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houserautha · 6 months

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These Destined Ends

Part 6

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: (I’m kind of rusty about appropriate warnings so let me know if there’s something I need to add or correct) You dose yourself with poison, he cuts his arm with a knife, you drink his blood, knife play, oral sex female receiving, dirty talk, p in v, some light praise, dubious consent, inappropriate use of a dagger/anal, he fucks you and the dagger essentially fucks him, breeding/pregnancy kink, unprotected sex, creampie, black cum ofc, no aftercare

A/N: Alright this chapter is…a lot. The knife scenario I read a few years ago in “Den of Vipers” by K.A Knight and it completely changed my brain chemistry. It inspired me to include a similar situation because it’s so Feyd coded😂😭

Also credits to @sansaorgana for mentioning how Harkonnen blood would be thick and effected by Giedi Prime’s environment and pollution. I love discussing Feyd’s body fluids

Weeks pass before Feyd-Rautha corners you in one of the Baron’s sparse gardens. Garden being a slight exaggeration — really, it’s more of a barren courtyard with a bench. Until your fearsome betrothed strode in, your only company was a few scraggly bushes and the fledgling pilingtam tree keeping you in the shade.

Feyd-Rautha hooks his finger in your book and pulls it away. “Come with me.”

You glare balefully at him. “I was reading that.” It’s the only Harkonnen novel you’ve found that you can stomach. “You can’t just beckon me whenever. Or — and this is blasphemy, I know — you could just ask me if I want to go with you.”

Feyd-Rautha closes the book. “No.”

“You lost my page,” you say with a pout. You debate teaching manners to him again, briefly, before sensing that you’re fighting a losing battle. So instead you snatch the book from his hands.

“Two hundred and thirty eight. Now,” he fixes you with a stern look, “let’s go.”

“Where are we going?”

Frankly, you don’t care where he’s taking you. Since the Crucible, you’ve been anxiously waiting for something to do besides answering questions about your upcoming nuptials. Your body aches for purpose. Movement. You also realize, with mixed feelings, that you would probably follow Feyd-Rautha wherever he asked you.

What did that say about your state of mind?

“It’s time for training,” he says.

You trail after him, vaguely disappointed that you weren’t going to finish your book. You tuck it under your arm. How bad could poison training be? Maybe you’d have time to flip through a few pages. Feyd-Rautha eyes you as if he can tell what you’re thinking, but doesn’t comment on it.

The fortress is in full swing for the wedding, which looms only a month and a half away. You would think that’s plenty of time to prepare. But servants are hanging decorations, comparing tasks, and cleaning everything in sight. They quiet as you and Feyd-Rautha stroll past them, and you search their faces for Asha.

She’s been just as busy as everyone else. Everyone but you, of course, who, despite your prominent involvement in the wedding, has been left to your own devices. You weren’t exactly thrilled to dose yourself with poison, but at least it gave you something to look forward to.

“How did you first go about this?” You ask the na-Baron. It’s a strange comfort to be in the presence of someone so unperturbed, confident and assured to a fault, sure, but you knew what to expect from him. He was an asshole, but he would be one regardless.

“Poison tolerance?” He asks.

“No, long walks through the fortress.”

Feyd-Rautha ignores you. “It’s a precaution, mostly. Poison-snoopers can be faulty or influenced. It also gives me an…edge…over others.”

“The others being…?”

“Political allies. Enemies.” You catch the hint of a grin on his lips. “It cuts a formidable image when your guest has no concern for poison.”

“As if you don’t already,” you retort.

“You flatter me.”

“Oh, like you’re not aware.” You roll your eyes. “Where are we even going?”

“Somewhere private,” he says.

You raise your brows. Feyd-Rautha pushes his shoulder suddenly against what you thought until that point was a wall, but it swings open on an invisible seam. “Not like that,” he says, amusement coloring his tone. “Although I could never refuse you, wife.”

The room he leads you into is mostly bare except for a few maps on the walls and a table in the center. You recognize the surface of the table as the topography of Giedi Prime, the vast plains and tiny boxes representing the plethora of factories. You ghost your fingers over it. “What is this place?”

“My strategy room.” When you glance at him imploringly, he sighs and adds in a resigned tone, “Sometimes I find working with the other nobles tedious. I spend my time alone if possible.”

“Hm.” You sit down at the table and try to imagine Feyd-Rautha presiding over it, testing out battle strategies and war maneuvers.

You must sink too far into your own thoughts because it startles you when he sets down a small glass in front of you, nestled in the space between two miniature factories. “We need to start small,” he tells you.

“What is this?”

“Poison.”

You shoot him an annoyed look. “It would just be nice to know what poison I’m ingesting, is all.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He plants his hands on the table and assumes a position that you have a hard time believing he doesn’t know stirs something dark within you. “I’m going to be giving you small doses of poisons most typically used throughout the Known Universe.”

“You’re so kind,” you mutter.

He nudges the glass closer to you. “This is the weakest one of them all. We can work our way up, gauge their effects on you.”

“Like what?” You think back to the day in the arena with Ze’ev, how the flip-dart hidden in his clothing quickly incapacitated you, turning your thoughts to sludge.

“Fatigue. Nausea. Potential fevers, chills, heart palpitations.”

“Oh,” you say miserably, “is that all?”

“No, actually,” he replies, oblivious to your fear, “but sometimes it’s better not to know. Drink.”

Your stomach twists with nerves. But he’s watching you in that anxiety-inducing way he tends to, so you tip the contents of the glass down your throat. He smiles.

Poison training is hell.

You’re not sure what you expected, but it’s not this — constantly being gripped by fatigue and nausea, your body battling persistently against the poisons.

The beginning was the worst. You had never thrown up so much in your life. Feyd-Rautha assured you that you were tolerating the poison better than most, but you highly doubted that. You were couch-ridden for days on end, too weak to move or do much more than eat the food he forced you to. But, slowly, you adjusted to the poison, and Feyd-Rautha gave you higher doses, stronger strains.

A week away from your wedding, he declares that he won’t give you anything new. “But you must continue to take the poisons from before,” he tells you. “Or your body will lose the tolerance and also go through withdrawals.”

Today, however, is one of the worst days you’ve had. You did everything right, but for some reason you were rendered completely helpless, body racked by intense shivers. You are huddled in the corner of the couch in the antechamber when Feyd-Rautha finds you, stopping him in his tracks.

“H-H-Hi,” you sputter.

He crosses the room in a single stride, ripping off your blanket and assessing your shuddering form. “You used too much,” he says accusingly.

“I-I-I did what you-you told me,” you protest, albeit weakly.

His frown pierces you. You’re afraid he’s going to reprimand you, but instead he takes a step backward. “Go to the bed.”

“I-I’m f-f-fine. I can s-stay here.”

He looses a sigh then, effortlessly, sweeps you off the couch and over his shoulder. You want to fight against him but it’s taking all of your strength not to shiver and let him know just how poorly you are.

“Put me d-down,” you try your best to say, but with your face buried in his back, it comes out muffled.

Feyd-Rautha resists your pitiful attempts of subterfuge, and carries you into the bedroom like you weigh nothing. It’s your first time actually being on the bed, and his faintly medicinal scent pervades your senses. Had you ever even seen him sleep in here before? How did it smell so strongly of him?

He props you up against the pillows. You attempt to pull up the bedding to ward off your chill, but he stops you, which requires little effort on his part. You blink. In reply, he reaches into the top drawer of his bedside table and takes out a blunt-looking dagger.

“W-What are y-you doing?”

Feyd-Rautha presses the blade of the dagger against his forearm, cuts a thin line that weeps with a thick, dark liquid that you realize is his blood. You feel dizzy.

“Wh-What —”

“Just stop talking,” Feyd-Rautha growls. “We clot quickly. Drink.”

Drink? You're not entirely sure how well your emotions are coming across in your current state, but he must know how insane he sounds. Well, more insane than usual.

"I-I'm not —" Before your eyes, his dark-colored blood ceases. He utters something under his breath and then puts the dagger to his skin again, cutting it back open like slotting an envelope.

He captures a drop of it on his thumb and pushes it between your lips.

It doesn’t taste quite as bitterly sweet as his cum, you decide, but possesses the same sharp bite. It sears slightly as it dances on your tongue, down your throat.

“More,” he says. He sits down at the edge of the bed and raises his forearm to your mouth.

With no other choices, you obey.

The blood is thicker here, his skin warm beneath your mouth as you lick at the shallow wound. Any strangeness you felt at his request vanishes as the potency of his blood hits you. You hungrily take your fill, and by the time the wound closes again, it’s chased away your chills and the murkiness evading your mind.

“There,” he rasps. He sets the dagger down on the bed, still sporting a trace of his blood.

“Why…why?”

Feyd-Rautha’s lips twitch. “Harkonnen blood is its own sort of poison, courtesy of our planet’s pollution and smog. I suspected it would be enough to counterbalance the poison already in your system.”

You fixate on the wound, how the blood has already congealed. “It stopped,” you say stupidly. But how could you be expected to think properly — you had just drank from his arm, from his blood, to stave off poison that you’d willing ingested.

Feyd-Rautha nods. “Another benefit.”

“Anywhere on your body? It does that?”

He indicates the dagger. “See for yourself.”

A chill runs through you, but now for an entirely different reason. You inch closer to him, tucking your legs under you. He’s agonizingly close, his dark gaze flickering across your face as you take the dagger and touch the tip of the blade to his chin.

“Is that just a ploy so that I’ll cut you?” You ask, heart pounding furiously. You discover with a sickening twist that you do want to cut him, want to slide the blade across his smooth skin and watch the way the blood rises to greet you.

Feyd-Rautha breathes, “Perhaps.”

You’ve never seen him so transfixed, so compliant. Eager. And with his very blood in your veins, emboldening you, issuing a high like you’ve never felt before — you press the blade into his skin. Blood trickles out, and you use your tongue to lick it up, the metallic taste of the blade mingling with the sharpness of his blood.

Next you take the dagger across his jaw, down the column of his throat to the divot that flutters with his pulse. And then down down down to his chest, shearing his shirt with a single slice.

Feyd-Rautha has an infuriatingly perfect chest — muscled, small, tight nipples that you tease with the edge of the blade. He inhales sharply.

“You’re disgusting,” you say without conviction, your free hand gliding down his toned stomach.

He tilts his face up to you. The gesture is so vulnerable, his expression so devastatingly beautiful, that you climb into his lap. His cock, straining against his pants, nudges your center.

“I hate you,” you tell him.

He whispers, “I know.”

There’s no telling who kisses who first — an impasse to your game of trading punishments. His hands are on you in an instant, over your body and in your hair, clamoring to touch you as if you might disappear at any moment. You’re equally as fervent, notching your thumbs by his jaw on either side and holding him to you, mouths open and hungry. His tongue dances over your lips, behind your teeth.

Feyd-Rautha is his own kind of poison, infiltrating you slowly and feasting on your insides. And you take him in like his kisses are the anecdote, the touch of his hands soothing the ache that his particular brand of poison causes.

Though, if he is poison, you can never imagine adapting to this — his passionate, consuming touch, the whine of his desperation, how he embraces you like it’s everything he’s ever wanted. No, if he is poison, you never want to learn to tolerate him.

His fingers work deftly at your clothes. The air rushes to caress your breast, hardening your nipples. Feyd-Rautha closes his lips on one as he palms his hand over the other, and the wet warmth of his mouth sends you to the edge. Your back bows in response, urging him closer. He bites down at your nipple, tugs on it, swipes his tongue over it like a soothing balm, then repeats the process on the other side.

As soon as your mind clears enough to form a rational thought, you fumble to unbuckle his pants. He helps you — one hand on your ass for support as he lifts up his hips and you wriggle his pants down over them.

His cock, liberated from his pants, slaps against his stomach. He fists the base and indulges in a series of lazy strokes.

Fuck.

“Fuck,” you say aloud.

Feyd-Rautha, returning his mouth to yours, smirks against you. “Your turn.”

He flips you over onto your back in a seamless maneuver, securing your legs around his waist. Feyd-Rautha lingers above you. His dark gaze roams your form as you shimmy out of your dress, leaving you only in your panties. Sometime before he grabbed the dagger, and now uses it to trace a line from between your breasts to your navel.

You gasp. Pain radiates from the thin cut he made, a terrible, delicious heat.

It’s his turn to tend to you now, hands coasting your body as he licks a stripe up your wound and back down, your blood blanketing his tongue. He pauses at your panties, uses both hands to seize you by the hips and drag you to the very edge of the bed, then kneels before you.

You’re already slick with desire and you want to be ashamed but you can’t, not when he ghosts his mouth over your center and you cry out in need.

“So wet for me, wife,” Feyd-Rautha growls. “You want this cock inside you, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you breathe out. You claw at the bedding, pulling it taunt around you.

“Oh, but I’ve been waiting for this. To taste you. God, you don’t know how hard it’s been knowing that you’re always just on the other side of that door.” Feyd-Rautha replaces his mouth with the dagger’s blade and you clench in anticipation. The tip of it traces the edges of your panties, your lips, nudges against your entrance. “You infuriate me. I cannot stop thinking of you.”

You’re too overwhelmed to make sense of his admission, but it sends a ripple of delight through you nonetheless. You buck your hips, desperate for the friction that only his mouth can provide.

“Please,” you beg.

The blade of the dagger stills. “Please what?”

“Please.”

You can’t think of anything else to say.

He urges, “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“I want your mouth on my —”

Feyd-Rautha impatiently cuts away your panties, effectively silencing you. His mouth encloses on your clit. Your words turn into a wail of surprise, of pleasure when he applies pressure with his tongue and then sucks.

Ecstasy spirals through you.

It shouldn’t be a shock that he’s skillful at pleasuring you, at lapping between your lungs like your cunt is the sweetest dessert, yet it still resonates — how he knows exactly when and where to lick, to suckle, to coax more pleading moans from you with his tongue.

And when you come you unravel completely.

“So greedy,” he murmurs as you rise your hips back up to him, beckoning him to continue. “You try to rebel against the idea but you want this cock buried deep inside you, coating you with my cum. Is that right?”

“Yes —”

He slams himself up to the hilt inside you. You cry out in equal parts agony and desire, back bowing, walls stretching to accommodate him. Feyd-Rautha doesn’t wait for you to adjust, drawing out and back in with feverish vigor. His hands pin you to the bed to keep you from arching away, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips.

“You feel incredible,” he says, your name falling from your lips like a prayer. “So nice and tight.”

You clench around him. Feyd-Rautha mumbles his appreciation, slows his movements. “I won’t be able to last if you keep doing that,” he tells you, “you feel so good. So fucking good.”

You put up a protest as he withdraws, leaving you feeling horribly empty. Feyd-Rautha turns you onto your belly, ensures that your knees are at the edge of the bed, ass up. A mortifying heat surges through you — completely exposed, vulnerable to his wandering gaze. He runs his hand over your ass, drifts to your soaked cunt.

“I want to possess you wholly.”

You whimper in response. You hear movement from behind, and, in the absence of his attention, dip your hand down to your cunt to alleviate the mounting pressure, but you’re declined the pleasure.

“I didn��t say you could touch yourself.”

He lines himself with your entrance. This time when he seats himself inside you it’s painfully slow, deliberate, every inch driving you closer to another orgasm. Feyd-Rautha starts a slow pace, pulling his cock out till his swollen head brushes past your lips, then back in. Eventually he increases his speed until he’s snapping his hips against you, penetrating you deeply, fully, invoking breathless sounds from both of you.

Feyd-Rautha pursues his pleasure the same way he fights — violent, ruthless in its execution. You’re aware, somewhere in the recesses of your mind, that you’re going to be a quivering mess tomorrow. But in the moment you can only immerse yourself in this man: Feyd-Rautha, the na-Baron, a monster in his own right.

In a burst of bright light, an orgasm cleaves you in half, Feyd-Rautha pumping into you until it surrenders to his darkness. Before you can even recover, you feel the familiar coldness of the dagger’s blade biting into your back, down your spine, circling your ass.

He brushes his thumb over your ass. “Have you ever been taken here before?”

Your breath hitches. “Once.”

Feyd-Rautha emits a satisfied hum. From your peripheral you watch him reach into the bedside table again, this time to fish out a cloth to wipe down the dagger. Your walls clench.

“I want to see this dagger in that pretty ass of yours.”

Feyd-Rautha traces your cunt, gathering your wetness on his fingers to coat the handle of the dagger. He spits on your ass, rubs it over you. “You have to relax,” he rasps. The handle of the dagger pushes against you and you instinctively flex as the first ridge enters you. “Relax, wife.“

You oblige, and he’s able to ease the rest of it inside. It’s tight, full, uncomfortable, but not unbearable. When you feel Feyd-Rautha notch himself at your entrance, alarm seizes you. “What are you —?”

He plunges himself inside you.

And as he does, the blade of the knife punctures his skin with a soft squelch.

