#freedom from our anger and fear

[short-wooloo]

Why I Love the Jedi

Its something that i only recognize in hindsight

When I was a kid, I struggled at times with my self control, I'm on the spectrum, I had trouble at times in school, I got overwhelmed, I had meltdowns and breakdowns, I would get angry and upset I behaved in a way that was not ok, and afterwards I always remember feeling embarrassed and ashamed of how I acted

And the Jedi...

The Jedi were what I wanted to be

They had great self control, they had mastered themselves, they were not ruled by their emotions, they were what I wanted, they represented the ideal of what I wanted to be and to work towards

[oizysian]

Like The Mutt You Are | Wanda Maximoff

Pairing: Vampire!Wanda Maximoff x Pet!Reader Warnings: non-con, cnc, blood, magic penises Word Count: 3.2k Genre: smut Summary: A young girl finds herself in the possession of a Queen vampire, chosen as her new pet.

•Kinktober Masterlist•

Lady Maximoff was the most influential vampire in Old New York. She owned most of the human cattle in the state and held the most power on the east coast. Other vampires respected her, humans feared her, and children were raised with the horror of her deeds as reminders of what would happen to them if they acted out of line.

Those not categorized as human cattle were just as unfortunate, paying a blood debt to Lady Maximoff to keep their “freedom.” The families that couldn’t afford to pay their debt either gave up what little freedoms they had, or they had to sacrifice one of their family members.

Y/N’s family was currently drowning in their blood debt, unable to pay their monthly dues, so they had no other choice; they had to give Lady Maximoff one of their own.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” her father spoke softly, his eyes downcast towards the ground. “We just can’t do it anymore.”

“But, she’ll kill me!” She cried, pushing back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, wrapping his arm around his sobbing wife. “We just can’t give any more blood.”

She cried then, bawling into her hands as the realization began to hit her. She was going to die at the hands of this bitch of a vampire. She hated them. She hated her.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this.” She whimpered softly, her voice cracking with emotion.

She knew it would only be a matter of time before they would come for her, binding her in chains and stripping her from all of her freedoms, how few of them there were.

Before anything more could be said, there was a knock at the door. Y/N’s skin crawled with abject terror as she realized what was to happen to her.

Her father looked at her for a long moment before releasing his wife, heading for the front door where three very large men stood.

“We’re here for Y/N Y/L/N.”

“No!” She cried, nearly falling to her knees in distress.

They approached wordlessly, grabbing her by the arms and binding them behind her back with thick, heavy handcuffs and chains.

“No, please, papa!” She cried as they dragged her out, her screams echoing throughout the house.

Her parents turned away, unable to watch as their only daughter was given to one of the most dangerous monsters in the country.

Her screams continued as they loaded her into the van they came in, throwing her in the back, the chains heavily falling against her. She sobbed as one man got in the back with her and the other two got in the front seat, wordlessly pulling away from her childhood home.

“Where are you taking me?” She asked the man softly, but he just stared straight ahead, ignoring her words.

She sniffled, wiping her face on her sleeve and eyed the doors to her freedom.

“Don’t even think about it.” He growled, grabbing her chains and tugging on them, forcing her to the ground in front of him. “You ain’t going nowhere.”

She panted softly, looking up at him. Could she take him? Absolutely not. Would she die anyway if she didn’t try to escape? Definitely.

She pushed away from him and rushed towards the doors, the chains clanging as she tugged on the handles. He growled at her, his fangs elongating in his anger as he grabbed her by the shoulders, throwing her back. The chains fell on top of her and she cried, her only escape plan failing.

“You’re going to our Queen, bitch. You belong to her now.”

‘Queen?’ She thought. ‘They consider her their Queen?’

It was hours later when they finally arrived in the heart of the city, where Lady Maximoff resided. Y/N felt weak, hopeless, and all but gave up on her freedom. It was over for her.

The van came to a stop and moments later, the doors swung open, the two men from earlier stood there waiting for her to come out. She stayed still, unmoving, until the vampire in the van with her grabbed her and pulled her out with him.

She fell to the ground in a heap, her shoulders shaking with choking sobs.

“Get up.” One of them snarled, and the other one nudged her with his foot. “Get up!”

“Fuck you!” She cried, pushing herself away from them.

“Get …” he grabbed her by the back of her shirt, dragging her to her feet. “Up!”

She stood between the men, her back slouched, her head hanging as they pushed her to walk forward.

She followed closely behind as they walked, entering the large building ahead of them. When they entered, it was obvious that this was no ordinary establishment. There were cages all over; lining the wall, hanging from the ceilings, with people inside - old people, young people, naked people.

She backed up and hit the body of the man walking behind her.

“Move.” He growled, pushing her into the man in front of her.

She caught herself before she fell, her hands pressing into the vampire’s back. He smelt like smoke and death and she felt that nothing would ever get that smell out of her nose.

They led her into a cold room where other captives were standing on a stage before a woman sitting in, what looked like, a throne. Y/N’s eyes were round like saucers at the sight of her. That was Lady Maximoff.

They pushed her up the steps of the stage and she stumbled as she climbed, lugging behind her the heavy chains.

“What have you brought me this time?” A delicate voice spoke.

“The exchanges, my Queen.” One said, getting on one knee in front of her.

“Ah, yes.” She directed her attention towards the people on the stage. “Your families sold you to save themselves. I want you to remember that as you die.”

A young girl cried out and all the vampires watching in the crowd laughed. Y/N wished she could just kill them all. If she could kill the Queen, they’d all be free … right?

She got off of her throne and walked up to the stage, examining all of the captives superficially. She wasn’t particularly impressed with this group.

“Send them off to the cattle house. I’ve no use for any of them.”

One of the vampires grabbed at Y/N and she elbowed him in the stomach, the chains hitting him in the crotch.

The Queen stood and watched as this lone girl fought back, amused by the display.

“Stop.” She said calmly and the vampires holding down Y/N ceased their actions.

The battered girl looked down at the woman, a fire in her eyes that Lady Maximoff had never seen before.

“Leave that one.”

Others began screaming and crying, begging for mercy from the woman, but were ignored and led out to be taken to the cattle houses, to be used and then killed when no longer usable.

The Queen gestured to Y/N with her finger, beckoning her to walk over to her. Y/N eyed her for a moment before making her way to the edge of the stage, cautiously watching her footing as she walked.

Red wisps came towards her from within the Queen and she was lifted up off the stage and pulled to the other woman, mere inches away from her face, noses practically touching.

“You smell divine.” She whispered, inhaling the girl's scent deeply.

She struggled against the foreign magic, trying desperately to break free from it.

“You’re afraid.” She tilted her head. “And oh, so angry. You want me dead.”

Y/N gritted her teeth, not willing to admit to being afraid or being angry. She wouldn’t give this bitch the time of day.

“So much anger within you.” She smiled, her fangs almost glistening in the light. “I can’t wait to fuck it out of you.”

She spit at her then, right in her face, and Lady Maximoff didn’t even flinch.

“I’ll have fun breaking you.”

She wiped the spit off of her cheek and turned on her heel, walking out of the room with Y/N floating close behind her.

“Let me go, you bitch!” She screamed, still wriggling to get out of her binds, but it was no use.

Lady Maximoff didn’t even turn around as she flicked her fingers, the wisps tightening around the other girl.

“Stay quiet, little pup. You need to learn some manners.”

She could feel the Queen inside of her head, like maggots in an open wound. She groaned softly, images and feelings unfamiliar to her suddenly flooding her senses.

“I’ll make you feel good, pet. You’ll see.”

“No!” She grunted. “Fuck you!”

Lady Maximoff did nothing but laugh as the bound girl was forced to follow her, leading her up spiral stairs to a large bedroom with double doors. The furniture and décor was all dark, some candles burning provided extra light, but the fireplace was where most of it came from. It was a beautiful room and if she wasn’t being held captive, she might’ve complimented it.

“Now, what shall I do with you first, hmm?” She asked playfully, tapping her chin with her finger.

“Let me go!”

“No, I won’t be doing that.” She finally turned to face the other girl, walking up to her and touching her chest beneath the wisps. “You’re very beautiful, you know that?”

Y/N just bit her lip, as staying silent seemed to be the best bet at this point. Lady Maximoff tilted her head ever so slightly and brought her hand up to the young girl's head.

She tried to jerk herself back, but still was unable to move as she raised her fingers to her forehead.

Y/N moaned softly as feelings of absolute pleasure invaded her mind and body, her virgin pussy reacting to the images the vampire witch was putting into her head.

“S-stop,” she moaned, the wisps loosening and caressing her instead of binding her. “Please …”

“Please, what, pet?” She cooed, taking her time in unbuttoning the slacks the girl was wearing and tugging them down as the dark magic she was using slid underneath her shirt, swirling around her breasts.

She let out a shuddering moan as Lady Maximoff slipped two fingers between her folds, collecting her wetness and bringing it up to the girl's face, smiling as she did so.

“So needy. So ready for me.”

“Don’t, please!” She trembled as the vampire slipped her fingers into her own waiting mouth, tasting her new precious pet.

“You are the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” She was nearly intoxicated by the taste and smell of her. “I don’t think I’ll be able to get enough of you.”

With a flick of her wrist, the remainder of her clothing and her chains were gone and she hovered naked, teased, in the middle of the room. Lady Maximoff admired her, watching excitedly as her nipples turned into hardened rosy peaks and inhaled deeply to smell the wetness dripping down her legs.

The girl trembled, aroused and afraid - afraid of what this woman was capable of. How could she make her feel like this? What kind of witchcraft was at work here?

“Chaos magic, darling.” She said with a smile, running her nails gently down her chest to her belly. “You’ll love what I can do with it, I promise.”

The Queen stripped herself of her own clothing, slowly, to give the girl a show. To her delight, the girls arousal grew at the sight of her naked body and she knew that she wouldn’t have to use her magic on her mind for very much longer.

“I’m going to give you a little demonstration.”

The girl was laid out on the bed, her hands and feet bound with chaos magic, and from between her spread legs, a dick grew, tall and proud. Y/N watched as the vampire crawled onto the bed with her, and couldn’t hold back the guttural moan that escaped her lips when she wrapped her long fingers around her brand new cock.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” She stroked her cock and Y/N shuddered under her touch, her hips bucking upward to meet her rhythm. “I’m gonna fuck myself with your pretty little cock.”

She cried, tears spilling down her cheeks as her precum spread along her length.

“Well, ‘little’ isn’t the right word, is it?” She smiled, straddling the young girl and positioning herself above the erect magical dick. “I made you very well endowed.”

“Please, don’t, it feels …!”

She moaned loudly as the vampire lowered herself down, slowly, as to accustom herself to the girth of the cock.

“Yes, pet. It feels amazing, doesn’t it?”

The young girl cried as her cock twitched inside of her, the new feelings overwhelming and nearly overstimulating. The enchanted cock let her feel every delicious bit of Lady Maximoff’s pussy, and she couldn’t help but be intoxicated by it.

She rode Y/N, her hands gripping her breasts as she thrust herself down hard and fast. The vampire knew that the girl wouldn’t last long, but that was the point. She would get her pet addicted to her pussy so she would beg to please her.

“L-Lady Maximoff!” She cried, her hips jerking underneath her. “Stop! You’re gonna …”

She felt the hot cum shoot up inside her before she saw the girl react to the fact that she had came. She flung her head back on the pillows and let out a yell, her cock twitching and pulsating inside other woman.

Lady Maximoff smiled triumphantly, milking Y/N for all that she was worth. She loved the feeling of being full, but especially being full of her cum. Her new pet was beginning to be very special to her.

“L-let go,” she whimpered, her hips moving against her will. “I can’t do it again.”

“Yes you can, darling.” She cooed. “Once more for your Queen.”

She bit her lip and thrust her hips up against her, making the vampire moan with complete satisfaction. Not only was she a good fuck, but she was an obedient one.

She brought her hand down to play with her pussy, her strong, talented fingers rubbing circles along her clit. She let out a little moan, her brow furrowing and her eyes falling shut as she came.

She milked the poor, abused cock and Y/N couldn’t help but cum inside of her again, another pathetic cry spilling from her lips as she lost all control.

“Poor little pup,” she breathed softly, watching as the other girl came down from her high. “So pathetic and needy. I can help you.” She leaned down and pressed her lips to Y/N’s, a chaste kiss only to get a little taste of her. “I can make you feel good forever.”

“No …” she cried, her dick twitching once again as the vampire cockwarmed her.

“Oh, yes.” She kissed her once more, this time piercing her lower lip with her fangs and licking up the little droplets of blood that trickled down her chin. “You’re mine forever, my pet.”

She finally released her cock, pulling herself off and laying down beside her. She flicked her fingers at the enchanted penis and it disappeared, but the feeling between Y/N’s legs remained.

“I have a present for you, my darling.” She said playfully, propping herself up on her elbow and admiring the mess she had made of the girl.

Around Y/N’s neck appeared a collar, complete with a name tag and leash. She struggled to look down at it, only being able to feel it in the position she was being held in.

“What should we have the name tag say, hmm? Mutt? Pup? Bitch?”

“Let me go,” she whimpered pathetically, trying and failing to press her legs together to ease the painful ache between them left from Lady Maximoff’s magic. “Please.”

“You don’t really want to leave me, do you?” She asked sweetly, her fingers drawing imaginary shapes on her belly.

Her stomach twitched and her skin was hot with arousal. She was unable to deny the fact that this woman now had a hold on her. She was in her mind, and soon she would be in her body.

“I know you don’t.” She cooed, pouting playfully as her fingers worked their way up Y/N’s bare chest, teasing each rosy nipple to a hardened bud before slipping up her neck; two fingers finding their way inside the girl's opened mouth. “Suck them.”

The girl shook her head, refusing, before Lady Maximoff’s eyes turned red, and suddenly she was taking her fingers eagerly, swirling her tongue around the intrusive digits as they pumped in and out of her mouth slowly.

“That’s a good girl. Get them nice and wet for me.” She watched as she took her fingers with ease and her mind wandered, wondering what she would look like on her knees, taking her cock.

She pulled out of her mouth, her fingers wet with saliva and absolutely ready to explore the virgin pussy before her.

“I promise I’ll be gentle.” She smiled as she brought her hand down between Y/N’s legs, slipping her fingers between her slick folds.

She moaned, her hips rising as she eased her fingers inside of her, slowly at first, gently, but then the feeling of her became too much, and her thrusts quickened.

She let out a whimper of pain, despite being under the Queen’s complete control, and began to cry.

“No tears, dove.” She said as she fucked her, her fingers now easing in and out of her pretty pussy. “My little pet will feel so good now. So good.”

She let her thumb caress her clit and she twitched, her pussy pulsing with a need the girl was unfamiliar with.

“Do you need more, my pet? Shall I add another finger to your needy pussy?”

“No …” she cried, but Lady Maximoff smiled and shook her head.

She pulled out, adding another digit before slipping back inside, Y/N letting out a throaty moan at the feel.

“Yes, it does feel good, doesn’t it?” She fucked her harder, faster, hitting the deepest parts of her, curling her fingers and playing with her throbbing clit. “Come undone for me, pet. Come all over my fingers.”

The red wisps of magic slid along her body, heightening the sensations and pushing her over the edge, her legs jerking as she came.

“Unh … oh, Lady Maximoff!” She cried, tears in her eyes and drool dripping down her chin; a wisp curled around her neck and slipped into her mouth, pumping in and out.

“Mm, I’m still not done with you.” She purred, bringing her fingers up to her face and putting them in her mouth, sucking them clean. “I’ll never be done with you.”

She moaned around the wisp, flinching as she felt it jerk and twitch with pleasure inside of her mouth.

“Suck it, darling. It’s good practice.”

She obeyed, her head bobbing as the dark magic inside her mouth spurt gobs of its masters cum into her waiting orifice.

The Queen moaned as she and her magic came, smirking slightly as the wisp left her mouth and left a trail of drool and cum in its wake.

“You’ve made such a mess.” She said condescendingly, tutting her. “I’ll have to hose you down like the mutt you are.”

•

@natashaswife4125, @poison-blackheart

[pascaloverx]

OUR SECRET — MYG

chapter one

Summary: You and Yoongi are having an affair. No, you are not being his lover. But the world is not ready to know that an idol is dating someone. So you two were doing your best to make sure no one found out. Until he breaks up with you. His mistake.

Author's note: This fanfic will contain inappropriate language and intimate moments between some characters. Be warned. I will let you know if anything becomes inappropriate. Please enjoy this Yoongi fanfic.

AO3LINK NEXT

"You're in denial, you could just say you didn't want me anymore. But you prefer to pretend that..." You throw his favorite book out the window like it means nothing. 'Cause now it doesn't mean.

"You can't blame me, our romance should have ended a long time ago. But you and I..." Yoongi seems almost too serious saying this. Do you mean nothing to him?

"You and me what?" You respond from the balcony of your apartment. Luckily your neighbors aren't too curious to know why you're yelling at your ex-lover.

"You know I can't shout that here, some fans might be here." Poor little thing, at that moment you wonder where the brave man is who asked you to embark on this relationship even though you knew your worlds would never be the same.

"I thought the whole point of paying a lot of money to live in an apartment far from the big city and known for its discretion would be being able to yell at you at two in the morning." You don't care if he thinks he's going to leave you without anything more or less, and that you're going to come out of this situation smiling, he should have found someone else to have sex with.

"If you would let me come up, we could talk like adults." He speaks subtly with an impressive poker face. If he stops being a musician, perhaps he could try a career as an actor or a gambler.

"Like adults? I'll be waiting for the other adult to arrive." You say throwing some clothes that are in your apartment that belong to him.

"Like you're being mature about all this. Damn!" One of his belongings ends up breaking near his feet. In fright he lets out several swear words, you luckily end up laughing.

