buzzed, and you couldn’t help but admire how hot your boyfriend looked when he was angry. The muscles in his jaw that jumped and ticked every time he clenched his jaw, the way his broad shoulders tensed under his tight shirt and his biceps flexed with each clench of his fists. The angry little pout on his face and the crease between his brows that you just wanted to smooth out and kiss.

Your boyfriend was a big guy, towering over the man with at least five or so inches in height. Add in his broad profile and the fact you knew he was fucking strong, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander.

Imagining pulling him away from the man and the busy streets and into a quiet alleyway. Imagining pulling his face down to meet yours in a messy, sloppy kiss and you begged him to take his anger out on you instead. Imagining him hoisting you up with ease and fucking you against the brick wall withhout even breaking a sweat, pounding into you as you whined and moaned his name and scratched your nails down his back. Imagining the bruises he would leave on your skin as a memory of the way he manhandled you.

You hadn’t even realised the argument had ended before James was standing in front of you, frustrated and pissed off and running a hand through his messy curls. You bit down on your lower lip, watching him as you squeezed your thighs together.

“Are you okay?” he asked, the concern in his voice making his face soften as he cupped your face, glancing over you once again.

But you shook your head.

James’ frowned, and some of that anger returned. “What? What’s wrong? What hurts? Did he hurt you? Did—”

But you shook your head again.

Confusion painted over his expression, his thumbs brushing across your cheekbones. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I need you,” you whispered, your hands resting against his stomach and you felt his abs clench beneath the fabric of his shirt. “Need you so bad, Jamie.”

His brows raised slightly at the tone of your voice, recognising it instantly and something like a smirk grew on his lips. “Yeah? My princess needs me?”

You nodded. “Please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he murmured as he leaned down, his lips brushing yours but not enough to consider it a kiss. You let out a whine and he only grinned wider in response. “Gotta be patient, baby.”

“James—” you started.

“Can’t fuck you here, princess, not when anyone can see how pretty my girl looks when she comes,” he murmured, his voice a little more stern this time. “You can wait.”

You gulped, nodding.

“Atta girl,” he grinned before wrapping his arm around you, ready to head back to your shared apartment instead of the club you were meant to meet the others at.

“What about—”

“They can enjoy a night without us,” James grunted, his eyes darkening as he took in the glazed look in your expression. “I have my princess to take care of.”

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mimimarvelingmarvel · 28 days

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time bound part nine

pairing: worst wolverine!logan howlett x f!mutant!reader

Part Nine - Masterlist

summary: Y/n’s life takes a dramatic turn when the Time Variance Authority intervenes, pulling her from a critical moment in her timeline. The TVA sends her to the void where she eventually meets with Deadpool and a very familiar face. With Deadpool's universe in the balance, alongside his reluctant would-be pal, Wolverine, and the enigmatic time-bending mutant known as the Veil, the trio must complete the mission and save Deadpool’s world from an existential threat.

overall warnings: 18+, Fem!Reader, AFAB Reader, Use of Y/N, Her X-Men name is Veil, She/her pronouns, Swearing, Angst, Heavy Violence, Character Death, Deadpool (he’s his own warning), Hurt, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, TVA

word count: 1.5k

The sky is gradually surrendering to the encroaching darkness, the last remnants of daylight bleeding into deep purples and blues. The air is thick with the scent of pine and earth, the forest surrounding us alive with the subtle sounds of evening.

Logan is almost at the beaten-up Honda, his steps heavy and slow, as if the weight of everything he carries is finally too much. I’m not letting him walk away this time—not without facing me, not without confronting the truth.

“Logan!” I call out, my voice cutting through the quiet of the forest. He doesn’t turn around, but I see the slight stiffening of his shoulders, a sign that he’s heard me. Still, he keeps walking, as if he can somehow ignore the confrontation he knows is coming.

“Logan, stop!” I demand, my voice louder now, edged with the frustration I’ve been holding back for too long.

He pauses, one hand on the car door, his back still to me. The silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask, my voice trembling slightly despite my efforts to keep it steady. I take a step closer, closing the distance between us. “Why are you shutting me out? You’ve been different, Logan. You’re not the same.”

He finally turns to look at me, his face shadowed in the fading light, his eyes dark and unreadable. “What do you want me to say?” His voice is rough, like gravel grinding together, full of exhaustion and something else—something darker.

“I want you to talk to me!” I snap, my anger flaring. “Logan. I’m still here.”

He exhales sharply, his breath visible in the cooling air. “You don’t understand,” he mutters, shaking his head as if trying to dismiss the conversation altogether.

“No, you’re right—I don’t understand,” I shoot back, stepping closer until I am right in front of him, forcing him to meet my gaze. “Because you won’t let me. You used to be someone I could rely on. But now...now it’s like you’re just waiting for the end.”

He looks away, his jaw clenched tight, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “Maybe I am,” he says quietly, the admission hanging heavy in the air.

“You’re a good man, Logan,” I say, my voice softer now, but still filled with the emotion I’ve been holding back for too long.

He turns his head slightly, just enough for me to see the haunted look in his eyes. “I’m the worst Wolverine,” he replies, his voice rough, laced with self-loathing. “You heard Wade.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” I snap, stepping closer, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and sorrow. “You’re my Wolverine.”

His grip tightens on the car door, his knuckles white. “They’re all dead because of me! This suit is all I have left. It killed me, as best as anything could, Y/n! Scott used to beg me to wear it. You all did. You wanted me to be part of the team, and every time, I told you all how fucking ridiculous you looked. I couldn’t have you guys thinking I wanted to be there. And then the humans came hunting, and by the time I stumbled home shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead, every last one. I looked everywhere for you—your room was completely destroyed, and I could smell your blood, but I couldn’t see you. I thought I had lost you forever—my soul died that day with you.”

His raw pain cuts through me like a knife, tears welling up in my eyes as I listen to him. He turns to face me fully now, and I see the tears streaming down his face, mixing with the dirt and blood that smears his skin.

“And seeing you alive now?” He continues, his voice breaking. “I don’t know what to do, feel happy you’re here? I can’t forget that everyone else is not. This suit’s all I got to remind me of who they were. And what I did.”

I’m crying now, trying hard to fight back the sobs that threaten to overtake me. I take a shaky breath, searching for the right words.

“You can’t possibly put that all on you,” I say, my voice trembling. “Logan, I can see the fucking future. I should have seen it coming, found a way to end it all, but I couldn’t. And then the TVA sent me here, and maybe I didn’t die with them, but it felt like it. I may never get to see our world again. I thought I’d never see you again, and for the longest time, I assumed you had died with them. But you alone couldn’t have saved them, you may be unkillable, but they weren’t.”

I move closer to him, tears streaming down my face as I look up at him, trying to make him understand. “Please don’t blame yourself. The monsters that killed them? That’s who we blame.”

He flinches at the word “monster,” and I see the tears in his eyes, his pain laid bare. I reach up, cupping his cheek gently, my thumb brushing away a tear.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “But I’m beginning to realize that nothing could have saved it.”

He closes his eyes, leaning into my touch for a brief moment before pulling away, the pain still etched deeply in his features. “If they had found you, you would have been dead too,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” I reply, my voice steady despite the tears. “I know. But I would have died to save all of them, to save you. I know what it feels like now, to hold my whole world in my hands, and be unable to do anything to protect it from the hurt and pain.”

He looks at me, confusion flickering in his eyes, not realizing that I’m talking about him, about us.

“But Wade?” I continue, my voice firmer now. “His world can be saved, we can save it. I’d do anything to have that opportunity, and have people help me. So tomorrow morning, I’m going with them.”

I take a step back from him, my heart heavy with the weight of what I’m saying. “I hope you do too.”

Logan doesn’t say anything at first. He just stares at me, his expression unreadable as I begin to walk back toward the house. But then, in a swift movement, I feel his hand grasp my wrist, and before I can react, he pulls me into his chest, wrapping me tightly in his arms. His hold is firm, almost desperate, and he tucks his head into the crook of my neck, as if seeking solace in my presence. My arms instinctively wind around his torso, fingers gripping the edge of his suit as if anchoring us both in this moment.

We stand like that for what feels like an eternity, a silent exchange of everything we can't put into words. The world around us fades away until the sound of soft footsteps shuffling behind us breaks the silence. Reluctantly, I pull away, turning to see Laura standing there, her eyes reflecting a mix of emotions.

“You look so much like them,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

I blink, confused by her words. “Like who?”

“My parents,” she elaborates, her voice laced with a quiet reverence.

I feel a pang in my chest. She’s told me about Logan being her father, but she’s never mentioned her mother before.

“I know you don’t want me to talk about your variant, but she was my mom. She meant the world to me.” Laura’s words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I feel my heart drop to my stomach.

“I don’t want to hear about my variants because I don’t want to know what I could have been,” I admit, my voice shaky.

Laura shakes her head, her gaze steady. “You aren’t them. I know that. You should too. You’re not more or less than any other version of yourself.” She turns her attention to Logan, her eyes softening. “And you’re not the worst Wolverine. My dad was flawed—he made mistakes. My mom never let him get away with it, but they were always there for each other. She died before he did, and it crushed him. When my dad died saving me, I was never the same. But they got to be together in their lifetime, and after.”

She looks between us, her voice filled with a quiet intensity. “I got to have a life because of you. I got to grow up because of you. You’re both so similar, but so different from them. Don’t compare yourself to others. You’re your own person in every universe.”

With that, Laura walks away, leaving me standing there, overwhelmed by the weight of her words. Bewilderment and heartache swirl within me, as I process everything she said, the night air thick with emotions too complex to unravel.

Next Part

A/N: We finally got some communication! Yay, not everything has been said yet, but it’s a start.

taglist: @oscarissac2099 @somiaw @100percentlazybonez @obsessedwthdilfs @sun7lowxr @corvid007

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euphemiaamillais · 8 months

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keeping the peace — snowjanus x reader

caught stealing at the hob, two peacekeepers decide its up to them to give you a punishment… only, it’s nothing like you were expecting.

cw: 18+//dub-con//power play//blowjobs//piv sex//spitting//impact play//sejanus’ guilt complex//mentions of sex work//peacekeeper!coryo and peacekeeper!sej//dark!coriolanus snow//district 12!reader

you hadn’t meant to do something that caused so much trouble, really. you thought that it would go unnoticed, taking an extra coin you’d found on the bench at the hob, and saving it for your little brother. but when you’d looked up, you saw two peacekeepers watching you slide the coin into your pocket.

your heart sank inside your chest as they met your gaze. their faces were painted with stern looks, and you cast an apologetic glance, backing away slowly. you prayed they wouldn’t report you.

‘what do you think you’re doing?’ the blonde one questioned, clutching at your wrist before you could steal away.

‘nothing,’ you murmured, trying to shake off his grasp, but he was too strong, grip tightening like a noose around your wrist.

‘doesn’t look like nothing, does it, private plinth?’ he gestured to the black haired one, who seemed to have a kinder disposition.

unfortunately he didn’t offer any more courtesy than the blonde peacekeeper, and shook his head.

‘i saw her take something,’ he remarked.

your lips quivered, and you glanced around, hoping someone would intervene. but you were far away enough from the throng of dancers that nobody would bother to help you out. messing with peacekeepers could be a death sentence.

‘it’s mine,’ you lied, but attempted to maintain a straight face.

the blonde one had backed you up into the wall, clucking his tongue at you like you were a common criminal. his breath was hot as he leaned in against your ear.

‘doesn’t look like yours, hm? don’t think a little district slut like you would have much, not unless you’d whored yourself for your earnings,’ he spat, watching as you trembled against the wall.

his friend laughed a little, watching as the blonde taunted you. it was awfully quiet out here, if you tried to scream nobody would hear you, not over the sound of lucy gray’s melodic singing and the sound of the covey’s guitar.

‘please, let me go,’ you begged, whimpering as you felt him press himself into you.

he shook his head, laughing at your foolishness. you could feel something hard digging into your thigh and wondered whether it was the holster for his gun or the bulge forming as he watched you squirm beneath him.

‘what do you think, sej, should i let her go?’ he mused, a devilish grin crossing his lips as he watched you turn into a terrified little fawn.

how pathetic.

‘oh, i don’t know coryo…’ he seemed to have some doubt clouding his eyes, and you cast him a look of plea, hoping he would take mercy on you and convince his friend to let you go.

your wrist ached from the way the blonde peacekeeper was clasping at you; hard enough that you could feel a purple bruise forming beneath the skin.

‘i think she needs to be searched for stolen goods,’ coryo, if that was his name, licked his lips hungrily as he eyed you.

you felt his hands creep up your skirt, grasping at your bare thighs and giving a sigh. he felt the smooth expanse of the skin, his touch cool and menacing as he slid further up the apex of your thighs, barely missing your panties. it was humiliating, really, the way he was pawing at you like you were some sort of whore. at least if you were, then perhaps you’d actually have earned that coin.