You gasp. A growl rumbles through his chest. You can’t see, but you can hear the blade pierce him with each ministration of his hips. You can’t believe him, what he’s doing, but the sounds he makes as he enters you and the dagger enters him at the same time are inescapable, intoxicating. And with the added fullness of his cock and the handle of the dagger, you build towards your orgasm, toes curling.

Feyd-Rautha sinks into you again and again, dagger piercing his side. It prompts a steady stream of his blood that joins with your slickness. His breath quickens. “You take my cock so well. Look at you, so full, so beautiful.”

He slows to remove the dagger from you, taking his time as not to harm you. You shudder. The dagger is tossed to the side still covered in his blood.

“I get to fuck this pretty pussy as much as I want,” he rasps, more to himself than you. “Fill you with my seed, over and over until it takes, then fuck you when you’re pregnant and round with my child. Fuck. I want to see you. I want to see your face as I cum inside you for the first time.”

The image he paints has you gasping for breath. Eager to please, you turn onto your back and present yourself to him. Feyd-Rautha is a god of war, of wrath, wreathed in shadows, and he buries himself into you like he’s seeking redemption. You cry out as he nears his own orgasm, tears blurring your eyes — he sheathes himself fully one final time then spills his seed in your cunt.

Your walls pulse, clamping down around him. He holds you close as he finishes, warm breath fanning your skin, jolting slightly. It’s only when he removes himself, bites playfully at your breast, that you realize the wetness you feel dripping onto your belly is his blood.

“Feyd — what, what were you thinking?” You shove him off you.

He stands, naked form on display, blood dribbling down from the wound in his stomach. It’s distracting, frankly, and it just reminds you of how it had gotten there.

“I wasn’t,” he says simply.

You open your mouth to say something else, reprimand him, maybe, but then he runs his fingers along your thigh and scoops up the cum that’s escaped from inside you. He pushes it back into your cunt, which is still beating with the memory of his cock, blissfully sore.

Feyd-Rautha says, “Don’t worry about me, wife. I will heal. You worry about keeping me inside you.”

He stands to walk away and as he does, you mutter to no one, “I wasn’t worried” although you were. You tilt your hips up. Getting pregnant isn’t exactly your top priority right now, but the alternative is having his cum dribble down your thighs, and the black fluid is a little concerning to see smeared across your skin.

What child could be born from such a substance?

You angle your head to see Feyd-Rautha. He stands at the threshold of the bathroom, back turned to you. You admire his physique. For all of his misgivings — his psychotic tendencies, the murder, the way he plays his games with you — he’s irritatingly attractive. You close your eyes and let your head thump onto the bed.

You open them again when you hear the bedroom door swing open. “Are you leaving?” You ask, exasperated.

“Yes,” Feyd-Rautha says. He’s dressed, sadly. “I have other business to tend to.”

You scowl at the implication of being business.

“I’ll be back before the wedding. Keep up with your tolerance. Just know that I won’t fuck you every time you over dose,” he tells you. A million questions jump to mind — and quite a few curses — but he’s gone before you can say any of them.

Spent and still reeling from your recent fucking, you collapse back onto the bed and throw your arm over your eyes. What were you doing?

You were going to marry him.

Part 7

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#dune #feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #fanfic writing #writers on tumblr #writing #fanfic #feyd smut #i am feral for him #FERAL

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moonlitstoriess · 17 days

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The Hidden Legacy- A Ruhn Danaan x Rhysands sister series

Chapter 2: Whispers of a Broken Future

Summary: Rhysand’s sister, Seraphis, long thought dead, was taken by the Asteri/Valgs, her memories erased and turned into a ruthless killer loyal to their cause. After Bryce kills the Asteri, Seraphis seeks vengeance on her and everyone else involved. As she hunts them down, Rhysand and the Inner Circle discover the shocking truth: she’s alive, and now their enemy.

See masterlist

Obscura: A state of being hidden, unknown, or mysterious. A shadow over reality, obscuring what is true or real.

"Do you ever wonder who you really are, Seraphis?"

Rigelus' voice was a low murmur, almost soft as he circled around her, hands clasped behind his back. They stood in one of the private chambers of the Asteri's citadel, far from the cold, calculating halls she had grown used to. This place felt different. Smaller, more personal, with darkened windows that let in the faintest light from the distant stars.

Seraphis didn't answer. Her jaw clenched as she stared at the ground, resisting the pull of his voice, that hypnotic charm that he always used to get inside her head.

"You were nothing when we found you," he continued, coming to stand in front of her, his piercing eyes locking onto hers. "You didn't know your purpose. But we...we gave you one we made you into something extraordinary."

Her fists tightened at her sides. Every word felt like a knife, but it cut deeper because she believed him. Without the Asteri, she would have been lost--just another face forgotten in the endless void.

Rigelus stepped closer, so close she could feel his presence, warm and overwhelming, like the sun burning too bright. "You've always been special, Seraphis. More than any of the others. I see that in you. But you need to embrace what you are, fully."

"And what am I?" she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper, sharp with the weight of all her buried fears.

He smiled then, but it was not a kind smile. It was the smile of someone who knew he owned you, that you were his to mold, to control. "You are ours. Always."

The words hit her like a blow, but even worse was the fact that part of her wanted to believe it. Wanted to believe she belonged somewhere, even if it was in the darkness of their control.

"You can fight and run from it all you want," Rigelus whispered, his lips inches from her ear. "But the truth is, I will always catch you, my butterfly. Because without me, you are nothing."

The flash of that memory left Seraphis shaking as she stood in front of the window, staring out into the chaotic streets of Lunathion. Her whole life's purpose, was to serve the Asteri and their interests. They trained her differently than the others.

Hell, they didn't even bother with the others.

She was the first and the only being to ever get insight into the six legendary Asteris. To learn from them, to be with them, to be under their protection, their presence. She was special because they always told her so.

Austrus had even once told her that maybe someday in the future, she could be sitting just a foot below, on the second dais, as their first in command.

Well, that was never going to happen because they are all dead now.

How couldn't the others see it? See that the Asteri were always sharing greatness insetad of terror? Stupid mortals, so self-centered, such cowardly beings, always running away, easily scared.

But Bryce was't like them. Oh, no.

That little brat thought she could put on some brave pants and fight the Asteri. What a fool, what an idiot.

She didn't even stop to think that maybe just killing the Asteri doesn't mean the end of the story. That maybe, they had a plan B, C, D, all the way to Z in their hands.

Her lips twitched up in a smirk. And Seraphis was in all of those plans.

The smirk remained on her lips as she turned away from the window, her mind churning with the possibilities. She had been created for this exact moment, for the aftermath. The Asteri had always known that one day their reign might falter, and they had placed all their bets on her.

Seraphis moved to the bed, her fingers lightly brushing over the rough fabric of the blanket. She had no time to waste on sentiment. The game had changed, but the rules were still hers to follow. The Asteri had imbued her with every secret, every contingency, every weapon. And now it was time for her to step out from their shadow and finish what they had started.

Seraphis stared at the window from her seat on the bed, the hum of the city below barely registering in her head as her thoughts spun. It was a delicate balance--one that would take careful planning and precision. She couldn't afford to rush in blindly, not when the stakes were this high.

Her eyes narrowed as she considered her options. The easiest route would be to create small, targeted disruptions across the city—nothing large enough to draw attention from the wrong forces but enough to spark curiosity. Bryce and her crew would eventually notice, especially if the incidents had a familiar touch. She smirked at the thought. It wouldn’t take long before they came sniffing around, trying to understand what was happening. And by then, it would be too late.

She would start small. Plant seeds of unrest in the lower districts, where crime already simmered beneath the surface. A few well-placed provocations, and soon, the city’s order would begin to fray. Nothing too obvious—just enough to make the tension in Lunathion palpable. And then, when the cracks began to widen, she’d start to build the real trap. The kind that would lure Bryce and her friends into the open.

But that was only part of it. Seraphis needed to study them, learn their weaknesses, observe how they moved. It was crucial to find any cracks in their group, and she knew there had to be some. It was only a matter of time.

Her eyes moved away from the window, gazing right towards the wall. The beginnings of her plan were solid, but the details needed to be refined. The hunt for Bryce, her mate and her brother would take time, but she was patient. They would come to her when the city began to unravel.

A twisted smile tugged at her lips. Yes, she would tear their world apart piece by piece, just as Bryce had done to hers.

But first, she needed to light the match.

Seraphis moved toward the table, pulling out a map of the city she had acquired earlier. Spreading it across the table, she traced the streets with her fingers, marking down potential areas where she could plant her seeds of chaos. The slums. The docks. The underground markets.

She wouldn’t need to get her hands too dirty—there were always desperate souls willing to cause havoc for the right price. And she had more than enough resources to pay for what she needed.

Tonight, she would start small. She would test the waters, see how quickly the city reacted. And from there, she would expand her operations. The goal was to draw them out, after all. And when they came? Seraphis would be waiting.

Her lips twitched into a cold, calculating smile. It was time to remind Midgard that the Asteri’s legacy wasn’t dead. It lived on in her.

The pieces of her plan were slowly falling into place. And soon, so would Bryce.

Seraphis sat back in the stiff chair, her gaze sweeping over the map again, committing every detail to memory. She knew the city well enough from her previous reconnaissance-it's layout, it's strengths, it's weak points. The underground market was her first target.

And although it's name sounded similar to the underworld or the Meat market over which the Viper Queen ruled, they could not be more different. The underground is even darker than the Meat market, the lowest point one could ever reach. Whatever you wouldn't find in the underworld, you will most likely find in the underground.

It was a place where both criminals and so-called heroes found themselves entangled, and it would make the perfect starting point for the chaos that she intended to unleash.

With a few well-placed disruptions, the tension between the gangs and the enforcers would rise, and soon enough, word would reach Bryce’s ears. Seraphis didn’t care about the outcome of that petty conflict. The market’s collapse was merely a tool, a prelude to the greater plan.

But that was for later. First, she needed to move unnoticed, blend into the shadows of the city. Despite her plans to sow chaos, her own movements had to remain undetected. For now, anyway.

She rose from the chair and crossed to the small bag she’d brought with her, opening it to reveal a neatly folded, simple cloak—nothing like the regal attire she had once worn in the Asteri’s court. This was meant for blending in, not standing out. She pulled the fabric over her shoulders and tightened the clasp at her neck. Then, she grabbed a few essential tools from her pack—daggers, a gun, lockpicks, and some cash—just enough for tonight’s mission.

As she turned to leave, her gaze flicked to the reflection in the small, dingy mirror hanging above the dresser. The female staring back at her was not the same one she had once been. The cold detachment in her eyes, the calculating glint in her expression—it was all forged from the years under the Asteri’s influence. They had trained her, molded her into a weapon, and now, she would use that power to strike down those who had wronged her.

But something in the pit of her stomach tightened as she looked at her own face, and for a brief moment, she wondered what she would have been without them. Without the manipulation, the teachings, the control.

No. She couldn’t think like that. That path led to doubt, and doubt had no place in her mission.

Seraphis exhaled slowly, forcing the unwelcome thoughts away. There was no room for weakness. Not now, not ever.

She pulled the hood of her cloak up and quietly exited the motel room, blending into the late-night crowds that still lingered on the streets. The city’s pulse was alive around her—bright lights, roaring voices, the distant sound of music and laughter from the nearby bars. But all of it felt muted to her, as though it belonged to a world she no longer had any part in.

The underground market was a good distance away, but Seraphis was in no rush. The night stretched long, and the quieter the streets became, the easier it would be to move through unnoticed.

As she made her way through the alleyways and narrow streets, she began to mentally run through the next phases of her plan. After the initial chaos at the market, she would need to set up a few more “incidents” in other key areas of the city. The slums, in particular, were a breeding ground for unrest. And she would use that unrest to her advantage, stirring the pot just enough to bring everything boiling to the surface.

But all of it—every step she took—would be meaningless if she didn’t ultimately bring Bryce and her allies into the fray. Bryce needed to see the consequences of her actions. She needed to understand that killing the Asteri hadn’t ended their reach, that Seraphis still carried their legacy. And Seraphis would make sure that Bryce knew exactly who had come for her in the end.

Seraphis’ steps slowed as she approached the market district. This was where the first domino would fall. It would be subtle at first—just enough to stir the waters—but it would be enough to start the chain reaction. She smirked beneath the hood of her cloak, her fingers itching to put the plan into motion.

The hunt had begun.

The deeper she went into the market district, the fewer lights illuminated the way. The shadows grew thicker, darker, more welcoming. She preferred it that way. She had always been more comfortable in the darkness--where she could disappear, where no one could track her.

The underground market came into view soon enough, it's entrance tucked between two crumbling buildings in one of the older parts of Lunathion. It wasn't marked, but she knew the signs- the faint hum of activity, the subtle symbols carved into the stone by those who frequented this place. Only those who were meant to be here would find it.

Seraphis pulled her hood lower, her face obscured, and made her way to the door. A lone guard stood by, eyeing her warily, but he made no move to stop her. He wasn't paid to care about who came or went--only to keep the peace inside. That worked to her advantage.

She slipped past him and into the market below.

The underground market was a labrynth of dimly lit corridors, filled with stalls and vendors selling everything from the rarest magical artifacts to specific body parts of powerful beings. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and incense, and the low murmur of voices echoed off the stone walls. It was a place of deals and danger, where money and power changed hands in secret.

And tonight, Seraphis would be the one pulling the strings.

She wandered through the stalls, her eyes scanning the wares, but she wasn't here to buy. No, her interest lay in the individuals--the ones who operated in the shadows, the ones who could help spread the chaos needed. It didn't take long to spot them. They were always the same type--the smugglers, the mercenaries, the power-hungry who would do anything for the right price.

Seraphis approached a small group huddled near the back of the market. Three males. One wolf, one fae, one human. Perfect.

They were rough looking, armed with blades and distrustful eyes. She could feel their wariness as she neared, but they made no move to stop her.

"You look like the kind of men who know how to find things," she said, her voice low, carrying just enough authority to get their attention.

The wolf, a tall male with a scar running down his cheek, gave her a once-over before nodding. "Depends on what you're looking for."

"I'm not looking for anything." She pulled the black cloth from her bag, and slowly unwrapped one of the relics, revealing a small, intricate object glowing faintly with power. The men's eyes widened at the sight. "But I am offering something. This--and more--if you're willing to do a little work for me."

The men exchanged glances, greed already shining in their eyes. The scarred one stepped forward. "What kind of work?"

"Simple," Seraphis said, her voice cold and calculating. "Spread the word. Tell your buyers that something big is coming. A power shift. A chance to get in on something...greater."

She let the words hang in the air, giving them time to bite. The men leaned in closer, intrigued. "And who are you, exactly?"

"Someone who know's whats coming," she replied. "And if you're smart, you'll play your part when the time comes."

The male's eyes flicked to the relic in her hand, then back to her. "And if we do?"

"You'll be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams," she said smoothly, knowing full well that these idiots would sell their souls for even a taste of the power she offered. "But cross me, and you'll be the first to burn when this city falls."

The three seemed to mull it over for a moment, then the scarred one nodded slowly. "We'll spread the word. But we want more than just promises."

Seraphis smiled darkly and handed him the relic. "Consider this a down payment."

She turned on her heel and disappeared back into the maze of stalls, her work here done. The seed of chaos has been planted, and it wouldn't take long for it to spread.

Seraphis slipped out of the market and into the cool night air, her heart steady, her mind clear. It was only the beginning. Soon, the streets would burn, and Bryce would have no choice but to come out of hiding.

And when she did, Seraphis would be waiting.

She pulled the hood of her cloak tighter around her face and melted back into the shadows. Tonight had gone according to plan, but there was still so much work to be done. This was only the first step, the first move in a much larger game.

A game that Seraphis intended to win.

She moved with cold precision, her mind racing through the intricacies of her plan. She didn't care who showed up first--whether it was Bryce, one of her friends, or even her allies. All that mattered was drawing them out, making them feel the chaos she was about to unleash.

The rebellion tearing through the city was the perfect distraction, but she had her own plans to accelerate the destruction. She thrived in the shadows, using the panic to slip unnoticed through the darkened streets toward the heart of the city’s market district.

The bustling square, still relatively untouched by the unrest, was a chaotic web of people moving in and out of crowded shops and vendor stalls. Seraphis stood in the shadows, watching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

She closed her eyes and summoned her power. Time slowed to a crawl around her as she focused on the flow of energy coursing through the city. She was no master of fire or chaos in the traditional sense, but time… time was her weapon.

Seraphis sent out tendrils of her power, threading them through the crowded square. She began to bend time, subtly at first, slowing the movements of some citizens while speeding up others. A cart that had been rolling steadily down the street suddenly sped up, crashing into a vendor’s stall, spilling supplies everywhere. The vendor, moving too slowly to react, was sent tumbling into a nearby food cart, which quickly tipped over, sparking a small fire as the flames caught onto the cloth covering.

More and more, she manipulated time, sending carts crashing, people stumbling, and machinery malfunctioning. The disruption quickly spread, triggering accidents that led to more destruction—an explosion from a nearby gas lamp, a toppled building as workers moved too fast, outpacing the scaffolding’s stability.