"You break up with me over the phone and I have to be mature. I gave up part of my freedom to be yours. And look what I get in return." Anger took over you initially but now all you can do is try to keep from crying.

"Y/N. Let me in, so we can talk. I can see you almost crying from here." You smile lightly as you feel tears fall down your cheek. What a humiliation.

"If you cared about me you would have had the decency to say that you wanted to finish it the last time you were here." His cowardice can only be explained by his fear of having to do this in person.

"I couldn't. I didn't..." That was exactly what was left of the two of you. An awkward silence and resentment.

"Do you know how frustrating it is not being able to curse your name or tell someone you broke my heart?" You say that sobbing. What a tragedy it is that has made you sentimental now.

"Just because we don't work anymore doesn't mean I don't love you." You look at him and for a moment you feel more sorry for him than for yourself.

"If this is how you love someone. I'm sorry to inform you that you don't know love." Ironically it makes you smile. Maybe this is all his fault, not yours.

"Love..." It's very painful to see the man you've been involved with for the last year, call you that and not be able to respond.

"I'll send the rest of your things to the company. Don't worry, I won't expose you any more than I already have. Now get out of here, you and your fake love." Using one of his songs as the grand finale was a majestic act. Crying yourself to sleep, unfortunately, is not so majestic.

Two Months Later...

"You were the only person I thought would understand my situation. Try not to judge me but I need an opinion." You say looking Namjoon in the eyes. You got really close to him during your secret relationship with Yoongi.

"Is it too big a secret?" He asks entering his new home. A home where you swore you would start over.

"You tell me..." You say, opening your coat and revealing your stomach.

"Did you call me here because you gained weight after the breakup or do you have worms?" Namjoon asks and you smile nervously. Until you shake your head denying.

"Let's say the weight gain is due to something prior to the breakup..." You try not to say the word. Maybe the situation will go away if you don't name it.

"You are pregnant?" He named his current situation. Now it means it's really happening.

"Surprise!" You say trying to liven up the situation but you know you're fucked. Namjoon seems really surprised. As soon as he assimilates the information, he hugs you. You knew you could lean on the friendship you two have.

[myladysapphire]

The spoils of war

Being a woman on the loosing side of a war was never a good thing. And when you are the only daughter of the looser it can mean one of two things, either death or marriage, and for lucky for y/n, Aegon was in need of a wife.

word count: 2,665

CW: MDI 18+, incest, angst, smut, forced marriage, unrequited love, jelousy. p in v, fingering, loss of virginity, oral (f reciving), no happy ending

Fem!reader x Aegon ii Targeryen and past fem!reader x Aemond Targereyn

a/n Aegon isn't a r*pist in this fic

Masterlist

Being a woman on the losing side of a war was never a good thing. Death always followed war, but so did marriage. and Marriage was what you now found yourself facing. Though you had begged for death, the greens deemed it fit for Rhaneyras only daughter to marry Aego.

as a means to oppress the remaining black loyalists.

With Heleana having taken her own life after the detah of both her sons, Jaeherys and Maelor. Aegon found himself without a wife. 

And with only a daughter to succeed him, the small council feared another dance should Jaeheara be heir, so they agreed a marriage between you and Aegon would suit the realm.

Though you disagreed, you had been a prisoner in the red keep for longer than you can remember. Having been dragged to the keep by Aemond after Luke's death. Aemond would visit often. You wewre forced to listen and watch as Aegon ruled, as they ridiculed your mothers everymove. You would hear about the death of each of your family through gaurds taunts.

You had seen freedom for half a year when your mother finally achieved her birthright. Had met Cregan, the man who you was supposed to marry. 

And then you heard of Aemonds death. Daemon had killed him and died himself. You and he had once considered yourself inlove. Even planned to run away and marry. But after what he did to Luke, those feelings changed and the love and longing turned to hate and anger. And with his detah came relief. She felt one step closer to her mother being safe on the throne. 

And then Aegon returned and killed your mother. Burned her alive.

You had witnessed it all, as guards held you back.

Then two weeks later your own grandsire, Coryls Veleryon, came and told you of the plans, the plans he agreed with and even proposed. 

He was the only visitor she had had. She had no Aemond to visit her, to eat with ehr even if all she did was spit angry words in his direction.

Then today, after over a moon, you were dragged from your bed and forced before Aegon in the throne room.Your mothers burnt body laid in front of you, wrapped in sheets as if to hide what Aegon had done to her. and your youngest brother, Aegon the younger, in chains.

The green council tood and told you what they demanded, Crolys the main voice among them. It was clear you had no choice but to accept their demands. marry Aegon and become queen, her brother's life will be spared and warded in Oldtown until he was four and ten. If she refused, he would become just like thre dead mother. A burnt body. And she would be dragged down the aisle anyway.

she needed her brother Aegon, he was the only family she had left and it killed her that he would grow up in the hands of the greens, but then again so would her children. The heirs the small council had demanded they have, if not Aegons life would be forfeit. 

The small council had left, leaving her and Aegon alone, bar the few guards that remained. 

Aegon called your name, he seemed nervous, tired even.

He wore the conqueror's crown, it suited him, though it was not his. But it was clear that the weight of it was more than the weight of the rubys. A weight Aegon ahd once told her he feared. 

He coughed, bringing you back from your thoughts. “Your grandsire informed me that he told you of our plans over a moon ago”

You nodded.

“I know this is not what you wanted… that i am not who you wanted, or even - or even the brother you wanted-” he stood up and made his way towards her “but this is for the good of the realm”

You scoffed “of course it is Aegon, no one wants another war.”  Everyone knew why you were marrying, it was to be a front of the greens and blacks uniting, of her bending the knee. “I am the spoils of war, Aegon. And when it comes to victory the victor always keeps his prize. And I am your prize Aegon. Not that i had a choice” you tunrened to leave, done with this, you had time. Time to get a letter to Cregan. Some servants were still loyal, surely?

Aegon once again called your name “we wed on the morrow”

Then again, the greens were smart enough to win a war, of course they were smart enogh to marry her fast. 

Aegon had alwasy hoped to wed her. And he had hope for this marriage, but not hope for a happy marriage. though he had once hoped to wed her instead of Helaena, and now he was forcing her to marry him. But he did hope it’ll end the war. Hoped that Cregan Stark would stop his attacks and surrender, submit to him and not launch the realm into another war.  they had lost too much as it was.

Aegon felt sorry for her. He felt alone but she truley was. Her only family would soon be torn from her and she would be stuck with them, and married to him. 

It had never been him for her, though it had always been her for him. from doing everything to gain her attention, bullying Aemond so she would see him as the better brother, from begging his mother and even his father to marry her and not Helaena. From bedding whores who were her doubles. 

But for you it has always been Aemond, always been him even when he killed your brother, Aemond still spoke as if you two were soon to wed and that you and him were utterly in love. He  had never got your attention, not the way Aemond had.

He called your name again, you were numb, eyes and face void of any emotion. “did you hear me?!” he asked more sternly.

you nodded your head, looking down. “ I understand Aegon.” you said his name so sweetly and yet it was filled with such hate. you had yet to call him King, had yet to fully bend the knee to him.

he sighed “you will have to bend the knee to me before and the lords of the realm… they have all been summoned for the wedding. where we shall pledge our souls together and you shall pledge your allegiance.”

you gritted your teeth, you had never been stubborn, always a people pleaser, but when it came to this you were being… difficult.

he sighed, going to speak again before you snapped your head up. He was close, close enough to reach out and take her hands in his. To hold her close. To-

“Fine! But you must swear to me Aegon.. That my brother will be safe. I - i do not want him in oldtown, send him somewhere anywhere but there. I will only bend the knee if he is safe, and i will make sure he does aswell, and that he sticks to it, if you swear he will not be killed!”

“Of course, i- he is my nephew, and as it stands my heir- it is in the crowns best interest to protect him. Doing otherwise would-”

“Risk war” she finished for him. “I make no promises for the marriage, but is shall do my duty.”

It hurts, duty. Their marriage, the marriage he had hjoped for being just a duty. Being a consolation prize for winning a war his mother and grandsire planned and plotted his whole life. And her turning around and storming through the door straight away hurt even more.

She had been given a dress. It was ivory and It was…beautiful. 

She had expected green. Something obvious. To get the greens point across. But she supposed the wedding got it across enough.

The wedding was packed, lords and ladies from all over westros, lords and ladies from both the blacks and the greens.

Her grandsire walked her down the Asile. 

Aegon stood up there, in ivory, with matching patterns to her gown. He smiled at her. He looked happy as if he had waited for this day. As if she and him were lovers finally getting there wedding day.

The ceremony was fast, a copy and paste of the dozens of weddings she had attend

They had stood before each other, in the eys of the realm and the gods. There hands joined togther, eyes locked. It was intense and fast. Then she was maade to kneel before him, and as she knelt he placed a crown on her hesd, naming her his queen consort.

There was relief throughout the kingdom the night. There wedding celebration turning into toasts and dances of peace. 

And before she knew it, it was time for the bedding ceremony.

She was nervous. She knew it would hurt somewhat. Her mother had always had told her. And told her all she would need to know. Ahd reassured her that on her wedding day she would be there, smiling and dancing as she married her love. And yet her mother was dead. Her brothers dead. Rhanea and Beala were at driftamark, univinted as if them coming would prevent the wedding from happnning. And she was not marrying her love, she was marrying her duty. Marrying for peace. And yet when Aegon looked into her eyes as they stood for the bedding ceremony she flet at peace, calm, as if eveything was snapping into place.

He took her hand in his and kissed it, before moving to step down and leave.

Aegon had ordered for no escorts top there chambers, no servants or maids. It was just them. 

And for the first time in who knows how long she felt like she could breath. 

Aegon looked towards you, cupping your face with his hands, caressing your cheeks. he was nervou, his eyes gave that away. “i’m sorry if this is not the wedding you wanted, or the husband, but i want you to know that you are the wife i have always wanted. i understand why you could never love me back. i have done terrible things to your family and i-“

“not tonight Aegon” you begged, “for tonight let us be husband and wife, tommorow you can be King Aegon, the Aegon who did all of those things, but tonight we forget. you will make me forget” you begged.

Aegon responsed ,not with words but by surging forward with a kiss. Unlike the one in the sept, were it was quick chaste. this was filled with passion, filled with Aegons love for you. There  mouths moulded together, his tounge teasing your  lip until you finally got the hint and opens for him. she was inexperienced, it was obvious, but you caught on quick. even quicker when his kisses started trailing from your mouth, to your  jaw and then to your  neck, moving further down until they reached your shoulders. he looked up then, his hand moving to the back of your dress, reaching for the corset. reaching for his laces he gave a soft kiss to your  shoulder, before removing the laces to her gown., your dress slowly dropped to the floor, pooling around your ankles. leaving your in your shear underclothes.

“gods”Aegon moaned, before diving back down to kiss your neck and working his way back up to your mouth. you moved your ah do to his shoulders, relaxing more into the kisses, allowing yourself to bask in the pleasure.

Aegon moved down one more, this time he didn’t stop at your shoulder, but moved down your your breast. taking your nipple into his mouth, and moaning at the taste. you yourself moaned in pleasure, you had done some stuff with Aemond, mainly kissing, some touching, even had his head between your thighs. but tonight felt differ t, it was not a differ t lind of pleasure, but a feeling. with Ameond it was forbidden, but with Aegon, he was your husband and deep down it felt right.

moving away from your breasts aemond pressed another kiss to your lips, before taking a step back. you watched as he did, removing his jacket and then his tunic, leaving him topless before you. he was not toned or leaned as Aemond was, but a bit chubby. And yet she found even hotter than the toned body you  had once knew so well.

Aegon continued stepping back, but not before taking your hand in his and pulling you with him, towards the bed.

He turned you around, allowing your back of your beds to hit the bed. sitting in the bed Aegon thought you a vision, even more so whn you shyly reached  for your small clothes and pulled them off over your head. you were perfect.

he moaned at the sight, before reaching down and pressing his mouth to yours, his hands reaching down to caress your body, the feeling filled with care.

“Aegon?” you spoke up, causing Aegon to lean back and stop.

“what? are you ok?” he asked

you nodded, reaching forward to his breeches, searching for the laces. Aegon let out a laugh, before moving back to take them off. “better?” he asked. you nodded.

he leant down and gave you a kiss before getting in his knees and spreading your legs. he looked up at you a gleam o his eyes, before moving forward, and devouring you. his tounge circling your clit. his hands moved up your legs, leaving goosebumps in there wake. his fingers moved up towards your heat, his fingers teasing your opening. slowly he entered his finger, gods you were right, unexplored. 

pumping in and out of you, you let out moans of pleasure, your peak etching closer and closer, before taking you over whole.

Aegon moved back, wiping his face in the bed sheets, before standing up. 

you looked at him, dazed.

“we don’t have to go any further-“ you interrupted him.

“i want too” you spoke, almost begging.

he nodded, moving you back, further into the bed. 

Moving between your thighs, he pushed in slowly and carefully. 

you felt so full, uncomfortable, before it turned quickly into pleasure. Aegon moved slowly, pumping you full, his body pressed against yours, kissing you deeply. before moving faster, harder. moans filled the room, the pleasure over taking them you both as you once again reached your peak, and Aegon let go, filling you with his seed.

Aegon collapsed further into you, both your breath heavy.

“gods” you sighed. and Aegon nodded in agreement.

As the years passed since your wedding to Aegon. 

you knew you would never forgive him for what he had down, never love him, not like he loved you. 

but you were civil, appeasing. paining the picture of the perfect wife. And Wegon grew more in love.

but deep down you knew that you would never love him, or forgive him, and some part of you would always long for Cregan or mother black loyalist to rise up and name your brother king.

But as you grew older, and had five children, all the image of Aegon, that that day would never come. not as your children grew older. As Jaheara and Aegon wed, and had children of there own. 

And when aegon died at the age of 56, from a summer fever, believing you had forgiven him and loved him, you realised that the greens had won. Even as you watched your son be crowned king, and his son after him.

You never got your happy ending, but the history books would right that you did. That all along you were a green. Switching form one brother to the other.

when in reality you still felt alone, and though you died surrounded by your grandchildren and great grandchildren, you died feeling alone, still feeling like the spoils of war.

Taglist (bold means could not tag)

@taragryenmoony @flrboyd @theanxietyqueen17 @zillahvathek @dark-night-sky-99 @apollonshootafar

to be added to taglist

[lotusmi]

Freedom Technique: Path to Awareness and Love with Autobiography by Lester Levenson (Spilny, Yuri)'s book Hi. Wanted to share this with you

''WANT is a paradox. To obtain something, it is important to WANT it. However, WANT means lack of what you want. The more you WANT something, the more you affirm the lack of it. It is better not to WANT but to allow whatever you need to come to you. Otherwise WANT will sabotage you, becoming a block, a barrier. (...) And you know that WANT harbors fear and other negativity. It is better to substitute WANT with ALLOWING. Created by Lester, the process of Releasing, consists of five steps: 1.  Become aware of the emotion and lovingly accept it. 2.  Feel the emotion somewhere in the body.  Anger for example is often felt in the pit of the stomach or in the chest.  Find that spot and feel your anger there. It won’t take too long before you notice that the more you concentrate on your anger, the weaker it becomes.  This happens, because instead of “feeding” it with your energy, you are withdrawing the energy by calmly witnessing your emotion. 3.  Identify the emotion as Wanting Approval (WA) or Wanting Control (WC). 4.  Relax into the emotion. 5.  Release the emotion.  As you keep your attention on it, let it go by asking - Could I let it go?         Yes! - Would I let it go?        Yes! - When?                         Now! Inhale, while asking the last question.  Then open an imaginary window in the spot where you feel the emotion, and with exhalation, let the energy flow freely out of that window, while saying “Now!” Imagine bluish, almost transparent energy flowing out. A feeling or emotion is nothing but energy; it is neither “bad” nor “good.”  We give it different names in order to relate it to different mental states.  The energy flows out… It is gone!  Still, ask yourself: And More? …  Answer: Yes!  And let more of it to flow out… And More? …   Yes!  And let even more of it out… And even More? … Yes!  Let more of it out… And even More? … Yes!  Let more of it out… And even More? … Yea!  Let more of it out… Try to feel the feeling again.  Imagine situation that made you feel angry.  It would help you to locate more anger within you. Keep repeating the process until you find yourself out of AGFLAP and in CAP (Courageousness Acceptance and Peace).  It is important to continue releasing until you are at peace.  It may take time, but time thus spent is ten times worth the effort. You will find that nothing is more rewarding than your state of peace. There should be no thinking or analyzing.  You must say “yes” regardless of how you feel about it.

Lester underlined that releasing will be more effective when we are in the state of either Courageousness, Acceptance or Peace. The entire process of releasing must be always done lovingly. Therefore, before starting the releasing bring yourself into one of the states of CAP with loving attitude. It is easily done when you imagine the end result of a particular releasing: wonderful relationship, money in your account, new house, whatever you are releasing on. Remember to start with accepting and loving yourself unconditionally.

The state of loving peace is the only appropriate state to be in.  If you’re not peaceful, find out what is it within you that deprives you of peace and let it go. When we have no Resistance, no Fear and no Wants, when we don’t wish to change anything but accept everything the way it is, we are free.