‘nothing here,’ he murmured, removing his hands from your thigh and now sticking his hands up the loose fabric of your blouse.

you weren’t wearing a bra, which he took notice of immediately, blonde brows cocking in surprise, and he let out a low groan as your nipples reflexively perked up from the cool sensation of his hands. you hung your head in shame, cheeks painted a deep crimson. sejanus, the other peacekeeper, could barely look at what coryo was doing to you, though his hardened cock was proof that he wanted nothing more than to teach you a lesson, just like his more malicious friend.

‘please, if you want the coin, it’s in my pocket,’ you whimpered, hoping he would leave you alone if that’s what he wanted.

you couldn’t ignore the heat that burned between your legs, and pressed your thighs together to help quell the feeling. but it only spurred things on, the friction making you have to stifle a gasp. coryo was still caressing your breasts, a low groan escaping his lips as he fingered the soft skin.

‘don’t want the coin, stupid slut,’ he muttered, removing one hand to reach out and slap you clean across the cheek.

your eyes stung, cheek burning red from the impact of his mark. sejanus came up behind coryo and tried to pull him away, shocked that his friend had struck you. but still, sejanus couldn’t deny the fact that you looked so pretty, tears trickling down your cheeks as coryo’s hand roamed under your blouse.

‘what do you want, then?’ your lips trembled as you begged the question. he removed his other hand from your breasts, but his knee had driven between your legs so that there was nowhere left for you to run.

‘oh, i don’t know,’ his pearly teeth glinted against the dim light of the alcove. ‘i think you need to be taught a little lesson about respecting authority.’

sejanus swallowed thickly as he watched this interaction. while he felt bad that coryo was taunting you, he couldn’t help but feel aroused at the thought of them sharing you, teaching you that you couldn’t get away with disobeying peacekeepers.

your eyes drew wide as you realised what he meant, and you began to shake your head frantically. besides the regrettable relinquishment of your virginity to billy taupe the summer you were sixteen, you’d hardly been touched by a man before, let alone two men at once. although the thought of them touching you made your heart pound with fear, you couldn’t deny the way your core burned.

‘so pretty,’ coryo cooed as he stroked your cheek, pressing his hard bulge against the smooth expanse of your thighs. ‘such a shame you decided to take something that wasn’t yours.’

‘you should really know better than that,’ sejanus scolded, his heart racing as he followed suit from coryo.

a small smile flickered across his lips, and he leaned in over coryo’s shoulder, brown eyes dancing across your frightened features. poor thing, you were so pathetic as they cornered you. but deep down, they could tell you wanted it, and it was only confirmed when coryo’s fingers reached for your panties and felt how they’d been soaked through.

‘fucking hell, sej, she’s wet,’ coryo scoffed in disbelief. the other district sluts he’d defiled had never been so susceptible or so desperate for his cock, they whined about how big he was or begged him to stop. you were different.

‘really? huh, guess she wants us after all,’ sejanus murmured, tucking a stray curl behind your ear.

you whimpered, coryo’s fingers brushing against your clit. you hated how your body was betraying you, how it felt so good as he touched you. your face burned again, and the subtle bucking of your hips revealed how much you were enjoying his touches.

‘what a slut, getting wet at the thought of being fucked by two peacekeepers,’ coryo clucked his tongue. ‘bet you did it on purpose, huh? wanted to taste our cocks so bad that you stole that coin from right under our noses, knowing we’d take you out here and fuck you like the whore you are.’

‘no,’ you whispered, mouth dry.

coryo pulled his fingers from your clit, and a frown scampered across your lips from the loss of sensation. he pushed you down, hard, your head knocking a little against the wall, and kept his hands on your shoulders. now on your knees, you could see both of them straining in their pants, cocks achingly hard. you shook a little.

‘c’mon,’ coryo grabbed your chin in his hand, pushing your face towards sejanus. ‘want you to suck him off.’

sejanus raised his brows, surprised that his friend had relinquished his own pleasure for his, but he was so hard that he couldn’t think straight. after all, it wouldn’t be so bad if you had gotten wet over the thought of it, right?

‘please,’ you begged as coryo forced your hands to unzip sejanus’ pants, but coryo just laughed in his golden, capitol tone.

‘sluts don’t get a say, especially not thieving ones either. you need to learn to respect authority,’ coryo hissed, forcing your fingers to tug down sejanus’ boxers.

his cock sprung out, and as much as you wanted to deny it, you could feel your mouth watering at the sight of it. he was thick, not above average, but the girth made your thighs tingle at the thought of taking him in your mouth. you felt coryo’s hand pushing your head forward, and you scrambled to grip your hand at the base of sejanus’ cock.

sejanus groaned as you gave his head an exploratory lick, and then pushed the tip into your mouth. the flat of your tongue salved over his veiny cock, taking him in further. he fisted his hand in your hair, breath heavy as he tried not to push you down against his cock. your mouth already ached from the girth of him, but you wanted to obey them both for fear of what they’d do if you didn’t.

coryo praised you, palming himself a little as he watched you take sejanus in your throat. you did it so prettily, plump lips wrapped around his friend’s cock, eyes fluttering as you glanced up at him for reassurance. sejanus’ own eyes were shut, but you took it as a sign to keep going with your ministrations.

‘good girl,’ coryo cooed as you took sejanus further down your throat, the sound of your gagging turning him on some more.

sejanus’ cheeks went red as he realised he was already nearing his finish—you were actually the first girl to take him in your mouth, not that he’d dare tell anyone. but it just felt so good, better than his hand ever could, and he let out a breathy groan as the feeling of your tongue sliding up and over each vein on his cock.

‘fuck,’ he muttered, his balls tensing as you took him further in your mouth, tip pressing against the back of your throat.

he came undone in that moment, hot spurts of cum spilling from his cock. he pulled out in a haze of abashed shame, tip still dripping with cum. you took him back to your tongue, and licked up the drops of his load.

sejanus’ body tensed at the feeling of overstimulation as your tongue licked him clean, brushing against the sensitive skin, but he couldn’t believe how good it felt, watching as your wide-eyes took his cock like the dumb whore coryo said you were.

once you were done and he tucked himself into his pants, he seemed satisfied. coryo didn’t believe you had learned your lesson yet, however, his cock straining in his pants at the sight of you on your knees, plump lips still wet from all the saliva that had dribbled down your chin.

how fucking pathetic. a stupid district whore. that’s all you were to him; something to be used, a hole to fill.

coryo pulled you up, shoving you back against the wall. your head tingled a little with the impact, and when you lolled a little to the side coryo grabbed a fistful of your hair and tugged it, sending a stinging pain across your scalp.

‘ouch,’ you murmured, bottom lip trembling at the tingling feeling that danced across your scalp.

in response to your complaint, coryo slapped you again, and tears sprung to the corners of your eyes. he only laughed in response, cock beginning to leak a little in his boxers as he watched a few tears leak free from your eyes. sejanus’ lips curled up in distaste, but coryo’s ire was something he feared, so he said nothing.

‘don’t fucking disobey me!’ he snapped, pushing your hands back against the wall; pinning you there with one leg delved between your thighs.

shamefully, you were wet, and he could really feel it. you’d gotten more wet than when he’d stuck his fingers in you; must’ve gotten off from sucking sejanus’ dick. whore, he thought.

‘gonna take my cock now, yeah?’ he cooed to you like you were stupid. you did look dumb though, eyes all fucked out from sucking sejanus’ cock, and the way you were trembling beneath his touch.

you nodded, heart pounding in your chest. coryo unzipped his pants and freed his cock, holding it at the base like it was some prize to behold. he forced you to look at it, and your brows lifted in awe at the sheer size of it.

‘think you can take all of me, hm?’ he taunted, teasing the tip of his cock along the wet patch in your panties. you gasped, clutching at his back. he seethed at the intimate gesture and you dropped your hand.

feeling a little left out, sejanus came to stand beside you, and gave your hand a little squeeze when coryo wasn’t looking. you could see slight pity in his eyes—the way coryo was treating you was harsh, like you were nothing more than the spittle on his shoe, but it wasn’t as if he could do much about it. he offered you a few kind gestures in the hopes that you could see that not all peacekeepers were cruel.

you let out a mewl as coryo tugged your panties down, laughing at how fucking wet you were. slick had soaked right through them, and when he shoved your skirt up he clicked his tongue in disbelief. your folds were practically glistening with want; all for him.

‘look at her, sej,’ coryo sighed. sejanus couldn’t help but cast his eyes down, and he drew breath at the sight of your pretty cunt. he wanted nothing more than to have it for himself, but he knew coryo wouldn’t let him. well, at least not tonight.

before he could bury his cock inside of you, coryo grabbed you by the chin, long fingers cold against the heat of your skin, and forced your mouth open.

‘gonna be such a good girl for me, hm?’ coryo murmured, delving his thumb inside your mouth, feeling the sticky saliva coat it.

you could only nod, resting your head back against the wall with nervous fatigue. it was torturous, wondering what he was going to do to you, and you could feel both their eyes boring into you, and just how exposed you were. like you were nothing better than a slut who took coin for her services.

coryo forced your mouth open wider, and spat right into it, the warm mixture hitting your tongue. it took everything in you not to gag, but the way his rage brimmed in his eyes caused you to swallow, fluttering your eyelashes flirtatiously to pretend as if you enjoyed it.

‘look at that, sej,’ he bragged. ‘stupid district slut finally starting to understand who’s in charge here.’

coryo laughed, and sejanus gave a small chuckle, but the way his lips twisted into a nervous frown suggested that he did not exactly share the same sentiments as his friend.

satisfied that you were learning to become obedient, coryo shoved his cock in, watching as you squirmed at the feeling of him stretching you out. you were so tight, and billy taupe hadn’t exactly measured up to coryo, who you guessed was about eight inches; so it stung a little.

‘fuck,’ he cursed, burying himself right up to the hilt inside of you. ‘wish you could feel how fuckin’ tight she is, sejanus. ‘spose she could be your first, if you wanted.’

sejanus’ cheeks coloured, embarrassed, and you offered an apologetic look—well, as much as you could in your state. you were grasping at coryo’s shoulders, core burning as he bucked into you. it was one hell of a punishment, but you supposed it was better than being taken to their commander.

coryo furrowed his brow as he saw your eyes flicker shut, and he gave your hair a tug, causing them to flutter open as your mouth stretched around a cry of pain.

‘fucking look at me, slut!’ he scolded.

you forced your eyes to stay open, although the tears were stinging at them, salty droplets brimming at your waterline.

‘don’t know why you’re whining so much when you’re such a fucking slut,’ he grunted as he thrust into you. ‘bet you’ve taken lots of cocks before, huh? stupid district whore.’

the tears were streaming down your cheeks now, disgusted by his insults, shame burning in your face. sejanus was sympathetic, but you could see he kept his gaze down, watching coryo fuck you. you hated that your body was enjoying this, the sound of your wet pussy squelching as he burrowed himself deeper inside of you.

‘n-no,’ you shook your head, and coryo only laughed in response. you felt pathetic; worthless as he fucked you.

‘don’t fucking stutter,’ he said, slamming his cock into you and causing you to cry out in pleasure. another betrayal.

your breathing grew heavier as you felt a knot growing inside your stomach—the feeling of your own pleasure building. you did everything you could to stop the pleasant tingling at your core, but as coryo slammed into you, you couldn’t deny that it felt good. he knew what he was doing, and yet he was so cruel towards you.

‘see, sej,’ coryo boasted. ‘this is how you take a district girl. you need to learn—especially with this one. they’re no good, thieves and sluts; in this one’s case, it’s both.’

sejanus hissed through his teeth, trying to alert coryo to the fact that he too, was district. though you didn’t know that. coryo ignored his friend’s lack of enthusiasm, and turned his attention back to you.

he was nearing his finish, balls begging to be drained as they slapped against your perineum. you were doing so well, really learning your lesson, because you were gasping a little in pleasure, legs trembling as you soaked his cock.

‘think she’s coming, sej,’ coryo alerted his fellow peacekeeper, who could see it himself. ‘you gonna come round my cock, huh? show me that you know how to take orders now?’

completely fucked out, you let yourself go, unfurling around him. you hated yourself for it, giving him the satisfaction of your own orgasm; he’d gloat about it forever. fucking the thieving whore into submission.