The market district, once vibrant and alive, descended into chaos. Flames licked the edges of buildings as accidents caused by Seraphis’s manipulation spiraled out of control.

Satisfied with the mayhem, she turned her attention to the old power grid hidden in the lower alleyways. Outdated and vulnerable, just like everything else in Lunathion. She reached it swiftly, manipulating time once again to accelerate the aging process of the already fragile system.

The generator cracked, groaned, and then burst into sparks as its components wore down in seconds, unable to withstand the rapid decay. With a final pulse of her power, Seraphis watched as the entire market district was plunged into darkness. The screams that followed filled the air, rising above the crackling fires and collapsing stalls.

People ran in every direction, unable to comprehend the sudden destruction around them. Panic spread, fueled by the darkness, by the confusion Seraphis had meticulously engineered.

She stood in the shadows, watching as chaos unfolded in the streets below. The flames danced in the distance, illuminating the night in a harsh, flickering glow. She felt the familiar pulse of time bend around her, the echoes of the city rippling as if the fabric of reality itself shuddered in response to her presence.

She had done it--set the stage. The tiniest adjustment, a mere shift in the sequence of events, was all it had taken. She smiled, satisfied.

But as she stood there, a thought came to her. This wasn't just about creating chaos. It was about leaving her mark, reminding them--Bryce, and anyone who dared to be as stupid as Bryce--that there were forces at play they couldn't understand.

Seraphis turned away from the window and glanced around the room of one of the closed shops she was watching this chaos unfurl from, her eyes landing on a broken clock in the corner, it's hands twitching erratically. A smirk played at her lips. That would be her mark. Every time she struck, time would ripple around her, warping and twisting the surroundings in subtle but unmistakable ways. Clocks would break, moments would repeat, and objects would age or freeze in time.

She pulled her hood up over her head, the shadow of her cloak swallowing her figure as she made her way out of the room. The streets were in disarray, and the fire had already drawn people out of their homes. She slipped past them with ease, unnoticed as she moved through the growing crowds.

In the chaos, she allowed her powers to work their magic, creating slight distortions in the area--small enough to be overlooked by most, but clear enough for those who were paying attention. It wouldn't be long before one of Bryce's minions noticed. Someone would realize the pattern and start to piece together what was happening.

As the chaos continued to swell around her, she vanished into the night, leaving behind the broken clocks.

********

Seraphis woke early, her mind still buzzing from the previous night's chaos. The dawn light filtering through the thin curtains of her room, casting long shadows on the walls. She dressed and got ready quickly, her thoughts already on the next steps in her plan.

She headed out to a small cafe nearby, it's warmth a stark contrast to the chill of the morning air. As she sat down with a simple breakfast of coffee and bread, the cafe buzzed with the latest gossip. The patrons, their faces tired but animated, spoke in hushed, urgent tones.

"....can you believe it? The whole street's still smoldering. They're saying it was some kind of coordinated attack."

"The 33rd Legion have been working non-stop. It's a mess out there."

"So many dead too, I heard Hunt Athalar on the news, saying how whoever was behind this, will pay dearly for what they have caused."

Seraphis barely managed to stop herself from laughing at that.

The damage was clearly intensive, just as she had planned. Her actions had created the right kind of chaos to draw out Bryce or anyone from her group out. Seems like today is her mate who decided to show himself first. How fantastic.

As she sipped her coffee, her eyes wandered out the window, scanning the busy street. The city was still reeling from the night’s events, and the atmosphere was charged with a mix of fear and urgency. Her plan had succeeded, but she knew she had to remain cautious.

In the midst of the commotion, she spotted Ruhn Danaan and his auxiliary approaching. He was in conversation with his team, but his commanding presence was unmistakable. Seraphis’ heart quickened; she needed to be careful.

She subtly moved from her seat, preparing to leave. But as she slipped out the door, her eyes caught Ruhn’s gaze, just for a fleeting moment. Panic surged through her. This shouldn’t happen, she thought, trying to slip away unnoticed.

Ruhn’s eyes narrowed as he spotted her. He gestured sharply to his auxiliary, and they began to follow her. The café’s patrons were oblivious to the unfolding chase, focused on their own concerns.

Seraphis moved quickly through the streets, her pace quickening as she realized she couldn’t outrun them. Ruhn and his team closed in, their footsteps echoing behind her. She darted into an alley, hoping to lose them in the labyrinth of narrow passages.

But Ruhn was fast. He managed to catch a glimpse of her just as she turned a corner. He shouted for his team to keep up, and they surged forward. Seraphis could feel the pressure mounting; she had to act fast.

As she neared a side street, Ruhn reached out, grabbing her by the arm for a brief moment. The instant his hand touched her, Seraphis felt an electric jolt, an unfamiliar and unsettling sensation that made her pause. Her heart raced, and she felt a strange, almost instinctual pull towards him, but she quickly wrenched her arm free, her senses overloaded.

“Stop!” Ruhn called out, his voice a mixture of authority and urgency. His touch was firm, but she managed to twist away and disappear into the shadows before he could get a full grasp on her.

In her haste, she left behind a small, distinctive object—a silver pendant she always kept hidden. Ruhn noticed it lying on the ground and picked it up, his eyes narrowing as he examined it. The pendant bore intricate designs that seemed out of place in the city’s everyday life.

Seraphis vanished into the maze of streets, her breath coming in quick, ragged gasps. She glanced back only once, seeing Ruhn still searching for her, his gaze scanning the alleys. She knew he would not find her now.

As the sun climbed higher, the city continued its recovery, unaware of the brief encounter that had occurred. Seraphis took a deep breath and moved forward, her thoughts already turning to the next phase of her plan.

She had managed to escape, but the pendant left behind might pose a problem. It was a small slip, but one that could have significant consequences.

And Seraphis had no idea how to get it back.

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

Taglist: @annamariereads16 @tooexhaustedsstuff @a-frog-with-a-laptop @cassie-at-college-blog @itsinherited

#acotar #fantasy #fanfics #maasverse #ruhn danaan #rhysand #high lord rhysand #crescent city #ruhn crescent city #hunt athalar #bryce quinlan

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thefirstknife · 3 months

Text

Okay, this is it for Act I and now we have to stew for 20 days, I'm okay and not feeling abnormal at all (lie). But there's SO MUCH that I want to mention.

The mission starts normally, we're just collecting samples for Failsafe, but then Osiris calls us to come help him with Saint. And then shit hits the fan. Saint has apparently walked off alone into Nessus and isn't answering his comms. Normal and cool!

I'll go into the whole thing, under read more for length (long ass post, I'm having normal thoughts and feelings about this whole thing):

Right away, no more lake where we were fishing (only in the mission though):

Strange! The Vex appear to have let Saint pass through here without a fight. Once again, there's a mix of Vex in this area; some are normal Vex units with collars and some are Precursors without (the boss, the cyclops and the hobgoblins are Precursors):

The Precursors aren't collared, but they still participate in this and are also changed ("uplifted choral cyclops" = part of the chorus even without a yoke). This is incredibly strange. And then more strange information:

Okay!!! What is going on! We've seen in the last week's lore page that the Vex are behaving incredibly strangely. In short, they seem to be behaving more like individuals, rather than what we're used to seeing from them. This adds to that. They are developing tactics and changes that they previously weren't engaged with because, essentially, they didn't have to be.

Anyway, we get to finally hear Saint and he's... Talking to himself. About how he's not real. We find him collared and he appears to be hearing a voice talking to him; the voice is only identified as a "Conductor." At this point, I don't think there's any doubt about this being Maya. The same term was used by her in her experiments with the Veil: she needed someone to be a "conductor" to the "chorus" of minds when she was trying to merge fabricate consciousness (which she succeeded in with Lakshmi). Maya died in the "conductor's chair." What we don't know is ... Well. Anything else. What is she doing and why and what state is she in. The assumption right now is that she's using the Vex as a chorus, but why are they allowing this and why are some of them participating even without the collars? No clue.

What's interesting is that she seems to have analysed Saint and knew about him, either from her own analysis of him after observing him during our expeditions or from the Vex themselves. Or both. I suspect a combination of both because he's been involved with what we've been doing so she would've been interested to see why, and then she would've also gotten additional information from the Vex who recognise him. I would assume the Vex also had information about the rest of us, including Osiris and YW, but Saint was easiest to control.

With what she was telling him, it also means that Maya now knows how we saved him. His entire story is directly linked to the Vex and Vex technology so naturally all of this would be recorded with them and would allow Maya to find out about it. She knows that in some timelines he dies and he is saved in this one. She filled his head with the idea that he doesn't belong here, that he shouldn't have been saved. That he's an error that's "corrupting the true timeline."

As a sidenote, when you come into this room, Curse of Osiris music starts playing, again, as it has been playing for a lot of stuff this episode (specifically the Panoptes fight track). I'm super glad to hear that OST again. I'm also insane about them dropping Mercury music and Precursors at me.

Saint has more concerning lines:

And then we reach him:

Totally okay scene to see. Saint in his bubble, with a yoke, Vex arranged around him in their worshipping pose and the mysterious figures hovering above him. Saint continues:

Okay! *cries* He snaps out of it when Ikora reminds him of Osiris. Old man yaoi wins again!!

Then there's the conversation between Osiris, Saint, Ikora and Failsafe where Osiris is desperately trying to convince Saint that he's real and fine and that there's nothing wrong with him. I crode.... Man, they really said "you WILL watch these old men lovingly put hands on each other." But also, Saint confirms that he just heard a voice speaking to him on Nessus and that he couldn't do anything except obey its commands. It wasn't a Vex; Saint describes it as something that "connected to his mind" and called itself the "Conductor."

Failsafe pointed out that the Vex and Exo share radiolaria as a "base material" and that the Vex were perhaps trying to interface with Saint for information about what we're doing. But Saint said that they did not care about that at all. Instead, they "measured" Saint's "humanity" and "legitimacy."

Osiris does his best to convince him otherwise:

Bro. I am crying in the club what the fuck. Osiris had access to other Saints, but he didn't want to mess with them. He wanted to save the Saint he knew. It was the whole deal with the Sundial being so specific to find "the right moment" and "the right Saint" to save him and why it didn't work for Osiris, because of the paradox with the Young Wolf.

Ikora points out that this is all just a tactic against us and Saint does seem to understand that, and Osiris' reassurances, but it's still difficult to deal with. Saint has previously already dealt with the feelings of not being sure if anything he's experiencing is real. He's spent decades in the Infinite Forest surrounded by simulations. It's a hard thing to adjust to, especially with all he's been through since.

He'll need time to process this. He needs to be alone.

Failsafe is normal about it:

You and me too bestie!

But wait! There's more! We still have the radio message which is between Osiris and Ikora talking about the changes to Nessus and the Vex. It's naturally Osiris' way to distract himself from the issues with Saint, but also we really do need to keep researching what's going on so he's got a good idea. Nessus is "changing rapidly" according to Osiris, "moreso than when the Vex first assimilated it, if Red War records can be trusted." Osiris also notes that this isn't just limited to Nessus, but to everything, including our data and the radiolaria that we collected. They're "mutating."

This bit in particular is important and concerning because that's just not how the Vex do things. As Osiris said, when they change, they change because they have time shenanigans so they essentially gather data in the future and transmit it back, then alter themselves from the past, to appear as if they were always that way. But now? They're adapting "in real time." They learn linearly and adapt on the go.

This is bizarre with the utilisation of Precursors because they are the past Vex. However, they do not have the collars so they're not directly "compelled" and yet, they still participate and change alongside all of the other collared Vex. They also send their minds, again, not collared, to control the collared Vex and lead them. This is baffling.

Ikora is linking this to the impact of the anomaly, the echo. While Saint was down there, Geppetto mapped some of it, including the radiolaria around the site; apparently, the Vex are "swirling around the impact site for miles below the surface." It's also "causing disturbances in the planet's EM field." Ikora concludes that the Vex must be doing "something big."

Osiris also mentions the importance of Saint saying that it was a singular voice directing him, not a collective one, like a Vex would be. He reminds us that this isn't how Vex do things usually and this thing with Saint was just a test. He speculates, and Ikora agrees, that the Vex behaviour is like this because they found "a new leader." Obviously, the Conductor.

That concludes Act I. The seasonal activity, Breach Executable, has new lines as well. I've only played one, got some more sad Saint lines and then had to pause to stop crying. Act II starts in 20 days.

But wait. There's MORE! Of course we can't forget the seasonal lore page. And this is also where they went straight for the jugular. The lore page is about Mithrax visiting Saint and finding him not feeling well. Saint is distressed and Mithrax is trying to help him feel better, especially about his feelings of not belonging. Mithrax understands those feelings and he's trying his best to help Saint not feel that way. A little bit of joy in the gloom:

Saint groaned and waved the question away. "Do not say something smart to me now. Osiris does this, and I have had enough of it."

I LOVE when Saint compares Osiris and Mithrax, it's so good and also funny. But anyway, let's get back to the pain. As Saint realises where Mithrax is going with his questions, he relents and accepts that yes, sometimes we feel like we don't belong, but that is clearly not true.

And then Mithrax experiences something strange:

Suddenly, his vision narrowed and darkened. His headache shrieked, filling his mind with blinding pain. He doubled over as a terrifying urge—RULE, KELL—roared through his chest. The pigeons burst away in harried flight, leaving the seed untouched on the ground. Saint was still watching the pigeons wheel through the sky and down into the City. Mithrax wrapped his arms around himself until the shaking subsided and took a deep draw of Ether. "You are good friend," Saint said quietly, his gaze fixed on the City. Mithrax walked over slowly and sat down next to him again. "I try," he said softly.

Hello? Okay. So on top of Saint having massive issues, we're still seeding the future plot of something getting absolutely the fuck worse with Mithrax. Cool. Cool. I'm jumping off a bridge.

And Mithrax doesn't tell Saint about this, obviously. Saint is preoccupied with his own problems now and this is the way of Titan; care for others first, then yourself. Mithax should NOT be copying this from Saint, but alas. Enjoy brewing in this little piece of terrifying information until we get more on it next episode, I presume.

But wait. There's EVEN MORE! For finishing Act I, we got another lore page, from another lore book called Dynasty. We had no clue what this would be until now.

And well. It's a completely separate story from ancient past, about the Qugu civilisation. This is an incredibly packed lore page, one of the longest I've seen to be honest and it features a lot of bizarre alien stuff from an ancient civilisation, but the gist of it, for now until I can truly dive into it; it follows a member of the Qugu species as he's rising in the ranks to become a military leader. The Qugu are ancient civilisation we first learned about in the Books of Sorrow, as they were wiped out by the Hive. We got an update on them in Inspiral, telling us they were Darkness users, utilising the psychic abilities to connect each other's consciousnesses and talk to their ancestors.

In this page, we see some stuff about their culture, their connection to the creatures they're in symbiosis with, the way their civilisation worked in regards to how they ruled and how many planets they occupied. It's a fascinating read, but fairly hard to get through. The page ends with the Qugu discovering the Hive and the Black Fleet that attacked one of their systems and they try to get back to warn the others. I assume the rest of the book will be about the Qugu as well, to further flesh out this plot.

Why this now? I am unsure. Possible setup for something going forward down the line? One other idea I've had is that this will somehow relate to the "ally" of Maya we speculated about when I talked about the lore pages from the seasonal exotic gear. It makes sense that this "ally" is an alien because of Maya mentioning his fascinating origin, culture and biology. This would also explain why we got this lore book for finishing Act I, as it would make it relevant to what's going on. But this is, for now, a really big speculation. We'll need more pages, which I assume we'll get for finishing other Acts, so good look not exploding in curiosity until then (I've already exploded). I'll most certainly analyse this lore page more in-depth because there is NOTHING in this world I am more interested than digging into ancient space civilisations.

#destiny 2 #destiny 2 spoilers #echoes #echoes spoilers #saint-14 #osiris #vex #maya #qugu #I am LOSING IT for real this time like for real real

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littlemissthunderstorms · 10 months

Text

just some lover pt.2

alex turner x reader

aaah its definitely been awaited, here it is, i hope you enjoy! read part one if you haven’t.

p.s. i added two songs for this story, i also included markers near the end of where to start them. it’s obviously optional but i highly recommend listening to them at the right moments because i feel it adds to the emotion

———

‘alex was the one who recommended you’

“what?” you were in a state of disbelief for a moment, brows furrowed. it took you a beat to even grasp and process what it meant, what it could mean. you weren’t quite sure where to start.

you stared nick down. even though the situation was shocking, you believed him. o’malley wasn’t much for pranks like this. your palms gathered a thin layer of sweat, fingers fidgeting with your rings. you stuttered, “why would he do that?”

nick flashed you a knowing look, you know why. your face softened, eyes shimmering under the ember lighting the streetlamp emitted. oh.

the possibilities of his simple request left you all too hopeful, it was the first true glimmer of hope since you and alex separated, sparking in you like a match in a room that had been dark for much too long. your heart soared as your mind raced.

why would alex purposefully recommend you to follow them around on tour if he was over you? doubtfully, you tried to scan your mind for any reason he would’ve wanted you around that doesn’t involve him wanting you back. “wha- what if he did it because he just wants me to make good money? what if he just wants to be friends?”

nick shrugged. “it’s a possibility. but not a high one.” noticing how doubtful you looked, he took a step closer to you. “look, i’m not saying this indefinitely means something, but i’ve seen the way he’s been acting ever since you two have been apart, it’s just not right. it felt like the right thing to tell you.”

a small gust of wind blew through the quiet sidewalk. you shivered in your jacket. noticing your silence, nick spoke up again. “one of our friends is hosting a party later. you should come, we’ve all missed ya.” you returned his soft smile.