Let us start with letting go of whatever we are feeling right now and move into Courageousness, Acceptance and Peace. We begin with Courageousness. It’s a wonderful place, where we are willing to do whatever it takes, no matter what: a place of absolute willingness to do anything. We are adventurous, alive, powerful, self-sufficient and secure. We have a vast vision. We have been here before in this wonderful place and can access it from our past memory, when we were in trouble. We are here right now. On the scale of action, Lester says, ‘Courageousness is a willingness to go into action without fear, to give, to correct, to change whatever needs it, the willingness to let go, to move on.’ It is a very distinct state. Notice how you are immediately becoming more aware, as you move into this state. And from here, let’s move into Acceptance. Just a shift, a different way of a being expressing itself: Acceptance. Get the feeling: everything is OK just the way it is. On the scale of action, Lester says, ‘No need to change anything. No judgment of good or bad. It just is… It is beautiful just as it is, and it’s OK just the way it is. It is wonderful out there… I am enjoying everything just as it is. So take a look, wherever you are, sitting, driving, whatever it is that you’re doing. Can you allow it to be beautiful just as it is? Can you allow yourself to enjoy your surroundings, which includes your body, just as it is? Can you love your body just as it is? The room you are in, just as it is? The city you are in, just as it is? And will it be OK with you to make the decision, and it is just a decision, to feel about wherever you are in life, being just beautiful? Well, the mind may check on this and that, and yet, it is all Awareness, Beingness, and it is always beautiful. Other words Lester used to describe this: fullness, gentle, glowing, gracious, harmonious. And again, notice where you are right now. What it feels like. Be aware. Contrast it to the state of Courageousness… There is a cool air about this state of Acceptance. When you notice the differences between the two states it will allow you to access this state of Awareness more freely. From this place of Acceptance, where everything is OK the way it is, allow yourself to move to a state of Peace. On a scale of action, Lester describes it as I am, I am whole, complete, totally into my Self. Everyone and everything is part of my Self. It’s all perfect. Whatever you’re now feeling, whatever you’re experiencing… can you let it go and let it be even more perfect? Would it be OK with you, if you dissolve the boundaries, whatever they are: boundary of your body, your house, your car, your property, boundary of your country... Can you dissolve these boundaries, and allow everything to be seen as your Self, your own Beingness, Awareness.  Immediately, everything becomes quiet, even more serene, more still. Would it be OK with you if you live in peace every day, all day? Would it be OK with you, if everyone you’ve met will be radiantly peaceful beings, a part of you, of your own Self? If everyone is seen in total serenity, total peace, the world is automatically becoming peaceful and serene. Other words to describe this: stillness, kindness, tranquility, unlimited, whole.

And check to see if our friend the mind has been active lately, trying to figure things out. Can you let go of trying to figure it out? Mind always has a list of favorite things it is trying to figure out. Could you let that process go and allow yourself just be and rest in Awareness? Let us ask the mind if it knows the solution of whatever you’re trying to figure out. Of course it doesn’t. It is one of the most pointless exercises in our lives, to keep asking the mind for an answer, when it doesn’t have an answer. And when we do this, it comes back at us with a judgment. It says, ‘beat yourself up! Is there something wrong with you? There we go again: asking me about something I don’t know!’ Is that helping us to get the solution? What it does… it keeps us on the surface of our mind: all that asking, beating ourselves up. So now we have a decision to make. Are we going to keep being negative, beating ourselves up, standing on the surface of our mind? Or, do we want to let that go and move into productivity, quietness and deepness? Of course, we want to be quieter and deeper.

From this state of wholeness look at your life and see if there is any part that you’re resisting. Anything in your life that frustrates you, irritates you that you try to exclude from your wholeness? See if there is any question, any sensation about that. And just instantly let that energy go. Let it go some more…, and more… And will it be OK with you, if you reclaim that part of your life in terms of yourself? We are responsible for our pictures: everything that we picture is part of ourselves. Would it be OK with you if you make a decision? Irrevocable decision that says I am going for freedom, no matter what. Why not?

[inkofthebrain]

Imperial

[ Paul Atreides x F!Reader ] 1307 words

Paul Atreides, Duke of Arakkis, takes the hand of the Emperor’s eldest daughter for the throne, yet neither are pleased. They know they must learn to be civil, but what will it cost them…

Tags: post-Dune 2, strays from book canon, no use of y/n, dune typical everything, Corinno!Reader, slow burn, enemies to lovers kind of? ARRAIGNED MARRIAGE TROPE EXCEPT BOTH PARTIES ARE PISSY ABOUT IT, not proofread LOL.

Warnings: Dune typical themes, motifs, and actions

A/n: I plan on writing a prequel at some point. This is most definitely going to be multi part

Next chapter

Dune masterlist

One———

Your father stood beside you as the door of our ship slowly lowered, meeting the grassy ground of Caladan with a deep thud.

The air was cold, crisp, and smelt of the sea. The same sea you could hear smashing against the cliff side with the help of the impenetrable wind.

A fog lingered in the air as you watched four guards step out forward and as you follow, the Atredies household seem to rise out of the ground as you walked towards the estate.

Standing tall, cold, still and terrified you watch as the Duke of Atreides, and soon the Imperium, limps towards your father, bloodied knife in hand.

“The life debt has been payed” Irulan, your little sister, pushes out.

Your head snaps to look at her and instantly you speak, only thinking to spare your family

“Spare our fathers life and I will be your bride. The throne will be yours” you speak, looking the young Atredies in the eyes. Anger, chaos, and rage is all you can see within them.

Hidden behind layers of metal blinds and chain mail, your eyes went to the body of Feyd-Rautha. Still and cold. This is the first time anyone has seen him so… at peace.

Your body shakes when the Duke of Atreides drives his foot into the ground in-front of the Emperor. A horrifying silence fell over the room as he slowly outstretches his hand, the only sound in the space being the hot Arakkis wind and Paul’s labored breathing.

Fear. That is all you feel as you watch your father hesitantly take the Dukes left hand and begin the decent to his knees. How could this be happening? The imperium is going to swallow this naive boy whole and take your whole family down with him.

The second your fathers lips touched the cold metal everyone dropped to their knees, including Irulian. All who stood were you, Paul, and a fremen who soon stormed out. You took a deep breath.

Once you arrived inside Paul and your father disappeared to discuss the implications of this agreement. The transfer of your ownership.

You were left standing in-front of a large window facing the cliff side, an Atreides guard standing a few feet behind you. You loathed him already, you hated his very existence. This false prophet. As the waves crashed against the jagged cliff you tried to savor your remaining moment of pseudo-freedom. Alas, women are never free in this world.

“You are requested for dinner, your highness” A member of the staff stammered out. You let out a small hum before turning around with a polite smile. From the moment you were born this is what you were made for. A political marriage. One of convenience. You stepped forward.

“Of course”

———

Paul was already there, seated at the head of the table. He did not look up on your entrance, but he did acknowledge your presence. A small nod was the only thing he offered as a greeting, his focus being on your father who was discussing trade routes.

You took a seat next to your father as you waited for the arrival of Lady Jessica. Hands in lap you picked at your nails until you could no longer, a rage burning within you.

Soon she entered before taking a seat on Paul’s right. Their blue eyes were captivating, despite their departure from the desert planet.

The wedding was to be held on the home of the Atredies, Caladan. Every and all representatives of the Great Houses and other branches of the Imperium were to be present.

“It is an event of extreme significance” Lady Jessica spoke, “we have 4 weeks before the wedding where we will then depart back to Arakkis shortly there after.”

You took a deep breath as you watched her, your eyes occasionally drifting to Paul.

“I believe it is time for a proper introduction.” Jessica said looking at Paul. She says your full name and motions to you with her hand, “Lady Corrino is the firstborn child of late-emperor Shaddam, and the heiress of the imperium.”

“My lord.” You bid him a nod of acknowledgment before averting your eyes to the table. You thought that if you stared at it long enough you would wake up from this night terror.

A nod was his response to your greeting as he looked away from you, turning back towards the window. In the distance, he could just make out the edge of the caladan sea, the endless gray waves lapping up against the estate's cliffside property.

Beside him, he could hear his mother speak to you again. "I trust your journey was not too terrible."

“It was pleasant. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Your father spoke and your gut churned. The normality of this exchange is twisting your mind in ways you cannot imagine. The politeness, the facade, it all made you sick.

"Good." A simple statement. Paul felt no motivation to continue the conversation even before it had started. His mother continued on with her own chatter with you and your father.

"But for now, I will let and paul get to know each other a bit more while I escort you back to your ship." Jessica smiled, taking the cue to step away. she gave him a pointed look before she left, however-- be polite. A trade of ownership, you have been successfully dumped at the doorstep of the Atredies and once your father left this planet you would be at their mercy.

A sickening silence fell over the room. Paul glanced away from you, not wishing to return any look. Instead, his eyes searched through the rain-soaked windows, seeking for something to do besides idle chat. This was a waste of time.

“I am as dissatisfied about this as you are my lord” You boldly state. Not caring for any reprimanding or impoliteness. You were filled with rage and nothing more. Blinded by your distasteful and undesirable future.

He raised an eyebrow in your direction, glancing back at you. Silence lingered between them for a moment before he finally spoke. "and what gave it away?"

“Political Marriages are always a fuss”

A soft chuckle. he had to give you respect for that. It was the first time in your conversation with him as of yet that you were not just spouting nonsense. "No, I have to agree with you on this point. There is nothing convenient about being wed for political purposes."

It was almost humorous, in a way. He was stuck with you just as you were with him. “Two strangers tied together by duty.” There was just a hint of a sigh at the end of his words, he sounded just a little bitter. Paul’s eyes flicked off in a random direction, finding no real distraction from you and he was stuck within the room with you.

“Tell me about yourself." His voice was flat as he asked the question, it was more out of curiosity than any deep interest.

“I’m educated in Imperium law, structure, history…” you drone on about all of your prospects. Hobbies you were forced to have as a child to prepare you for this future.

"you're a woman of talents, it seems." He says

It was better to have a pretty fiancé who also did not seem like she needed to be supervised all the time. At least it meant his duties were lessened, to a degree. He could focus on other things, rather than wasting a moment worrying after you.

“Shall I walk you to your room, my lady? it was long journey and you must be worn out." His voice held a tone of kindness only one in high society is trained to have. Superficially sincere. You wanted to vomit.

“That would be lovely thank you” you smile

———

Next chapter

[thenightcallsme]

Do I Make you Nervous? | Simon "Ghost" Riley

little re-upload from my AO3 :)

Synopsis: When Task Force 141 is betrayed by Philip Graves, they're forced to separate. Y\N fights her way through the foreign Las Almas with a broken radio and no sense of direction. Yet, somehow, she finds herself in the same church her lieutenant, Simon "Ghost" Riley, seeks sanctuary in. As they attempt to brave the storm sweeping through the streets, the infamously unreadable Ghost challenges their professional relationship.

Pairing: Ghost x F!141reader

Contains: fluff, kissing, use of Y/N, hint of angst but resolved in the end, vague mentions of blood/wounds

Word count: 5,874

• • • • •

It was all a set-up. A lie.

Disappointment and anger triumphs any sadness over Grave's betrayal. At first, he came across as over-confident in that stereotypical male way. Over time I had warmed up to him. But Shepherd? The man who has given me the most freedom I’ve had in a long time? I admit that my use as a weapon to him has put a strain on our companionship, but to station me with my own cousin only to lash out unprovoked? He’s crossed a line that he can never come back from. The small liking I had for the man vanished as soon as shit hit the fan. Everything seems to replay in my mind. Alejandro insulted and detained, Johnny shot at, Ghost cornered...

There were too many of them to fight off. I couldn't trust myself to hold my own with my mind worrying over Johnny, Alejandro and Ghost while also plotting Shepherd's death. So, though it pained me, I ran. Ghost and Johnny did the same. 

My radio was damaged in the incident. A stray bullet flew my way, and with a stroke of luck, grazed the radio instead of my ribs. The close call was enough warning to run, which is what I do now. The lack of communication only worsens the worry.

Shadows crawl in the streets of Las Almas like rats in a sewer. From door to door they go, yelling at innocent civilians in the late hours of dusk. From the conversations I've heard, they're looking for two foreign men and their female friend. They don't quite explain why we're being hunted, but the truth wouldn't change much. Every so often, a shot fires, echoing through the streets like a warning bell. A call of sorrow and fear.

With the Shadows forcing their way into civilian homes and raising their weapons against anyone who could harbour us, houses and shops aren't safe. The towering cathedral spires peeking above tin roofs and stacked houses catch my attention instead. Nobody would be inside at this time of night. For now, it's the best I can do. Also to my luck, the church isn't too far away. I take my time and keep to the shadows on my way. With a quick survey of my surroundings, I know I've bet the Shadows to this part of the city. That won't last long. The revelation has me jumping the gate within seconds of making it.

Inside the church is pitch black. Towering windows that tell biblical tales line the walls, casting light in intervals across the empty foyer. Rows of seats begin to emerge as my eyes adjust. Further back is an intricate, circular skylight tens of feet above the marble floor. Illuminating the altar below is a waterfall of silvery light. The giant cross, gold statues, and wooden altar glow like I'm looking through a blurred lens. The view is both eerie and magical...and not meant to be marvelled at in a time like this. My focus should be maintaining high ground. I begin to turn in search of a staircase when something shifts in the darkness.

A figure materialises, tall and built; easily a male physically capable of snapping my neck. My next best option is the gun strapped to my hip to parry the one in his hand. I go to reach for mine—

“Y/N?”

I freeze in surprise, but my mind eases slightly.

“Lieutenant? How—”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re here now.” He looks down at me with searching eyes. “You in one piece?”

“Yes. You—?” At that moment, my own eyes skim his body, only to halt at a worrying sight. On the left side of his waist, just above the waistband of his pants, is a blooming, dark red stain on his shirt. He’s been shot. “Jesus, Ghost. How bad is it?”

“I’ve had worse—”

He stops himself at the distant shouting. The surrounding streets haven’t been quiet since I’ve been in the church, but this time it grows closer. Angrier. Ghost doesn’t waste time ushering me along in search of a stairwell. The one we find leads to the second floor, then a third. Eventually, we discover the central bell tower. The room is dank and cold and decently big. Suspended in the middle is a gigantic bell. Even in the dark, I can see how weathered the metal is. The worn wooden floors creak as we cross it. On each wall are arched openings that allow entry to the cold night air and terrified screams. A small cluster of discarded furniture draped in white sheets huddles in a corner. From here, we have a perfect view of the sprawling city and winding streets. To those down there, we’re invisible.

Simon leans back against a wall and grunts, his hands brushing over the bullet wound. He pulls back his hands to inspect the fresh blood. However bad it is, it’s still bleeding.

“Show me,” I say. My voice comes out more demanding than I intend.

He gives me a brief exasperated look but doesn’t push back.

Ghost sits against the wall with his shoulders slumped just enough to reach my level. His jacket is unzipped, his black shirt rolled up halfway. Those tired, piercing eyes and muscular arms are the most I've ever seen of him. It feels like a reward when the weather is unforgiving enough to chase away his usual long-sleeve or jacket. His arms are tanned and muscled, with a tattoo sleeve working from the wrist of his left arm up to his elbow. I’ve begun to accept that it’s the closest I’m ever going to get to seeing him. But now I stare down at his bare abdomen.

The waistband of his black cargo pants sits low on his hips, offering a distracting view of a pronounced V-line and abs. In the moonlight, I can make out the reminders of war that mark his skin; a few silvery scars, some clean-cut, some gnarled and twisted; an old bullet wound healed closer to his ribs. The fresh one with the most of my attention is buried in a more acceptable spot. It nestles into the far right side of his waist, thankfully nowhere near any vital organs. However, it’s still a bullet wound and it still bleeds. That’s enough to worry me.

“Do you reckon it’s bad?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I wouldn’t say I’m dying.”

“But we aren’t in the position to get proper help. Maybe sit down for a bit.” Surprisingly, he does so without question. I get to my feet, draw a small knife from my thigh holster, and rip a strip of fabric from the white sheets. When I drop back down beside him, I take a deep breath. “Here"

He takes it with a mumbled thank you and wraps the fabric around his waist.

“You heard from John?” I ask.

Simon winces as he adjusts the torn sheet. “I radioed him multiple times. Never got an answer.”

“Are you surprised by all this?”

Simon leans back against the wall. “I tend to be less surprised by betrayal. But I had some respect for Shepherd.”

I sigh, shuffling around him so that I can do the same. “What are we supposed to do now?”

“Survive,” he says. “Shepherd wants you alive. Graves will see to that. He can’t kill Alejandro, either. But Johnny and I…” He shakes his head. “Graves won’t sleep until there’s a bullet in our heads and Shepherd won’t care enough to stop it.”

There’s a moment of silence as I fold my arms and look away thoughtfully. How are we supposed to do this? The blanket of night and the ensuing storm may offer some cover, but getting out of the city will be a mission. I can’t bring myself to leave without John, either. My heart hurts when I think about him. He could be anywhere, alone and outnumbered while I sit uselessly in a bell tower.

“What do we do about Johnny?” My voice is quiet. Fearful. “My radio was damaged so I couldn’t reach out to him. Maybe his is the same. But not knowing… He’s the only family I have left. My only real friend.”

“Don’t worry about Johnny. He’s one of the most resourceful and strong-willed Sergeants I’ve dealt with in a while. Have faith in him.” He looks at me then, tilting his head to the side. “I wouldn’t say he’s your only friend.”

“I do quite like his girlfriend…” I murmur.

“And Alejandro? Ronaldo?”

I purse my lips as his question draws thought. I’ve been considering Alejandro and Ronaldo as allies. Companions. But I’ve grown quite fond of them. Considering them as friends would set me up for heartache if anything were to happen. So I haven’t… At least openly. Despite my attempts to create some distance in our relationships, my subconscious has decided for me. Those two are my friends. It explains the immense distress I’m battling over Alejandro’s capture.

“I guess so.”

“Me?”

Silence ensues from both of us.

His question stuns me; I was prepared for him to stop at Alejandro and Ronaldo. There’s nobody else in Las Almas or back at home that I pay attention to. Besides Ghost, at least. I could answer him in a second. I almost do.