‘good girl,’ he cajoled, brushing the sweaty hair out of your eyes.

he stilled for a moment, readjusting himself, your bare ass rubbing against the wall, hurting a little from the scratchy stuff it was made of. coryo let out a deep groan as he slid himself back in, the new angle providing him little time before his release.

he thrust haggardly, grunting and clawing desperately at your arms, until he felt himself come. hot spurts of cum spilled themselves inside your pussy, and you let out a whine at the sensation; dreading what would happen if you got pregnant. you hadn’t thought that out, you should’ve begged him to use a condom or something, the selfish bastard. you doubt he would’ve though.

‘there you go, taking all my cum like a good girl,’ he mused, pushing his seed back into your hole with a few extra thrusts.

sejanus swallowed thickly at the sight of coryo’s cum trickling down your thighs, and felt a deep sense of shame welling in the pit of his stomach. after all, wasn’t it a little corrupt to fuck you as a punishment for your crimes? a simple fine would’ve been enough, but coryo had this base urge, this need to corrupt the girls of district 12 to satisfy his needs.

‘i think you’ve learned your lesson, hm?’ coryo titled his head as he lowered you down.

your knees buckled as you adjusted to the feeling of being on the ground again, and the excess of your fear still trembling through your body. coryo bore a smug grin, and put your clothes back on himself, as if you were too stupid to do it on your own.

your thighs were so sticky, and you seethed from the way they pressed together, but at least your skirt covered the evidence that he’d just had his cock in you. you were too embarrassed to admit that you’d enjoyed it, no matter how much he had taken advantage of you. sejanus had been sweeter, but you could tell he felt some amount of mortification for his actions. coryo on the other hand, was proud of himself. proud for teaching another district slut a lesson.

you dug into your pocket for the spare coin, and placed it into coryo’s hand, gazing up at him anxiously. he laughed, twirling around the 25 cent piece. it was worthless to someone like him, you supposed.

‘keep it,’ he remarked, placing it back into your hand. your cheeks burned in embarrassment. ‘you’ve earned it.’

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marvelsmylife · 11 days

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Bad Reputation

Pairing: Garrick Tavis x reader

Plot: Garrick has developed a reputation that’s preventing him from getting the girl of his dreams.

A/n I’m accepting request’s!

Masterlist

Request

It was no secret to anyone in Basgiath that Garrick got around. He loved the attention he got from women because he was a dragon rider. He knew that being in the rider's quadrant meant tomorrow was never promised so he took that as a sign to sleep around. When his friends would tease him for his promiscuity he would reply, “Why shouldn’t I have fun? I have no intention of settling down any time soon.” And he meant it; until you arrived and Garrick found himself gravitating towards you.

You were the first year who became fast friends with Violet. You both bonded over the fact you were both forced to become riders and looked out for each other. Like Violet, you discover your dragon was mated to Garrick's dragon. Garrick took full advantage of the fact to get close to you. He told you that since our dragons are mated, it was only fair that he got to protect you.

“Ok,” you agreed without hesitation and started spending all your free time with him.

Throughout that time Garrick would shamelessly flirt with you. He would also intentionally flex in front of you and remove his shirt to show off his buff figure. You were close to giving in and letting him take you on a date. That changed when you started hearing stories about how he’s fucked half of the rider's quadrant. You heard people whispering behind your back if Garrick had fucked you yet.

They were also placing bets on how long it was going to take for him to have sex with you before he moved on to the next girl. Garrick would reassure you that he wasn’t like that anymore and that you were different. Just as he felt he was making progress with you, it all came tumbling down one evening.

A spunky redhead walked towards the two of you during a night out and wrapped her arms around Garrick's neck. “Gare bear, I missed you! Why haven’t you written? You promised you would when we spent the night together six months ago,” the redhead asked.

You felt tears forming in your eyes at the girl's comment and quickly left. “Y/n, wait !” Garrick called out as he removed the woman who was clinging to him, “If you’ll excuse me, Tracy.”

“It’s Taylor ! ! !” Taylor whined as she watched Garrick run after you, “I’ll be here if you change your mind!”

You were able to avoid being alone with Garrick for three weeks before he cornered you in an empty hall. He begged you to listen to him, that the girl meant nothing to him, and that it happened before you started hanging out together. “You have to believe me,” Garrick pleaded as he tried to hold your hand but you pulled them away from him.

You were looking for someone to intervene and save you from this interaction. That’s when Imogen came up and saved you, “there you are y/n. I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Our training session was supposed to start ten minutes ago.” Garrick gave Imogen a confused look because, to his knowledge, you and Imogen had never interacted before.

“I’m sorry, I lost track of time,” slipped away from Garrick and made your way over to Imogen, who was glaring at her friend. “I-um, I’ll see you around Garrick,” you managed to say as you started to leave with Imogen following closely behind.

Once you knew you were far away you whispered, “Thank you for saving me back there.”

“It’s no problem,” Imogen replied, “it’s refreshing. I normally save Garrick from girls who won’t leave him alone, now I’m saving one from him.”

You were almost to your room when you turned to Imogen and asked, “Can I ask you something? How many girls has Garrick slept with and why is he so fixated on? I’m nothing special.”

Imogen gave you a sympathetic look at your last comment before replying, “Listen, I heard what happened between you, him, and Taylor and I don’t blame you for leaving. Garrick is a great guy but I can’t deny, he’s a whore. Or at least he was a whore before he met you. Ever since you came into his life he’s changed for the better. I’m not telling you to give him a chance, I’m just letting you know that what he’s currently feeling towards you is real.”

“Ok, thank you for your advice,” you gave Imogen a sad smile before disappearing into your room.

You managed to avoid Garrick for a few days as you tried to process your emotions. It didn’t help when you would get random girls to come up to you and tell you to leave Garrick alone. They would tell you that they were in love with him and your presence was getting in their way.

You ended up deciding to just ghost him and hoped he’d understand. Unfortunately for you, he didn’t understand and decided to call you out in front of your mutual friends about the situation. “Just give me one good reason why you don’t want to date me. We had a great thing going,” Garrick ran his hands through his hair.

“Because I don’t want to date a man-whore !” you blurted out and caused your friends to stare at you in disbelief. “I’m sorry but I’ve lost count of how many girls come up to me and told me to back off and to leave you alone because they called dibs on you first,” you added before leaving the dining hall when you noticed the hurt look on Garrick's face. You knew your words were harsh and couldn’t handle him staring at you like that.

To your surprise, Garrick followed you out and sat down in front of you. “I’m sorry for my harsh words back there,” you whispered as you tried to avoid eye contact.

Garrick winced at your apology, seeing as he felt like you didn’t have to, “I should be the one apologizing for putting you in the position to talk to me in that manner. You’re right, I am or was a man whore, but ever since you came into my life I’ve wanted to better myself. I want to be the man you deserve. I swear on my life I haven’t slept with anyone since we first met. I-” Garrick paused, contemplating if he should say what he was truly feeling, “I love you, I genuinely fucking love you y/n. I know I don’t deserve it but I hope you find it in your heart to give me a second chance. I promise to treat you the way you deserve, with love and respect.”

You found yourself tearing up at Garrick’s confession and lunged onto him and hugged him as tigh as you could. “Ok,” you whispered into his neck.

Garrick found himself relaxing as soon as you agreed to give him a chance. “I promise you won’t regret giving me a chance,” Garrick replied as he held you in his arms.

You knew that you and Garrick’s relationship started bumpy, but you were both determined to make it work.

@violent-little-thing @tincanhat @ladynyx91

#garrick tavis imagine #garrick tavis x reader #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing x reader

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ach-sss-no · 5 months

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someone asked why i loudly asserted that the stewing rabbits bit of lotr is the opposite book vs. movie and i think it is time to move off of the giant reblog chain i'm making

The Premise: Sam, Frodo and Gollum are all doing the opposite of what they are doing in the book in some fashion or another

(first off: in the movie they abandon the stew and don't eat it. the book takes a lot longer with all of this, and they do in fact eat the stew, and I definitely understand the movie couldn't be as expansive with the pacing but it's just. funny to me. they don't eat the stew vs. they do eat the stew, there's your first opposite)

now. THE SCENE: Of Herbs and Stewed Rabbit

(Small disclaimer/disclosure: I referenced the script instead of a movie clip for this, so there may be some nuance missed in visuals or whatever but I don't think it would be enough of a difference to matter and hopefully you will soon see why not)

Frodo

Starting with him because this is simplest.

In the movie, Frodo is just sitting there minding his own business when Gollum dumps dead rabbits in his lap. (Then he doesn't interact with the ensuing conversation at all)

In the book he's asleep when Gollum brings the rabbits and does not participate in the scene. Okay, so he's awake vs. asleep. Easy.

(Also, book Frodo didn't witness the conflict between the other two characters and had no opportunity to intervene, which creates an interesting 'what could have been', but I am digressing. We are only 10% of the way in. buckle up)

Sam

In the movie, Sam is passive and reacting. Gollum dumps dead rabbits in Mr. Frodo's lap oh no what do I guess we'll cook them

In the book, Sam is active and orchestrating events.

Sam decides of his own accord that he wants to address their dwindling supplies:

Sam had been giving earnest thought to food as they marched. Now that the despair of the impassable Gate was behind him, he did not feel so inclined as his master to take no thought for their livelihood beyond the end of their errand; [in case you forgot. Earlier on Sam was like 'we won't have enough food for the way back' and frodo essentially responds with 'the way back. oh you sweet summer child'] and anyway it seemed wiser to him to save the waybread of the Elves for worse times ahead.

Note: This is all very good reasoning by Mr. Samwise and an excellent example of why he's so necessary to the quest! Yes, staying alive is step one.

But Where to get food? In both movie and book Sam is taking advantage of his resources (dead rabbits acquired via gollum), but in the book he's way more proactive about it:

An idea struck him and he turned to Gollum. Gollum had just begun to sneak off on his own, and he was crawling away on all fours through the fern. 'Hi! Gollum!' said Sam. 'Where are you going? Hunting? Well see here, old noser, you don't like our food, and I'd not be sorry for a change myself. Your new motto's always ready to help. Could you find anything fit for a hungry hobbit? ' 'Yes, perhaps, yes,' said Gollum. 'Sméagol always helps, if they asks-- if they asks nicely.' 'Right!' said Sam. 'I does ask. And if that isn't nice enough, I begs.'

In this point in the book Sam has now:

Decided of his own accord that he has a problem and that he wants to actively solve it

Arrived at a solution to the problem without any outside help or suggestions

Commanded Gollum to go hunt

In the point in the movie Sam has done:

Nothing

I'm not exaggerating. In the movie the scene hasn't started yet.

In both book and movie, rabbits are acquired a little while later. In the book this is a nonevent because Sam requested and expected rabbits. In the movie, the rabbits unexpectedly appear, and Gollum says they are for the hobbits to eat (Sam doesn't even come up with the idea to eat them on his own!)

They are young. They are tender. They are nice. Yes they are! Eat them! Eat them! [He bites and tears into the raw meat.]

GOLLUM SHOWED HIM HOW TO EAT THEM LIKE A MOTHER CAT.

Anyway, in the movie, we just cut to Sam stewing the rabbits after that.

But in the book, Sam isn't done arranging things:

He thought for a bit, while he took out his knife, cleaned and whetted it, and began to dress the rabbits. He was not going to leave Frodo alone asleep even for a few minutes. 'Now, Gollum,' he said, 'I've another job for you. Go and fill these pans with water, and bring 'em back! '

'Sméagol will fetch water, yes,' said Gollum. 'But what does the hobbit want all that water for? He has drunk, he has washed.' 'Never you mind,' said Sam. `If you can't guess, you'll soon find out. And the sooner you fetch the water, the sooner you'll learn. Don't you damage one of my pans, or I'll carve you into mincemeat.'

So now Sam has:

Decided of his own accord that he has a problem and that he wants to actively solve it

Arrived at a solution to the problem without any outside help or suggestions

Commanded Gollum to go hunt

Lovingly watched Frodo sleep

Collected rabbits after they were provided and begun skinning them

Assigned Gollum to fill his cook-pans

Gollum leaves to do this new errand and Sam starts building a cook fire.

He was just stooping over his fire, shielding it and building it up with heavier wood, when Gollum returned, carrying the pans carefully and grumbling to himself. He set the pans down, and then suddenly saw what Sam was doing. He gave a thin hissing shriek, and seemed to be both frightened and angry. 'Ach! Sss -- no!' he cried. 'No! Silly hobbits, foolish, yes foolish! They mustn't do it!' 'Mustn't do what?' asked Sam in surprise. 'Not make the nassty red tongues,' hissed Gollum. `Fire, fire! It's dangerous, yes it is. It burns, it kills. And it will bring enemies, yes it will.'