———

thirty minutes later and you and nick were making your way through the door, music thumping as the crowd chatted and danced, small fairy lights twinkling across the walls. nicks offer left you hesitant, but you decided it was good to get out of the house for something other than work.

you usually weren’t much for parties when you were younger. you preferred staying home painting or reading, and while you still felt the same from time to time, parties were for the most part nicer in your adulthood.

when you met alex, he introduced you to people who genuinely liked you for who you were, and loved talking to you. this made gatherings much more enjoyable, being able to talk and party with genuinely cool people was much better than being ignored at highschool parties by people your friends talked to.

immediately upon walking through the door, you didn’t recognize anyone there. one of nicks friends pulled him into conversation, offering him drinks and such, which left you alone. you wandered into the crowd some more, hoping to find someone you knew.

as your gaze wandered across the crowd, your heart sunk. you definitely knew the man your eyes laid upon. there, up against the far back wall was alex. it wasn’t necessarily him that made your heart drop, but the girl next to him. your stomach twisted as you watched how she batted her eyes, her palm resting on his chest as she leaned a little too close to his face when she spoke. you couldn’t quite read alex’s face for cigarette smoke had clouded the corner.

nauseated, you turned around and started making your way out through the crowd. it was clear you didn’t belong here anymore. you just wanted to leave. there must’ve been some misunderstanding, it’d left you all too hopeful. no more of this, you thought.

———

two or so weeks had passed. spring was becoming ever so present in the way the leaves started to adorn the trees in vibrant greens, the air now humid and warm. rain pattered on the large, foggy cafe window next to you as your face knitted in concentration at your laptop screen, your friend across from you not ceasing her rambling.

“are you alright?” she questioned mid sentence, taking another sip of her coffee. you sighed, back thumping against the chair as you slumped into it. “yeah, i’m just.. stressed. the bands tour manager emailed me again, i’ve got less than a week to decide if i want to take the offer.” you stared at the email in your inbox, as if staring at it for long enough would help you make a decision.

“well… let’s look at the pros and cons.” she started. “pros, it pays a lot more than your current job and you would have the

opportunity to travel more.”

you crossed your arms. “con, i would see my ex everyday.”

“pros, your ex is the one who recommended you for the job, which has to mean something.”

“cons, it was probably some grand misunderstanding, and it would be insanely awkward seeing him almost everyday.” your friend looked even more annoyed.

“but the money.”

you slumped your head down onto the table.

there were plenty of reasons in your over anxious mind you shouldn’t take the job, but all of them somehow tied back to alex, which you thought was stupid. i mean, why not accept a job that’s ultimately much more suitable for you, and offers more money? besides, the mystery of the boys recommendation lingered, you were aching to see what unfolded upon the acceptance of the offer.

redirecting your attention to your laptop, you clicked ‘new email’, flashing a grin at your friend.

———

it was now a month later, spring was in full bloom and it was the first show of the tour in your hometown. since you took the job, you had only met with the tour manager as well as a few of the other crew members. nick, being one of your good friends, had known you took the job, and was much too ecstatic. knowing he knew, you assumed the rest of the band did too.

even with this in mind, it still felt so stalker-ish knowing you hadn’t spoken a word to alex since the breakup and you were now bound to follow his band around the world on their tour. though you were still mindful of the fact that he had originally put in the request for you to practically follow him around. so, you were in fact, not a stalker.

as this storm of anxiety and reasoning swirled your mind, you wandered backstage, gathering your equipment for the show that took place in an hour or so. the area was desolate, most of the crew was unpacking vans outside and getting things organized for the openers.

as you set down the hefty bag of photography equipment, one of the rather sharp rods sticking out scraped your arm, sending crimson seeping out of a small, but deep wound.

shit. what a fucking stupid way to get hurt.

you held your arm, cheeks flushed as you hissed in pain. “are you alright?” a familiar voice boomed behind you.

you whipped your head around. of course, alex fucking turner. it was almost comedic, like it was out of a movie. of all people, it had to be alex who rounded that corner and saw you hurt. you almost laughed, then you felt like crying, then maybe throwing up.

he looked good, too good standing there in his crisp black t-shirt that hugged his arms ever so deliciously. his hair was all gelled, the sides slicked back with a messy curly quiff laying atop.

you started to get quite flustered, gulping before you spoke. you definitely stared much too long. “no- i um, no.” the boy seemed almost equally flustered, trying to keep his demeanor calm as he neared you. he chuckled. “yeah, doesn’t look like it.”

you were dumbfounded, unsure how to speak. “yikes, looks painful.” you nodded, afraid to speak in worries that you would stutter, or even worse, say something stupid like ‘hey remember when we were lovers and we broke up but now i’m the photographer for your band?’

you took a deep breath, really trying not to think thoughts. the tension was palpable, dodging unspoken words and feelings. alex’s eyes were cautious not to meet with yours. “i’m gonna go get the first aid kit, i saw it earlier.” he flashed you a smile and darted off, leaving you a flustered mess.

one thing led to another and you were now sat down in a fold out chair with alex on his knees in front of you. his brows knitted in concentration as he cradled your arm, gently tending to the wound and wrapping gauze around it. “getting your med degree?” you joked, smiling down at him.

a slight blush creeped upon his cheeks. alex noticed how nervous and giggly you were, finding it a bit adorable as he rolled his eyes, smiling as he shook his head. “nope, i just know my way around a basic first aid kit.” his smile lingered long after, ember eyes flashing up at you in a second, quickly darting back down.

his little comment evoked a similar bittersweet memory. this time, the roles were reversed, you were tending to alex, for one of his guitar strings had snapped and popped out of the bridge pin, leaving a rather deep scratch on his hand. you remembered how he teased you for wrapping his whole hand in gauze, all for a scratch. you’d told him that if he really wanted professional care, he should’ve gone to the hospital. you remembered him shaking his head, telling you he wouldn’t want it any other way.

the flashback left your heart a bit heavy, your hands shaky as alex finished up. the silence was almost bitter, tense. the boy noticed your tremors, subtly sliding his hand down your arm as to brush your fingers with his ever so softly when he pulled away. it was so discrete you could’ve missed it in a blink but sure enough, he’d done it, whether purposefully or not you weren’t sure.

“all done,” he nodded to the bandage. you mustered a grateful smile, fingertips grazing the gauze as so to examine it. once you looked back at alex, his gaze was much darker, more complex, like the sky before a storm. his demeanor shifted, mouth opening and chest rising as to speak but a voice interrupted.

“alex! we need to make sure the earpieces are working, cmon,” a member from the crew called out. he looked back to you, nodding and flashing you a sweet little smile before scrambling off.

you exhaled, noticing how your fingers still tingled from his touch.

———

it was about halfway into the show, all was well. you were having a good time chatting a bit with the other photographers and getting to know more of the crew. the show was electric, the lighting and atmosphere making for the coolest shots. alex even flashed you a little smile when he saw you in front of the stage, making your stomach swirl.

after a quick break, you joined one of your good friends from the crew on the side of the stage with your camera. you clicked a few cool shots of jamie during pretty visitors, loving how the stage lights bathed him in an eerie red.

someone nudged you, catching you a bit off guard. you turned, stomach dropping. it was the girl from the party, the one who’d been all over alex. she only looked at you once she felt your gaze. “sorry,” she shrugged, not a drop of sympathy, or really any emotion at all as she apologized. ‘i bet you are,’ you thought. you didn’t even respond, flashing her a quick smile before you immediately refocused your attention on your camera.

was she his girlfriend? i mean, she was all touchy with him at the party and now she’s backstage at his show? it would be a crazy coincidence for her not to be romantically affiliated with him in any way. this plagued your mood for the rest of the show. you hated the jealousy that coursed through you, it made you feel pathetic. alex wasn’t yours anymore, you kept reminding yourself.

———

two weeks had passed in quite a whirlwind. nothing too eventful had happened, the interactions from your old lover had been sparse. you’d bump into him talking to matt or someone, greet them, and then scurry off. you weren’t getting any answers, any hints from alex. being quite shy yourself, you weren’t confrontational enough to ask him yourself, leaving you longing for any clue from him whatsoever.

what annoyed you even more was his supposed ‘girlfriend.’ catching a mere glimpse of her made you forget what the word feminism even meant. a few nights ago, you’d accidentally bumped into her backstage, being nice and mumbling a genuine apology despite your emotions towards her. the girl glanced at you with the most utterly dissatisfied expression, ignoring you and strutting off, her white heels clacking on the ground. it made your blood boil, clearly she wasn’t much for kindness.

nick didn’t seem to like her much either, says alex’s publicist set them up to ‘promote the album’ or some bullshit. he’d also informed you she was some model from california who co hosted a gossip talk show, which is why she’d be leaving tomorrow, to go back to la. thank god.

now, you and the band resided in london for a week or so, playing three shows throughout that time. nick had invited you to a quaint little jazz bar that wasn’t far from the hotel, apparently the band and a few other friends were going.

different this time- cornelia murr

as you walked in, your senses were immediately delighted. the ever so melodic symphony of jazz filled the cozy atmosphere, warm lamps casting soft, dim light throughout the space. it was adorable, a perfect contrast to the foggy downpour. you eventually caught eye of the boys, eyes shimmering in the light as you walked over to greet them.

everyone looked pleased to see you, even alex, you noticed. his dark gaze lingered, melting over you like honey. he sat on the end of the circle booth, leaving the only free spot next to him. a bit flustered, you slid in right beside the boy, thighs brushing ever so slightly. he looked absolutely to die for, clad in a black turtleneck, his quiff so perfectly messy. he smelled divine too, like musk with notes of amber and wood.

you felt so warm sitting next to him, butterflies swirling your stomach. as the night went on, they didn’t cease. a soft ‘accidental’ brush of the hand, a lingering touch on the waist when he moved to get past you at the bar, it wasn’t enough. you wanted his hands in your hair, his warm body pressed against yours, yet you weren’t willing to admit that to yourself. so when he smiled at you and whispered, “you look nice,” you could no longer ignore the immense need you had for him, the way his ember eyes were all soft, strands of hair falling over his forehead. still, you remained composed, thanking him and redirecting your attention to your drink.

a mixture of emotions muddled your mind. you were lovesick, all over again. just like the first time you’d met him, his hair all short and face all flustered when he tried to flirt with you at that party years ago. now, you gripped your martini glass, looking back at him with the same gaze, that same eager, loving gaze he once adored you with. that same gaze he held when you gave him his number, the way he smiled at you while he added your contact into his phone almost immediately. he was so sweet that night, so eager to get to know you and it made you feel so warm inside, so appreciated. your heart sank, tears threatening to gloss your eyes.

you could barely handle the way your heart tugged, the warmth of the bar suddenly becoming stuffy and claustrophobic. you pressed your tongue against the inside of your cheek, fiddling with the napkin before you. you thought about how devastated you would be if just a year ago you knew the situation you were in with alex now. the glimmer of hope that resided in your eager heart now dulled. you were starting to believe this would go nowhere. god, you couldn’t believe how foolish you were.

noticing a tear drop onto the napkin directly below you, you quickly excused yourself, sniffling and mumbling something about needing some fresh air. once outside, you slumped against the bricks and let the tears trickle down your face in steady streams. the weather fit your mood, london fog settling over the tops of buildings, light, crisp rain falling in tandem with your tears.

you sighed, almost laughing at how absurd it all was. you felt so stupid, thinking he truly wanted you back, thinking he was calling you back to him. no, surely dreams and hopes plagued your mind, sickening your poor heart with optimism.

you wiped your tears, noticing how mascara stained your fingertips in streaks and flakes of ivory black. the door to the bar suddenly swung open, startling you a bit. alex peeked out, worrisome eyes gazing back at your teary ones. he made his way over to you, hands stuffed in his pockets. “i just wanted to see if you were okay,” he stated, voice soft as he studied your face.

talk by hozier

you weren’t quite sure how to respond, the tears a dead giveaway to your emotions. you just shrugged. his eyes looked dark, complex. if you could see beyond them you might see a ship struggling amidst a stormy sea, thunder booming down across the choppy cerulean waves. if he was the ship in the storm, you were standing at the shore, waiting for a note in a glass bottle, something, anything.

“i guess i just confused myself,” you uttered, voice wavering. alex looked hurt, as if the words spoken were a hit toward him, a dagger shoved in his heart. “how so?” he questioned.

“it’s stupid.”

“please, you can tell me.”

you shook your head. “i guess-“ you looked down, studying the old cobblestones you stood upon. “i think i just got too hopeful.” you felt sick to your stomach, gulping to put your shaky voice at ease.

he stepped towards you, whispering your name. “look at me, please.” you did so, his eyes twinkling back at yours, strands of damp hair sticking to his forehead. “i’m confused too.” you furrowed your eyebrows. he continued. “i’m confused to why i just lost the love of my life.” his face was now mere inches away from yours. he spoke like he was almost mad, voice laced with emotion, barely above a whisper.

your heart hammered in your ears, the tumultuous swirl of thoughts being ignored momentarily, focusing on nothing but his voice, his eyes, the way his hand now lightly held your chin. “i’m confused to why she’s been in front of me all this time and i haven’t fucking done a thing. i’m confused to why i’m looking at her crying before me right now, how i let this happen.”

your breath hitched. he continued to speak. “i’m confused to why i haven’t told her i still love her, that i never once stopped.” he laced his fingertips in your hair, warm hand cradling your face. you were at a loss for words, no ability to string words together in a sentence that could possibly begin to convey how you felt.

so instead, you pressed your lips to his.

———

THANK YOU SO SO MUCH FOR READING!! this is the last part, but i’ll probably write a little epilogue type thingy. hope you enjoyed my loves, sleep tight.

taglist (let me know if you want to be added/removed)- @ultragirrl @inmyownfantasywrld @almluv @raven-ql @ohladymoon @yourstartreatment @missbabyjay @andulina567 @blair-s-world @rentsturner @indierockgirrl @kittyrob0t @kennedy-brooke

#Spotify #alex turner #alex turner x reader #arctic monkeys #humbug #alex turner fluff #alex turner one shot #suck it and see #tlsp #alex turner smut #alex turner fanfic

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ilk-insolence · 1 year

Text

Leo Analysis

There’s a popular reading in the Rise fandom that Leo is the strategist of his brothers, but I’d like to propose a counter-theory that, while Leo can be strategic, his actual skillset is in deception, manipulation, and perception. In other words, Leo is good at things involving people.

(Hey, uh, this is pretty long)

In the show, Leo shows a preference to following others’ leads rather than strategize himself. In One Man’s Junk, Leo is the only brother that doesn’t actually think up a plan to find more mystic metal, instead picking sides on who’s plan he thinks is better. This is seen again in Late Fee, where Raph and Donnie being the ones who formulate a plan to return the DVD. Again, in the season 2 finale, E-Turtle Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (god that is long), Leo doesn’t come up with a plan to defeat the Shredder, he instead made everyone turn to Raph for one [2:15]. This all follows a pattern that Leo admits in Battle Nexus: New York, "And we'll do it with our special brand of teamwork: where my brothers do the work but we share equal credit" [1:10]. He’s very lazy (I mean this affectionately), and prefers to follow someone else’s lead. The final nail in the coffin is the movie, where Leo is very distinctly not the one who comes up with the plan to lock away the Kraang. While admittedly that moment is from him learning to build others up rather than try to do everything himself, Leo is clearly characterized to not tend to strategize.

However, there are episodes where he does plan. A notable example being Many Unhappy Returns, where Leo planned ahead around Big Mama to trick her into giving them the mystic collar. Another is The Hidden City Job, where Leo pretended to be a statue to get into Big Mama’s vault in her auction. There’s also Origami Tsunami, where Leo briefly took the leader position, and planned the fake paper shop to catch the paper thieves. Smaller examples include, Man Vs Sewer (two attempts of snapping Raph out of his savage state), Bug Busters (freeing his brothers), and the movie (teleporting Kraang Prime into the portal). However, one commonality in all those schemes is that they’re all deceptions (okay, except for Man Vs Sewer but I have a whole other reason for that). In Many Unhappy Returns, Leo isn’t so much as being strategic but manipulative, understanding who Big Mama is, foreseeing that she’ll shove him in the arena with his dad, and planning around that by appearing stupid. He tricked her into cutting a deal in his favor (allowing him to have a weapon in the arena [17:25]). In The Hidden City Job, Leo’s plan is basically tricking Big Mama again, pretending to be something valuable enough to belong in her vault (almost worked too well there). Origami Tsunami, Leo surmised that the bad guys would want more paper and created the fake paper store. All of those plans involved tricking the opponent based on what Leo understood of them, and they worked. Of course, planning moves around an opponent could be qualified as strategic, but these events highlighted Leo’s skill in reading and manipulating others, not as a tactician.