Ghost is infamous for his detachment. He’s quiet, short-tempered, dangerous and mysterious. I’ve heard the comments that he suits his code name. Spiritual beings do not communicate through speech but through action. Ghost is the physical embodiment of the epiphany. Anybody able to coax a few sentences from him outside missions is admirable. Outside of that, his physical emotions require deep analysis and theory to understand. The mask only makes things more difficult. I’ve never seen him show palpable kindness through his aura or words to anyone, never heard him allow the use of his name, never heard him offer others insight into the raging whirlwind of his mind.

And yet he lets those things slide around me.

He lets me speak his name when no one is listening. He offers me comfort when I need it most — if not through limited words, through soft gazes and a hand on my shoulder. I’m usually able to get him talking. Sometimes I receive short answers, sometimes I receive enough to help me understand more of that whirlwind mind. He even occasionally shows pieces of himself that take away from the guessing game I usually play.

I shut people out because the last people I let in betrayed me.

I never consider answering personal questions, but you tend to have a lot of them. And every time you ask…I almost answer

I guess you and I are more alike than I thought.

All of it has me wanting more. More of his mind, his words, the soft gazes I’ve noticed are reserved for me. What I already have is nothing compared to every naked truth he could be telling me. However, what I’ve managed to coax from him seems to be more than he’s told anyone in a long time. At first, I marked it down as me being the only female on the team or Ghost considered me fragile. But I've proved myself, and nothing about being a 'fragile female' (which I very well am not) does not automatically give me all these passes. I now realise it is much more than that.

Never once has he called me his friend. I already have. Now it’s his turn.

“I don’t mind you, Simon, but friendship can’t be one-sided,” I say. While it’s a simple statement, a silent question hides between each word. Are you my friend?

“If it was as one-sided as you think, you wouldn’t be calling me Simon.”

My heart skips a beat. There. It’s an answer to my unspoken words, but it’s not plain as day. As usual, Simon tells me something that is anything but straightforward. There’s room for interpretation in his answer—something that is beginning to tire me. It’s almost as if the honest answer is criminal and he’s trying to cover up his tracks. Almost as if not speaking that honest answer can allow him to deny it.

I don't bother concealing my annoyance. “That’s not what I want to hear and you know it.”

“Fuck sakes, Y\N, I said it,” he says. His voice comes out both argumentative and exasperated.

“No, you didn't. All I ever get out of you is stuff that works around the truth. Stuff I have to think about to understand.” I'm crossing a line, I know. I just can't help it. “What’s so hard about admitting it?”

“Don’t.”

His tone is final. I don’t care.

“Does the truth scare you?”

His eyes squint, becoming barely visible against the black paint, the mask, and the low light. I can clearly picture a scowl jumping across the many faces I’ve imagined. While I want to flinch away, I don’t. Not for a second do my eyes lower, and not for a second do I grow offensive. I remain calm and collected, which I think annoys him more.

“You want the truth?” he growls. The accent of Manchester seems to thicken. “Fine. I’ll tell you the truth. I don’t want to admit I think of you as a friend ‘cause I bloody well want to ignore it. For years, it’s only been me and I planned it to be for the rest of my life. Then all of a sudden you and your annoying cousin appear and jeopardise everything. The only person with an inkling of anything was Shepherd and I was fine with that. But now you’re catching up to him. You’ve so effortlessly undone everything I’ve worked hard to maintain.” The growl in his voice dies down the longer he speaks. In the last sentence, his voice is quiet, defeated, but a little begrudging. “And I knowingly let you.”

“If it was bothering you that much, you should have told me,” I say with a voice equally as quiet. “If I knew you didn’t want me to know so badly, I would have respected that.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t understand. I think about telling you everything. I may get pissy at you over your questions, but…” A sigh. The truth is shameful to him. “I look forward to them.”

“If it makes you feel any better…” I laugh a little. “It’s really annoying how intriguing you are. Not just your past and your face… When I’m not trying to guess what you look like, I’m refraining from asking you stupid questions. Shit like if you’re a cat or dog person.”

“Dog person,” he replies. Any hint of anger or annoyance has disappeared. “Cats have too much attitude.”

I squint. “You just don’t appreciate them.”

“You strike me as a cat person.” He pauses in thought. “You just remind me of a cat, really.”

I raise my brows, giving him an exasperated look. “Are you going to tell me I have an attitude?”

“Maybe. But there’s more to it.”

I cock my head in question.

“Cats are friendly. Independent.” His eyes shift and I wonder if there's a smirk beneath the mask. “Curious.”

“Was that another dig at my questions?”

“Yes. Now shut up and listen.”

Before he continues, I find myself turning my body so I can fully look at him, my shoulder against the concrete walls and my legs folded beneath me.

“There’s that look in their eyes that they know your worst thoughts. Your secrets. They’re also graceful. Got that high-class elegance about them. But they can be unpredictable, striking out when you least expect. Once they sink their claws into you…” His eyes search my face. “You can’t get rid of them.”

I look up at him in wonder, my mouth slightly agape as I try to find a suitable response. Nothing I could say would express the way his words sink in. I’ve always coined Simon to be the observant type, keeping to himself and remaining silent. But I never expected him to relay his finds. His usual short, sharp answers contrast the compliment greatly.

“I think…” A small smile curves my lips upwards. “…That was the most meaningful compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Never. Now I have a question.”

“The floor is yours.”

“Do you have, like, Queen Elizabeth tattooed on your face? The British flag?” I grin. “Something mask-worthy, you know?”

“Why does it have to be something British?”

“Because there’s no way you’re the only Brit I know that isn’t somewhat stereotypical.”

Simon huffs a laugh. “No stereotypical tattoos. Sorry to disappoint.”

“A big scar, then?”

He tilts his head. “No scars that make me want to wear it.”

I raise my brows. “So you do have a scar?”

“Only one big one.”

“Good to know.” I nod my head with thoughtful eyes. “I’ll add that to a mental note.”

His eyes widen a fraction. The skull sown to his balaclava only offers the view of his painted eyes and nothing. Not even his eyebrows. I guess he’s raising them in question.

“How often do you think about this?”

I let out a long breath. “You have no idea. I change what I think you look like every day.”

“What do you think I look like.”

I go quiet in thought for a moment. As I said, the image changes… Only more frequently than I want to admit. Sometimes the change is small. Sometimes the change is big. I know I’m not the only one stumped by this, either. John and I joked over it once. He said things eluding to him being unattractive. A crooked nose, a huge scar, broken teeth. Every time he made a guess I would laugh, but never did the ideas seep into my mind. Nothing in an unattractive sense, anyway. Despite the possibility, I can never picture him as ugly.

“It varies, but…” I take one last second to collect my thoughts. “Without that skull piece, you have dark eyebrows. I imagine your hair is brown. And you’re eyes…it’s hard to tell with the paint, but they’re more deep-set and heavy-lidded. The balaclava is tight enough to make me think you have a straight nose, high cheekbones, strong jaw…” I shake my head. “Beyond that, I’m stumped.”

I can tell he thinks deeply about each characteristic. I sit patiently and almost wait for confirmation, but I know better than that. If he’s not going to show his face, he’s not going to—

“My hair is brown.”

I’m about to backtrack on my previous thought when he reaches towards the space between my neck and shoulder. In the frenzy that has been the last hour, my hair has come undone. The braid was unsavable, making me pull out the band and attempt a ponytail…only for it to snap in two. My hair now falls in dishevelled waves. A small part of my hair falls over my shoulder. Simon gingerly reaches for it, curling it between his finger and examining it in the low light. …Can he hear how fast my heart is beating?

“Not like yours. A few shades lighter, maybe. And that scar…”

Even more gingerly, Simon pulls one of my hands from its folded position, and I pray my expression doesn’t betray me. Rough, calloused hands press against the back of mine. The size difference is almost comical. He guides it to his masked face, working his fingers working around mine to spread them out. He drags my hand over his right cheekbone, across the hollow of his cheek, and towards his jaw. My mind is hyper-fixated on the shape of his face.

“Right along there.”

His eyes continue to search my face. There’s nothing but curiosity in the blue-grey of his irises. Curious at what, I can’t tell. Everything about this has my mind raging. The way he looks at me, the way he holds my hand against the black balaclava, the way he towers over me even when sitting down... The thoughts that surface are shameful. He’s your lieutenant, for Christ’s sake. Have some respect. The remembrance of his position has little help.

If anything, it strengthens the fantasies.

His hold shifts on top of my hand, the pad of his thumb swiping across my skin to stop on the inner side of my wrist and press down. He may not have been able to hear my heartbeat…but now he can feel it at the worst possible moment.

“You’re heart is beating fast.” He inclines his head. “Do I make you nervous, Y\N?”

God, is my breathing even? I can’t tell.

“You just caught me off guard, is all.”

Simon hums thoughtfully as his hand breaks away from mine and reaches forward. His fingers connect with my collarbone before finding my neck, exploring upwards in search of a pulse point. A shiver of excitement and nervousness runs beneath my skin like a ripple. His other hand slides over my knee and up my thigh. If my heart was racing before, this is a life-or-death sprint.

Slow are his movements. Calculated. He knows exactly where my heartbeat reverberates in my neck. Instead, he drags the moment out, coaxing out his desired reaction. But there’s something else in the slowness: a window for me to flinch away and draw the physical line neither of us has ever drawn. We’ve brushed shoulders and hands. We’ve sat with our bodies aligned in cramped cars. He’s held my hair back in a bathroom as I threw up after a panicked episode (something I would like to forget if he wasn't so surprisingly understanding). He's placed a hand on my shoulder for many different reasons. All are excusable moments. The ones that surpass professional boundaries can be marked as friendly. However, the intimacy of this moment is new. Scary. Exciting.

“Did you know your bottom lip twitches before you lie?” Simon asks. I find myself at eye level with him. When did he get so close? “I don’t like lies. Try again.”

“Sometimes…” I breathe.

“Sometimes, what?”

Bastard. “Sometimes you make me nervous.”

“Why?”

“Because…” I frown. “I don’t know.”

He’s definitely leaning closer now. Not just with his head, but with his whole upper body. Out of the nerves Simon is so adamant on understanding, I retreat, only making it a few inches before my back hits the other wall. Simon half hovers over me, the hand that was on my thigh now bracing himself on the floor. There are only a few inches between our chests. Even less between our faces. Not once does he lose his connection with my pulse.

“Another lie.”

“I don’t know how to word it. That's not a lie.”

Simon drops his head so that his covered mouth hovers beside my ear.

“Good girl.”

Never has praise sounded so seductive. It takes every inch of concentration to reign in my self-control. I might have ripped off his mask then and there…

Only, I think he’s beating me to it.

From where his head hovers, I can’t see his masked face. The wide, strong shape of his shoulder obscures most of my vision. He retracts his hand from my neck to reach somewhere I can’t see. The sound of moving cloth widens my eyes and upsets the rhythm of my breathing, the uneven rise and fall of my chest barely brushing his.

Maybe he’s adjusting it, I convince myself. He has only ever offered you little pieces at a time. What he’s offering me now is more than he ever has at once. While my body screams for more, my mind knows I can’t expect too much from him. Whatever he’s doing now is more than enough.

“You’re breathing funny.”

The feeling of breath skims the shell of my ear and down my neck like a warm, ghostly waterfall. It takes me a second to notice a difference in his voice. It’s low, it’s rough, it’s teasing. All are easily noticeable and nothing new. What is new is the enhanced clarity. An added sharpness lingers in his accented words. The slight muffle is nowhere to be found.

I was wrong. He’s lifted his mask.

“Because you’re taking off your mask." My answer comes out in a weak whisper.

He doesn’t speak about the mask, instead repositioning his hand to my neck to find my pulse.

“If you can’t tell me,” he murmurs, returning to the previous topic, “your heartbeat can.”

A warm feeling presses into my neck. A gasp slips past my lips as my heartbeat continues to quicken and stumble beneath his thumb. Against my skin…I think Simon is smiling.

Nothing about this seems real. Simon plants slow kisses on my neck with his bare lips. They’re a little rough, yet soothing. Whether they’re full or thin, I can’t tell, but the lack of obvious signs paints an image of something in between. His nose brushes the base of my jaw. Just above the pointed tip is where the balaclava begins. I can feel the hard edges of the sewn-on skull pressing into my left temple. Light stubble covers his jaw.

As his mouth works slowly against my neck, my jaw, and my collarbone, my hand slides up and over his chest. I slowly feel his bare neck. Beneath my fingers, his Adam's apple bobs. Further I explore, feeling the planes of his skin. The stubble scratches against my curious hand. Raised skin runs in a line over the right side of his face; the scar. It’s thin and generally clean-cut. He pulls back slightly as I feel his face. A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest as my thumb traces over his lips. I was right, they are something between full and thin. His lower lip feels slightly fuller with a deep hollow beneath that curves into his chin.

When I find it in me to speak, my voice is breathy.

“Kiss me.” He seems to still at that. When his reply isn’t instant, I continue. “You don’t have to… But I won’t look. I swear it.”

Silently, he reaches for my hand. He holds his over mine for a moment as he did with the mask moments earlier. Then he gently pries it away. Cloth shifts in my air as he fixes the mask and pulls back. I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but I respect the decision. Simon looks down at me with lust-blown pupils. Mine must be the same.

He takes a second to examine me. My heavy-lidded eyes, my slightly parted lips, the way I slump beneath him, the glistening wet spots left on my neck. He whips it away before he speaks.

“Can I trust you?”

We both know the answer to that, so instead of saying the obvious, I one-up him.

“Do you want to trust me?”

Silence passes for a heartbeat.

“Of course I do,” he says softly. “I want to trust you. I want to touch you. I want to kiss you. …Undress you. I’ve wanted to for so long.”

Then he moves.

My thoughts go quiet as Simon’s hands reach upward. When his fingers brush the base of his mask, I reach out and still his hands. The action takes both of us by surprise. For months I’ve been thinking about this moment. Just now I’ve admitted how much what he looks like takes up my mind. Now I find myself stopping him, but not because I’ve changed my mind. I worry that this will be something he’ll regret.

“Simon,” I say. “You don’t owe it to me to show your face.”

“But I do.” He inclines his head. “Now keep your pretty eyes up.”

My breath catches in my throat as he pulls it off in one swift motion. I take in everything I’m seeing in amazement, wonder, and bewilderment.

He’s handsome. He’s really handsome.

The ruggedness and confidence he carries seem to be etched into the planes of his face. A light stubble shadows his angular, defined jaw. Just as I had imagined, the bridge of his nose is straight and strong. His high cheekbones, deep-set eyes and smudged black paint create deep shadows. His mouth is wide. The shape of them is a physical manifestation of what I had imagined. With an average fullness, his upper lip is slightly smaller with a soft cupid’s bow. Tracing the angles of his right cheekbone is that straight, silver scar. His hair isn’t as short as most other military men’s. It’s a little messy from the mask and, true to his words, a few shades lighter than mine. I can tell that, the longer it gets, the more it curls.

I stay silent as I take him in, eyes wide. Somehow I find the courage to slowly reach out. His blue-grey eyes dart to my hesitant fingers. When he doesn’t deny me, I close the space, this time feeling him without needing to imagine his image. I apply a little pressure as I brush his skin, feeling the warmth of his cheeks, the scar tissue on his cheekbone, and the stubble on his jaw. His eyes train on me. This is one of the few times I cannot understand what I see in them.

Whatever he’s thinking, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I stare back at Simon. Not Ghost, Simon.

“I was starting to think you weren’t real,” I say jokingly.

He laughs softly. One side of his mouth quirks up into a skewed smirk. My heart flutters at the sight of it. When he speaks, it’s with that teasing tone that always had me imagining a smirk. Matching his expressions to his tones is a strange thing to see, but I love it.

“Is this real enough for you?” he asks.

I hum in agreement. “You’re a lot better looking than I imagined.”

He raises a brow in mock offence. “Do I radiate unattractiveness? I’m offended.”

“I never said I imagined you ugly.”

I draw my hands back, taking another good look at him. My amazed smile remains. So does the awe in my eyes. Now that I know how good-looking he is, it’s going to be hard to get him out of my head. At least I can’t scold myself over falling for a faceless man anymore.

“I guess if I die tonight… I can go a little happier.”

The way he tilts his head and looks up through lowered brows sends my mind into a frenzy. I’m used to the action with his mask on, usually with the sewn-on skull. Now, with every part of his face laid bare for me, the feeling it stirs comes tenfold. He gives me a fake accusing look. Beneath the teasing air he gives off, that desire remains.

“A little?” he murmurs. His face grows closer, giving me a better view of the hollows and curves and marks of war.

“A little not enough?”

His eyes dip to my lips. “Not by a longshot.”

Then Simon kisses me.

Eyes fluttering closed, I sink into the feeling of his lips against mine. Gently. Hesitantly. Does he expect me to pull away? How could he think such a thing when I almost seemed desperate when I asked him? My hands slide over his chest, slowly linking behind his neck as the kiss deepens.

For a moment, everything fades away. The gunfire, the screams, the impending death we may face any moment... All of it reduces to a meaningless blur. Suddenly all that exists is me, Simon, and the secret embrace we share. In our kiss is a million unspoken words; a tidal wave of passion laced with a bittersweet sadness. The talk of ‘dying happy’ is no exaggeration. We very well may die, and seeing his face and feeling his touch eases the painful thought. Maybe this way I can find him in the afterlife - seek out his mysterious eyes and lopsided smirk and spend an eternity together. Or perhaps there is no afterlife, and this is my last stroke of luck.