Sam has just been given a completely sane and rational reason why a fire is a bad idea (they are in a dangerous area and can't risk attention!) (as well as a reason that is less pertinent- it looks like Gollum is afraid of fire, and he may have sensible reasons to be afraid of fire because it is dangerous, but this is not Sam's problem)

Sam addresses the 'it will bring enemies' thing

'I don't think so,' said Sam. `Don't see why it should, if you don't put wet stuff on it and make a smother. But if it does, it does. I'm going to risk it, anyhow. I'm going to stew these coneys.'

And Sam is like, nah.

Now Gollum gets upset that he's 'ruining good meat' by cooking it

Now Sam de-escalates

Now, now! ' said Sam. 'Each to his own fashion. Our bread chokes you, and raw coney chokes me. If you give me a coney, the coney's mine, see, to cook, if I have a mind. And I have. You needn't watch me. Go and catch another and eat it as you fancy -- somewhere private and out o' my sight. Then you won't see the fire, and I shan't see you, and we'll both be the happier. [He still managed to slip in a 'get out of my sight'] I'll see the fire don't smoke, if that's any comfort to you.'

In the movie he just insults the quality of the meat:

SAM What's to ruin? There's hardly any meat on 'em.

...which I suppose is fair in this alternate universe where the rabbits were just dumped in his lap, unwanted.

Then in the movie they skip to the taters conversation, but in the book, there's more!

Back to the book:

Gollum withdrew grumbling, and crawled into the fern. Sam busied himself with his pans. 'What a hobbit needs with coney,' he said to himself, 'is some herbs and roots, especially taters -- not to mention bread. Herbs we can manage, seemingly.' 'Gollum!' he called softly. 'Third time pays for all. I want some herbs.'

Gollum says no.

'Sméagol'll get into real true hot water, when this water boils, if he don't do as he's asked,' growled Sam. 'Sam'll put his head in it, yes precious. And I'd make him look for turnips and carrots, and taters too, if it was the time o' the year. I'll bet there's all sorts of good things running wild in this country. I'd give a lot for half a dozen taters.'

Now Gollum asks what taters are, gets a cryptic answer, and is offered a kind of food he has just expressed he does not want (cooked food) and again ordered to fetch herbs. Gollum declines.

'You couldn't say no to that.' 'Yes, yes we could. Spoiling nice fish, scorching it. Give me fish now, and keep nassty chips!' 'Oh you're hopeless,' said Sam. 'Go to sleep!'

The movie finally has some of the same words in almost the same place:

SAM PO-TAY-TOES! Boil 'em. Mash 'em. Stick 'em in a stew. Lovely big golden chips with a nice piece of fried fish…. SM�AGOL [i'm not fixing it blah] [Sticks out his tongue in disgust] Pbbbttt!! [so now he's just devolved into making fart noises] SAM Even you couldn't say no to that. [He takes a sip of the stew] SM�AGOL Oh yes we could! Spoil nice fish... [scrambles up close to Sam] Give it to usss rrraw... and wrrriggling! [That line is not in the book. every time i see it quoted i age a year] [Makes sickeningly happy face.] You keep nasty chips. [Hops away] SAM You're hopeless.

The scene here ends in the movie.

In the movie, Sam has:

Watched rabbits be thrown at Frodo

Started cooking them after being all but commanded to eat them

Had some banter with Gollum

Left the scene without eating his stew

Sam is a passive character who is not orchestrating events, but rather reacting to them. A character being passive is not in and of itself a bad thing. I am only pointing it out because it is different from the book and a big change to this specific character (wanted to mention that because some people really don't like passive characters in general, I think they have a place. Frodo is rather passive in this scene but he obviously has a purpose.)

...In the book, Sam stews the rabbits for an hour and then eats the stew with Frodo

Frodo yawned and stretched. 'You should have been resting Sam,' he said. 'And lighting a fire was dangerous in these parts.

Wow! Was it? I feel like someone mentioned that earlier.

'Gollum! ' Sam called and whistled softly. 'Come on! Still time to change your mind. There's some left, if you want to try stewed coney.' There was no answer. 'Oh well, I suppose he's gone off to find something for himself. We'll finish it,' said Sam. [...] We don't see eye to eye, and he's not pleased with Sam, O no precious, not pleased at all.'

Whyever not?

To sum, book!Sam has:

Decided of his own accord that he has a problem and that he wants to actively solve it

Decided he's going to assign Gollum to the problem (This also demonstrates Sam's interpersonal intelligence. He notices what Gollum's capable of and understands intuitively how it can be turned to something industrious and useful) (Sam has made some missteps in other areas which are in the next section)

Commanded Gollum to go hunt

Collected rabbits after they were provided (according to his request), and began skinning them

Watched Frodo sleep

Assigned Gollum to fill his cook-pans, specifically because he does not want to leave Gollum and Frodo alone together, which is sensible

Threatened to carve Gollum into mincemeat, while holding a knife

Watched Frodo sleep and reflected on his poor health

Skinned the rabbits and put them in stew

Been told a cook fire is a bad idea and declined to stop what he's doing. A character being told to stop doing something & continuing with it anyway is another way for that character to show agency.

Asked Gollum to fetch herbs and potatoes (was refused)

Foraged a few herbs himself

Eaten lovely stew (while lamenting that there are no onions in it, and no bowls to put it in ;_;)

Offered Gollum stew long after (hours after) Gollum got angry and left

...all because Sam initially decided he wanted to acquire and cook food, and then took every necessary step to make that happen of his own accord.

Sam is an active character with high agency.

He is also showing more care for Frodo here (watching him while asleep and fretting over his health, lamenting that he somehow made rabbit stew from nothing by using his resources (which do here include another character- people are also resources!) but he can't put it in a nice bowl for mr. frodo- there's just a lot more here, which is natural because prose is a more detail-rich medium. Not all of this would have fit in the movie and I'm not saying it should have.

Even allowing for time, however, I do think there would have been a way to collapse this scene to the needed time requirement and still have Sam in charge of it instead of Gollum.

The scene finally ends on:

Then he noticed a thin spiral of blue-grey, smoke, plain to see as it caught the sunlight, rising from a thicket above him. With a shock he realized that this was the smoke from his little cooking-fire, which he had neglected to put out.

Did anyone foresee this?

Gollum

In the movie, Gollum is foisting a gift on Frodo and forcing social interaction that he doesn't want.

In the book, Gollum wants to go away somewhere so he can eat and is pressed into reluctant manual labor instead

Gollum is a little different from the other two characters in that his personality and motivations are also completely different here. (Where as Sam at least still has the same goals of looking after Frodo and making food.)

The scene is in Sam's POV so what Gollum is thinking and feeling has to be inferred from his actions/words/tone, but he's not exactly subtle.

The movie scene starts off with Gollum turning up with rabbits. He dumps them in Frodo's lap. He makes a spectacle of himself. He starts mauling the corpses.

The book scene starts off with Gollum trying to slip away somewhere to eat in private.

That's another thing. Gollum doesn't demonstratively bite into things Gollum always slips away somewhere to eat in private. Earlier:

It was actually not long before Gollum returned; but he came so quietly that they did not hear him till he stood before them. His fingers and face were soiled with black mud. He was still chewing and slavering. [He didn't bring food back on purpose. He's still chewing because he only has six teeth.] What he was chewing, they did not ask or like to think. 'Worms or beetles or something slimy out of holes,' thought Sam. 'Brr! The nasty creature; the poor wretch! ' Gollum said nothing to them, until he had drunk deeply and washed himself in the stream. Then he came up to them, licking his lips. 'Better now,' he said.

(Emphasis added.. Imagine you just recruited a serial killer to your D&D-party-in-real-life and he silently turns up covered in mud and won't talk to you. It looks like he's been eating bugs. He won't speak. he won't tell you what he's eating.)

Back to the scene in question: Gollum's leaving. Sam flags him down and asks him to hunt.

'Hi! Gollum!' said Sam. 'Where are you going? Hunting? Well see here, old noser, you don't like our food, and I'd not be sorry for a change myself. Your new motto's always ready to help. Could you find anything fit for a hungry hobbit? '

He asks in an insulting and confrontational way. ('old noser' + 'Your new motto's always ready to help' reeking of suspicion)

To be clear, I'm not criticizing Sam whatsoever for disliking and being suspicious of the known murderer he's traveling with against his will. but the way he talks to Gollum does have consequences.

'Yes, perhaps, yes,' said Gollum. 'Sméagol always helps, if they asks -- if they asks nicely.'

Gollum is reluctant and asks to be treated politely. I don't find this response disproportionate or unreasonable. Consider what would happen if anyone talked to LOTR-era Bilbo Baggins the way Sam just talked to Gollum. The ash would still be falling from the sky.

Anyway Sam's response is to mimic the way he talks.

'Right!' said Sam. 'I does ask. And if that isn't nice enough, I begs.'

Gollum leaves, and is gone a long time. While he's gone, Sam gazes lovingly at Frodo, and - this is not directly relevant but I wanted to note it:

Gollum returned quietly and peered over Sam's shoulder. Looking at Frodo, he shut his eyes and crawled away without a sound. [Seeing that Sam and Frodo are occupied, Gollum slips away without interrupting, which is also a different vibe from 'assaulting Frodo with rabbits while he's just sitting there.'] Sam came to him a moment later and found him chewing something and muttering to himself

Look! There's a character arc happening in the background [but not in the movies] It will reach fruition at Cirith Ungol [in the books]

Anyway, Gollum is chewing on something so he's clearly taken time out to hunt for himself as well (note for context: He's disastrously underweight and has been complaining of hunger).

On the ground beside him lay two small rabbits, which he was beginning to eye greedily. 'Sméagol always helps,' he said. `He has brought rabbits, nice rabbits. But master has gone to sleep, and perhaps Sam wants to sleep. Doesn't want rabbits now? Sméagol tries to help, but he can't catch things all in a minute.'

Gollum has brought rabbits on command, and he's reluctant to hand them over. This is the direct opposite of bringing rabbits of his own accord out of nowhere and forcing them onto somebody.

'Now, Gollum,' he said, 'I've another job for you. Go and fill these pans with water, and bring 'em back! ' 'Sméagol will fetch water, yes,' said Gollum. 'But what does the hobbit want all that water for? He has drunk, he has washed.' 'Never you mind,' said Sam.

That was a reasonable question, asked politely and prefaced by 'yes I'll do it'. There's no call for a 'never you mind' and there's certainly no call for this:

`If you can't guess, you'll soon find out. And the sooner you fetch the water, the sooner you'll learn. Don't you damage one of my pans, or I'll carve you into mincemeat.'

Gollum does the work and is careful with the pans as requested.

He was just stooping over his fire, shielding it and building it up with heavier wood, when Gollum returned, carrying the pans carefully and grumbling to himself.

He set the pans down, and then suddenly saw what Sam was doing.

Gollum discovers that 'Never you mind' meant 'I am going to do something you find dangerous and terrifying' i'm pretty sure this is what he's seeing in his POV

He gave a thin hissing shriek, and seemed to be both frightened and angry. `Ach! Sss -- no!' he cried.

Gollum gets angry.

At this point in the movie, Gollum has:

Dumped rabbits in Frodo's lap

Told him to eat them

Played with the dead animals in front of Frodo

there's a cut to Sam cooking the rabbits- Gollum makes no comment at all on the safety or feasibility of a fire, but gets right up close to it to peer into the cookpot, so he must not be too scared of it.

In the book, Gollum has:

Tried to slip away, presumably to eat, because he's hungry. Or maybe he just wants alone time! Shelob is not in visiting range. He's not being dastardly. Leave him alone

He's been flagged down to do additional work, and interrupted from whatever he wanted to do

Went off somewhere. Caught two rabbits (with his bare hands, I assume??) Also caught at least one other thing, because he's chewing something when he comes back

Came back with rabbits

Left Sam to his tender moment with Frodo and went off for more alone time

Gently floated the idea that perhaps Sam doesn't want these rabbits anymore, surrendered the rabbits when asked

Agreed to another errand that is probably difficult for him to do, after hunting down at least two rabbits Up to this point Gollum has been called 'old noser', had his speech patterns parroted at him in a mocking way, had a polite question refused, and been told he will be 'carved into mincemeat' if he damages the cooking pans (does Gollum even know what a cooking pan is? When was the last time he's seen one? Was he just handed some foreign object and told 'put water in it and don't break it' 'of course! why?' 'stfu') Gollum has a whole long complicated history that would reasonably make him very prone to difficulties with emotional regulation. Severe trauma and centuries of social isolation are involved.

He only just now gets angry, now that he thinks Sam is going to start a forest fire and summon orcs and the first word out of his mouth is a relatively restrained 'Ach!' a word that doesn't even start with an F!

Gollum says fire is harmful and will draw enemy attention. Sam says essentially 'probably not but if it does that's too bad'.