Again, I’m not saying Leo can’t be strategic. In Flushed But Never Forgotten, Leo’s plan to fighting Piebald is to camouflage himself with sewer sludge (gross). That’s strategic. In Bug Busters, Leo distracting the guards with an empty laundry bin to trip them into a portal he created behind them is strategic. Leo’s whole stunt with Kraang Prime and teleporting them both into the portal was sick as shit, and strategic. Hell, his whole power with the teleporting/portals requires Leo to think tactically. But, in comparison with his brothers, particularly Raph, Leo doesn’t seem that much better than them at strategizing.

What Leo is characterized to be, is manipulative. Two main examples are Air Turtle and the infamous Lair Games, where, in both, poor Donnie gets tricked by Leo to do something for Leo’s benefit. In both stunts, the emphasis was put on to Leo’s deceptive nature. In the Lair Games, Leo intentionally put his room up as a prize with the knowledge that his brothers wanted to take something important away from him, hiding the fact that that was exactly what he wanted [12:45]. In Air Turtle, he lied to Donnie’s face that he could make the last shot in order to get his own opening/spotlight [10:16, and 11:14]. Unlike with strategizing, these events are made out to be points of distinction for Leo. He’s also shown to be extremely perceptive, as @/our-happygirl500-fan user pointed out in their post of him realizing Splinter had some history with Big Mama. And being the only one to suspect Raph throwing his fight with Donnie in Sparring Partner [9:54]. This all lines up with Leo's role as a faceman, somebody who's good with people. Combined with his performance in Many Unhappy Returns, Leo is shown to be someone extremely skilled in deception, and reading others.

Tldr, I think Raph is the strategist of the group, closely followed by Donnie. And Leo’s actual strength lies in his ability with people, his perception and manipulation. He’s not a strategist, but a trickster. A lying liar who lies (I love him).

Of course, I could be extremely wrong so I would love any input or commentary, especially regarding Leo's strategist status, because I could be glaringly missing something. Thanks.

#UGH I WISH I COULD INSERT IN ACTUAL SCREENSHOTS INSTEAD OF TIMESTAMPS #I didn't want to bother Rottmntscreenshots account with so many different screenshots though #but if you do have any of the moments I'm talking about (with subtitles)#feel free to reply and I'll add it in!#rottmnt #rottmnt movie #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise leo #leonardo hamato #rottmnt leo #analysis

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terrence-silver · 5 months

Note

How would Terry (all eras) react to beloved wanting sex while heavily pregnant? (Like say 7-8 months)

Another post on Pregnant Sex here:

---

― Twig does it, but you have to understand he fusses the whole time. He's young. He's boyish. He has his many, many demons and they're all still fresh. He has an undeniable innocence to himself still too. He's raw. He feverishly inquires whether it hurts, whether you're comfortable, apologies countless times over nothing at all, he's all fingers and thumbs, asks time and time again whether you're absolutely sure of this even though you were the one who suggested it, adjusts the pillow under his beloved's head, soothes them, hugs them, is infinitely concerned throughout the whole act and he undoubtedly needs more comfort and aftercare than the actual pregnant partner involved, if that's at all possible; oh, but he wants to please --- tremendously, more than anything, practically vibrating at the thought of being so close to the two people who so wholly belong to him --- but there's always this shadow of a doubt hanging over him like a dark cloud that he'll do something wrong, and for the lack of a better word, mess up royally. Injure beloved. Injure their unborn kid. Something that'll be his fault the way it always is. Something he'll never be able to take back. You see, he sees only the worst of outcomes here and he's overthinking wildly, already envisioning hospital beds and beloved miscarrying their baby. PTSD kicking in, he undoubtedly cuts the sex short half way through it on his own accord with a million 'I'm sorry''s added to the mix while he cradles his own face in his hands. He really is sorry. But, he fears losing control and being responsible for what could happen if he makes a mistake and it overshadows an otherwise sweet moment and everything about it. Regardless of his genuine anguish though --- which really is genuine, by the way --- Twig is probably hard as hell throughout the entire outpouring of regret even as it happens.

― In the 80's on the other hand, Terry Silver's the one suggesting sex while beloved's heavily pregnant and you better believe it. It is his idea. His very own brainchild. His own vision coming to light. His agenda. He has his eyes on the prize the minute beloved's body starts changing, swelling up, becoming more rounded and even long before that --- in fact, man's probably fantasized and schemed about it since day one, placing his bets on a long con like a lecherous snake. He thinks few things are hotter, if anything at all, than pounding into someone already his so fully that their very physique are hormones are changing thanks to him. Due to him. All for him. Due to what he did to beloved --- and what he'll continue doing too. It is the ultimate act of control. Of possession. Something straight out of the animal kingdom. Claiming and re-claiming time and time again. And yes, it gets him irrationally horny. Downright feral. Because he did that. Him alone. And he'll do it again. And he'll do it while it's in the process of happening. Pre pregnancy. During it. And after it. Always. Thing is, he likes it. Takes relish in it. In the entirety of beloved's form, not just the sexual aspect of it. He likes the weight gain. Their ballooning. Their sensitivity. Limited movement. Their cravings. Appetites. Their scent. How they glow. How they waddle. How they ache. How they feel when he's inside of them. How their limbs are sore and heavy and all the ways he can personally stretch them, massage them and alleviate their pain and simultaneously enjoy it too in all it's fragility, devoted, meticulous sadist that he is. Fucking while pregnant is only just the beginning. The whole state of pregnancy is undoubtedly so alluring to Terry that in no time at all after giving birth, beloved finds themselves knocked up again in double quick time. Whoops.

― Undeniably, being old himself, Terry Silver at a more advanced age sees the indescribable allure of beloved quite literally glowing with life and fertility at this stage, contrasts and all. Swollen with his legacy. Swollen with health. Vigor. Being at the prime and peak of themselves. He doesn't just want to fuck them, he wants his hands all over them, lingering, languid, caressing the curved outline of their belly, taking them in, looking them up and down, admiring them, every part of them, unable to contain his smile, wishing and intending to burn all of this into his memory, relishing in every change, every fluctuation --- everything that occurred thanks to him. He wants to consume them whole. He does everything with his eyes long before he does it with his body, regret and desire intermingling while a million thoughts race through his mind how he yearns he had this much sooner. Years or even decades ago. As such, the act of having sex with beloved while pregnant is not only incredibly erotic, it is also somehow simultaneously very tragic to him, very jubilant, very triumphant and yet completely heart wrenching (and even anger inducing) because he might be inside of beloved, yes, but he might just simultaneously also be calculating whether he'd see his child grow up. Graduate. Say his name. Whether he'll actually have time to teach them all the things he wants to teach them and the idea of not having control over this --- well, it's infuriating. It makes him feral. Sexually frustrated. It makes him want beloved all the more. It makes him want to burry himself so deep inside of them until they're one, and nothing and nobody can separate them, causing him to enjoy and hyperfocus on every sensation like it could be his very last. Naturally, the way he fucks beloved due to it, oh, it's possibly the most intense, passionate sex of their life.

#terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #terry silver twig #twig terry silver #80's terry silver #old man terry #tw; pregnant sex #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved

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gunilslaugh · 3 months

Text

Gone Mad Pt.2

Lee Jooyeon Summary: Naturally after finding out who Jooyeon really is you tried to avoid him, but Jooyeon had other plans. (non-idol au) WC:~1k Warning:none

part 1 part 3 epilogue!

photo not mine credits to owner.

Safe to say that you stayed away from your little spot in the woods after your last encounter with Jooyeon. You had no clue what to do now. Reasonably you should turn him in, but what if he came after you for it? Even if you reported anonymously Jooyeon knows that they don’t know what he looks like, but you do. Maybe it’s your paranoia, but you're pretty sure he could put the pieces together. As morally wrong as it is to not turn in a murderer, you don’t want to risk your life at the cost of it either. So really what were you supposed to do?

“Ow,” you let out a hiss as you prick yourself with the sewing needle.

“Are you ok?” your colleague asked you.

“Yeah I just pricked myself,” you dismissed.

“Again? That’s the third time today,” she states.

“I know. I’m a bit distracted today,” you say.

“What’s wrong?” She comes over taking a seat next to you.

“It's just I…it’s nothing.” you shook your head and went to pick up your work again, but your colleague placed her hand over it, guiding it back down to the table.

“It’s clearly not. You’ve been acting off these past couple of days. I'm worried about you,” she expressed. You think to yourself for a moment. You can’t possibly tell her about Jooyeon, you can’t involve her in this mess.

“I saw a wanted poster,” you tell her.

“A wanted poster?” She urged you to continue.

“A wanted poster for killing a knight…The same one that used to come in here and bother me,” you revealed. Your colleague’s' eyes widened.

“He’s dead? He was murdered?” she asked in disbelief. You nodded. “We joked about killing him, but someone actually did it?” The weight of what happened started to set in. Again you nodded, not being able to find words. “Well, what did the person on the poster look like? We should keep an eye out for them.”

“That’s the thing,” you sigh. “The guy on the poster could easily be half of the guys in this village.”

“So they have no clue who did it?” she sighs. Everyone else has no clue, but you know exactly who did it. It feels like a boulder is sitting on your chest. “Should we tell the owner? Certainly she wouldn’t make us work so late when there’s a murder on the loose.” she suggested.

“We can try, but remember she told us the only reason we shouldn’t turn up to work is if all our fingers are missing?” you brought up.

“....Well it’s not like we are asking to leave early, just to leave by sunset,” she pointed.

Your boss said that you can leave work when your work is done. That seemed to work out most days. However, today when she told you about the order of a new dress only an hour before sunset, it didn’t work out too well.

“You can go home,” you told your colleague as you saw the sun starting to head down.

“What about you?” She looks at you with concern. It’s fine I know the murderer.

“I’ll be ok. You know I don’t live that far away,” you reassured her.

“Are you sure? I can stay. We could go back together,” she offered.

“And give either of our parents a heart attack when one of us doesn’t come home?” you say. Your colleague sighs. She knows that you're right, but she still feels reluctant to leave you.

“Please be safe. Take some extra sharp needles with you when you leave,” she tells you.

“I will,” you state.

The moon had taken the sun’s place long ago by the time you stitched the final detail onto the dress. You do feel a bit nervous as you walk out of the shop in the darkness of night. It’s fine. You reassure yourself. There is no way that Jooyeon-

“Y/n!” Please no, you prayed. “Y/n!” The voice calls for you again. The voice that belongs to none other than Jooyeon. You turn your head to see Jooyeon very quickly approaching you. “You haven’t been to our spot in so long. Are you avoiding me?” he questioned. You swallowed nervously, because yes you were very much avoiding him.

“No. Why would I do that? I’ve been busy with work. You can see I just got off.” You raised your hand to gesture to the closed doors of the shop you worked at.

“What happened to your hand?” Jooyeon quickly caught your hand in his and looked at you with sad eyes.

“I pricked it. It’s not a big deal.” You tried to pull your hand from his, but he wouldn’t let go that easily.

“You shouldn’t be getting hurt,” he said, running his fingers over the injured parts of your hand.

“It’s fine, Jooyeon. Every seamstress pricks themselves from time to time.” This time you successfully pull your hand out of his.

“You’re really not avoiding me though right? I was worried that you were after finding out about me. That you thought I was mad like everyone else,” he tells you.

“Well, I do think you are a little coocoo,” you chuckled nervously.

“Even if I am. It’s all their fault anyway.” A dark look took over Jooyeon’s face.

“Their fault?” you asked cautiously.

“The knights, that’s why I’m getting rid of them.” he tells you.

“What did they do?” You know that you probably shouldn’t pry into it, but your curiosity was getting the better of you.

“I used to work in the palace, but they ruined everything,” he told you. His answer only built your curiosity. You couldn’t imagine Jooyeon working in the palace.

“You’re curious about it aren’t you? Let’s go to our spot. I’ll tell you my story.” He goes to grab your hand again.

“But it’s late,” your apprehensiveness kicked back in.

“It’s ok. You’re with me.” He smiled at you, grabbing your hand and leading you along the way.

Jooyeon literally told you that everyone else thinks that he has gone mad. Not to mention that even if he didn’t say that you know exactly what he’s capable of, so why does his hand holding yours make you feel safe?

part 1 part 3 epilogue!

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#xdinary heroes #xdh #xdh imagines #xdh x reader #xdinary heroes imagines #xdinary heroes x reader #xh jooyeon #xdh jooyeon #jooyeon x reader #lee jooyeon x reader #jooyeon #lee jooyeon

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gigireece16 · 2 months

Text

collection of words for writing ✧.*

some words that i gathered in my notes app

& thought i’d share them

part two

1. iota: an extremely small amount.

2. aeons: an indefinite and very long period of time.

3. vehement: showing strong feeling; forceful, passionate, or intense.

4. acquiescence: the reluctant acceptance of something without protest.

5. rendezvous: a meeting at an agreed time and place, typically between two people.

6. sanguine: optimistic or positive, especially in an apparently bad or difficult situation.

7. saccharine: excessively sweet or sentimental.

8. chagrin: distress or embarrassment at having failed or been humiliated.

9. seldom: not often; rarely.

10. ambrosia: the food of the gods, often depicted as conferring immortality.

11. divulge: to make known (private or sensitive information).

12. interloper: a person who becomes involved in a place or situation where they are not wanted or are considered not to belong.

13. ravenous: extremely hungry.

14. miscellaneous: consisting of various kinds or qualities.

15. precarious: not securely held or in position; dangerously likely to fall or collapse.

16. provocateur: a person who provokes trouble, causes dissension, or the like; agitator.

17. heady: potent or intoxicating; having a strong or exhilarating effect.

18. languid: lacking in vigor or vitality; slack or slow.

19. encapsulated: enclosed in or as if in a capsule.

20. taut: stretched or pulled tight; not slack.

21. barrage: a concentrated artillery bombardment over a wide area; an overwhelming quantity or explosion, as of words, blows, or criticisms.

22. connoisseur: an expert judge in matters of taste.

23. vied: competed eagerly with someone in order to do or achieve something.

24. reverie: a state of being pleasantly lost in one's thoughts; a daydream.

25. martyrdom: the death or suffering of a martyr.

26. cocksure: arrogantly confident.

27. nomenclature: the devising or choosing of names for things, especially in a science or other discipline.

28. titillation: the arousal of interest or excitement, especially through sexually suggestive images or words.

29. emboldened: given the courage or confidence to do something.

30. petrichor: a pleasant smell that frequently accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather.

31. catharsis: the process of releasing, and thereby providing relief from, strong or repressed emotions.

32. menagerie: a collection of wild animals kept in captivity for exhibition.

33. picturesque: visually attractive, especially in a quaint or charming way.

34. raconteur: a person who tells anecdotes in a skillful and amusing way.

35. meliorism: the belief that the world can be made better by human effort.

36. maudlin: self-pityingly or tearfully sentimental.

37. lethologica: the inability to remember a word or put your finger on the right word.

38. dépaysement: the feeling that comes from not being in one's home country; the feeling of being a foreigner.

39. eesome: pleasing to the eye; attractive.

40. whelve: to bury something; to turn something upside down.

41. psithurism: the sound of the wind in the trees and rustling of leaves.

42. fescennine: lascivious or obscene, especially in literature.

43. diaphanous: light, delicate, and translucent (especially of fabric).

44. illecebrous: enticing or attractive.

45. abditory: a place into which you can disappear; a hiding place.

46. discombobulated: confused and disconcerted.

47. sillage: the scent that lingers in the air, the trail left in the water, the impression made in space after something or someone has been and gone.

48. facsimile: an exact copy, especially of written or printed material.

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anamericangirl · 2 months

Note

If same-sex marriages should be overturned what are you saying? That states should just go back to being homophobes or something? That gay people's rights shouldn't be cared about because it isn't part of the Constitution? I think I really need a clear stance on this since I can't really just simply agree with people with a opposing opinion that frames that people on the left or liberals are bad and people on the right and conservatives are good, which is really fucking with my mind right now

1. Marriage isn’t a right.

2. No marriages are protected by the constitution.

3. Putting issues back to the states does not mean less freedom, it means more. I don’t know why people always think they are losing rights the second the federal government isn’t involved.

4. It’s not the job of the federal government to keep states from being “homophobic.” Besides, at this point in time there’s really no way a state could benefit from just not recognizing same sex marriage.

5. And also one of the great things about America is if a state does something you don’t approve of, for example banning same sex marriage, you are free to move to another state that has not banned it.