Satisfied with the knowledge of what he does to me, Simon lowers his hand from my neck. The pressure reapplies near my belt. His fingers timidly skim the bottom of my tanktop, pulling the tucked part from my waistband. My own fingers weave through his brown hair as his hand slides further beneath. My kiss falters when he finds one of my breasts. His hand comfortably rests over it, his palm slowly kneading at the flesh. A low groan builds at the back of my throat.

After a moment, we pull away, chests rising and falling as we take deep breaths. His forehead rests against mine and suddenly I'm wishing we could do this over again. Except I picture less sadness to tinge every word and action. I picture the safety of home, the warmth of a bed, a carefree air that allows us to just enjoy the other's company. Reality comes back in a painful rush.

“I don’t want to die,” I whisper.

His hand retreats from my breast at my words. Instead, he takes a hold of my waist, giving me a comforting squeeze.

“You are not going to die. Not today. Not when there’s so much more I want from you.” He adds the last part with a teasing, suggestive smirk.

He looks down at my lips again—

“Ghost, how do you copy?”

We both freeze at the sound of a voice, so caught up in the moment that the radio is forgotten. Both the unspeakable things and sorrowful thoughts flooding my mind suddenly vanish at the sound of a familiar voice. There’s an equally received look on Simon’s face as he reaches for the small radio.

“I read you loud and clear, Sergeant,” he says. “What’s your location?”

“I…don’t know,” John replies solemnly. “Streets are crawling with Shadows. Where are you?”

“You see church spires above the houses?”

There’s a second of silence. Then…

“I see them.”

“Good. Head straight there and come inside. No Shadows here yet. They’ll be busy going door to door.”

“Affirmative. I’m on my way. Have you got any word from Y/N?”

Simon looks at me, silently giving me the floor to speak. “I’m right here, Johnny.”

There’s a sigh of relief on the other end. “Oh, thank fuck. You in one piece?”

“I’m all here. You?”

“Got a shot to the shoulder. Nothing I can’t handle.”

For the next while, Simon and I sit huddled side by side, guiding Johnny through the radio. I generally leave the talking to Simon. Listening to him speak and sinking into his warmth is good enough. Every so often, he'll say something that takes me by surprise. Sometimes it's a dad joke, either really good or incredibly bad. Sometimes it's something that alludes to Simon not minding Johnny. He never outright admits it, but saying 'I like you alive' to Johnny's 'so you do like me' speaks for itself. I smile at that. I have sunk my claws into him, and he's not going to be able to get rid of me till the day I die.

[calliesmemes]

DARKNESS HAUNTS YOUR NARRATIVE

UNSETTLING SENTENCE STARTERS FROM VARIOUS SOURCES THAT WILL SEND SHIVERS DOWN YOUR SPINE AND LEAVE AN OMINOUS FEELING LINGERING IN THE ROOM.

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

“   I’m deep inside your mind. There is no escape for you. ”

“   You save everyone, but who saves you? ”

“   The power inside of me — it’s terrifying. ”

“   Power belongs to those who take it. ”

“   You’ll be the ruin of me, won’t you? ”

“   You weren’t meant to save the world — you were meant to destroy it. ”

“   You didn’t break me; you built me. All you did was make me ruthless. ”

“   You have no power over me. ”

“   I am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me. ”

“   All the greatest loves end in violence. ”

“   I don’t think you’re truly mean. You have sad eyes. ”

“   In theory the prophecy could still come true. ”

“   One day, your empathy is going to get you killed. ”

“   We are masters of our own destiny. ”

“   Never trust a survivor until you find out what they did to survive. ”

“   The horror that you have seen is not who you are. ”

“   A little too much anger, too often or at the wrong time, can destroy more than you would ever imagine. ”

“   Your scars are not your shame; they are your story. ”

“   I will never turn my back on people who need me. ”

“   Isn’t it scary to be ready to die at such a young age? ”

“   Your mind is a weapon. Keep it loaded. ”

“   Are you hearing those voices again? ”

“   It scares me sometimes. The emptiness I see in your eyes. ”

“   You may not be interested in the war, but the war is interested in you. ”

“   Haven’t you taken enough from me? ”

“   You collect scars because you want proof that you are paying for whatever sins you have committed. ”

“   It is okay to be angry. It is never okay to be cruel. ”

“   I hope that what you did to me haunts you. ”

“   The price of freedom is high. It always has been. ”

“   When you talk, I can hear the revolution. ”

“   Do not pretend that you are some meek, pathetic little girl when I can see that vicious mind working behind your eyes. ”

“   Your new life will cost you your old one. ”

“   Watching someone you love suffer can teach you even more than suffering yourself can. ”

“   Some people are in your life to test you ”

“   Fear makes men more dangerous than magic ever could. ”

“   At what point do you think i'll become the wound itself and not simply the bearer? ”

“   We are made of all those who have built and broken us. ”

“   All power demands sacrifice and pain. ”

“   Some things buried deep need to stay that way. ”

“   You and I are going to change the world. ”

“   I wonder which will get you killed faster — your loyalty, or your stubbornness? ”

“   Something’s made your eyes go cold. ”

“   If I am not a weapon, then what am I? ”

“   Your chains are broken, but are you truly free? ”

“   You were alone before they left you. ”

“   You can love a monster, it can even love you back, but that doesn’t change its nature. ”

“   It’s awful not to be loved. It’s the worst thing in the world … it makes you mean, and violent, and cruel ”

“   We can simultaneously be both human and monster. ”

“   I have this strange feeling that I’m not myself anymore. ”

“   You laugh like a little girl and think like a martyr. ”

“   Grief taught me inhumane things. ”

“   You will always be a monster. There is no turning back from it. ”

“   I know there’s a villain, and I’m worried it’s me. ”

“   I can’t stand the bitter thing that I’ve become. ”

“   People will never bleed enough to fulfill your vision of justice. ”

“   What if I told you the truth about what happened that night? ”

“   Part of me died in order to survive. ”

“   We are cursed with a tendency for violence. ”

“   I speak in verses, prophecies, and curses. ”

“   I see no use quarrelling with fate. ”

“   Nobody smart plays fair. ”

“   Fine, make me your villain. ”

“   They should be terrified of me. ”

“   I gave you devotion, blood, and my life. ”

“   How disappointing, when people succumb to what is expected of them. ”

“   Perhaps that was why I had to endure pain — because true transformation can only happen in the crucible of suffering. ”

“   Morality, too, is a question of time. ”

“   Memories destroy us. ”

“   My entire life, I’ve been fighting a war. ”

“   Fair is foul, and foul is fair. ”

“   Are you becoming what you’ve always hated? ”

“   I have found it takes a lot of strength to endure myself. ”

“   Loving any of us is a death sentence, isn’t it? ”

“   You long to be bandaged before you have been cut. ”

“   I feel so lost among these entirely strange people. ”

“   Remembering is like an open wound. ”

“   The wounded recognize the wounded. ”

“   I am alone and am suffocating because I cannot give voice to my emotions. ”

“   I’ve lived through entire tragedies in silence. ”

“   The more you love, the more you suffer. ”

“   The crowd that applauds a ruler’s coronation is the same crowd that will applaud a tyrant’s beheading. People like a show. ”

“   You are a better knife than you are a person. ”

“   Life goes more smoothly without a heart. ”

“   People have a hard time letting go of their suffering. Out of a fear of the unknown, they prefer suffering that is familiar. ”

“   I’m nostalgic for the anger I once had. ”

“   The pain I didn’t tell you about has built a home inside of me. ”

“   My greatest regret was how much I believed in my own future. ”

“   All I ever do is grieve. ”

“   Do not mock a pain you haven’t endured. ”

“   I control the shadows. They do not control me. ”

“   Turn the pain into power. ”

“   Sometimes, we survive by forgetting. ”

“   I am now the most miserable man living. ”

“   To remain as I am is impossible; I must die or be better, it appears to me. ”

“   In this sad world of ours, sorrow comes to all; and, to the young, it comes with bitterest agony. ”

“   I see in the near future a crisis approaching that unnerves me. ”

“   Memories do not always soften with time; some grow edges like knives. ”

“   Maybe everything that you thought was breaking you was actually leading you towards yourself. ”

“   Sometimes, not being in control is the most beautiful thing in the world. ”

[mannaima]

I was thinking about a dark joel x reader with smut she's innocent and still kind of sheltered from the world (doesn't go out that much) maybe because her father is the leader (of fedra or something), then one day on the rare occasion she happens to be out and Joel sees her and he has to have her and he has an unhealthy obsession to make her his. And he manipulates her into having sex with him then he tells her "you're mine forever".

My Best Friend Joel(part one)

Summary: Joel sees a pretty little thing and takes advantage of a girl who knows nothing better.

Authors note: WOOOOO this is so hawt. Dark! Joel is a such a sleazy little bastard when he wants something, and this time all he wants is a sweet girl to warm his DICK!!! Also have u seen that tiktok that says Pedro Pascal would guide u thru it,,,,,,, Yeah. This is kinda based on that LOL.

I also decided I wanted to make this a two parter. Create tension. Hehehehe

Word count: 4.3K

Warnings: Dub-con(ish) ( joel manipulates), age gap (reader is 19 and Joel is 56), stalking, generally creepy Joel, reader has no idea how friendship and joel takes advantage of this by making her think suckin dick is how you say hello.

“What do we do when someone knocks at the door and doesn’t use our secret knock?” 

“Hide in the cupboard.”

“Good. Do we ever look out the windows in the daytime?”

“No, we do not.”

“Well done. Lastly, where do we never go?”

“Outside.”

Your father kissed your forehead, his FEDRA uniform draped his body as he waved off, shutting the door behind him as you locked the many different locks. Your father had instilled the fear of the outside world to you since day one, you were to never leave the home under any circumstance. When you were small, you listened to his long list of rules, you didn’t so much as peek through the curtains as long as the day was bright. But as you got older, you slowly began to understand less and less of your fathers worries. He told you stories of the zombie-like creatures that lay beyond the walls, the people fighting for something as simple as sleeping pills. You were fascinated at first, but it slowly began to bore you. You grew tired of the home you spent your entire life in, not even being able to go to school throughout your youth. Even now, at nineteen years old, you were old enough to have your own apartment, but your father insisted on just one more year, he told you it wasn’t safe.

You looked through the sheer curtains, watched the people walk along the dirty and destroyed streets. Dirty, tired, exhausted, and yet you envied them. You wanted the feeling of freedom, even if it meant that freedom guaranteed you danger. What was the point of living if you didn’t experience fear once in a while? You sighed, and continued to watch the people below you, you didn’t care anymore. Just once, you wanted to feel the fresh air, hear the chattering of people up close, maybe even meet a friend. But your dreams stayed dreams for so long it didn’t seem possible to even see the outside. You stood up from your seat next to the window, in anger, you were tired of being cooped up. You paced around the room, your mind conjuring up the idea to escape, even just for one day. You finally decided on a decent enough plan.

You would leave, just for a few hours. You could wear a disguise, maybe a head covering and large enough jacket, and explore. Feel the air and make a friend. You would leave thirty minutes after your father left, and leave the door unlocked. Nobody had ever tried to knock on your door for the past nineteen years, so why would someone do it now?

You nodded to yourself, the pieces of the plan finalizing in your head. You walked to your bedroom and began to plan an outfit, something practical but also not to draw attention. You settled on a pair of bootcut jeans with a plain t-shirt, covered by a large jacket, and a black scarf worn over your head. You had seen enough people every day to understand the average outfit, you nodded once again to yourself. This was perfect.

-------

“Alright sweetie. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, they have me working the night shift. Be safe alright?” 

“Yes father.” You nodded, and he kissed your forehead and you waved him off. The night couldn’t have gone any slower, your mind racing in excitement. You hadn’t accounted for your father working an extra long shift today, so that gave you even more relief in leaving. You had to make sure you got home no later than 4 pm, a quick glance at the clock showed it was 10 am. Leave at 10:30 am. You had plenty of time, you didn’t have to worry. You paced around the home, too anxious to sit down and wait, you checked the clock periodically, hoping for it to be time soon. The second the clock hit 10:20, you marched into your room to put on your clothes. Slipping on every single garment, you finished with a pair of red converse, your breath hitching in excitement. As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help but feel a tinge of guilt. You were betraying your fathers rule he made for your safety. But the other side of your brain told you that he couldn’t keep you here forever. You shook your head, as if to rid the thought rotting your brain, and you took one last look at the clock on your wall.

10:30.

You had to go now.

You made your way to your front door, hand shaking as you reached for the knob, why were you so nervous? You’ve waited your entire life to do this, can't stop now. You pushed open the door, and your eyes shut a little due to the brightness. You closed the door behind you and descended down the stairs, very carefully. You were in awe, you had never felt so small in your life, the world being so big around you. You wanted to run, frolic, and enjoy the wonder of the outside world. You didn’t care how destroyed it all was, how the cracks in the streets made people trip, or the smell of firewood that burned through your nose. No, it all felt like such a privilege, you had never known such freedom.

You walked among the people, trying your best to blend in, make yourself appear as normal as possible. Your biggest fear was being mugged or hurt, and then your father would never let you out of his sight again, maybe even tie you to your bed. You smiled, a rare joy among the faces of the depressed, no more were you a prisoner.

Vendors selling shoe laces, patches of cloth, and other things you didn’t quite understand, but still appreciated nonetheless. You wanted to get a closer look at a small doll-like figure made of cloth, so you reached your hand out to grab it. As you did, another hand did as well, causing you to both flinch.

“Oh. I’m sorry sir.” You noticed the hand was much larger than yours, with hair that began to go slightly gray.

“No, my fault sweetheart. Go right ahead.” You peered your head up to look at him, right away you noticed he was much older. He was dirty and had a look of an unknown emotion. 

“Thank you.” You quietly said, before reaching to take a look at the doll, small, and it had a small smile on her face. It was made out of scrap clothing or cloth, and it had a strange texture, yet it was so cute to you.

“Five ration cards, miss.” The vendor told you, and you immediately froze. Ration cards? You didn’t know what that was, having never known about stuff like this. 

“I. I- Um. Sorry.” You slowly began to put back down the doll, embarrassed of your actions. A hand pushed your hand back, however.

“Here you are sir.” The large man next to you handed the vendor some cards, leaving you confused.

“I- Uh. Thank you sir.” You looked up at him, holding the small doll to your chest. You hadn’t had a doll since before. Ever.  

“It’s not an issue at all, sweetheart. I take you don’t have a job?”

“Haha. Yeah, I guess you could say that.” You didn’t really know what to say, but he nodded at your answer.

“So where you off to?” You both walked into a direction you had no clue of, but you just shrugged.

“I dunno. I was just walking around. Just exploring.” You were not confident in your answers, unsure why this man stuck to your side. 

“You don’t know?” He questioned you. You stopped and debated your next move. 

“I-I’m gonna go home.” You turned on your heel, and walked in the opposite direction, leaving the man to watch you go back. You were scared, mostly, you didn’t know how to respond, and he was a stranger! You collected your breathing, as you were hyperventilating. Your feet hit the gravel heavily, you couldn’t wait to get home. You finally entered your home and slammed the door shut, making sure to lock every single lock. Slamming your bedroom door open, you tore off your clothes into a box under your bed. You groaned, in defeat, maybe your dad was right after all. You were too scared of the outside world, and the people asked so many questions! Overwhelmed, you decided to slip on a large shirt and go to sleep. Cuddling up under the sheets, your eyes slowly fell into slumber

—-------

Over the past few days, things were normal. Well, at least your version of normal.

Your father came home, but he was much more distant these days, not even giving you the usual spiel every morning, just leaving. You assumed he was more stressed as “smugglers” became more frequent. You didn’t understand it all, but every day you watched the people below, wishing you were them.

Knock. Knock knock. Knock. Knock

You stood up from your chair by the window, confused, as it was still day time, why was your father here? It was the secret knock, but it was far too early for him to be home. You warily made your way to the door, taking your time to unlock the many different forms of protection. As you opened the door, a foot was placed between the doorframe and the space open. You looked up, and you were met face to face with the man from earlier.

“Let me in, sugar.” You stood in shock, allowing him to push past your hold, and allow him in. He shut the door, loudly, behind him.

“Lovely home you have here…” He trailed about the apartment, hand rubbing against furniture and knick knacks.

“W-what are you doing here?” You backed up slowly, your mind racing, how did he know the knock? That was between you and your father only. 

“Can’t pay a visit to a friend?”

“I-I. I don’t understand...” You tried to hide the fear in your voice– keyword, tried. 

“Aw c’mon don’t act like that sweetheart. I see the way you look out that window, I know you’re all lonely here. I know you need someone. And that someone is me, darling.” He sounded deranged, the more he spoke, the weirder you felt. Why did he know so much about you? But, he was right, you were lonely. With no friends to call your own.

“How did you know the knock?” He chuckled and walked closer to you.

“Don’t worry about that sweetheart. Now, how about we go out?” You raised an eyebrow at this suggestion.

“Out?” He was close enough to touch you now, his boots slamming against the floorboards. He was putting his arm around you now.

“Yeah. You drink?” You shook your head, causing him to chuckle.

“‘Course you don’t. Well we can go back to my place and talk, I could make you some food. I got some books you could read.” He pulled you close to him. You looked up at him, a small smirk was on his face as he looked down. You slowly nodded, feeling your insides warm up. A friend! He might’ve been a little creepy, but he seemed so nice. You slowly pulled yourself out of his grip, his arm going up as you moved.

“L-Let me change, first.” You rubbed your hair nervously, and he took a seat, legs spreading wide.

“Take as long as you need to, sweetheart.” You nervously smiled and walked to your bedroom, your nerves making you forget to close the door all the way. You didn’t notice the eyes that watched you remove your shirt and pants.

—-------

You walked by the side of the larger man, you felt so small compared to him. You blurted out the first thing on your mind.