Another bit of context is that Gollum has been presenting himself as the 'wilderness survival guy' and has obvious pride when he's talking about finding his way through the marsh. Sam isn't just being dismissive of Gollum, he's particularly dismissing something Gollum has real knowledge of and takes pride in that has nothing to do with being a corrupted evildoer.

Then Sam says he's going to cook the food.

'Stew the rabbits!' squealed Gollum in dismay. `Spoil beautiful meat Sméagol saved for you, poor hungry Sméagol! What for? What for, silly hobbit? They are young, they are tender, they are nice. Eat them, eat them!' He clawed at the nearest rabbit, already skinned and lying by the fire.

After all of that, we are at 'They are young, they are tender, they are nice. Eat them, eat them!' In the movie, the scene started with this line, apropros of nothing, and it's just. Yelled at Frodo. It's an invitation.

In the book: The same line is a cry of frustration. This isn't a non sequitur, this is a last straw! Gollum is hungry. He's been chronically hungry for a long time. The rabbits are exactly the kind of thing he likes to eat. They must smell amazing to him because now they're skinned. He had to turn them over to Sam after going to the work of hunting them (he didn't have to do this, he could have just not come back, or pretended he didn't find anything- whether or not his motives are pure, and they probably aren't, he's doing what he promised).

In return: Sam told him to do more work, and then started a fire- which Gollum seems to genuinely think is idiotic and puts his own safety at risk because he's stuck with these hobbits for the time being- Sam won't listen to reason and put it out, and to add insult to injury, that meat he insisted on?

HE'S JUST GOING TO RUIN IT

Imagine you were hungry and you brought someone an oreo (also you had to wander around in the woods and find the oreo and then surprise it from behind and break its neck), and that person just! scraped off the cream filling and replaced it with spray cheese! after that person called you a jerk and set a fire in a trash can! Maybe that person loves spray-cheese oreos! Maybe everyone but you loves them! I think you'd still be frustrated! (If you're the person who loves spray cheese oreos, pretend it's something else.)

On my first reading of the book this is where I got that sinking 'I am feeling a mite sympathetic to the horrible murderer that I know is just going to stay evil and die in the end' feeling. Gollum is being dreadfully annoying, but he's been pushed past his ability to self-regulate. It feels like the dynamic of antagonizing someone until they melt down and then criticizing them for melting down (Sam is not intending to do this, and doesn't even seem to notice that's what's happened, but the result is the same.)

Sam smooths things over and lets Gollum leave! until

Until

'Gollum!' he called softly. 'Third time pays for all. I want some herbs.' Gollum's head peeped out of the fern, but his looks were neither helpful nor friendly.

WHYEVER NOT?

'A few bay-leaves, some thyme and sage, will do -- before the water boils,' said Sam. 'No! ' said Gollum. `Sméagol is not pleased. And Sméagol doesn't like smelly leaves. He doesn't eat grasses or roots, no precious, not till he's starving or very sick, poor Sméagol.'

(Gollum was retching at the scent of flowers earlier. He may be annoyingly dramatic but I have no cause to doubt that they really did make him feel ill)

(also, I'm out in the weeds speculating now, but I just noticed Gollum is starting to spout off talking about himself and how he feels after Sam pooh-poohed his fretting about the fire, and it feels like a bid for recognition, did you notice Sam has not been calling him Sméagol? Sam isn't using his real name.)

The response:

'Sméagol'll get into real true hot water, when this water boils, if he don't do as he's asked,' growled Sam.

Gollum is here under duress and is cooperating with a quest that is in every way opposed to his personal interests and survival.

'Sméagol won't go, O no precious, not this time,' hissed Gollum. 'He's frightened, and he's very tired, and this hobbit's not nice, not nice at all. Sméagol won't grub for roots and carrotses and -- taters. What's taters, precious, eh, what's taters?

He hasn't had any rest because he was immediately sent off to hunt. I'll bet he is tired

Gollum is still willing to stop being angry because he saw a shiny new word, let's see how this goes

`Po-ta-toes,' said Sam. 'The Gaffer's delight, and rare good ballast for an empty belly. But you won't find any, so you needn't look. But be good Sméagol and fetch me the herbs, and I'll think better of you

Sam gives a cryptic answer and demands more work. 'I'll think better of you?' Lies! Gollum just did two errands and received nothing but more verbal abuse. Sam did not even thank him. This was where on my first reading I was saying to myself 'oh no Sam is mishandling this really badly and doesn't even notice'

I'll cook you some taters one of these days. I will: fried fish and chips served by S. Gamgee. You couldn't say no to that.' 'Yes, yes we could. Spoiling nice fish, scorching it. Give me fish now, and keep nassty chips! ' 'Oh you're hopeless,' said Sam. 'Go to sleep!'

Gollum doesn't understand what chips are. He just said he doesn't like plants or cooked food. He's tired and hungry and has been ordered around all day. He did everything asked up to now and in return he gets called hopeless.

Sméagol willingly, nonconfrontationally, successfully did two out of the three tasks, and when he refuses a third task after being demeaned and dismissed, he's called hopeless.

So Gollum leaves. That's the end of his involvement in this scene. he didn't hit anyone, bite anyone, or call Sam anything worse than 'not nice', 'silly' and 'foolish' (He does not call Sam a 'stupid fat hobbit', that appears to be a movie invention as well)

In the movies, he threw dead animals at frodo and some of this dialog was said without any of the context. haha funni.

The takeaways from the book version are that Gollum can understand and follow verbal commands and do errands (this is important because Gollum needs to be somewhat sane and lucid in order to satisfyingly be held accountable for his crimes), will cooperate when asked, communicates poorly, has trouble controlling his temper, and may at any time be in physical distress and not show it. (He doesn't give outward signs of fatigue.)

The takeaways from the movie version seem to be that Gollum is hyperactive, doesn't understand facial expressions, and finds cooking to be an alien custom. No one tried to ask him to do anything, so I have no idea whether he can understand requests and do tasks or not. May or may not be lucid.

Can we at least agree that Sam saying 'You're hopeless' after this:

Give it to usss rrraw… and wrrriggling! [Makes sickeningly happy face.]

is a different vibe from Sam saying 'You're hopeless' after hearing this?

'[Sméagol]'s frightened, and he's very tired, and this hobbit's not nice, not nice at all.'

Summary

Why is this scene the opposite?

Frodo has gone from being asleep but serving as an emotional anchor (both Sam and Gollum look at him and have some kind of emotional revelation, although the latter has his in private and we don't ever know what it is, the cad) to being awake but doing nothing and leaving. (He does go and find Faramir when the scene ends, but at that point, we are moving on to the next scene. so I don't count it.) Frodo has gone from affecting events while asleep to having no effect while awake

Sam has gone from being in charge of what's happening to passively reacting to a chaos gremlin

Gollum has gone from following orders until he can't take it anymore and suffering to being a chaos gremlin who does whatever he wants and seemingly having a good time? he's dancing around

The stew goes from eaten to uneaten

The overall purpose of the original scene appears to have been mainly to establish character and relationship dynamics. The movie scene... is doing the same, I suppose, but it's so brief and stripped of context that it almost feels like an homage more than a real scene, like it's there because they couldn't get away with entirely cutting it. And as every character is behaving contrary to what they used to in one form or another, the overall effect is:

Thank you for coming to my TED talk. Ask me about the waterfall scene next

#long post #never ask me about the waterfall scene

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certifiedcodbabygirl · 5 months

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To Whisper Your Name pt.1

Konig x Reader Roman Goddess AU

Warnings: Violence ( minor character deaths), Roman deity inaccuracies, history inaccuracies, talks of SA

Reader is loosely based on the Roman Goddess Felicitas (Goddess of good fortune and luck)

It is not rare for minor gods/ goddesses to go unthought of. Some rise to fame as others are forgotten. Not many remember the deities of flowers, trees, or other smaller things. They remember Jupiter, Neptune, Venus. The greats, the Gods. Smaller gods go about their lives enjoying the few who do remember them. The small alters the mortals create for them, adorned with what is associated with said deity. They get offerings, praise, songs sung in their name.

Others are forgotten. Some deities share common rulings and the more famous deity gets the praise. They get the offerings, the songs, the alters. They get the memories. The smaller deity is left to watch humanity progress, knowing they are nothing to them but a passing face. Some grow depressed, heartbroken to be forgotten. Some grow mad, killing those who pray to the more famous deity. Most are unhappy or indifferent. They are too out of touch with humanity, differences between God and mortals being too many to connect with one another.

Despite all, you connect. The goddess of good fortune and luck, or as I should say, the small goddess of good fortune and luck. Throughout time, as you were forgotten and Fortuna rose to fame, you assimilated with the mortals. The fascination overtaking the grief pushed you to live among them. You aren’t well known among your village, just a simple face that passes by occasionally. Your home resides along the lake, a small and hidden house, property of an old man you met years before. You became like family to him, knowing who you are, he did his research. He offered you home, community, he offered you the human experience.

It was a quiet life, predictable, quaint. You go to the fishing grounds, bless the unsuspecting fishermen. You do the same to the cloth weavers, the doctors, the children playing. None may know, but fortune is on their side. It was a simple existence, a comfortable one.

A change happened at nightfall. Taking a late night walk was common, having no need for sleep. You’d walk a few miles, stay in a tree, maybe take a swim, then head back to your home. Tonight was no different. You opted to stay in a tree in a nearby forest, taking in the night sky, constellations seeming to taunt you with an unknown reason. Memories of when you were among the other deities fill your mind, a bittersweet taste left in your mind. Shouting and the crunching of twigs below rip you from your thoughts, whimpers from women below causing the hair on your arms to stand up.

Below, you see a small group of women with their arms shackled to a long chain. There are 2 men, daggers glinting in the moonlight. There’s no torch, no lantern, to light their way. It’s clear they are trying to be unseen, to steal these women. They adorn Roman clothing, as do the women, and seem to be heading away from the village.

“Please I’m begging you, I have children! They have no father and no one to look for them” A woman begs shakily.

“Then we will be back for them. I know someone who would pay bronze for youth like them” A man cackles and shoves the woman for her noise.

“Oh Gods, Please save us, if you can hear me” A woman whispers, kissing her hands and raising them to the sky.

Her voice is so broken, as if she's unable to conjure hope. Heart aching for these women but unable to physically intervene, you bless them.

“Luck be upon you” Falls from your lips in the form of a whisper.

As they are almost gone, a branch snapping catches the men's attention. Heads whipping in the direction of the noise was their first mistake. A soldier in Roman attire sneaks behind the leading man, dagger cutting through his throat as if it were simply fat.

The other three men turn and draw their weapons, preparing for attack. Their stance resembles that of a cornered, angry cat. One other soldier emerges from the dark. His towering frame, only being able to be described as a giant, unsheathed his sword from his holster. The glare from the moonlight shining off his sword gives an eerie and unsettling feeling in an already disturbing situation.

“Give in and come willingly, or face the same fate as your foolish leader” His voice is higher pitched than expected, yet still effectively intimidating. His accent is foreign, sounding from the north.

Ignorance clearly being their strong suit, the smugglers charge at the giant, only to be met immediately with a blade. The first one falls and seconds later, the other one is ripped through, practically in half, blood spilling like a never ending prayer. The men are ripped through like a tarp, eyes widening and dulling over.

The last man remaining drops his weapon, falling to his knees like a worshiper to their God. The giant stalks towards him, gripping his hair and tilting him back. You can feel the fear radiating off of the smaller man's body, most likely praying to the gods as the women they stole did.

“Your incompetence fails you. What were you planning for them?” He demands, gesturing to the women. They cower under the man's gaze.

The man remains silent, his mouth gaping like a fish, in search of words.

“Have mercy, please!” He begs, tears seeming to form.

The giant chuckles in an unamused manner, “Were you to have mercy on them? The gods have turned their backs on you. Now I will ask you again” He grips tighter, voice low and in a low growl, “What. Were. You. Planning? Who is your superior?”

The man refuses to answer and is swiftly met with a blade, as he serves no purpose. The giant and his partner turn their attention to the women, moving to remove their shackles. The women seem more frightened of them than they did the men that stole them. Perhaps it's because these men are soldiers, making it easy for them to be overpowered.

“Where are you from?” The giant asks a woman as he removes the shackles. The woman says she was visiting her family in a nearby village when the men came. The other women say something similar.

“It seems they had a type. Easily able to make them disappear if they only have a couple connections in a different village.” The other man states, the giant nodding.

They move the women to the same town you live in, keeping them in a new location until they find the leader of whatever ring they were getting sold into. You climb down the tree and quietly follow behind. The women are escorted to a separate cluster home and the men head to what seems to be a military station building.

Before the giant walks into the building, he looks behind him out of habit and spots you already looking at him. You quickly turn and walk away, not trying to attract unwanted attention. You make it to the lake before you hear a twig snap, someone being with you. Knowing who it is, you don't even bother to turn around, staying still.