6. Sometimes issues are a little more nuanced then Good Side and Bad Side. I just think the less federal government is involved in most things the better.

7. This is ultimately about freedom. Since we are a free people and we can think, say and do what we please (as long as we’re aren’t harming others) that automatically means some people are going to express things you disagree with and do things you don’t like. Being homophobic isn’t illegal. It’s a social ill but it’s not legally wrong and the government has no business forcing an entity to not be homophobic. People should not be forced to participate in something they don’t want to participate in and with this issue belonging to the states, as it should, instead of forcing people to violate their beliefs if someone won’t bake the cake or perform the ceremony you can go to someone else who will.

#anon #answered

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eleni-cherie · 1 month

Text

a thief's origin✨ || bts • kth - chapter 1.3

"you're afraid I won't wait." "I'm afraid you will."

a criminal and a doctor should be as different as the sun and the moon - but unexpected things happened every day. like him finding his safe haven in her.

»»»

masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers s2f2l

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

»»»

20th March

Barcelona, Spain

Having just finished a night shift, a long yawn escaped the young physician's mouth. Her rookies had almost messed up a patient's medication and she had been busy fixing it all night long.

After a torture of a ride, the metro being unusually stuffy, she headed down her street. It was still early, most people with normal work hours not leaving for another hour or two. The sun barely out. So the only other persons around were her and suppliers delivering stores.

Entering her apartment building, she fumbled out her keys, taking longer to find the right one in her sleep-deprived state. Only to almost drop them when realising her door was left ajar.

There was no way in hell she had left it like that, she always made sure to lock before leaving.

Her heart beat picked up as she slowly pushed it open. She couldn't hear anything. With her phone in her hands, ready to dial 091, she pushed the door open. Making sure it went all the way and touched the wall to ensure no one was standing behind it. And with careful steps she entered, closing it behind her slowly and repeating the same tactic with every other room.

Thankfully, there wasn't anyone. The apartment was empty - except for the pure chaos that was left behind.

Someone had definitely been there, looking through her belongings. Shelves were pulled out, objects were on the ground. She was sure it must've been burglars until she realised that nothing was missing. Not that she had many objects of value. But the few she had, like her laptop and tv, were still there.

Leaving her relieved, but also puzzled.

Who the hell would break in, leave a mess but not take anything?

A headache was beginning to form at the thought of having to spend hours cleaning up now in her already exhausted state and she rubbed her temples.

With a sigh, she turned around. Deciding to not touch anything and try leaving again without altering the crime scene. First she'd report it to the police although she knew already they most likely wouldn't do much since nothing was stolen, but if she learned anything from her films it'd be to report it nevertheless. But as she was about to exit the apartment, a piece of paper stuck on the entrance door which she'd missed previously, caught her eye.

"Bring the golden figurine to the marina in Bangkok in 2 days if you want to see your pack of thieves again."

She instantly froze.

So this was related to Taehyung?

She reread the message.

That wasn't good, the situation was serious.

Her heart was racing while at the same time not beating at all. She felt nauseous but also on alert. Her mind screaming while being totally blank. More than anything else though, she felt helpless.

Her eyes wandered up to her ceiling. Whoever this was, they'd probably searched through her apartment for that figurine. She looked down at the piece of paper again and swallowed.

Bangkok marina, she repeated in her mind, in two days. She began agonizing and racking her brain to figure out how to find that figurine and get there in time. There was no way they were indeed expecting her to find it. They had to know she got no clue on how to. Perhaps they were even anticipating just that.

That was what she got for being a sucker for crime films and getting involved with thieves.

When the doorbell rang thirteen hours later in the evening, Cassandra hesitated to answer it.

Shoving the books she was currently organising into the shelve, she stood up and walked to the door with careful steps. She knew it was unlikely, yet she was still afraid it might be the intrudor returning for more. But much to her surprise, instead she found someone else on the other side when peeking through the spy hole.

There was indeed a man standing in front of her door. And another one.

"Hello, I hope you remember me. I'm -"

"Agent Jeon. I remember," she nodded when opening the door to the young interpol agent, "W-what do you want though? Taehyung isn't here."

He offered her an ambiguous, almost pitiful smile. "Oh, I know. May we come in?"

Her brows furrowed but she let them enter nonetheless. The other, unknown to her, agent facing her with a polite smile, offering his hand then which she accepted shyly. "Agent Jung, nice to meet you. Or well.." His gaze wandered and she caught a good sight of his side profile, his nose curving in a perfect angle when he abruptly turned back to her. And he scratched his neck awkwardly. "..as nice as can be expected under the circumstances."

"Y-yeah, nice to meet you," she blinked irrirated over the whole situation, her attention returning to Jungkook. "So why are you here?"

The younger man was standing in the middle of her living room. Seemingly dismissing the still light clutter as he looked around with impassiveness. "We know who did this."

Perplexed at his nonchalantness, she stopped in her tracks and stared at him. "H-how?"

Jungkook only motioned his chin to his colleague who gave her a nod. "I'm from organised crime," Hoseok explained, "My team identified the guy."

"No, I mean.. how did you know someone broke in?"

The two agents exchanged a quick glance, before offering her a suspiciously wide grin.

"That doesn't matter right now," Jungkook waved her off with a tattooed hand, "Instead, tell us if he found what he was looking for."

She bit the inside of her cheek and looked away. Uncertain whether it would help or if she'd only get the guys into more trouble by entrusting interpol with this.

"So.. so you know who did this?" she asked again out of insecurity and to buy some time.

"This guy was working for someone my team and I are after," Hoseok began then. Friendly expression changing as he suppressed his inner loathing when mentioning his team's target.

After one of the agents tasked with observing her, had seen that suspicious man entering and leaving her building, they'd immediately sent his photo to Jungkook who then sent it Hoseok's way. One of the female agents in his team had pretty quickly identified the intrudor as working under Via, a known underground business man - the fancy and legal cover-up for saying gangster boss - who frequented Korea quite often.

"We just couldn't figure out what his man wanted from you. We only figured it has something to do with Taehyung, which meant it had something to do with Jimin."

His dashing manner changed, however, when noticing her stressed expression at the mention of her boyfriend, despite her trying to downplay it. Giving Jungkook a look of appeal then and motioning to Cassandra. The agent of the robbery department sighed and nodded as he took a step towards her.

"We kept an eye on you ever since the questioning," Jungkook admitted, "That's how we know of this man."

Cassandra's head shot up, surprise crossing her features for a moment only to be replaced with epiphany.

Of course, it made sense. No surprise Taehyung had become so careful ever since. Her eyes narrowed then. "Why are you telling me this now?"

"I want to be open and honest with you, to show you that you can trust us." He gave her a smile, too sweet and cheerful for an interpol agent. She remembered, however, not to let the agents' friendly faces mislead her, remembering how she'd almost got fooled by it before.

He took another step towards her, cocking his head to the side in an innocent manner. "So? Are you gonna tell us now what he was looking for?"

She gave in and nodded. After all, she didn't have any other option so perhaps their presence was a blessing in disguise.

»»»

22nd March

Bangkok, Thailand

"Told you we shouldn't have come in the first place." Jimin clicked his tongue at Taehyung's nonstop complaining. "Well, what else could we do? If we didn't show up at all, he'd have hunted us down," the dyed-blonde retorted, "You saw how obsessed that guy is with that figurine. Besides, it's not my fault that idiot opened the box too early. We would've got away with the fake one if that stooge didn't trigger the smoke-bomb before we could leave." Taehyung rolled his eyes. If they weren't tied up against each other on a chain on the ground right now, he'd have most definitely kicked his friend.

Sure, it'd seemed easy first. Accepting the deal of that shady gangster boss Via of stealing the precious figurine of a female deity from the national museum in Bangkok. And then cheating him out of it by giving him a knock-off and keeping the money while eventually returning the figurine after a few months. But unexpected things always happened. Like one of Via's men re-opening the wooden box with the fake one before they'd managed leaving.

Yoongi, who had been quietly trying to medidate, sighed. Blinking an eye open. "Stop bickering you two, it doesn't matter anymore." He let his gaze wander around the locked room then. It'd have been a cakewalk to escape if they had their weapons at least, but of course not.

Taehyung wiggled his hands behind their backs in a pointless attempt to loosen the rope around their wrists. He hadn't expected those goons to be smart like that. Tying them up this way made them unable to even move much less stand up.

Footsteps were heard outside then and soon the doort opened. One of the goons standing in its frame.

"Move," he commended, all three looking at him funny.

"If we could move we'd be long gone, buddy," Jimin muttered only earning a grunt. He waved at another colleague and the two untied the rope holding them to the chain on the ground before pushing them out of the room and to the boatyard. Although used to such places, a queasy feeling still lingered in their guts as they entered.

Yoongi immediately spotted his katana stuffed among wooden boards in a barrel next to a scaffolding then. Almost scoffing in offence as they passed by it and some other yacht supplies.

He coughed under his breath then, catching the others' attention and motioning with his eyes to it. Taehyung and Jimin caught his exciting glance and nodded. The three, still tied to each other, came to a hold close to it. The two henchmen brushed past them then, leaving them stand there like lost children before heading to Via.

Their boss was currently walking up and down with a impatient expression. As if he was waiting for something.

Taking advantage of the unsupervised moment, they took slow and small steps towards the katana. Stopping whenever one of the men glanced at their direction, acting innocent.

They had almost reached it when the gate to the boatyard opened and Via let out a relieved laugh, the three standing too far away at the other end to really see what was going on. They only saw one of his gorillas walking up to him when noticing someone shorter tailing behind him. But despite the distance, they still recognised the other person. And all three froze.

"Cas," Taehyung breathed, not believing his eyes.

No way, this couldn't be.. but it was her.

His mind went blank only for him to raise his voice. "Cassandra! What are you doing here!" he yelled rashly, forgetting completely how irrational it was in that moment.

Jimin and Yoongi tensed and straightened, hoping the goons didn't notice what they had been attempting. And luckily they didn't, not paying much attention to them in the distance and dismissing Taehyung's reaction completely instead. As if they had already expected it.

His girlfriend only swallowed and folded her lips, ignoring his far-off cry and continued walking straight to the man who she knew was the leader. Recognising him from photos interpol had shown her.

"You're the one responsible here, right?" She rummaged in her bag before pulling out a shimmering object. "Here's what you wanted. Now let them go."

The thieves' eyes grew wide when seeing her holding up what looked like the figurine they had stolen a few days ago. Something impossible.

"It's a counterfeit, isn't it?" Taehyung whispered for only his friends to hear. There was no way she could've found the original one. It was securely shipped out to their hide-out in Algeria after all. Jimin hummed lowly. "Yeah, pretty sure." "Where's she got the fake one from though?" "No clue." "Hey, you! Be quiet!" The admonition of the bulky henchmen who walked up to them forced a grin out of them. "Of course, sorry!" Jimin quickly said only to stick out his tongue to him the moment he turned away. Peeking at Yoongi then who was trying grabbing his katana behind them, eventually succeeding.

None of the other people present seemed to pay attention to the scene as they observed Via at the other end of the area beginning walking towards Cassandra. Followed by two of his men.

"Nah, nah, not so fast, doll," the criminal grinned, "First I gotta ensure it's the real one this time."

Cassandra didn't show any hesitation and Taehyung forgot they were still tied up, attempting to run to her only to get pulled right back.

There was no way it was the real one. And the moment Via realised that, she'd be in danger. She was already in danger for even being there, but if the guy realised she gave him a fake, he might.. he might.. He began panicking, his mind going on overdrive.

"Taehyung, calm down," Yoongi urged him in a hushed tone when sensing his tremble and seeing his tense expression, "We have to stay clearheaded." "That's easy for you to say," he retorted, immediatelly regretting it. Yoongi was right after all, but Taehyung was terrified nonetheless. In his entire life he'd never felt more terrified than when seeing Cassandra walk in there. "S-sorry." "S'alright, I get it." "Hey, didn't I tell you to be quiet?" the henchman growled. He made the mistake to come closer, because Yoongi had managed cutting the rope w the katana's blade by now and freeing his wrists.

Not wasting any second, he grabbed its shaft and pulled it completely out of its sheath. Slicing the man's suit in half with one precise swing of his sword and a smirk, grabbing the ends and tying him up with his own clothes. He grabbed his gun out of its holster before cutting Taehyung's and Jimin's ties as well. The three quickly seeking cover behind a pile of masts right when everyone started shooting at them.

"I need my gun," Taehyung mumbled, looking around but unable to spot his magnum anywhere. He was sure it had to be around there along with the sword but he couldn't see it.

"Just take this one," Yoongi said and pressed the semi-automatic one he'd stolen from Via's man.

Taehyung cringed at the foreign weapon but accepted it nonetheless. After unlocking it, he leaned out. Immediately spotting two men nearing them and shot them down. Thankfully his skills didn't depend on the kind of gun.

"I'll go look for ours," Jimin said then, already sprinting to the back. Taehyung gave him cover by aiming at whoever shot their way while Yoongi dodged any bullets nearing them with his sword. Jimin returned after a couple of minutes already. His walter-ppk in one hand while twirling a familiar recolver around the index finger of his other.

"Look what I found," Jimin sing-songed with a smirk. Taehyung instantly grabbing his beloved magnum from him, huffing when seeing the barrel being empty though. "Seriously?" You forgot cartridges, idiot." Jimin remained unohased. Waving his hand only to skillfully reveal one cartridge between each of his fingers, resembling a magician playing a card trick. "Did I?" Taehyung laughed under his breath. Already used to his friend's attics, he just took them and pushed them inside the barrel. "I need to get Cas," he announced then, not even waiting for a response from the two before darting out.

He ran towards the front, piercing a barrel with his bullets on the way and spilling all its content on two goons. Drenching them in oil before taking cover again behind another container. He peeked out again, seeing Via shouting at his men to get them. The golden object securely held by his hand.

The young marksman let his irises wander behind the gangster, catching a glimpse of Cassandra behind an inverted boat.

Nine men between him and her. Not easy but he had to get to her no matter what.

One deep inhale and he ran out again, making sure to pass behind boats and other objects to dodge bullets shile shooting anyone who came into his peripheral view down. One by one, he hit their kneecaps, their shooting arms or let heavy objects fall on them until reaching the yacht and sliding behind it. Causing Cassandra to flinch only to relax again when seeing it was only him. Her bambi eyes wide and erratic.

"Taeh-" Before she could even say his name, he had already engulfed her in his arms. And she almost forgot where she was, melting into his hug. Only for him to back off, holding her by her arms.

"What the fck are you doing here!" It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

"Doesn't matter now," she said only to jump into his arms at the sound of a bullet hitting the scaffolding above them.

"It does matter though," he mumbled right when he spotted a goon turning around the corner. His hand on her back tightening and he protectively turned her away before shooting at the guy.

But Cassandra didn't seem alarmed by that, instead she faced him again with determination in her eyes.

"I need your shooting skills," she said then and took his hand, tugging him at the edge of the boat. She peeked out, searching for Via and when she found him hurling with the figurine behind a container she pointed at him. "I need you to shoot that figurine in two."

Puzzled, his brows furrowed at her. "Why?" "Just do it, please." "It's a fake, isn't it." She snorted, "Obviously." "And where did you find it?" "Pops gave it to me," she said, matter-of-factly. Only to earn a bewildered look from Taehyung. "Pops? You mean interpol is here?" "Of course, you think I just came here all by my own?" she giggled before flinching once more when another bullet hit the yacht close to her. She composed herself again, looking at him with urgency. "That's why I need you to cut it in two. They couldn't come too close to the boatyard as Via's men were patrolling all around it and they couldn't wire me up since I got checked. That's why I was supposed to drop the figurine after finding you. But then this whole shooting started and.. and he just grabbed it out of my hands before I could. Inside is something like a panic button? I didn't entirely understand but when it's actuated they'll get the signal and come." She sighed, shaking her head. "I should've smashed it immediately but hesitated. It's my fault."

"Cas-" He got cut off by another bullet hitting the scaffolding. He drew closer to her, grabbing her shoulder. "None of this is your fault, got it?"

She swallowed and nodded.

Running a hand through his dark waves, he shook his head then. "Can't believe pops would let you get in this dangerous situation.." "It's not like he wanted to, but there wasn't many options," Cassandra quickly objected, "These goons came to my house, searching for that figurine while I was at work and since they couldn't find it, wanted me to bring it here. They knew who I was, so I had to be the one doing it." She paused to frown at him, adding with a huff, "And as you probably already know, interpol was observing my place and found out about this story."

Taehyung dismissed her side-blow to process her words. So Via really didn't hold back when saying he'd make sure to find what he was looking for. He even found out about her and assumed, as his girlfriend, she might be hiding it.

He held her gaze a moment longer before dragging out a breath. "Alright." Letting go of her, he switched places with her and tightened his fingers around the magnum. Glancing out to get a clear view of Via who attempted to crawl out of his stash towards the open gate from where more of his men had previously came in.