“You never told me your name.” He looked down at you, a small smile creeping on his face.

“Joel. What about you, sweetie?” You told him your name, to which he nodded. You kept looking around at all the people, some giving you a strange look. Joel eventually wrapped his arm around you, keeping you close to him. People never stopped staring at you, it made you slightly insecure. You knew you would stand out. Joel began to rub circles into your back, as if he knew what you were feeling.

Step by step, you grew closer to his apartment, making you nervous, what if you did something wrong? You never had to deal with people. As he pulled out a small key to unlock his door, your heart was thumping in your chest. 

“Home sweet home.” He let you enter first, and you took in the sight around you. It was much dirtier than yours, but not entirely his fault. Everything seemed to be used, or very old. You kept quiet as you eyed the room.

“Come, sit.” He said, very authoritatively. Your feet began walking towards him without any thought, you learned to obey commands like that with your father.

“You want any water?” As you sat, you muttered a small ‘yes please’, which prompted his hands to come up to your chin, making you look at him.

“What was that, sweets?” Your eyes widened slightly, he was very close to your face.

“Y-Yes Joel, please.” He let go, a satisfied smile on his face as he turned around to fix you a glass. Was this friendship? You didn’t know it would be so touchy, but I guess that was normal? You watched him pour the water into a small glass, your eyes fixated on his figure. 

“How old are you, Joel?” You swung your feet in the chair you sat in, waiting for him to come back.

“Well aren’t you curious.” He walked back with a glass of water for you, and a smaller glass of brown liquid for him. “I’m fifty-six. How ‘bout you?”

“Nineteen…” You didn’t realize he was much older than you, he was older than your father!

“Quite a big girl. And you don’t have a job?” Shaking your head, you felt slightly embarrassed.

“My dad won’t let me go out. Never got to go to school, or have friends even. You’re my first.” Joel’s cock twitched at your choice of words, but his demeanor remained nonchalant.

“That’s a shame sweetheart. You’re old enough to have a family, and your dad still won't let you leave?” You looked down, saddened at the reality.

“Does he know you left the house today?” You shook your head, prompting Joel to stand up.

“Such a bad girl. Leaving the home with a stranger.” He drew closer to you.

“I thought you were my friend.” A chuckle left his lips.

“Right. But you still left without permission. That makes you so naughty.” He lifted you up from your seat and made your legs wrap around him, making you jump a little at the touch of his hands against your ass. His face was so close to your own.

“Mmmm. You’re so pretty.” Your face was red, you felt tingly. His lips got close to your own. He placed them on top of yours, you just looked at him while his eyes closed and his tongue moved around. He pulled away and looked at you. He smiled to himself.

“You’ve never kissed anyone, have you?” You shook your head, and he brought you close to his face.

“Move your lips with mine, open your mouth slightly when you feel my tongue.” He whispered to you, softly. Again, he placed his lips against yours, but this time you followed his movements, his mustache tickling the top of your lip, making you giggle. He smiled against your lips before swiping his tongue against your bottom lip. You opened your mouth for him, as he said, and his tongue pushed through your mouth. His tongue swirled with your own, drool coming down your chin. You stayed like this for a while, his hands on your ass, holding you up, your mouths connected one another. He finally pulled away, your body feeling weird as you watched a trail of saliva connect the both of you. Joel put you down on the floor, allowing you to stand.

“Do friends usually do stuff like that?” Joel stayed quiet, for a moment, before nodding.

“Yes, but only friends like me and you. You can’t do that with anyone else, understand?” You nodded, his head patting yours.

“Good girl. Let's get you home before your daddy finds out you left.” 

“Okay Joel.”

—------

You had made it home before your dad came back, sighing in relief. Over the past few days, however, Joel managed to come shortly after your dad left. You two would go over to his home, talk, do more “friend stuff” as you liked to call it, and he would drop you off.

Today was no different. He knocked, normally, and you knew it would be him. Opening the door, his smile made one appear on your face.

“Joel!” You gave him a large hug, face buried into his beefy chest. He laughed and ruffled your hair.

“Hey sweetie. Look at you, all ready.” he pointed to your outfit as you pulled back, and it made you giggle. You wore jeans, a tight white shirt and a dark green zip up jacket.

“Mhm! I was waiting all morning for my dad to leave so we could hang out!” He laughed and bent down a little, to get to eye level with you.

“Where's my kisses, huh?” You smiled and closed your eyes to kiss him, his tongue slipping in, as you two sloppily kissed for about a minute. He pulled back up and wiped his lips, face looking very satisfied. You giggled at his expression.

“Let's go then, sugar.” He held out his hand for you to grab, which you did, and he led you out of the apartment.

The entire time walking to his home, you never failed to get weird looks. Joel gripped your hand, but you stared at your feet to try to ignore the looks.

“Don’t worry about them sweetheart, they’re jealous.” He led you to his apartment, and let you in. You walked towards the table but he stopped you.

“Come to my bedroom.” Your face was a little confused, but you trusted Joel. Without him, you would be friendless and still alone in your bedroom, rotting away. Following him to the bedroom, you noticed how different he was acting. He seemed more touchy, much more than usual, his hand rubbing your back as you walked in the room, and touching your leg as you sat down.

“I’m gonna teach you something important today.” You paused, very curious to what he was talking about.

“About what?” Your head cocked to the side.

“Male anatomy.” You stared at him with wide eyes, very intrigued at what he was talking about. Your father never taught you much about your own body other than periods. Let alone talking about the male body.

“Okay.” He smiled at you, his hand now on top of yours. He placed it on his lap.

“This right here,” His hand began to move around, your hand feeling a soft body part not attracted to anything. It moved around with your hand, which made him tense. “This is a cock. It’s what men use to go to the bathroom. But it has another purpose. It makes me feel very good.” You were so curious, but as your hand moved at the puppetry of Joel, the body part began to get stiff and harder. Joel groaned under his breath.

“And when I get excited, it gets hard.” You hummed, very intrigued at the idea of that happening.

“Do you wanna see it?” He whispered, your hand still moving against it. 

“Y-Yeah…” He moved your hand to the side and undid his belt, undoing the buttons, and finally unzipping his zipper. Moving his boxers out the way, his cock sprang out, making you jump. It was so. Big. Your eyes widened, you had never seen anything like this before.

“Woah… It looks. Big.” He chuckled at your comment, his cock twitching slightly.

“Give me your hand.” You looked at him, giving him your hand as he held it in his. He put your hand against his cock, your fingers wrapped around it. It was so warm. He moved your hand up and down, the head of his cock disappearing and reappearing under his foreskin. He groaned once more, you looked away from his cock to look at him, making sure it wasn’t hurting.

“Is this okay?” You were unsure of it all, worried that he didn’t like it.

“More than okay, baby. Fuck, you do this so good. But I know how you could make this better.” You stared at his features, his Adam's apple bobbing when he swallowed, his eyes staring at your moving hand.

“How?”

He moved your hand and lifted you up from your seat on the bed, and placed you on the floor, ordering you to be on your knees. Your face was now at eyes-level with his cock, and you could see it much closer. The base was covered in hair, some gray ones mixed in between the black ones. There was a little bit of liquid dribbling out of a small hole at the top of it.

“Come here, princess.” His hand grabbed a fistful of hair, gently, and pushed you towards his cock. 

“Put your mouth on it. Kiss it like you do me.” Your eyes never left it, it was so large and warm, you remained curious about it. You brought your lips to it, and gave it a small kiss. He groaned, the grip on your hair slightly tighter. You began to move your lips across it, and you swirled your tongue around it, making Joel groan louder. You kept doing that, small amounts of drool tracing down his cock, the tip as wet as could be. Joel seemed to grow impatient or was just really excited because he slowly pushed your head down his length. Your mouth felt filled instantly, stretching to accommodate his size. You got no more than three inches down before you started to gag. You tried going back up, but he kept you down there.

“Stay like that, sweetheart, be a good girl for me.” You sputtered and drooled, gagging once more. You had tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but his hold on you was tight and firm. Eventually, he pulled your hair, making you move back up, making you cough from lack of air.

“You’ll get better at that eventually.” Joel grabbed your hair once more, and pushed your mouth back on his cock. He bobbed your head up and down, making sure not to go further than what you couldn’t take. You were drooling so much, his entire cock became wet over how much drool there was. His groans filled the room, bed creaking over how fast he moved you. You shut your eyes and tried to ignore the pain in your jaw, wanting to please your friend Joel. He suddenly pulled your hair back, very roughly, and his free hand began to jerk off in front of your face. You didn’t have time to question it before a semi-white liquid poured all over your face, and almost in your eyes. You flinched and closed your eyes as more of it sprayed on your face, jumping in surprise at each flick. It was warm, and the small amount that got into your mouth was salty. After Joel’s long moans seemed to quiet down, and you no longer felt sprays on your face, you opened your eyes to meet Joel’s. His hand reached your chin as he made you look slightly up towards him.

“Fuck… You look gorgeous sweetheart.” Your cheeks flushed at his words, you felt so confident whenever Joel complimented you. He got up for a second, then handed you a small rag.

“Wipe your face sweetie.” You took the rag, and noticed his cock was still out. While still large, it was smaller now, and more floppy, not as stiff as before. He pulled up his boxers and buttoned up his pants again. He sat down in front of you, your face now clean from his release. He pulled you up to sit on his lap.

“What was that at the end?”

“That's called cum. It happens when I get really excited and I reach the end. It feels really good.”

“Can I do that?”

“Well, not the same way I do. But yes, you can cum too. Not today though, that’s a lesson for another day.”

“Okay Joel….” You smiled and buried your head into his large chest, his hand petting your hair as you snuggled into him. You really liked Joel, your best friend. 

[ninchen1909]

The wrong groom

Pairing: Ivar the boneless x female reader

Word count: ~ 2.500

Hey,

this is the first time I write for a Vikings character. Also English isn‘t my first language, so I apologize in advance for possible mistakes.

I hope you have a great day!

Warnings: mention of killing disabled children, mention of alcohol, kind of arranged marriage but also not

"How can you ask this of me father?" you turn to him angrily, your dress swinging elegantly around your body. All of your father's advisors look at the floor, not daring to say a word. Even the priest, who always follows your father like a faithful, obedient dog, stands before you with his head bowed.

"How can you ask me to marry one of these barbarians, they stand for all that we despise. How in God's holy name can you ask me to marry one of these sinners?"

Your face is flushed red with rage, your hands clenched into tight fists. You have always been different from all the other princesses you have known. You never let anyone tell you to shut up and you always stood up for your convictions. At some point your parents realized that they could never chastise you and made a deal with you to control your temper at least in front of visitors and other nobles.

"You must do it my beloved daughter, for our kingdom, for our freedom and for our people."

Tears well up in your eyes, whether from anger or sadness you can't quite tell yourself. A few days ago, you were simply the princess of one of the smaller kingdoms in England, never attracting the interest of the Northmen until they suddenly and without warning attacked your city. Half of your army have already been killed and it is almost certain that your city could not withstand another attack.

"But why me father, why not Sophie, you've wanted to marry her off for a long time, she's older and wiser than me." Your tone has by now lost its sharpness, desperation winning out over fear.

"Sophie does not have your strength, my child, she would perish in their world, but you can become stronger in it." The look in your father's eyes becomes softer, you even think you can recognize pity in it.

"Do I even have a chance of getting out of this unmarried?" your father shakes his head, a defeated sigh escaping your throat.

"They are already on their way to us, King Ragnar with his sons and some retainers, we will discuss the details at a feast today."

"May I at least know the name of my intended?" you cross your arms stubbornly in front of your chest, a behavior for which other princesses would have experienced great suffering, but your father has to suppress a smirk.

"Prince Sigurd"

A few hours later, the feast is in full swing, together with your sister, your father, and his closest confidants, you sit on a raised table in the back of the Great Hall.

Your appetite has left after a closer observation of the Nordic table manners. Disgusted, your mouth tightens as you see them talking with their mouths full and not seeming to understand the meaning of cutlery at all. The wine flows in streams and soon you realize that they seem to be able to hold more alcohol than the men in your town.

All evening you feel the eyes of one of Ragnar's sons on you, you know from the description your father gave you of your future husband that it is not Sigurd. Crutches are leaning against the wooden bench next to him and his attentive, alert eyes follow your every move. His dark brown hair, like the hair of the other Northmen is worked into beautiful braided hairstyles. Your father seems to be able to interpret your gaze clearly, as unobtrusively as possible, he leans in your direction and whispers to you:

"This is Ivar, he is the youngest son of Ragnar and according to stories also by far the most bloodthirsty and brutal among the brothers. So stay away from him."

A silent nod is your answer, but to your own dismay, your father's words don't repulse you, but rather make the interest in  Ivar grow in you. During the whole time, his ice-blue eyes are constantly directed at you, even when you look directly at him, he does not avert his gaze from you, but gives you an arrogant smile, much to your astonishment.

Throughout the evening, your eyes meet again and again, and each time anew goose bumps cover your body, the dangerous aura that surrounds him captivates you, and as if automatically, your hand finds its way to the cross that hangs around your neck, you clasp it tightly with your fist.

The festivity goes on like all the previous ones. Everyone gets drunk and all the noble, God-fearing men, as time passes and alcohol consumption increases, look for a young woman for the night, who in no way resembles their spouse.

With your father's consent, you get up from the table as inconspicuously as you can and leave the hall almost in a hurry. You hold up the skirt of your dress to get ahead faster and so you walk quickly straight towards the stables.

Your entrance is accompanied by the excited neighing and nervous scraping of hooves as you make your way as quietly as possible to the last stall. In it stands your most faithful friend in the kingdom, the only one you don't have to worry about betraying you. Carefully you push the latch aside and enter the box with slow steps. Dark, loyal eyes beam at you as you lovingly bury the flat of your hand on the snow-white fur.

"Greetings, my old friend," you carefully lean your forehead against his and close your eyes, the smell of fresh hay rising to your nostrils, and for the first time this evening, you seem to be able to breathe properly. You tenderly stroke your horse's nostrils as you hear a steady clacking sound in the front of the stable. With a jerk, you turn around, prepared to spot the potential danger and fight back if necessary.

However, you would never have expected to meet the person who is now standing in front of you. You watch as he moves slowly but smoothly toward one of the hay bales and drops onto it, his crutches leaning next to him within reach.  Now he looks at you through his thick lashes. The sky-blue of his eyes makes you shiver pleasantly and for a brief moment you think your legs would give out their service and make you fall uncomfortably to the ground. Quickly you try to hide this.

"What are you doing here my prince, shouldn't you be out in the hall getting drunk with the other men and lusting after the women?"

You yourself are taken aback by your direct words, but you don't let this show. Unlike expected, your words do not make him angry, but rather seem to amuse him. For a short time later, a raucous, throaty laugh fills the stables.

"You're different little raven, aren't you? Most of the other princesses I know are obedient and well-behaved, but you carry the fire of Freya in you." An arrogant but also admiring smile spreads on Ivar's face.

"You are also different from most people I know, because most people I know have two functioning legs and can actually walk of their own free will."

no sooner have you said these words than you regret them. You never wanted to be someone who limited others only to physical attributes. His smile begins to stiffen and the playful spark has also disappeared from his eyes.

"I guess you're right about that little raven" you notice him reach for his crutch and tense his upper body to hoist himself up. You hurry to place a hand on his forearm, an apologetic expression coming to your face.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. It's just you they don't get many people like you, most of you are..." you dare not finish the sentence, which Ivar takes from you though.

".... Killed or left for dead. I know."

Under your hand you notice how his muscles relax again and Ivar seems to loosen up again. An uncomfortable silence spreads over you, only the scraping of hooves and the flaring of nostrils can be heard around you.

"You said before that I had the fire of Freya in me."

With a nod, Ivar indicates for you to continue talking.

"Who is Freya?"

a slight smile spreads across his face after your question and he leans a little further towards you.

"One of our goddesses, especially in times of war we think of her and make sacrifices to be in her favor."

"So you're comparing me to a goddess who brings death and disaster to people?"

you raise an eyebrow.

"Believe me that is an honor, she is one of our Most Favored Gods, but if it soothes your Christian heart, she is also the Goddess of Marriage and Love."

Slightly you nod to yourself as you soak up this knowledge.

"You said Freya is one of your gods, who else do you make sacrifices for?"

Ivar looks into your face trying to find some form of dishonesty there, however the only thing Ivar can discern there is genuine curiosity.

Eagerly, you listen to his soothing voice as he tells you about the father of the gods, Odin, Thor, Loki, and all the others gods.

After the feast, King Ragnar has decided to stay with his whole troupe until your and Sigurd's wedding, so that you can then sail back with them to their homeland and a new life.

Against all expectations, you spend most of your time with Ivar instead of your future husband. You realize that none of the stories do justice to Ivar's character, at least not when he is with you. Of course, you recognize his gruff, sometimes even sadistic manner when he is with other people. With you, however, he is tender and attentive, always giving you his complete attention and patiently explaining everything you want to know. He tells you stories of his adventures and of what awaits you in your new home.

With each passing day you notice how your feelings for Ivar increase and your interest in Sigurd decreases until it finally ceases to exist, each day your heart yearns more for the man with the crippled legs. Never does he treat you as if you were beneath him. Every day he tells you stories about his travels, his homeland and his gods and to your own amazement he listens attentively to your stories about your god. After only a few days you realize that his mere presence makes you happy, every day you wake up in anticipation of spending your day with him. And he seems to feel the same way. In all this time Sigurd never once seeks your company, nor does he make any effort to get to know you better. Ivar even more so.

Three days before the wedding you can't take it anymore, you have to stand by your feelings or you will be unhappy for the rest of your life.