“Why did you run?” He asked in an accusatory tone, walking up to you. His frame towers over you, his shadow overtaking yours. You turn towards him, finally meeting his eyes. His face is covered in a cloth, his eyes being the only exposed area. His gaze is stern, like that of a king.

“I've never seen a soldier like you before” you lie seamlessly, appearing innocent, “When you saw me, I worried I would possibly provoke you. Some soldiers around here hate when we stare”

He looks down at you, head slightly tilting. In mock or curiosity, you can't tell. There’s a long pause of silence, neither of you moving.

“Sir?” You ask quietly, “May I go back home now? I fear it will worry my family if I am out too late”

“You will meet me in the town square tomorrow at dusk,” He states, turning to walk away, “I will find you if you fail to come. Do not make that mistake, flos”

#call of duty modern warfare #cod x reader #konig #konig cod #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #cod konig #konig modern warfare #konig x reader goddess au #konig x reader history au #konig x reader roman au #konig x reader worship #konig x female reader #konig x fem reader #konig mwii #konig fluff

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kerosene-in-a-blender · 4 months

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They're not often talked about as they relate to each other, but it's fascinating to me how Moc Weepe and Jonas Spahr work as narrative foils, because they are remarkably similar characters in some respects that ultimately ended up on diverging narrative trajectories. For a start they both have direct counterparts (Saskia and Phineas respectively) that exist because in the beta version of Midst they were the same character that was split in two in subsequent drafts.

But more importantly, they both tend to heavily defer agency for their choices away from themselves to something external that they have no control over. As Weepe says himself in "Interest" to Imelda and in "Ghosts" to Saskia, he considers himself to be a bad person who is simply fated to do bad things and is incapable of anything else, and as "Ghosts" makes clear, in doing so he refuses to take responsibility for doing bad things. He didn't sell out Saskia and the rest of the Black Candle Cabaret because he wanted to, he did it because he had to because that is simply how he is. Spahr, meanwhile, tends to passively allow others to tell him what to do even when his own moral convictions tell him to do something else. He didn't want to leave Phineas behind on Midst, but he caved to Imelda and the Trust and did anyway. He wanted to stop Imelda from torturing Weepe in the Arca, but he caved to her and allowed it to continue to happen. Even his own court martial he allowed to happen without any fuss. (And as @captainofthetidesbreath pointed out to me, this shared tendency to defer agency is why they hate each other; they recognize this part of themselves).

But where they diverge is that while Weepe has doubled down on his conviction that he is simply a bad person fated to do terrible things whether he wants to or not, even as Saskia was begging him on her deathbed to recognize that he's both responsible for his own choices and can choose to make better ones, Spahr during "Fault" realized that choosing to allow someone else to make a choice for you is itself a choice, and he has to take responsibility for the consequences of making that choice. And he ended the episode resolved to do better, and ultimately makes a decisive choice on his own to leave the Trust in "Breach".

Speaking of "Breach" that whole episode really exemplified that Spahr has finally taken responsibility for himself and is making his own choices while Weepe is still playing the part he feels like he has no choice but to play. Because that episode is the first time both have encountered their respective counterparts since "Moonfall". Weepe and Spahr haven't seen Saskia and Phineas since leaving Midst, but in "Breach" they encounter both on opposite ends of an office that shortly thereafter ends up blown apart and on fire. Moc Weepe, acting in his role as Tripotentiary of a cult he doesn't believe in orders the capture of the most wanted criminal in that cult's history, and Jonas Spahr tells him "no" while literally positioning himself opposite the Trust, having made the choice to leave. And these choices from both have pretty immediate consequences for their respective counterparts. Weepe playing the role of Tripotentiary found himself in no position to intervene when Saskia set off the second explosion, but Spahr having jumped out of the Vault with the Breach was in a position to protect Phineas during the subsequent free fall.

While neither action on their part was guaranteed to be fatal to Phineas or Saskia when they took them (Phineas could have lucked out and managed to avoid any deadly mica encounters before reaching Gretel's ship without Spahr's interference; Saskia says in "Ghosts" she hoped she would simply go back to being one person if half of her died), Spahr making the choice to directly shape his own future meant he was in a position to save someone he loves, while Weepe making the choice to continue to refuse his own agency meant he had to watch someone he loves die.

#midst #midst podcast #midst spoilers #moc weepe #jonas spahr

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danddymaro · 11 months

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Flattered | Vincent Sinclair x Reader

I watched it again lol.

perhaps fluff, ( YK, as far as slashers can get with fluff)

Word count: 1483

Flattered

Your finger lightly petted the falling wax that gently ran down the long, white candle, toying with it betwixt your thumb and pointer before it cooled into a thin coat over them.

You released a little hum before using a nail to peel off the remains with ease, soon feeling just a bit happy with how soft your skin felt afterward.

Though, the delight was short-lived.

- It usually was.

Boredom had you sitting here with a halfhearted gaze, wondering if you'd ever get out.

The man that held you captive did nothing much but put himself to work, occasionally looking back at you to confirm that you were still there.

As if you could go anywhere else but under his nose.

It made no sense as you didn't know where else you could go but sit, making you wonder why he did so, so often.

"I'm not going anywhere," you reminded him in a soft voice as you then lay back on the bed there.

It was the only thing that had been saved from the touch of the melted substance he worked with, and you were grateful. You were surrounded by it.

"Can't," you mumbled before closing your eyes tiredly.

Like hell you'd try anyways when his brother was lurking anywhere the masked one wasn't.

'I'm better off here,' you inwardly mused.

If you were completely honest, you preferred being stuck with this man instead.

At least he just kept you there at a distance, something the other one had trouble doing when you first got into town.

You didn't even want to think about what he would have done to you if Vincent hadn't intervened, pulling you to him with a sort of claim that had you conflicted.

Because you didn't know if being with him was going to be better or worse, luckily, things had gone pleasantly thus far.

-You weren’t dead and that counted as a victory.

He didn't try and touch you, excluding the few moments his soft hands grazed your cheek, feeling the texture of your flesh to what you concluded was inspiration to his more innocent work.

Gently his fingers trailed the line of your lower lip, and as you tried to follow the movement of the exploring digits, your eyes practically glowed at the act.

He wasn’t stupid enough to think of it as anything other than utter interest, but even then he adored the look you possessed.

You quickly lost your initial cowering when you realized he wouldn’t draw lower than our jawline, or roam anywhere else other than your face.

So, you let him do as he pleased, occasionally voicing out little teases that got you little, flustered responses.

‘Having fun?’ you questioned him while trying not to laugh to much at the way his movements would be interrupted by a sudden, minuscule jerk that would be akin to a stutter in someone’s voice.

You noticed the way his fingers would tremble, and for whatever reason it was ….cute.

For just a moment you opened your eyes again, a half-lidded look pointed to where he continued to run the warm metal utensil over little mistakes he’d made.

You blinked your eyes open wide before you suddenly turned your whole head, your face pointed to his direction, your entire body soon following the movement until you lay at your side, observing.

‘Is that what he’s been up to?’ you asked yourself, realizing how it made sense the amount of times he stared at you, studying.

"Is that me?" you asked with a touch of a smile, asking from where you now sat, your legs hanging off from the side of the bed.

At the finishing details, you finally found yourself eased enough to ask just as he took a step back to give it a final once over.

Granted for the past few days, you hadn't talked , but the simple boredom of all those hours had you begging for some interaction.

At your question Vincent turned back to you and nodded slowly before looking down, shifting awkwardly.

You watched as his hands toyed with the tool he held, and as you observed, you detected what was perhaps bashfulness.

His lack of words made his body language much more exaggerated, that was for sure.

But, of course, you didn't mind much.

"Can...um...can I get a better look?" you asked with a crooked smile, waiting for his response.

His head shot up and he looked at you for a long minute before he nodded.

You weren't sure why, but you felt a bit amused before you walked over to him and the wax figure, eyeing it as it was just at your height.

Your hand went out to touch it before it retreated, and you looked up to the massive man, uncertain,

"Can I?" you asked, afraid to ruin his work.

Though, he nodded fiercely, the hand closest to him hesitating before it reached for yours, guiding it towards your replica's face.

That's where you started, petting an eyebrow before skimming down it's chin.

You then brought the hand to your own face, feeling the difference with awe.

"It's amazing," you said while looking op to him, the single eye that stared you down holding appreciation.

Though, you could hardly see it as it was hidden by the shadow of his mask and jet black strands that had framed his face.

"You're really talented," you told him, flattered by the work, moreover appreciating that he had only used you as a muse and not the base for his sculpture.

"I'm nowhere near your skill, but maybe I can sculpt you sometime, " you joked while looking the work over more.

He even caught the fabrics of your clothes right, making you softly sigh.

It had only been a silly remark, because you doubted you could pull it off anyways, but he seemed elated.

his hands both took your wrists captive as he turned you towards him, the act nearly tearing a scream out of you in frightened surprise. Other than the first time he’d practically tore you out of his brother’s brute grasp on you, it was the first time he’d used any real force.

He lightly shook you as he bent down a bit, looking down with a tilted head, not speaking, but communicating with a nearly muted hum you found somewhat endearing.

Quickly, your terror subsided as you took in his response.

"Ah, You like that idea?" you said with a short chuckle, and he nodded quickly, excited.

"I'll take that as a yes," you said as you eased your wrists out of his grip, only doing so thanks to the dying pressure of his hands.

He'd never had anyone try and capture his likeness.

Not even he bothered to do so.

But you had offered, and it was something he didn't know he yearned for until he watched you try and mimic the steps he'd taken to create yours.

You explained to him how you’d work on a much smaller scale, the figure no larger than six inches, giving you a small enough goal that didn’t require all of his precise touches.

He helped you start of, slowly guiding you with silent advise and little nudges you smiled at.

You were somewhat sloppy, and when you weren't, you were far too considerate, your pace careful, almost afraid of messing up.

Soon after, he let you try your hand while he sat back and watched for hours, giving you the workspace needed to become familiar while he stayed out of the way.

However, it didn't mean he sat back and did nothing, because he found the sight of you moving around his usual workspace to be charming as you copied many of his movements , even the unnecessary ones.

It was cute watching you move around in his apron with no real direction.

He’d help you out, but given how determined you were to do it on your own, he refrained from it after you pleaded with him on the first attempt.

Flattered was in no way near what he felt, because it was far greater.

In his sketchbook he recorded the various faces of your process, the purse of your lips, the lines of frustration and consideration that decorated it too.

-And especially your moments of little victories as you saw your efforts pay off.

Even the light smudges of dried wax you had dotted on your cheeks as you wiped them occasionally had been captured.

He recorded it all on paper, and hoped that after he finished the moments, you thought of them as fascinating too.

Gently his fingers ran down the slick wax that protected his face, realizing how warm he felt beneath the mask, his cheeks flushed with color that spread over his ears too.

for a moment you looked back at him, his living muse smiling preciously.

#vincent sinclair x you #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #vincent x you #vincent sinclair x y/n #house of wax x you #house of wax x reader #House of Wax #house of wax x y/n #house of wax fanfiction #house of was fanfic #Slashers #slashers x reader #slasher fics

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favvn · 2 months

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I will say that The Gamesters of Triskelion is great for the scenes of Kirk's guilt, but it's interesting to see this parallel side by side. In the first scene, he is intervening on Uhura's behalf, but Kirk's initial plan is to use his authority to talk to the Providers in order to put a stop to everything instead of partaking in their game. Galt is the one who says Kirk ought to take the punishment and Kirk doesn't fight him on this or try to plead again. He accepts it.

Later, after asking Shahna more about the Providers and their system, she reveals too much and is punished by the Providers for it. Kirk attempts to plead with the Providers, first for them to stop, then to shout, "I'm responsible!" (echoing his original words to intervene for Uhura and his responsibility to the crew as captain), "It was my fault" (recalling also that, as captain, he both authorized and selected the landing party), and end with "If you want to punish someone, punish me." The last two phrases are things he did not say earlier when intervening for Uhura (although he has certainly blamed himself for crew deaths before in the series, The Apple and Obsession immediately come to mind).

To see Kirk ask for punishment outright is painful to see, even though he is doing it out of a compassionate need to spare Shanhna and it fits with his previous behaviors. It's painful in that it is a (great) reversal of his authority and reveals it to be hollow at its core. He's a starship captain, said to be the youngest so he's exemplary and distinguished, yet he's begging to be punished because his authority ultimately means nothing outside the Federation, especially when contact with the Enterprise is lost. But in begging for punishment, Kirk is also falling right in line with the Providers' system. Disobedience is to be punished, hence the obedience collars to keep the thralls in line. Anything that goes against the Providers' wishes is to be punished. This compassion is ultimately something that saves him as compassion interests the Providers after the aggression they have cultivated in the thralls, yet if this occurred in the arena, Kirk would merely be playing out another fight for the Providers' entertainment, within the bounds of their system and according to the rules they put in place. Kirk, the same Kirk who will kill computers for ruling other people and aliens, who will violate the Prime Directive if a cult is found, is not immune to the circumstances of systemic abuse and cracks under it.