One shot and he hit it, the object bursting into pieces right between Via's hands. The gangster boss yelped in surprise, devastation running over his features when realising it was yet again another fake and not his beloved figurine. He almost looked like crying on the spot when one of his few remaining men dragged him away and behind another boat.

Taehyung sat back next to Cassandra when suddenly another thought crossed his mind. "Wait, you said interpol will show up? Now? How long will they take?"

Her eyes widened, realising what he was hinting to. "Less than two minutes, agent Kim said."

He cursed under his breath, peeking out before grabbing her hand and tucking her out. Both running behind containers and boats for cover while heading towards the back where Jimin and Yoongi had already injured and taken down most men. But a rope laying on the floor got tangled in Cassandra's feet and she tripped, falling on the ground. If she hadn't, a bullet would've hit her back. Now it only grazed her arm. It still burnt though and she winced lightly. Taehyung immediately located the shooter and let a sail drop on him by shooting on a mast, turning to Cassandra then who was holding her arm.

"Cas, are you alright?" he asked concerned and helped her stand. She only nodded. There wasn't any time to dwell over the burning now, so they continued running.

"Pops is coming!" he yelled as soon as his friends were in earshot and both looked at him perplexed.

"Pops?"

They followed them back to the storage where they'd been held captive, shooting at the gang members behind them before shutting the door and shoving any big objects they could find in front of it.

"Time to cut something useless again," Yoongi mumbled then and held his katana in front of him before slicing the walls and creating gateway for them. Just in time when hearing someone outside shout, "Cops!".

As they went through the hole to the backside of the boatyard, they cam face to face with the sea. The waves crashing right underneath them.

"Where to now?"

Jimin winked and pointed at one of the lined up yachts. "Perfect way to escape, isn't it?"

»»»

"There's only one thing you love, Danny. That's danger. Cliff hanging. You could never love a woman like you love danger. And as long as your luck holds out, you'll stay in love with danger."

The quote from one of the old heist films they'd watched together long ago, emerged from his memory and kept repeating itself during the whole boat ride.

When eventually reaching a safe enough spot outside the city, Taehyung asked Jimin and Yoongi to wait for him on the shore. From his agitated expression they could tell he wanted to talk to Cassandra, so they hummed understandingly and got off the yacht.

Taehyung hesitated for a moment, licking over his dry lips before chewing pensively on his bottom lip. A million thoughts rushed through his mind and with a deep sigh, he finally pushed open the door to the cabin.

Cassandra had just finishing up bandaging herself with some make-shift gauze out of sheets and an antiseptic spray she'd found around.

When she saw him entering, he saw that lovely smile of hers spreading on her lips and the film quote began playing in his mind all over again.

Back then, he hadn't thought much about it. Not believing he could relate to it in the slightest.

He loved Cassandra. As pure and silly and deep as love could be. And yet, he couldn't let go of this life, this danger, not even for her. Not yet at least. But this didn't mean he'd allow her to be in its clutches as well.

"Cassandra.." Taehyung eventually spoke up only for his lips to press together into a straight line again. She noticed a deep crease set between his usually warm eyes, now filled with troubled thoughts and sorrow. "It's okay, don't worry," she assured and waved it off, instantly knowing what was going on behind those brown eyes. "No big de-"

However, the look on his eyes when he abruptly sat on the edge of the table in front of her, caused her to cut herself off. Even without saying anything, she unintentionally flinched. Feeling small under his rigid glare.

"Cassandra.." he pressed once again, causing her to quietly scoff and look away.

"It really isn't a big deal though," she mumbled like a defiant teenager and in any other situation her stubborness would've educed a smile or chuckle from him, but not this time. Eventually shaking his head in disapproval. "It is a big deal. You got hurt. Again. Because of me. Again." There was an edge in his tone. A rage. He was upset. Her sulky expression deepened, instantly feeling the need to calm him. "I'm clumsy. It wasn't because of you." "Of course it was." He was unable to control his anger anymore but his expression softened just as fast when looking at her afflicted eyes. "That's what I've tried warning you of." Her brows furrowed and she tilted her head away from his touch. A sad smile tucked on the corner of his lips as he looked at her adorably puzzled face. For someone as smart as her, she surely refused to use her brain in moments like this. "All these years back, that's what I meant when saying I'm no good."

The frown returned, finally understanding. "Not this again.." She attempted to stay up, but his hand grabbed her wrist firmly. Urging her to stay seated. "Right, this again." His voice returning to being stern. "Look," she sighed and her eyes fell briefly, "I'm not denying that it could've been risky. Even with interpol close by.." She wasn't necessarily surprised about his reaction. After all, it wasn't the first time she unvoluntarily got involved in his outlaw life. And this time it could've surely gone worse, she knew. But she'd never blame him for any of it. Especially not when he'd shot his way through countless armed men to get to her. "Could've been?" he repeated with an arched brow, tilting her chin towards him so she'd look him in the eyes, "Stop being stubborn and acting tough. I know you were scared. I know because I was."

Her jaw clenched. It was a poor attempt to keep these thoughts she tried suppressing, from emerging. She'd lie if saying she hadn't been scared at all. It was definitely an.. experience. Although it'd also be a lie if she said it wasn't thrilling at all, but only because she'd got out of it with a mere graze. If it was more severe she'd probably not find it so exciting anymore. A lump formed in her throat at the thought of that.

"Yes, okay, fine, you're right. I was scared, a little bit." His grip loosened as he stared at her flustered face. It hadn't changed much since the night of their first encounter. Same mesmerisingly fierce eyes he had fallen in love with seven years ago. Her cheeks might be less chubby and the grey rings under her eyes deeper due to her work schedule, but nevertheless, still the same witty, beautiful and, at times like this, dewy-eyed woman he knew. "I'm so sorry, angel," he whispered, "Will you now stop refusing to see it?" Although he tried sounding serious and persuasive, his voice cracked. He felt outraged and ashamed, mostly with himself. And she glanced up, meeting his sad eyes before they fell to the space between them.

Cassandra drew closer then, running her fingers through his raven waves and forcing him to heave his head to face her again. "Let me decide what's good for me and what not," she said softly, "I love you and I want to be with you. And some wannabe goons won't change that." His hand wandered up then, covering hers and lowering it into his lap. "I don't deserve this. I was so selfish all this time."

The car chase and shoot out, the embassy, the interpol interrogation and now this. He should've stayed away from her, from the beginning. He should've ignored whatever it was that kept pulling him towards her.

Had he really believed it wouldn't get worse with time? Had he really believe he could keep her away from it all?

"I thought.. I thought not telling you specifics was enough to keep you safe. But it only worked for interpol. I should've known the others.. the criminals we encounter.. it wouldn't have kept them away." He paused and screwed his eyes shut for a brief moment. "I let my feelings blind me."

With a shaky breath, she captured his face between her palms. Squishing it lightly as she searched for his eyes in the downcast air. "You tried back then, it's not that you didn't. But I never minded the risk and do what I want, I thought you knew as much about me."

With memories of the past hours flooding his mind, he cracked a weak smile.

The bubble. Once again he felt his bubble, the bubble of naive optimism and escapistic delusions, bursting. And this time she couldn't convince him otherwise. He wouldn't let her.

"I know you're stubborn," he pressed her hand, "And I know you're strong, much stronger than I could ever be because I'm weak, Cas, I'm weak when it comes to you. But since you're so stubborn, I've got to be the one stepping up for you now." "Tae, what.. what do you mean?" His hands wandered up the cool skin of her arms, holding onto them firmly with a sense of appell.

He'd have never guessed to ever say the following words to her, but there wasn't any other option left. Perhaps it wasn't even an act of selflessness. Perhaps it was pure selfishness again, the fact he'd rather choose a life than a world without her.

"We shouldn't see each other anymore."

Glass. Cassandra could swear hearing the piercing sound of glass breaking somewhere. Her eyes shot wide open. "Taehyung, don't even -" He ignored her warning tone, the grip around her arms tightening. "Be honest, Doc. Admit that it's the only plausible way." "If you want to break up with me, do it. But don't wait for my approval, I won't give it to you," she countered. The sudden soberness of her voice and her straight face taking him aback for a moment.

The silence that followed was deafening. Echoing in every corner of the cabin. Seconds passed with nothing but the ticking of the clock accompanying their racing pulses. They held each other's relentless gaze until eventually, Taehyung's lips parted.

"I'm breaking up with you, Cassandra."

Her heart left its place in the mediastinum, sinking heavy and bitter to the pits of her stomach. No warm blood was pumped through her veins anymore and her body began to freeze. She had bluffed after all, convinced he would, too. ".. you don't mean that. Right?" Irritation evident as she grew louder. "Tell me you're not actually breaking up with me over a minor injury." "Does that matter?" he simply argued, "The other time it was also minor. Next time it might not be anymore. What then, Cassandra?"

Her hands balled into fists as she stood up abruptly, his grip sliding from her.

"You're afraid I won't wait," she stated matter-of-factly. Trying swallowing down the tears which welled up in the corners of her eyes. She couldn't stay calm nor rational, she became frantic and desperate. "Just admit you don't believe I'd wait for you anymore after today." Taehyung was somewhat amused by her certainty over that conclusion even if it couldn't be further away from the turth. His expression full of adoration and rue as she managed to make him unexpectedly smile again. "I'm afraid you will." He got up to touch her cheek and she let him. "And I know you will, that's why I need to do this. You're the only thing that matters to me, the only thing worth anything in my life. No jewels, no artefacts, no antiques - only you. I just couldn't live with myself if anything ever happened to you." "Then what about this?" She pulled out the necklace with the tiger pedant from under her blouse, accidentally grabbing the heart locket out along with it. Both glimmering golden in the evening light seeking through the window. "Was that promise a lie?"

The ghost of a smile was on his lips. "Of course not. I meant it, every word. But I realised I might never be able to escape this life. And you shouldn't waste yours waiting for someone who might never be able to keep his promise."

The lump in her throat got harder, pressing the tears in the corner of her eyes to finally break loose. They rolled down her burning cheeks in big clear orbs. Taehyung let go of them to wrap his arms around her smaller frame instead. Embracing her tightly as she sobbed against his chest. It broke his heart all over again, the way she was shaking against him and fisting his shirt. She heaved her head with a pained smile then. "It wouldn't be wasted, cool guy."

He breathed out, wanting to object but couldn't. Her words soothed over his flushed skin as he cradled her more. Unable to contain the tremble in his own voice. "You're my only weakness, Cas. And as long as I'm in your life, there will be people who can take advantage of it."

His forehead brushed over her fluffy curls as he backed away. Wiping the unending tears with his thumbs before leaning down and pressing a kiss on her salty-tasting lips. The kiss was warm and soft. Making her forget her sorrow and halting the tears until the moment their lips parted again.

Cassandra knew that this hadn't been a consoling kiss or like any other one ever shared by them. She felt it in every fibre, every synapse. There was a lack of the usual happiness-inducing neurotransmitters, hormones and endorphines.

It was a goodbye kiss.

He meant it this time. She could tell by the determination in his eyes. His usually gentle features now hard. And she wasn't even attempting arguing this time. A tiny voice of reason which the rest of her emotions almost suffocated, knew that if it was the other way round, she'd have done the same. Still, she was unsure if she could really fathom what was happening in that moment.

With shaky hands, she reached behind her neck then and fiddled with the chain around it. "I should - I mean, you - your necklace." But Taehyung paused her with a chaste kiss on the forehead and lowered her arms. "Keep it. The promise was for you and you only. I don't intend to give it to anyone else."

The tiger-pedant had used to be a memento of his grandparents, but now it symbolised the part of his heart that would always be with her. It was hers now. It had always been. So he wanted her to keep it.

Cassandra watched him silently let go, however, only when she saw him head to the door, her lips found the will to move again.

"You're a good guy, Tae," she said, new tears threatening to bypass her eyes, "Don't forget that."

Pausing in his tracks, he swallowed his own tears down his dry throat. Not daring to move and meet her gaze, knowing the moment he'd see those lovely doe eyes any little strength left in him would be completely sucked out and he'd cave in, running back into her arms. He had to keep it together, he couldn't give in now. It was the right decision.

"I'll try."

And with that, he walked out of the door. And out of her life.

»»»

next chapter: epilogue very soon!

(make sure to check it out!! 👀it'll be a good one, i promise!)

Don't forget to like, comment & leave feedback!♡ It motivates me to keep writing :)

taglist: @lilanyxta @naoolammao345 @memna234 @tetehion @myblacklilame

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magicalrocketships · 1 year

Note

ok im ready to be converted. what f1 fics do u recommend to start my full brain rot?

EXCELLENT, my plan is working (make people like what I like). Here is a very small and somewhat random selection, mostly Daniel/Max except where stated. Extremely loosely grouped. I've said if they're focused on them racing (grid), even if it's an AU. I have not associated anyone's ao3 handle with their tumblr name, so apologies for that. Do come back and tell me your thoughts and feelings. (!!)

F1 TASTING MENU (Maxiel Flavour)

Amuse Bouche: an opening vid

maxiel x 2022 season - “i would just draw it at like, i wouldn’t say love” by @daniel-enchante

Starters (shorter (ish) fics)

Cool Things to Say to Your Soulmate - words by powerfulowl, art by loveleah (grid, E): Only dumbasses get goosed. If a Soulmate Goose of Enforcement comes to intervene in your love life, it is a clear sign you have fucked up. You’re so bad at navigating human relationships that the universe thinks a violent waterfowl impervious to damage and capable of walking through walls will actually improve the situation.

i carry your heart with me by capsize (grid, M): “What’s up little guy?” Daniel asks – because like his car, Max’s heart is a boy too – and moves the heart from the desk into his lap. “Is Max not paying attention to you? He can be a bit of a cunt, yeah? No, I know.” Or, five times someone found Max’s heart, and one time they kept it.

Just kissed you hello by charlotte_stant (grid, M): Everything freezes for a long moment—and then Daniel’s heart is back to beating and it’s fine, he can see how funny the situation is. “Maximus, my brother, my comrade,” he says, “what the fuck, mate. I’m not gay, ok?"

Amuse Bouche: another vid

max and daniel at redbull by @love-leah

Main Course (longer fics)

Good To You by TheNorthRemembers (grid, E): Max walks and talks like he has a big dick. He always has, and it’s not like Daniel ever really thought about Max’s dick, but he just- He assumed, maybe. That the equipment would match the attitude. That at the very least what Max is packing, would be completely average. The fact, that apparently it’s not- Well. Daniel doesn’t know what to do with that information, in more ways than one. Or: Max a small dick, Daniel is into it; lots of sex and a bit of angst ensue

my kind's your kind by hardlythewiser (grid, series, E, Max/Kelly/Daniel, resolving with Max/Daniel): Max can talk about it now, out of bed, casual. Kelly helped him practice, talking about it like it was just another activity, like her tennis lessons or nights out with friends, ever since that first time. But she doesn't say anything now.

To the Victor Belong the Spoils by powerfulowl (hunger games AU, E): Daniel didn’t kill anyone in the arena. He’s the one untarnished Hunger Games victor. The beautiful boy who stole the hearts of Panem with a fishing net and a smile. He can kiss babies and sell sun cream and fuck who they tell him to fuck and suck on the fingers that feed him– he’s not gonna bite. But then Max wins the Hunger Games. Max bites.

Amuse Bouche: vid time

"what's going on between you and max verstappen?" by @love-leah

Dessert (where the focus is on sex)

Sweeter than I ever knew by purples_all_the_way_down (grid, girls, E): Daniel has never had an orgasm. Somehow (Charles, it's always Charles), Max gets involved. Things get complicated.

I just want to know you like nobody ever has by 33Max (grid, E): They are in the bathroom, Daniel had insisted that he needed a shower if they were going to do this. He’s still damp, Max hadn’t even waited for him to dry himself off before he was pushing Daniel against the counter and dropping to his knees behind him.

Coffee (something different)

both hands tied on the wheel by kayshea (George Russell/Toto Wolff, grid, E): George feels, stupidly, like a cat that’s been stroked. Like his skin is electric. It’s what everyone has been saying to him all day, but it feels different, somehow, coming from Toto.

if i should come upon your house lonely by withfeathers (Lewis Hamilton/Hanna Prater/Sebastian Vettel, grid, E): The summer after Sebastian's retirement, Lewis visits Switzerland for a week. Nothing about it goes as he expected.

#fic recs #f1blr #fics I wish I was reading #(again)#maybe I will just reread them all right now #also if your fic is on this list and i haven't commented yet #it is coming #feral primer #max/daniel

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yuki-kazami · 4 months

Text

Ok so me and some friends in a server were talking about Horn headcanons and I feel the need to write mine up because I love this insane wolf girl so much

Basically, my thesis here is that I think Horn is best compared to that old myth(?) where if the oil in a car's engine has not been changed for ages, if you do actually try to change the oil, the engine will just seize and die.