With quick steps you make your way to the throne room with one hand grasping the skirt of your dress so as not to trip without knocking you push open the heavy wooden door and look into the astonished faces of your father and King Ragnar.

"Daughter, how dare you..."

"Father, please forgive the intrusion, however, I need to talk to you about something that has been depriving me of sleep for several nights now."

At your words, your father's features soften and his voice loses some of its original sharpness.

"Speak then, my daughter."

"I don't want to marry Sigurd, I don't think we're right for each other either..."

Your father interrupts you, before you can finish your sentence.

“You are going to marry one of King Ragnars sons, that’s not something I’m going to debate with you, daughter.”

“Yes father I know and I’m going to marry one of his sons, just not Sigurd..”

Your father sinks back into his chair, your eyes briefly fall on the King of the Northmen, his bright blue eyes patterning you with interest.

"Why don't you want to marry my son Sigurd, he's a good man".

The Northman squints his eyes slightly, eagerly waiting for your answer.

"I do not question that he is a good man, however I have the impression that we would not be good for each other."

"And why do you think that?"

Ragnar rises from his chair and walks toward you with slow steps, his eyes not leaving yours for a second. Nervousness rises in you, but you try to suppress it with all your might.

"And I want to hear the real reason."

"With all due respect King Ragnar, I am not under the impression that Prince Sigurd is interested in finding a wife and starting a family. Besides, I don't think I have the physical attributes your son desires in a partner."

A smile creeps onto his lips, while your father is shocked and enraged by your bluntness.

“Daughter, how dare you to speak to King Rag..”

“Fair enough…”

The Northman interrupts your father without sparing him so much as a glance.

…..which one of my sons do you want to marry princess (y/n)?“

“Prince Ivar, my king”

The shocked gasp of you father fills the thronroom and even king Ragnar seems surprised by your demand.

“I noticed on our first day here, that you weren’t really found of him, so what changed?”

“That’s true, at first I was scared of him, I heard many stories about how brutal and violent he can be and to be honest I don’t doubt that for a second. But as I spend time with him, he showed me, what I believe is the real him. He is soft and caring with me, he lifts up my spirit every time I see him. And he never gave me the feeling like I was inferior to him because of my gender. He is smart and a excellent strategiest, I wasn’t lucky enough to see him fight so far. But from what I heard, he is a outstanding warrior too.  And I would be honored to become his wife.”

After your speech you lower your head slightly, not daring to look at your father, a short but intense silence falls over the three of you. It feels like an eternity, until you hear King Ragnars loud an clear voice.

“Then so be it.”

[lets-try-some-writing]

Interesting Megs practicaly dealing with his relatives and Death itself ouch. magine when Op brings the allspark back Unicron senses it and brings Meg back to life to drop at their feet for them to deal with

Starscream: Master! You're alive!

Megatron:*free of his roommates now, looks very haunted,* I'm neither that nor dead.

Starscream:.. Uh what?

Megatron: I will never be fully alive nor leave this mortal coil. I will never be able to repent fully for my actions. I am leaving now so don't look for me. Do not fight in my name because decepticons are dead just like i am

Megatron: But if i hear about you lot or anyone else making a council i will come back to personally hit whoever over the helm. Understood?

Op: I missed you

Megatron: I am trying not to have a breakdown here

Poor Megatron. He will have no peace after being released from the Unmaker's grasp. In all seriousness, I do imagine his time floating around in Unicron's mindscape where all the Titans chatter would do him some good. Being able to hear them speak in their strange tones would have to adjust his view of reality.

So many giants staring down at him like he's little more than an ant, their thoughts booming and powerful, beating down on him like a relentless force. Entities far older than him, all wiser and ancient enough to have seen the birth of galaxies. He, I imagine, reeled in their presence, unable to handle their oppressive wills. Just a few weeks under them being more than enough to force him to think, especially as each tried to speak to him.

Moon attempted to call out to him, but so many millennia dealing with entities such as Unicron dampened his ability to recognize his limits and the weakness of others. Megatron, unable to handle the great Titan's calls, screamed into the void. Moon did not try and contact him after and instead merely observed the spark of the one the Autobots feared so greatly. Megatron could always feel Moon watching and listening. There was no respite from his gaze.

Mars did not speak often, but when he did, Megatron felt the earth shattering might of a being who held no love for him. Mars knew who it was that led their world to fall into its bitter state. He knew that Optimus and Megatron were the source, and while not angry at either, his bitterness did not lend Megatron any favor in the mindscape of the Unmaker. The few times he spoke up, his words were heard by all and embedded into Megatron's very spark.

"You who tore our world apart, do you not lament the loss? Was the devastation worthwhile? Did the sacrifices of beings far greater than you mean nothing?"

"I meant to give our people freedom."

"And yet you gave them war."

"It was the only way. Nothing would have changed without conflict."

"Perhaps. But the destruction had no reason to echo this long. Tell me, how many sparklings have been wrapped into your war?"

"..."

"I see you as a mere sparkling. Small, frail, foolish, easily demolished beneath my pedes. And yet I value each child of Primus equally. Do you understand? It matters not who you are or what power you hold. Under Primus, All Are One."

Pluto spoke only in visions of violence. Megatron saw destruction far greater than anything he had wrought. He watched planets burn in the wrath of a Titan angry at the loss of so many. He saw civilizations turned to mere ash. He saw a Titan hardly bigger than Omega Supreme throwing everything into a desperate battle against Predacons in order to defend another Titan and their charges. He saw energon split and scars gained.

Pluto did not speak, but his visions told Megatron more than enough. Violence had its reason, but in the end, it was dooming. To a being who watched stars burn out, Megatron's war, while brutal, meant very little. Pluto knew his anger, and in Pluto's sight, it meant nothing. Megatron never felt so small as when Pluto looked down upon him in distaste.

Unicron never needed to speak. The fact that Megatron resided within his mind was more than enough for the warlord to see visions of entropy that left him pondering the meaning of his existence. None of the Titans regarded him with warmth, that was save for Earth.

She was used to reaching out to her fragile offspring, and so her words were soft. She called out across the void, wrapping her attention around Megatron like a cloak. He never saw her, nor did he know who exactly she was. Unlike the Titans, she had no form that he could sense aside from a vague sense that she was below the ground of the terran world he once threatened to cyberform. Surprisingly, she held no anger toward him. Instead, he felt her pity and her sorrow on his behalf. She saw his mind and his memory and she whispered of how sorry she was that he'd been burdened so long. She swept him away into dreams of places he had never seen, some on Earth, and others somewhere amongst the stars.

She was a comfort, and through her murmurs, Megatron found a degree of peace and contemplation.

"You were held in bondage. I can see the echoes of your shackles. You hold them close to yourself even now."

"I serve no master, not anymore."

"You are a slave to your past and the pain it brought."

"I am not! I am Megatron of Kaon, Champion of the Pits! I have freed myself and my people!"

"That may be so. But the things you sought to escape from live on in your actions. The scars that dug so deep into your frame have now been mirrored on those around you."

"What?"

"Your anger has infected your fellows. Your once righteous rage has turned into something dark. Sweet child, you must let it go. It is not too late to end this madness which has possessed you."

Megatron listened to Earth and shook under the gazes of the rest. He was not sure how long he spent with them, but when Unicron forced him to return to the living realm, he was changed. Seeing everything from the perspectives of such mighty beings... everything felt so much more wasteful. He had not needed to destroy as much as he had, nor had Optimus needed to drag their war on in response to his madness. The pushed each other ever onward, but free of Unicron, Megatron decided to be the first to put an end to the cycle of madness.

When he turned and faced the Autobots, he knew that one day he would have to suffer for his crimes. But for now, he needed time to think and Cybertron needed time to heal.

And so he took to the stars, guided by whispers of the Titans that guarded Unicron so diligently. His thoughts drifted to Halley's Comet, and he found a destination. Perhaps there would be merit to traveling alongside the living memorial that was the youngest of the Titans.

[gffa]

“If you want to pull the thread, then pull it.” The tpm showing tonight and the acolyte trailer release had me thinking about “fate” and “the will of the force”. In Ep I, Qui-Gon talks quite a lot about the will of the force: he talks about how finding Anakin was the will of the force, and later on tells Anakin midichlorians enable a Jedi’s connection with the force and that they “continually speak to you, telling you the will of the force.” These reminders and the new lines about fate and the force from the Acolyte trailer had me thinking of one specific scene in TPM: the scene where Qui-Gon pushes the falling die on his bet with Watto for Anakin’s freedom. Perhaps he was right and finding Anakin was the will of the force, but in the end it was Qui-Gon’s decision to do anything about it. To me, the “will of the force” is the trajectory by which the die falls. No more, no less. The midichlorians told him which way the die would fall and he acts to change it. The “thread to pull” is Qui-Gon deciding to shift the die. Luke, when told two different destinies in the OT & the “will of the force”, chooses neither and creates his own. Perhaps he was right that finding Anakin was the will of the force, or it was right that Luke and Vader’s confrontation was fated by the Force but past that are the choices we make. It’s our decisions that affect the galaxy as a whole

This has been the hill that I've been ready to die on for awhile and that I think it's the Jedi's hill as well! One of my favorite things about Star Wars is that destiny seems to exist, that Anakin is the Chosen One, George Lucas has confirmed that he was, but nothing within the story itself really pushes him into a specific path about it. The Jedi don't even bring it up around him (other than Qui-Gon pushes it during TPM, which is part of his case to adopt Anakin late) or if they do, it's often presented that they doubt it. It's not until Mustafar that Obi-Wan says a single thing on-screen about believing that Anakin is the Chosen One. On Mortis, Anakin himself expresses doubt about being the Chosen One, he was clearly not spoonfed that idea or had it pressed upon him that he had to do Something. Whether the Jedi believed it or not, various ones fell into different categories, they left Anakin to his own choices. Destiny exists, but it's your choice what to do about it. I fully believe that Anakin's destiny was to be in that office with Palpatine and to side with the light, to defeat Palpatine there, that's what being the Chosen One was about. But because he had free will to choose, his fears and anger made him choose a terrible path. I do think the Force has a will, it has a direction it wants to go, like a river running downstream, but that when you wade into it, you're still in control of the choices you want to make. You can walk upstream. You can build a dam. You can stand still. You can even get out of the river. Maybe the Force did draw Qui-Gon to Tatooine that day, maybe it didn't, they'll never really know. Maybe it nudged things so that Qui-Gon was in a position to see that dice roll, but then it was his choice to flip the die over to what was a better outcome. Pulling the thread if you want to pull the thread is what all evidence we have on the Jedi already points to believing in. The Force exists and it does have a pull to it, destiny exists. But it's still up to you the individual to decide whether or not to do it. (But I'm fine with people in-universe who misunderstand the Jedi and what they believe in the Force, because that's been something that has hung over them in every single era of Star Wars ever.)

[reallyromealone]

Someone asked for a part 2 of the reader pretending to be an alpha and Bonten finds out so here it is

🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷(name) was very well cared for during his heat, each man claiming a scent gland and (name) marking them up-- well his Omega did.

They ended up moving him to one of their fancier residences, his items (save for furniture) put into a room in boxes and the omega was put in a pretty cage of Bontens making.

He was their Omega now.

No need for him to do Bonten business anymore.

They watched as (name) made his nest post heat, feral and very aware he was not in his home.

(Name) made a very good nest, the Bonten men giving the slightly hostile Omega items to nest with "fucks sake!" Rindō hissed when he got too close to the best, (name) swiping at him "don't get close to a feral omegas nest, mate or not" takeomi said lazily and went to go leave but was stopped by a heartbreaking whine "so we can't leave but we will die if we go into his nest? Great" Koko grumbled, having an Omega was fucking work...

But he looked so precious when they gave him food, chirping as he ate.

"So what are we going to do once he's back?" Kakucho asked and Mikey sighed "strip him of his Bonten title and keep him as our Omega" be said cooly "he's also house bound as punishment for lying" he was their mate after all and they weren't going to hurt him.

Not like that.

It took two days for (name) to come back and the look of confused horror on his face when he looked at the alphas around him in a place he didn't recognize and the scent of fear and pure distress filled the room "we have much to talk about Omega" Ran said calmly and (name) was very tense but noticed... They didn't enter his nest.

(Name) was in survival mode, he knew what these men could do and what would happen if he threw a fit "what do you want" (name) sat up and watched them intently "well we already got what we wanted per say... But we have questions"

"...fine" (name) could feel the bond marks and knew there wasn't much else he could do in this situation.

He was naked surrounded by the most dangerous men in Asia in a place he didn't know.

The odds didn't even exist at this point.

"Why did you do it?"

"When one sees an opportunity, do they not take it?"

"Opportunity for what?"

"Power"

The men looked at (name) seriously "I knew if I was in Bonten people wouldn't dare to fuck with me" (name) said "even if I had to pretend to be an alpha, it gave me power and money..."

"I wasn't expecting to catch your eyes, really I was just trying to keep my head down but... Apparently I did too good at my job" (name) laughed without a drop of humour "and look where this got me"

"Mated to the most powerful men in Japan"

"I refuse to be a pack of alphas sex toy" (name) seethed and Mochi chuckled "oh darling, we had been planning on courting you even if you were an alpha, you just made it easier"

"...what"

"You really think you got those good jobs soley on skill? Yes you were talented at your job but..." (Name) fisted his hands in anger, feeling anger rush through his veins "you are our mate now, you are stripped from your title in Bonten"

"And since we are such kind mates" Sanzu said gently tracing (name)s face "you're on house arrest till we feel you deserve freedom"

(Name) knew they intended to keep him here, keep him in a cage.

"I have conditions... If I am going to be your mate" Sanzu scoffed but Mikey halted him, wanting (name) to continue "only me." (Name) said "and if I say no, it's no"

"That's a reasonable request"

"And we do...things... When I'm ready"

"We did plenty all-" Takeomi was silenced by Koko "we can agree to those terms, welcome to the pack babydoll"

(Name) was ready to slap those smug faces.

[winterlynightlystories]

My nocturnal serenade

Tw; Sukuna being Sukuna I guess. Angst!

Do not copy or steal my work please

Sukuna/Sorcerer!Male!Reader

Note; I had this story in mind for a long time. Probably will make a part two! I just wanted some angst with our favourite curse.