#star trek tos #the gamesters of triskelion #jim kirk #idk. maybe i'm being too hyperbolic with my last point but it does all line up with what the providers expect from the thralls #and you know the whole thrall = slave layer #technically this ep is one big parallel to the cage

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hotmessmaxpress · 7 months

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A/B/O bond rejection au where vale bites marc shortly before argentina but because of how badly it goes and because of sepang, the bite doesn’t heal and just festers with vale’s rejection of him until half of his body is basically unusable and he finally collapses and vale has to grow up and pick up the pieces

Tw: a bit of body horror (slightly worse, maybe, than the body horror already canon in marc’s life?)

(Somewhere in the realm of 2500 words)

At first it’s just itchy and a little painful, but then it darkens and scars, and eventually black veins start to spread from it like spiderwebs. Marc has to wear a bandage over it to hide how disgusting it looks.

Doctors throw out words like “retirement” and “care home” and “palliative care”. He’s told that unless his alpha either releases his bond or he bonds to someone else he’ll die. Marc, stubborn Marc, refuses. He will never bond to another alpha again, even if it saves his life.

The bite becomes so painful that Marc moves in a haze, arm often tucked into his pockets to disguise how it otherwise hangs limply at his side. His chest hurts when he breathes too hard and he can’t fully turn his neck.

He takes painkillers almost constantly now, instead of just when riding, but it’s become apparent that it’s not enough. The infection has spread from the bite to his heart and down his arm, and he knows his brain is next.

It’s Luca who finds him, collapsed between motor homes, neck gauze soaked through in blood and black pus. He nearly gags, but he drops to his knees and checks for a pulse. Marc’s eyes wrench open as Luca grabs his phone to call an ambulance, and Marc grabs his wrist.

“No. There’s nothing they can do,” he says, curling up on himself. “I need Alex.”

“How did this happen?” Luca says, filled with panic and anxiety about his brother’s former lover. He thinks of Bezz, their own pack omega, being in pain and nearly wants to wrench his hair out. He is overcome with the sudden urge to find his teammate and bury his nose in his neck.

More pressing matters, however, lay trembling in his arms.

“What is Alex’s phone number?”

Marc repeats it and Luca calls. Alex doesn’t answer, so Luca sends him a text with one hand, begging him to find them.

Luca pulls Marc up, letting him rest his head against his chest. He may not be his alpha but he’s still an alpha, and he hopes that gives Marc some comfort. Marc nuzzles his head against Luca’s collarbone.

“He rejected me,” Marc finally explains. “He bit me but then he rejected me. An incomplete bond— it’s fatal. It infects the rest of your body until it kills you.”

Luca feels himself shake from the effort of not crying out.

“How can we fix it?”

“You can’t,” a voice from behind them says, harshly. “Only your brother can, and he’s made it clear that he’d never do anything to help Marc, regardless of the consequences.”

Luca flinches but Alex doesn’t care, instead moving toward the two and gently peeling Marc away from Luca. Marc immediately buries his head in Alex’s neck, who purrs soothingly.

“I’ll talk to him,” Luca croaks. “Please let me. I can’t— if I’d known—“.

“He won’t,” Marc says wetly, without moving his face. “You can try but I know he won’t.”

Alex helps Marc to his feet, and begins guiding him the short distance to their shared motor home.

Luca watches for a moment, terrified, before he runs.

Bezz finds Luca screaming. He’s never heard him this way, and when he realizes Luca is screaming at Vale, he’s stunned. He’s not sure who to comfort— his instincts scream at him to intervene, but his feet feel frozen to the floor.

It’s Luca who makes the decision; as soon as he smells him enter the garage he turns, throwing himself at Bezz and scenting him. It’s then that Bezz realizes he’s crying.

“Maro,” he breathes worriedly.

Vale is standing there, watching them both.

“Vale… what happened?”

Vale doesn’t respond. He walks over, tucks his face close to Luca’s, and presses a kiss to Bezz’s head.

“Take care of Luca. I’ll be back.”

Bezz drags Luca to the pack room of the VR46 motor home, and is happy to find Pecco and Cele lounging around. He deposits Luca on one of the long loungers and then climbs on top of him, resting his entire weight against the alpha and keeping his face firmly pressed against his scent gland.

Pecco and Cele sense something is wrong immediately and tuck themselves around the two. Pecco brushes Luca’s hair back, who is still shaking.

“What happened?” Cele asks, eyes wide.

Bezz reaches for him, sensing his distress, and takes his hand.

“It’s Marquez— did you know he and Vale bonded?”

Bezz feels himself tense, and Luca whines, so he forces himself to relax again.

“What?” Bezz hisses.

“No they didn’t,” Pecco says, stunned.

“They didn’t do it all the way I guess. Vale bit him and then they had their falling out and now Marc is going to die. I didn’t even know that was a thing that could happen. You should have seen it, oh my God.”

Bezz purrs to try and comfort Luca as he continues.

“He looked terrible. I found him collapsed— it explains why his riding has been so terrible. He was bleeding and his neck was infected. He said the doctors can’t do anything. It’s Vale’s fault,” he sobs.

Bezz has trouble having empathy for Marquez, normally. He knows what Vale has said— that Marc is a dangerous rider and should not be allowed on track and that he ruined Vale’s championship. He’s seen Marc’s danger on track firsthand.

Still… he doesn’t deserve to die, even if Bezz hates him.

“But Vale will fix it right?” He asks, finding himself anxious.

Surely Vale wouldn’t let someone die. He’s too good for that. He would never, never treat an omega poorly. Vale has always supported Bezz and ensured without a shadow of a doubt that Bezz’s omega status would never be a detriment. He’s always kept him safe and loved and supported by his pack, swift to correct anyone who doesn’t treat Bezz well. Surely Vale would never hurt an omega so deeply, even if it is Marc.

“I don’t know,” Luca whimpers

Pecco runs a hand down Bezz’s back, and it’s only then that he realizes he too has begun shaking. He presses himself closer to Luca, both to comfort and be comforted. He needs to feel safe and reassured. The thought that any of the boys would do that to him— leave him half-mated and slowly dying— fills him with such distress that he knows the others sense it.

Pecco rises and comes back with blankets, and Bezz leaves Luca only enough to make a makeshift nest around the four of them.

Cele puts a hand on the back of his neck, and he tilts his head so Cele can scent him. He hears the tapping of Pecco’s phone keyboard behind him, clearly rallying the other pack members to come comfort Maro and Bezz. Their pack needs to be together.

Alex might kill Valentino Rossi with his bare hands and teeth. He wants to tear into his jugular and rip it out in a spray of blood. It’s what he deserves for doing this to his brother. He deserves worse.

Still. When Vale turns up on their motorhome steps, smelling like distress personified, Alex knows he has to let him in.

He makes eye contact and growls, until he sees Vale’s shoulders dip and his eyes drop in submission. He growls once more for emphasis and his own satisfaction, not needing words to warn Vale against misconduct. Then he steps aside, and allows Vale to take unsure steps toward a delirious Marc.

Marc has been whimpering and crying softly since Alex dragged him here after his collapse, and when he sees Vale he whines and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Alex, please,” he whimpers.

Vale takes a staggering step toward Marc, as if in pain, and drops to his knees beside the bed where he is laying.

“Marc,” he says softly.

Marc opens teary eyes, and Alex clenches his fists.

Alex knows that something is passing between the two as he sees Marc relax. Vale turns to him.

“Please,” he says, and Alex closes his eyes for a brief moment.

“Marc?” He asks.

Marc nods, and despite every instinct screaming at him, Alex steps out of the room and closes the door. He refuses to leave, though, and instead parks himself just outside the door. He won’t give up Marc’s safety just to give them privacy.

Every instinct tells Marc to throw himself at Vale, to tuck his face in his neck and beg him to bite him again. The pain in his neck has lessened just at Vale’s proximity. He can only imagine how it would feel to be held by him.

Still, Marc knows he cannot.

He stares at the older man, blinking away tears. He has no idea how Luca got him here, or how he managed to get Alex to let him through the door.

“Vale?” He asks quietly.

Vale takes Marc’s hand, the one with blackened veins from the infected bite, and presses it to his lips.

Marc whines, and gives up resisting. He reaches for Vale, prepared for rejection again. Instead, Vale tugs him close, pressing Marc’s face into his neck.

Marc inhales, deep, letting Vale’s— his alpha’s— scent wash over him. It settles something deep in his bones, and he relaxes completely against the older man.

Marc floats from there. He remembers crying, sobbing, relaxing as Vale rumbles low in his chest. At some point Vale joins him underneath the blankets, allowing Marc to press himself against the full length of Vale’s body.

He loses himself in the sound of Vale’s low rumbling and his familiar scent. He’s pretty sure that it’s a fever dream and that he must truly be on the verge of death, but he enjoys it while it lasts.

At some point Vale’s phone buzzes, and he has a soft conversation in Italian that Marc’s brain is too sluggish to parse out. Vale has several more hushed conversations as Marc drifts in and out of sleep. At some point Alex returns, speaking to Vale in worried tones, but he leaves again shortly after.

Marc whines as he wakes one time, feeling sluggish. He flexes his fingers, grabbing onto Vale’s shirt. His arm doesn’t burn, for the first time in years. His body is exhausted and sore, like he’s just woken from a long nap he hadn’t meant to take.

“Vale?” he whimpers.

“Marc,” Vale soothes. “Good morning.”

“Morning?” Marc questions after a moment. He’s not sure how long he’s been asleep, or really what has happened.

“Yes. You’ve been recovering.”

Vale holds Marc’s hand up for him to see, and Marc stares unblinkingly at the smoothness of his forearm and bicep. He still sees blackness on his shoulder, near where he knows the bite is, but the infection of his arm has receded.

“How?” Marc questions.

Vale nuzzles behind his ear, and Marc realizes that it’s just Vale being near that has had such an effect on him.

“Oh,” he breathes.

There’s a long pause where he and Vale simply lay together.

“You’re really here?” he asks.

He feels Vale tense, and he shrinks away, afraid that now he has broken some spell and Vale is leaving. He wraps his arms around himself and bites back a whine.

Vale rumbles, low in his chest, and tugs Marc back.

“I’m here. I’m sorry it took me so long. Why didn’t you tell me?” Vale asks.

Marc is afraid that Vale will leave if he says what he thinks, but he can’t help it.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he croaks, feeling like he’s cracking his chest open. “I didn’t want you to reject me again. I couldn’t take it. It hurt too much the first time. It was better to just let it happen.”

Vale makes a pained noise, and Marc shrinks away again.

“Shh,” Vale soothes, running a hand down Marc’s arm. “I’m not angry with you.”

Vale shifts so Marc can tuck his nose against Vale’s neck, breathing in his scent.

Vale is quiet for a long moment. “I should have done a lot of things differently. We can talk about it all later. For now you need to heal.”

“How?”

Vale snorts. “Did you ever actually talk to a doctor about this?

Marc grumbles, and Vale laughs.

“You’re stubborn.”

Marc growls.

“Alex and I talked. And I called a real doctor. We can reverse everything.”

Marc yanks away, dizzy with the force of sitting up and scrambling away from Vale so quickly.

“No!” he squawks.

Vale stares at him in shock, hands held up in surrender.

“No, please,” Marc begs. He knows it’s killing him but he doesn’t want the bond to be reversed. He knows it’s nothing good, not even a real bond, but the thought of it being gone is painful. “Please, Vale.”

“Why would you want to stay sick?” Vale asks, hurt coloring his features.

“Please don’t take it away from me,” Marc whimpers, pressing his hands to the bite.

At once, understanding dawns on Vale’s face.

“No, no, no,” he says, emphatically. “Not like that, Marc. We can fix the bond.”

Marc’s brain whites out in relief and he clambers onto Vale’s lap.

“Oh,” he says, dumbly.

Vale chuckles.

“You’ve been healing,” he says. “All it took was time together.”

Marc frowns, looking down at his arm and craning his head to try and see as close to the bite as possible.

“But you hate me,” he argues. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“I don’t hate you,” Vale breathes. “I tried, but it didn’t work. I have been mad for a very long time but I don’t think I can be angry any more.”

Marc huffs.

“We’ll have to talk about it.”

“I know. Heal first. Hard conversations later.”

Marc nods, allowing Vale to once again wrap his arms around him and scent him.