It's canonical that she's repressing everything, in her own files it states "However, we've gradually begun to worry for her. Who'll be there to ease her mind? She's transformed herself into the shield she bears, firm, steady, and seemingly forever to be the last one standing. But there's only so much time any armament has. When a human's forced herself to the extreme, and been stressed for too long, what will happen to her the instant the pressure on her disappears?" She's carrying an incredible burden and I think she just has to keep going or she'll collapse.

I imagine things like her and Cello dating, maybe even with Cello having gotten her the collar she wears. There's no way Horn is anything but haunted when she sleeps. Nightmares of Cello berating Horn for not saving her, for not shielding her from Mandragora. The collar gets more and more worn as the war goes on, as Horn throws herself into battle after battle, until finally, in an explosion, the clasp shatters, Horn desperately diving after it as it falls, catching the tattered strap. But rather than repairing it, she can't bring herself to admit that she deserves better, because it serves as a reminder of her own failure. So she instead takes the strap and sews it around her own neck, no more room for escape, no more tacit admission that she could take it off. She treats it both like the embrace of the person she lost and a brand to remind her that she couldn't protect her.

Imagining a night at the Exemplar camp where they explain to the new Victorian recruits that no matter what, you do not bring up Captain Horn's old squadron, no matter how badly you want to know what the Tempest Platoon was like, as the descendants of the original Exemplars. Not because it will retraumatize her, and not because she goes quiet or gets sad, but because she doesn't know what you are talking about.

"What do you mean? They're just on deployment elsewhere, I talk to them all the time. Did something happen? Should I be concerned?"

The first person who didn't get the memo on what is happening ends up getting slammed into a nearby wall as Horn starts hyperventilating, White Wolf in full effect. She nearly breaks his ribs for "keeping vital information about the safety of her squad from her", only to suddenly be broken off of the train of thought by a somewhat distressed looking Siege telling her about an "urgent necessary patrol" that only she could handle, and she seemingly did not remember the confrontation by the time she returned to camp, acting with her usual humor and camaraderie.

Gonna drop a Read More here because the next part involves some details from the end of Chapter 13, and a bit of Chapter 14 speculation based on a bit of details I've been spoiled on from the Anniversary Livestream:

Imagining Horn after the Victoria arc ends, panicked at the idea of there not being another battlefield for her to go to, another place for her to throw herself into the line of fire because that's where she belongs, it's what she deserves.

Imagining the way she breaks down when they finally stop her, the delusions she falls into as everything finally catches up to her all at once, when she realizes that she never truly left County Hillock in her heart. Bagpipe with a somber smile on her face as she tells her Captain what the other squadmates are up to, as Horn lays in her bed, recovering from her injuries. Misery, imagined to be an old commanding officer, playing along as he sits alongside her, wanting to be there for someone he cares about in a way he couldn't for Outcast. Therapy sessions, trying to help her work through this trauma before her infection grows worse, as she kept throwing herself into the Originum-coated remnants of Londinium. Her screams still echoing on those walls, the horror and rage that flowed out of her as she saw County Hillock once again made manifest, the Specter Force dominating her thoughts as she collapsed from her injuries.

She's just SO

She's going to break so hard when the war ends, and it's going to take her and the people who love her years to pick up the pieces. I love Rita Skamandros.

#horn #horn arknights #arknights #arknights spoilers #help #im so not normal

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lionlena · 1 year

Text

A girl from the street (JavierPeñaxf!reader)

Summary: You're a CIA agent who's only been in Colombia for a week, but your boss is already throwing you into the worst shit. You have to pretend to be a prostitute, and just when things get bad, this handsome guy shows up.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, smut, reader is undercover as a prostitute, women harassment, curses, oral sex, pussy eating, protect sex, use a condom, Javi is a little asshole.

A/N: Y/LN - your last name

You always thought you joined the CIA to change the world. You wanted to show that women can be strong, independent, and kick bad guys' asses. You ended up standing on a street corner dressed like a whore and having to endure the presence of a fat man who smelled of sweat and insisted you give him a blowjob.

How did it happen? Oh yes. Stechner, your boss. A dick like few in this world. He hated women. He hated even more women who wanted to climb the rungs of the ladder called careers. That's why you came to Colombia. In America, you didn't have a chance to get promoted as quickly as here. One thing you didn't foresee... Bill Stechner was a fucking prick.

Already in the first week of your work (you haven't even had time to unpack and meet your co-workers yet) he decided that you would be great for observing a suspicious type. On the surface, the task was simple. You had a camera built into your handbag and you were just supposed to take pictures when your "subject" will walk into the bar. You were supposed to document with whom and when he enters the bar. Of course, Stechner decided that you couldn't just stand in the middle of the street as a tourist, because that would surely arouse someone's suspicions. There were also no convenient vantage points nearby, so that was out of the question as well. So what plan did this prick come up with? You will pretend to be a whore. After all, it's normal in Colombia for prostitutes to stand in the streets for long hours waiting for customers. A really brilliant plan. It's just a pity he didn't anticipate real customers coming to you.

You got rid of the first one quickly. You saw that he was poor, so you gave a very high amount. The guy left quickly.

The other looked like someone who rarely used prostitutes. You sensed his uncertainty, so you said he'd have to use a condom, preferably two because you're sick. He ran away so fast you almost laughed.

In the meantime, your "object" has arrived. You pressed the appropriate button on the bottom of the bag and you were sure that you would be able to disappear in no time. Unfortunately, a short, fat guy approached you, he looked to be in his fifties and looked like someone who used whores a lot. He held out some bills towards you and said:

"You're going to blow me in that alley."

You felt disgusted and replied, "No."

The guy raised his eyebrows and looked you up and down and you realized you made a mistake. You were still undercover and you didn't know who this guy might be. In Colombia, potentially, any guy could belong to some drug cartel. If he started fighting you and discovered what you had in your purse, things could get really ugly. Of course, things would be different if the moron (your boss) gave you the support you asked for. But he stated that it was such a simple task that he would not involve additional agents. Just fucking awesome. You tried to salvage the situation somehow.

"I'm sorry, stallion, but I'm waiting for a regular customer."

The guy snorted and gave you a really dirty look.

"You've been standing here for an hour and you haven't had any customers, I think you can do your job in ten minutes."

Pfff, sure... He probably wouldn't even last a minute.

You tried to reply in the sweetest voice you could muster: "I'd rather not risk it."

"Okay. I'll wait. If that regular customer of yours doesn't show up soon, I'll drag you there by your hair and fuck you for free."

The guy walked a few meters away and leaned against the wall of the building. He watched you like a hawk. Fuck. Thanks so fucking much Stechner. You frantically considered your options.

To suck his dick... Hell no!

Leave. He'll probably start following you.

So what?

And then, out of nowhere, a handsome guy appeared in front of you. He was wearing a navy blue shirt, a leather jacket, and dark jeans. He had dark, thick hair, some of it falling over his forehead. He had a dark mustache under his nose. His brown eyes made you trust him. And he was hot... Very hot.

"Hey, beauty." He licked his lips and gave you a flirty look. "Maybe I'll take you to my home for the night. I'm paying double."

You made your decision quickly. You didn't have a gun, no badge, and you'd probably have to break that fat prick's arm when he tried to rape you. The guy in front of you looked clean and reasonably nice.

You put your hand on his shoulder and smiled broadly, "Let's go."

He grabbed your waist and led you to his car. Once inside you asked, "So what should I call you, sweetheart?"

"Javier. And you?"

"Y/N," You told him your real name, deciding it didn't matter anyway.

Okay, maybe going to the apartment with a stranger wasn't the smartest thing to do, but prostitutes did it all the time. True?

(Maybe you would have known this if you had talked to a real prostitute beforehand, but Stechner of course decided it was unnecessary.)

If you had any fears, they were dispelled the moment you entered his apartment and Javier pulled you close and kissed you. He knew how to do it. He wasn't pushy, but he knew how to apply the right pressure. His hand traveled down your back. And you, being so close to him, could smell his intoxicating scent. When he pulled away from you, he winked at you.

"Whiskey?"

"Umm... Yes."

He tossed his jacket onto the couch and that's when you saw it. FUCK! He had a gun in his belt. How could you not notice it before? You were a fucking CIA agent. You're about to die the stupidest death in history. However, just as you were contemplating how to escape, Javier put his gun down on the table and took his badge out of his pants pocket. He glanced at you and apparently noticed you gulping nervously. He waved his badge and asked, "Does that bother you?"

And then, if you were sensible, you'd tell him the truth. "Hey, that's funny. We're workmates. My badge is at home, but I'm with the CIA, and that's my cover."

Unfortunately, your mind has been overcome by the pressure building up between your legs. You've heard that some people get turned on by role-playing, but you never thought you also. Technically, Javier was the unwitting one, but that didn't count. You carefully hung your purse on the hanger near the door and looked at him.

"No. You just don't look like a cop."

Javier laughed and pulled a cigarette out of his pocket.

"That's what it's all about, Lovey."

You nodded, knowing full well that it made sense. The bandits couldn't see you, as an agent from a mile away. You walked over to the couch, glancing at his badge. You noticed the sign and realized he was from DEA. Well, that was probably another moment when you should have backed off. You knew that CIA and DEA agents had a conflict with each other. But then Javier undid a few buttons on his shirt, revealing shiny skin. He handed you a glass of alcohol and you couldn't take your eyes off him. You sat back and took a good gulp, savoring the taste and the warmth spreading in your stomach. Javier knelt beside you, his hand traveling from your thigh to your knee, down your calf, and lingered on the straps of your boots.

"Why don't we get rid of this first?"

Oh god, you couldn't be more grateful to him. You weren't used to wearing such high boots and your legs were dying after standing for so long. He efficiently held a cigarette in his mouth, and with his hands freed you from this shoe nightmare. He placed one of your feet on his thigh, close to his crotch, and you could feel the tension in his pants. He took a few more puffs on his cigarette and stubbed it out. He reached for your glass and placed it on the table. Then his hands spread your thighs apart and one hand found its way to your panties. You were soaked and Javier liked it.

"Hmm, you're ready for me now." One of his fingers slid under the fabric of your panties and hooked your clit. You groaned and lifted your hips. "Yes, like this."

Then you started to wonder if this is normal. As a prostitute, you're supposed to please him. But maybe he was one of the few guys who got turned on by treating whores that way. You decided to start rubbing his crotch with your foot. Javier threw his head back and groaned.

"Yes, yes... That's right, sweetie. You're good at it."

The praise from his mouth made your cheeks blush.

After a moment, he gently removed your foot and removed his toe from your panties. You groaned in displeasure, but he just patted your leg.

"We're wearing too many clothes. Get up, hermosa ."

You didn't know how he did it, but you were ready to obey his every command without resistance. Maybe it was his voice. Maybe it's his big hands. Maybe broad shoulders. Maybe it all combined to make him so sexy and you really wanted to fuck him.

You got up, but Javier was still kneeling in front of you. In one swift motion, he took off your short skirt and panties. He then took off his shirt and then wrapped his arms around your legs and started pulling you towards him. You stood a bit unsteadily with your pussy so close to his face, but his hands held you steady. He kissed the inside of your thigh and murmured:

"Let me taste you."

That was the only warning you got before his face buried itself between your thighs. Were it not for his strong arms, you would have jumped in surprise. His tongue masterfully circled your clit. Your knees pressed against his body and at one point you had to grab his head to find some way to keep your balance. Though you were sure he wouldn't let you fall. You tugged at his hair and he moaned right into your pussy, but his tongue didn't leave you for a moment. It devoured you like a thirsty animal, and your legs grew weaker and weaker. His mustache rubbing against your sensitive skin was an added stimulus.

"Javier... Jav ..." you moaned. " Javi ... Fuck..."

You felt a familiar warmth building up in your belly and knew you were close. You thought if he treated all the prostitutes that way, they were probably paying him.

Suddenly his tongue pushed into you. His nose poked at your sensitive bundle of nerves. You tilted your head back, arched your back, and your legs began to shake. You felt Javier tighten his grip as if encouraging you to come. You let out a loud moan and came. Javier ran his tongue over your labia a few more times before helping you fall onto the couch. You were breathing heavily, but you still wanted more. Javier stood up and you reached your hand towards his crotch. There was already a wet stain from pre-cum on the bottom of his jeans. He smiled and licked his lips. His beard was still glistening with your juices. He leaned over to you and murmured:

"Do you want to taste how delicious you are?"

He connected his lips to yours and you willingly let his tongue inside. As he pulled away from you, he winked at you and asked, "Can I fuck you?"

God?! Who was he and why was he asking? Your pussy was already twitching uneasily at the thought of his cock. You groaned and nodded your head.

He took off his pants and his cock popped out standing proudly. His tip was covered with little droplets of pre-cum. You groaned in delight. It was big, but not in a terrifying way. It was big enough for you to feel full.

Javier smiled and reached into his wallet to pull out a condom and... You were really grateful to him.

Well, that would be the "perfect" end to your career if you found out that after just one week of being a CIA agent in Colombia, you got pregnant by a DEA agent while being undercover as a prostitute. You would become a legend of the department. And not in a good way.

After a while, Javier knelt on the couch between your legs and positioned himself right next to your pussy. He began to enter you gently, and you felt the walls of your vagina stretch. When half of his cock was already inside you, he made one quick thrust so that his entire length was inside your warm, moist interior. You groaned and bit your lip. Javier paused for a moment, letting you get used to the stretch. He started to place gentle kisses on your breasts trying to distract you from discomfort. When he felt you relax, he began to move his hips. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and wrapped your legs around his back. You dug your heels into him, signaling him to speed up. Javier lowered his head and panted right next to your ear, making your excitement grow with every second. You felt yourself slowly getting closer to another orgasm. Your nails dug into his back.

"Yes," he growled. "Come on, on my cock. Come on, muñequita."

You started moaning and as you came your vagina tightened around his penis. Javier put his hands behind your back to lift you up. You screamed at the sudden change of position. He put one of his legs on the floor for better leverage and began thrusting into you at a brutal pace. He moaned louder and louder, and as his movements became more chaotic, you knew he was close.

When he came he placed you on the couch. He collapsed onto your body, burying his face between your breasts and panting heavily.

You were both coming off your orgasms. You started to gently stroke his nape, right at the hairline. You didn't know where the sudden surge of affection came from. You were probably still on a post-orgasm high. Javier muttered something unintelligible against your skin.

"What are you saying?"

He raised his head slightly.

"Stop doing that." You were about to apologize to him when he kissed your breast and added, "Or else I'll fall asleep on top of you and you'll be pinned down by my weight all night."

You giggled lightly and he sighed and gently pulled out of you. He got up from the couch and disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, where he threw away the condom. When he returned, he put on his pants, lit a cigarette, and stood by the window. You stretched out on the couch and enjoyed watching the muscles in his back. Javier turned to you.

"And good advice for the future, you should have support when you're undercover."

You huffed and sat up quickly on the couch. You looked at him and waited for his next words. But he was still standing there with a stupid smirk on his face and a cigarette between his lips.

"Did you know?!"

"From the beginning. Sorry, honey, but I know a lot of prostitutes and none of them act like you. You obviously haven't done your homework."

You huffed angrily and crossed your arms over your chest.

"It's that dick Stechner fault. I've only been here a week and he's already pushed me into the worst shit." You shot Javier an angry look. "And for your information, I asked for support, but he refused me."

Javier finished smoking and sat next to you. He began to gently stroke your bare hip. It's strange that you still didn't feel ashamed being completely naked.

"So CIA. We have more in common than I thought. Apparently, we both don't like Stechner," he muttered and leaned closer to you. "If you want to switch departments, let me know. It's not worth wasting your time with an asshole like Bill."

You laughed slightly and shook your head.

"Because it's better to work with an asshole like you agent..." You gave him a suggestive look and he replied "Agent Peña". You nodded and finished, "Agent Peña? You could have told me you knew about my cover."

"I could." He moved even closer to you. "But you could have told me too. I thought waving my badge would be suggestive enough." He brushed his fingers across your belly. "However, for some reason, you made a different decision." The other of his hands cupped your cheek. "Can I make it up to you somehow?" His hand moved between your thighs.

And all of your anger suddenly vanished. He mesmerized you with those brown eyes and you didn't resist as he pulled you into a kiss.

You will regret it later.

You regretted it two days later.

You just walked into your boss's office and found Javier there. You had to use all your skills to keep a neutral face. It looked like they had had some heated discussion with each other a moment earlier because both had anger in their eyes. However, Javier immediately softened when he saw you. Stechner, on the other hand, quite dismissively said:

"This is our new addition. Agent Y/LN. Meet Agent Peña. Unless you've met before."

You tentatively stretched out your hand towards him. Peña could have easily compromised you. One word or a stupid question: "You're not a prostitute?" was enough.

Javier smiled and shook your hand.

"Unfortunately not. I would certainly remember her."

Stechner rolled his eyes, and you returned the smile and quietly breathed a sigh of relief. Javier was an asshole, but he respected women. You already knew that if he ever needs your help, you'd be happy to help him and give him all the dirt you can find about your boss.

#javier pena #narcos #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x reader #javier pena and you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #agent pena #javier is a little asshole

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