Summary; Facing your tomb, Sukuna still remembers you a thousand years later. Yet, you still find a way to surprise him.

~~~~~~

Standing there, on the doorstep of your tomb, stuck in a kid's body, Sukuna felt strangely numb. Of course, he knew you could not still be alive after a thousand years. After all, you were nothing but a mortal.

His mortal.

His sworn enemy.

His greatest and dearest lover.

Your smell and the sound of your heartbeat haunted every second of his awakening, leaving a hole in his existence. Freedom had, somehow, lost its taste. Because what was freedom if you weren't here to fight him? To taunt him and force him to surpass his own limits?

Sukuna almost grunted, feeling Yuji poke at his cheek where his eyes normally opened. The kid was a pain in his ass. Somehow the damn kid had provoked him enough that Sukuna had, accidentally, mentioned you.

And of course, the brat had run to Gojo Satoru before Sukuna could force him to silence.

And now here they were. Forcing themselves inside your last resting place. It felt so wrong. A feeling Sukuna wasn't used to and hated.

- “My, my! Look at that door!” exclaimed Gojo, a big smile plastered on his face.

- “Senseï, what door?” asked Nobara, pointing at the rock slab against the ground. “That's just a big rock.”

Sukuna felt anger rise inside him. How dare she, a worm, judge it? He could remember you whining about your family's luxurious tomb and how you hated it. You just wanted a humble grave. Nothing fancier than a commoner would get. He didn't understand at first, because you deserved so much more than a hole in the ground.

‘At last, no one shall find and disturb me.’ you had told him.

And it was true until now. Could he really let those rats desecrate your tomb?

- “ Yeah, doesn't look like it. The guy was apparently humble enough to refuse to be buried with the rest of his family.” replied Gojo, cracking his fingers. “I call bullshit. Pretty sure by opening it, we will find one or more of Sukuna's fingers.”

- “Why?” the question came from Megumi who stared at the tomb.

- “Why? But because he was a traitor of course!” exclaimed Gojo, chuckling.

For a second, Sukuna only saw red.

The next, his fist hit Gojo Satoru right on the jaw, sending the sorcerer flying back a couple of yards. By his side, both of Yuji's friends screamed the name of their senseï. And as fast as he got it, Sukuna lost control of his vessel's body.

- “Oh my God, Senseï! I'm so sorry!” Yuji's voice was disgustingly guilty.

Again, Sukuna didn't care. He just couldn't let that piece of shit talk badly about you. Not after everything you did for those fuckers you called friends or family.

Not when he could remember your last conversation together.

Your last request.

His faces rested against your naked chest, ear pressed hard to listen to your heartbeat. He wanted, no, needed to hear it one last time and memorize it. For this was the last time you two would be together. The next time, you would fight until one died.

The silence was heavy, and Sukuna savoured the feeling of your fingers playing with his hair and the heat of your body against his. Then, you had to talk.

- “Sukuna, I want you to kill me.”

- “What?”

- “You heard me right.” you chuckled, pulling his hair playfully. “Only one of us shall stand, the next time we met. And I do not want it to be me. I made my part, now I want to rest. I'm tired of fighting.” You slapped his shoulder before adding; “Imagine how much fear they will all have? They won't call you ‘King’ anymore, but God. Wouldn't you like it? It sounds so nice.”

It did sound nice. But only on paper, because the only thought of your lifeless body laying on the cold ground made him upset. Sukuna couldn't bare the thought.

-” Oi, are you listening to me?”

-”Yes.” he replied, his arms closing tighter around you.

Your hand stopped playing with his hair and came resting against the nape of his neck. He heard you sigh.

-”You do not like my idea, do you?”

-”I would rather have you by my side forever than lose you to the cold embrace of Death.” he said, lips moving against your skin. He felt you slap his shoulder again.

-”If I was a curse, I’ll make those legs my necklace!” you said, kicking his legs.

-”And if you were a curse, I’ll let you!” he chuckled, feeling you laugh.

-”As if!”

-”Oi! Are you calling me a liar?” he asked, falsely offended.

-” Well, I’m not calling you a truth-teller.”

At that, Sukuna smiled.

-”But, I am serious. I wish to die by your hand. Life without you will be boring. You are the only good fighting partner I have.”

-”Let’s make a deal. I’ll accept at one condition; if I’m vanquished first, eat my heart so I can be by your side until your last breath.”

-”And you eat mine if I die first.” you replied and Sukuna could swore he heard your smirk in your voice.

-”You got yourself a deal.”

-”You know... The sound of your legs as a necklace sound pretty tempting.”

-”Shut up!”

And again, you laughed. At the moment, it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

Gojo walked back to the group, his blindfold gone and blood dripping from his split lips. Yuki wouldn't shut up and kept saying he was sorry and asking his teacher if he was fine. The cruel and cold smile on the sorcerer's only told Sukuna that Gojo had all anticipated.

- “Ah! Don't worry Yuji. It only proves my point.” The blue eyes stared at the one Sukuna had opened. “So he really was your whore, huh?”

- “He was less a whore than you. Own many prostitutes did you whore yourself to? I'll bet more than you have hair on your head.” Sukuna barked, voice growling. If only he was truly in control!

- “Sorry!” said Yuji, slapping the demonic mouth.

After that, the group returned to the tomb. Again, Sukuna hated it. You just wanted to rest, be left alone. Now, he had to stand there, powerless, and let them do as they pleased.

A part of him also refused to see your remains.

His last memory of you was of your bloody body. Of the plead in your eyes as your lips mouthed ‘please’ and he mouthed back ‘I can’t. He had seen the chock, then the understanding in those beautiful eyes of yours.

Powerless, Sukuna could only watch them take the rock slab away. With one look to the inside, pure joy filled him and Sukuna burst laughing.

-”Senseï, what does it mean? Where’s the body?” asked Yuji as he jumped in the hole, grabbing the only thing the tomb held. “What is that?”

The kid showed the object; one big monstrous heart carved in black stone and fused to it, another heart, but human.

- “Troubles. A lot of it.” said Gojo, grave, his eyes on Sukuna's mouth and eye.

[fandomxpreferences]

Living In A Moment You Would Die For (Part 2 of Dirty Little Secret)

Masterlist

Pairing:Rafe Cameron x pogue!reader

TW:angst, violence, mild abuse (fuck you, Ward), I think thats all

Summary: Rafe hashes it out with Ward, and luckily you show up to save the day.

Word Count:2.2k

A/N:Dark Rafe AND soft Rafe? we love the duality

"Have you lost your fucking mind? Do you have any idea what this is going to do to our image?"

Rafe is standing stoically, an unmoving force as his father's rage whips around him like a hurricane. You both decided it's best for him to address it alone; who knows what Ward would do if you were there. 

On any given day, you could find Rafe cowering before his father; no more than the scared child that has always tried to get out as unscathed as possible. 

However, it seems Rafe's protective instincts over you are the only thing stronger than his fear, and for the first time, he's confronting his father as a man.

Rafe shrugs casually, his hands slotted in his front pockets, as his mouth turns downwards to express disinterest. 

"I don't care."

Rose places her head in her hands, stress consuming her while Ward looks like he's about to explode. 

"What do you mean you don't care? Rafe, you're jeopardizing our position as the most powerful family in Outer Banks. You're threatening our life that I busted my ass to build!"

Ward nearly hits him when he has the gall to smile, Rafe's hand coming up to wipe at the corner of his mouth as he turns away. 

"Your life and position. Not mine. She is my life and future, not you."

Ward is shaking with anger, and for once the tables are turned as Rafe holds control over the situation. He's been at his father's mercy his entire life, completely powerless and unable to make his own choices. 

Now, it's his father that is left floundering, unable to do anything to change the outcome. 

"Rafe, so help me God I will-"

At this Rafe whips around and stalks forward, now mere inches from his father as he glowers down at him. 

"You'll what? The next words out of your mouth better not even resemble a threat or you'll see just how much of a monster you created, Ward. Isn't so fun when you're the one helpless, is it?"

The darkness that he tries so hard to keep at bay is starting to consume him, overtaking his senses and muddling his decision-making skills. He's dangerous when he's like this, but this time he doesn't fight it. 

He lets it take over, his ocean blue irises just a thin rim around his blown-out pupils as he takes ragged breaths. He silently hopes that his father chooses his next words carefully because he's fairly certain if there's even the slightest threat to your safety he'll strangle him. 

He knows for a fact he wouldn't feel the slightest bit of remorse.

"Son-"

Rafe cuts him off, the beast that sleeps inside him wide awake and looking for blood. 

"Don't call me that!" 

His voice booms, so deep it's barely recognizable, and bounces off the walls. Whatever demons lurk under the surface of Ward's practiced composure were passed onto him, and grew tenfold.

He is his father's son, a new and improved lethal force. He inherited Ward's psychotic tendencies, and the patriarch left one thing unaccounted for. 

His son was born with a storm brewing inside of him, yet lacked the love and support to calm it. Years of neglect and mounting pressure amplified the damage, feeding the devil that resides deep in his chest until it ripped its way to freedom. 

A lifetime of corruption and inadequacy is enough to drive someone mad, and Ward has been living inside a guarded bubble, blissfully ignorant to what his only son is capable of. 

It's all crashing down on him now, no longer allowing him the comfort of turning the other cheek. 

"I've begged for help for years. You are not going to take away and ruin the one thing that makes me feel like I'm not a waste of space! I pissed away a year with the love of my life because of you. If it's between you and her, fucking trust me when I say that I will choose her."

His voice is unnervingly quiet now, more akin to a growling animal than a human. Ward swallows, desperately trying to appear unbothered. Deep down he knows the only thing more alarming than a screaming Rafe is a quiet Rafe.

"Try all you want, Rafe. I'm not afraid of you." 

Rafe laughs, and Ward would be lying if he said it didn't send a shiver up his spine.

"You should be. You painted me as the villain before I even knew what the word meant. Maybe it's time I fill those shoes."

Ward blinks a few times, taken aback at the sincerity in his son's voice. 

"I'm your father, Rafe."

The younger Cameron purses his lips and nods, taking a step back. 

"Why do you think you're still alive?"

Ward is struck silent; genuinely at a loss for words as Rafe licks his lips and places a bruising hand on his shoulder.

"Here's what's going to happen. You're going to give us your blessing and stay the fuck out of our relationship. You will be nice to her and welcome her to the family because whether you like it or not, she's going to carry the Cameron name one day."

Against his better judgment, Ward scoffs and shoves his son back. 

"Or what?"

Rafe doesn't retaliate, instead crossing his arms over his chest and shrugging. 

"Or I'll tell Shoupe that you killed Big John."

Ward blanches at the promise and takes a menacing step forward. 

"You wouldn't do that. You're still my child, and you wouldn't dare put me behind bars."

Rafe's gaze is unwavering as he stares directly into his father's eyes, and he nods. 

"Is that gamble you're willing to make?"

Ward's eyes are nearly black now, bearing a striking resemblance to the man in front of him. Like father like son. 

"He wouldn't believe you. No one would."

Normally the statement would cause Rafe to back down; erase any fight he had left in him. He's too far gone now, images of you flashing through his mind. Before he fell in love with you, his family and the promise of inheriting the business were all he had. 

Rafe always thought there was nothing more dangerous than a man with nothing to lose. Now he's intimately aware of the truth; there's nothing more dangerous than a man with something to lose. 

A man with someone to live for, and to protect. That someone is you. 

A man that doesn't fear death will play fast and loose with his life; he'll lie down and accept defeat when backed into a corner because he has no reason to keep going. 

But a man that wants to live? He'll do anything to keep breathing; he'll fight until his knuckles are bloody and bruised, until every fiber of his being begs him to succumb, and then he'll fight some more.

"Then I'll tell John B. How do you think he and his friends will react to finding out Ward Cameron murdered his father in cold blood? Personally, I think they'll want an eye for an eye."

Ward's hand flies up to Rafe's throat, an unrelenting grip restricting his airflow. Glass shatters on the hardwood floor when Rafe shoves him back against the table, his father's neatly pressed cashmere button down crushed between his fingers. 

He's a split second away from connecting his fist to his father's jaw when everything stops. Your saccharine voice floats to his ears and all the chaos, all the violence that has been clawing at his throat and making his knuckles tingle with the desire to be let out, dissipates. 

In an instant, the storm clears and sunshine beams within his soul. The raging wildfire is snuffed out and in its place something even brighter; A love and airy lightness that sets him ablaze in an entirely different way, and fills his lungs with desperately needed oxygen. 

"Baby? What are you doing here?" 

Rafe releases his punishing grip and turns to face you, his hands that are capable of such devastating destruction and usually stained crimson now aching to pull you close. 

Ward's eyebrows pinch together, a look of sheer bewilderment taking over his features as he observes his son's jarring change in demeanor. Rafe's voice is soft as summer rain, a stark contrast to the venom dripping off his tongue just a few seconds ago. 

Your eyes flit between him and his father, taking in the situation as the wheels turn in your head. You figure out what's going on almost immediately; your concerned expression turning to one of understanding. 

You take a tentative step forward, locking eyes with your boyfriend. He knows that you know; his gaze has been set on you since the moment he registered your presence.

That's one thing Rafe has never fully understood; the way you capture his attention in such an alluring manner that he couldn't look away even if the world was exploding around him. 

"You were supposed to meet me twenty minutes ago and you weren't answering your phone. I was worried so I wanted to check on you."

Your voice is calm as you explain, bringing Rafe a comfort only you can provide that he can't quite wrap his head around. 

"I'm sorry, angel. I didn't mean to worry you. We were just wrapping up." 

You nod slowly, still inching forward until you're close enough for Rafe to inhale your intoxicating scent. You stop just short of him and stare up into his eyes, the unwavering adoration ever present in your gaze. 

One of your hands comes up to lay flat on his chest, the other one finding purchase on his cheek; grounding him like an anchor. 

It's such a simple action, and yet it brings his nervous system out of fight or flight and into stability. It never fails to amaze him; the way he never knew what home felt like until he found you. 

It's as if your very existence wraps him in a warm blanket, beckoning him to unclench his taut muscles and lay down his sword. 

Being with you disarms him and it's like your soul reaches out and whispers ' It's okay now. Kick off your shoes, grab a cup of coffee, and come tell me your burdens. Stay a while."

His hand comes up to his face to cover yours and the demon on his shoulder breathes a sigh of relief, exhaling slowly and muttering 'Ah yes, there she is. Our north star on a pitch black night'.

"It's alright, my love."

Your voice is tender, an underlying question lingering that you don't verbalize but rather ask with your eyes. 

Are you okay?

Rafe peers down at you, and you find your answer in the way his cerulean irises twinkle. 

I am now.

You give him a reassuring smile, and he resists the urge to kiss the sides of your mouth where the skin wrinkles so adorably or the corners of your eyes where the muscles crinkle endearingly.

He's almost certain that you shine so bright it casts a glow on him, the warmth and beauty enough to make him fall to his knees and weep. 

He resigned himself to his fate a long time ago; made peace with the fact he's probably going to hell. He figures that's okay because he's never been more sure that he's already experienced heaven here on Earth with you. 

He had told you as such one night, wrapped in your embrace under the twilight. 

"I think it's just my fate to be evil." 

The statement had ripped through you like a shockwave, and you sat up to look at him with such intensity he felt like he had done something wrong.

"It's not your fate, Rafe. It was circumstance. You're not evil, you're hurt and scared. You don't want to be that way, and that's how I know that deep down you're good. Bad people don't care that they're bad."

That was the night he knew he loved you, and the words have echoed in the back of his mind ever since. They come rushing to the forefront at this exact moment, flashing like a neon sign. 

"Since you're done, why don't we go get ice cream?"

He nods eagerly, not paying his father or Rose any mind as he takes your hand and leads you out of the house. You don't press for details; the fine print doesn't really matter anyway. You're here now, the last year of sneaking around and heartache long forgotten. 

Rafe watches out of the corner of his eye as your hair whips around your face and you perform a mini concert in his passenger seat, lost in your own little world. His hand squeezes your thigh periodically, a reminder to himself that you're real and you're his. 

He lets himself exist in the moment, committing the smell of salty sea air and the sound of your singing to memory. 

He feels electrified, acutely aware of the air conditioning blowing on his face and the leather steering wheel gripped in his hand. Being with you makes him feel alive, and he silently wonders what the hell he thought living was before. 

And as he watches you eat your ice cream cone with the cold treat dripping down your chin, he smiles so big that his cheeks ache. Yes, this is what it feels like to live and not just survive. 

[heartpiratedrabbles]

Who He Is

Prompt: You walk in on Doflamingo with another woman, and when you try to leave you realize you didn't really know him.

Requested by Anonymous

~ Part 2

Doflamingo X Fem Reader

Warning: Noncon

You were pacing the floor, angry. You couldn’t believe what you just witnessed. You walked into the bedroom you shared with Doflamingo to see him already there with another women. His stupid face just stared at you as if you had ruined the moment while the women hid her face. You slammed the door shut and stormed off to the living room where a couple other of his family was.

         “What got your panties in a twist,” Bellamy bellowed, amused at your anger. You shot him a glare, though it did nothing to stop his snickering. You went over to an empty seat, flopping into it while crossing your arms.

         “Who does he think he is?!” You yelled, “Bringing someone else to our bed like its nothing.” Bellamy continued his laughter much to your annoyance but everyone else remained quiet. You noticed a few glances being shared but no words said, “What is it?” You snap at all of them.

         It’s Baby 5 who finally breaks the silence, “Maybe he’s bored?” You suck in your breath, “-not useful to him anymore.” You didn’t catch the first half of her sentence but she didn’t seem all to surprised at how this was all playing out.

         You look around and everyone else refused to meet your eyes, everyone except the flamboyant boy who refused to quiet down. “Well then I’ll just leave. If he doesn’t like me anymore it doesn’t matter.” You say defiantly, you’d never expect this relationship to last long anyway, you just never expected it to end like this.

         “He won’t like that,” Bellamy laughed while watching you storm out of the room.

~~~

         You’d barely made it downtown when you noticed someone following you. You weren’t in the mood to deal with creeps at the moment. You rounded the corner onto a busier street, to try and shake the person off. The sun was starting to set so it’d be better to be somewhere before it gets dark.

         Before you could make it to any building you felt a stingy tug on your wrists. There was no one around you but you knew who was pulling you towards the alley. Despite your tugs for freedom, there was nothing that you could do. The familiar laugh making your blood boil as you got closer, “Darling where do you think you’re going?”

         “What do you want Doffy? What happened to your new plaything?” You spit out as your arms are raised into the air, feet dangling until you’re eye level with Doflamingo.  

         “Oh doll, I may get another toy, but your still mine.” His voice drips with something else you haven’t heard before and your heart sinks slightly. The anger boiling more than the slight fear that’s rising up. He grabs your wrists himself, pushing you against a wall, caressing your face with his other hand. “Now then, should I punish you here? Or back home?”

         You feel your heart sink when his hand starts to venture down, fingers looping around the collar of your shirt, pulling enough to start a tear. Your eyes flash up at him, his face unrecognizable from who you thought you knew, before twisting your head around to look around the alley way. You feel the tug on your shirt and hear it rip more before you swallow the lump in your throat, “H-home.”

         Doflamingo lets out a small chuckle before leaning down, licking your neck up to your ear, “And why should I do that darling? Just so you can run away again? How will you learn?” The dangerous tone danced in your head as you wracked your brain for any way to get out of this situation. Tears brimming your eyes as one final tug left you exposed.

         “I-I’m sorry.” You whisper, looking up into his sunglasses, “I do-n’t know what I was t-thinking.” The whimpers of a false apology leaving you as you feel his hand trail down your stomach, fingers brushing against your waist band.

         His face close as he still stares down at you, expectingly as you start to shake slightly. His amused chuckles waiting for more while he slips his hand underneath the fabric of your shorts.

         The sound of people walking down the streets just a hundred feet away made you start to sweat as you feel him inching closer to your core. “D-Doffy, baby. Please I’m sorry,” You whimper out before leaning up into him, kissing him gently in hopes that he would change his mind, looking up with puppy eyes before continuing, “Let’s go home. Please baby?” Another kiss, that this time he accepts, deepening it as he puts his hand on your hip, pushing himself against you and loosening the grip on your wrists. “I played this joke too far, I’m sorry” You murmur under your breath, wrapping you arms around his neck when they were finally released from his grasp.

         “Well if you’re truly sorry Darling,” His dark voice still there as he smiled down at you mockingly, “I guess I can go easy this time as it was your first transgression.” He sets you down entirely, letting you stand on your own two feet. His hand goes to your shoulder, the grip a warning tight grasp as you stare back up at him, “You’d better get back home before dark then.”

         You look at him quizzically as he steps back, your hands slowly going to the edges of your ripped shirt, crossing them over in an attempt to cover yourself, “I’ll even forget about the punishment if you get home before the sun sets.” His mocking tone as he starts walking away from you, “Oh and darling? Don’t try to run.” You felt a shiver run down your spine, processing his words. The shreds of a shirt barely covering you as you looked at the horizon, realizing you had at most a couple of minutes of light left before the city would be plunged into darkness. It had taken you at least half an hour to get here. The cool sweat forming as you started to make your way back, it’d be best not to anger him more, you didn’t want to test the waters of his anger.