Vale presses the most gentle of kisses to the bite, which Marc knows must still be scarred and black.

“Does it hurt, still?”

Marc shakes his head and then shrugs.

“I don’t remember what it’s like for it to not hurt. It hurts less now.”

Vale kisses it again, and Marc purrs. He has no idea who Vale talked to or how exactly Vale intends to fix him, but he can at least enjoy this new turn of events.

“Will you stay with me this time?” he can’t help but ask.

Vale pulls back enough to look him in the eye.

“I promise,” he says, and seals it with a kiss.

(A/n: in this universe, Mark never breaks his arm because he has enough body horror in his real life that I feel like if I add some, I need to take some away.

Also I know it’s controversial to make bezz the only pack omega but for the purposes of this I wanted him (certified Marc Hater) to be the only one on the team with the unique perspective of also being an omega and coming to the realization of “oh god would vale do that to an omega? Would he do that to me?”

Plus I love the idea of him being the One Special Boy, Center of Attention in the academy but then Marc and Vale fix their whole mating thing and now Vale has His Own Omega hanging around. And bezz is SO JEALOUS, literally pussy out growling and basically begging Marc to fistfight him in the parking lot

Until vale finally long-sufferingly sighs and grabs him by the back of the neck and shakes him, then kisses him (on the forehead? Side of the head? Straight on the mouth?) and reaffirms to him that even though Marc is around Bezz will always be his and the pack’s Most Specialest Boy

also Bezz being the only omega gives me an excuse to fantasize about him being the center of a vr46 academy gangbang but let’s not get carried away

#rosquez #motogp fic #valentino rossi #marc marquez #posting this then going to sleep lollll please don’t hate me #rosquez a/b/o au

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sanscat0414 · 8 months

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Final Note

Hawks x Dead Reader

Synopsis: Hawks thinking of you and reacting to yoru feat after a villain murdered you.

Warning: Death, angst, Sad Hawks

____________________________________________

‘You can’t be gone’ was the first thought Hawks had when he saw the carnage before him. Collapsed buildings surround him and you. You were on the ground unmoved with civilian. They were sad looking down on your body as they tried their best to help you. Hawks got a call a villain was a mist and came as fast as he can. He remembered you were on patrol in that area so he was extra speedy. The villain in question was only a few feet away from where you three stood, passed out with considerable damage on him.

He froze he didn’t know what to do. He’s love is now on the ground bleeding without a trace of life. The civilian started to talk “They.. saved me. They blocked me from all the fighting and they stopped the villain but the villain….”

Hawks snapped out of it and went to hold you in his arms, desperately searching for any semblance of life.

“ H/n told me something before they passed out. They said that they had a note in there pocket and make sure if they don’t make it to tell someone. I’m sorry… I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.” The civilian said as their voice was shaky.

After a few seconds Hawks finally spoke “there’s an ambulance that way. If you can’t walk I can take you.. just give me a moment.”

He sounded so dejected, the usual humor and cheer he had was gone. He wanted nothing more but to hold you and cry but he had to make sure the civilian was safe. The civilian nodded and went the direction that Hawks had pointed. As soon as the civilian was out of sight, he broke down. He nuzzled his had into your neck as he clung on to you as he cried. He knew, he knew you were gone but he can’t believe it. He couldn’t accept it.

“Please baby. Please wake up….” He knew but he still begged you to stay. Still begged you to open your eyes hoping that this was just a nightmare.

A few minutes passed but before a few more hero’s came to the scene. They saw hawks holding you as he cried. They knew they shouldn’t intervene, they saw how much Hawks cared for you, they saw how desperately he clung on to your cold body. They left him alone, dragging the unconscious villain away.

He searched your pocket remember what the civilian told him.

“Dear Keigo,

If your reading this, I am dead. I keep this pretty updated; after all being a hero is dangerous. I never know when will be the last time we see each other. There’s a lot I want to say and do with you but fate had other plans. I know how you are love, and I want you to know if we did have a argument before then I forgive you or if I was at fault, I’m sorry. My birdie… my love… my life. Thank you. Thank you for being my one and only. Thank your for being my hero. I want you to be happy without me. Find someone better or not just be happy. If not for yourself the for me. I know it’s tough, I probably break if I knew your were dead too. I know your going to have a hard time moving on but just know; no matter where I am or what I am (I might be a ghost haunted you oooOoOoOoooOo) I always love you. If there a great beyond then I will be waiting at the gates for you. Oh and there a box of stuff under my side of the bed is for you, to keep or to burn.”

He held you close for another hour before he carried you away from the scene. Hawks eyes never left your face. He was focused on getting you out. The heros had to pry him off of you. He loved too much to see you go, even if he knew that you were no longer with him.

Your funeral was a blur to him. Hawks had completely shut down after your death. He didn’t try to keep up his image, his once cheerful demeanor was gone. He no longer interacted with fans, no longer gave them any smiles, he just did his job. When he finally was ready he went and found the box you had left him.

It was a memo box, full of all your favorite moments together. There was photos, a book full of your thoughts, gifts you had planned to give you and the one that hit hard the most was the little trinkets you kept that he gave you. Hawks always gave you whatever he saw that he liked, that was his bird instinct coming out. He find little things to give you from his patrols whether it was a shiny rock or just some random thin go he found on the ground. You were always happy to see those gifts. Hawks looked at every item with love and sadness. It was the first time he smiled after your passing. Memories of you, and those gifts you left him was all so important to him. That box and everything in it was most his most valuable and cherished items along with all the photos of you together.

He knows you want him to live happy and he will try. Hawks wanted to create new memories to tell you when you find each-other once more. It doesn’t matter where he is he always remember you always think of you would like the place he went or things he did. He always will be yours and only yours.

“Baby, I wonder if you’re watching right now…. I miss you. When we meet agian I love to tell you all the things I did. I hope you’re happy wherever you are.”

#bnha hawks #keigo #keigo takami #wing hero hawks #hawks x reader mha #bnha hawks x reader #hawks mha #bnha keigo #hawks x yn #hawks x y/n angst #mha hawks #hawks x reader angst #hawks #hawks angst #winged hero hawks #hawks x reader #boku no hero academia hawks #hawks fanfic

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ellebakers · 1 year

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☆ I know who you pretend I am | Part two (+18)

Criston Cole x reader

Part two

Summary : Criston is courting you, but does he really have feelings for you, or is he trying to make someone jealous ?

Warnings : Fight, language, SMUT(18+)

Annoyed.

This is how you felt.

There was nothing enthusiastic about the festivities, and tonight was like all the others, wine, music playing by musicians, beastly soldiers wishing to finish between the thighs of a woman by the end of the night, and women just as eager to leave with a soldier of the king. This is what the parties organized in honor of your nephew Aegon were all about.

You didn't know why you were there. Oh actually you knew that. Your sister…

Alicent had begged you to come tonight, after gently declining at least twenty times you finally gave in.

That's how you found yourself sitting overlooking the room which was overflowing with men and women, each more excited than the other.

As you were about to take advantage of a moment of inattention on your sister's part to sneak out of this hellhole, someone appeared behind you.

"Are you leaving us already your majesty ?" One of your sister's soldiers asks amusedly.

You turned and met the eyes of Criston Cole, one of the most loyal soldiers of the crown, and also one of the most handsome men you have ever seen.

You cleared your throat to avoid thinking too much about the way you had imagined it lately, especially in the evenings, when you were alone in your room with an incessant fire that continued to course through your body.

"Um, yes I-"

You were interrupted by a voice announcing the return of Queen Rhaenyra, and as she entered, Criston paid you no more attention, he kept his gaze locked on her.

As the queen approached you, you bowed. "Please Y/n, we've been friends since childhood, you don't need to bow to me."

You smiled warmly at her but couldn't help but notice the way the man next to you was looking at her.

"It's a pleasure to see you again your majesty."

The blonde frowns at you and you laugh lightly. "I meant, Rhaenyra."

Your friend turned his gaze to Criston and both remained silent looking at each other. "I'm sorry, I'm not feeling very well, it's better if I go lie down for a bit."

Your sentence caught their attention, and you felt Criston's gaze land on you but you didn't pay any attention to it.

"Do you want me to come with you ?" Rhaenyra asked.

"No I will-"

"I'll walk her." Suddenly the soldier intervened.

Without bothering to look in his direction, you thanked him. "Thank you but I prefer to walk alone." Then without another word you left the room without giving Criston time to react.

A week had passed since Rhaenyra's return and you had do everything possible to avoid Criston.

As you tried once again to avoid him by running in the opposite direction from where you had seen him, you bumped into something, or rather someone.

You gasped as the person held your forearms to keep you from falling.

"I beg your pardon, Your Majesty."

"It's up to me to apologize, I wasn't looking where I was going."

You looked up and met the gaze of a man with beautiful blue eyes.

You remained speechless in front of the beauty of this man, and while you were about to thank him for having caught you, a voice, which you knew very well, was heard behind you.

"Strong ! get your filthy hands off Princess Y/n."

The man let go of you gently. And you thanked him before turning furiously to Criston. "No need to be so rough with the man who saved me from falling."

Criston opened and closed his mouth, clearly surprised by your tone. You never raised your voice to him or anyone.

"Your Majesty, the way he held you was out of place."

You rolled your eyes at him and something dark crossed Criston's eyes making you shiver.

"His hands were on my arms, they weren't on my curves, there's nothing out of place."

You turned to the man and smiled at him. "What is your name ?"

The man who appreciated seeing you put Criston in his place smiled at you.

"Harwin Strong Your Majesty."

"Well Harwin you have my infinite grattitude. I hope to see you tonight for my sister's birthday."

The man bowed slightly. "With pleasure your majesty."

"Please call me Y/n."

Criston let out a sound that sounded like a choke which made Strong smile even more.

"Only if you call me Harwin."

You smiled at him and nodded "So we'll see you tonight Harwin."

You turned to Criston and your smile faded as you walked past him maintaining eye contact.

How could he react like that when Harwin had done nothing wrong.

Once you were out of reach, Harwin stepped forward and patted Criston on the shoulder.

"This lady is something."

Criston pushed Strong's hand away like he had burned him. "Stay away from her." he threaten with a dangerous look.

"I can't promise you that."

And with a smirk Harwin disappeared leaving Criston furious.

The soldier did not bother to think and he rushed to your room where he knew he would find you.

He didn't bother to knock and walked in, making you gasp.

"Sir Criston Cole, you have no right to-"

He didn't let you finish your sentence and clapped his mouth against yours. You pushed him away and for a moment he was afraid he had done wrong, but he was reassuring when you pushed him onto your bed and straddled him.

You knocked his armor. "Get rid of that."

He bit his lip. "Your wishes are my orders."

Once you got rid of his armor you settled back on him and kissed him with all your passion.

You felt something harden beneath you and you rubbed yourself against it, making Criston moan.

"Shit. You have no idea how many times I imagined us like that."

He confessed against your skin while undoing the lace of your dress.

"I hope as many times as I do."

He growled against your skin and began to suck your sensitive neck.

You slipped a hand between your two bodies and grabbed his hard member.

He threw his head back and groaned. "Fuck, Y/n, please do something."

Then you got out of bed and knelt in front of him. Criston propped himself up on his elbows with admiring eyes, but those eyes closed very quickly when you put his erect member in your mouth.

Instinctively he grabbed your hair in his fist and guided you up and down.

You watched him lose control little by little as you brought him closer to orgasm, alternating between sucking and licking.

"Damn, I'll-" He didn't have time to finish and cum in your mouth.

Out of breath he watched you swallow and groaned at the sight of it.

He grabbed you by the arm and laid you down on the bed. "It's my turn."

He ripped off your dress and ran his tongue over your body, your mouth, your neck, your breasts, taking care to lick them well and caress them with his fingers making you moan and wet like never before. Then he settled between your thighs and began to devour you as if you were his last meal.

You ran a hand through his hair to pull him even closer to where he made you feel good. Your moans got louder and louder and before you could orgasm you pushed him away.

He frowned and was about to ask you why, but you pinned her against the mattress and put your legs on either side of her head. It didn't take long for him to figure out what you wanted and a smirk appeared on his face as he impaled you on his tongue.

The sensation made you scream in pleasure, and he continued to bring you closer to your orgasm playing with his tongue inside you, and with one precise lick you came, shaking and sweating.

Once the adrenaline went down you withdrew from him and lay down next to him.

He put a hand on your belly and caressed it, it stayed like this until you fell asleep.

You had slept for an hour and when you woke up Criston was gone. Alicent's birthday came quickly and you found yourself sitting next to her when something caught your eye.

Criston.

And he was not alone, he was with.

Rhaenyra.

#criston cole #criston cole x reader #sir criston cole #house of the dragon #hotd imagine #fabien frankel

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