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mischiefmaker615 · 7 months

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Feral

Summary: Tapped, Caged and Frozen.

Rating: R *Dark*

Note: Be gentle loves, i believe this is my first one shot with Frost Giant Loki technically Lol one Frost Giant one shot, coming up @buttercupcookies-blog

"oh don't get your nickers in a twist he's right over oh-!"

''Ow!'' you yelp after feeling a sharp pain hit your ankle, throwing your balance off to where you needed to extend a hand against the wall. Wincing, you look down to see a small piece of glass in your skin and not to far away, a broken phone. Yet what was more shocking was that the now broken phone lay just between Loki's feet.

''oh dear how clumsy of me and now look at where it's gotten me'' Loki sighed, scolding himself as he stepped over the mess and came over to you, his height reminding you just how small you were compared to a Frost Giant.

There was no fear, Loki had redeemed himself and his people long ago by helping Thor with various threats now and again to earth, so him towering above you now didn't send you any red flag feelings at all as you shyly tilted your head up to find him hunched a little to try to get a better look- I which you shifted away.

''it's fine- I know it was an accident. I'll just find a way to go clean-''

''none sense darling, it's the least I could do for harming such a.. fine mortal such as yourself''

The last statement had his eyes slipping past your shoulders a few times, making your cheeks redden as you glance back at your table where your friends were. Wasted and not even wondering where you were. He was a king after all, would it be rude to refuse? His charming smile had you practically woozy.. or was that just your buzz and blood loss talking.. but still, you couldn't help but hesitate.

''well.. I have a first aid kit in my car-''

''that would be perfect darling, allow me to escort you so you don't accidently lose your balance. A leg is a terrible limb to injure ad I feel bad enough already.'' Loki reasoned and took your hand without a word from you.

Just going with it and not seeing the real harm, you let him lead you to the back of the restaurant and out the back exit, taking note that his skin was colder than the night air. Your shiver didn't go unnoticed by Loki, who took his time walking since you were injured and his large stride was enough to equal practically three of your steps.

''my apologies love, I'm afraid getting closer would do you no good with your dropped temperature.'' He lightly joked as he slowed even more so you could lead to where your car was.

''you apologize a lot'' you couldn't help but tease, not sure if it was the right thing to say or not to a royal but his chuckle made you feel like it was alright.

''if I didn't for when I've done wrong, what kind of a king would I be.'' He smiled before you got to your car.

You've always loved larger vehicles and with your hurt leg, it made you regret packing far from the beginning. You even refused when he offered to carry you but you knew your heart's pounding would give you away about finding him attractive. Better to limp then to be embarrassed.

''thank you for your help but I should have this from here.'' You said gratefully as you opened the trunk and pulled out a small first aid kit from the side.

''don't be silly darling, I've started this so let me at least help finish it.'' he smiled and you jumped a little to feel his hands on your hips, taking note of the size before he carefully turned you around to face him and lifted you up to sit you down in the trunk.

The action alone made you blush and your hands gripped the edge to try to get yourself out and of course your words stuttered by his touch. ''its probably just a scratch Loki, I'll be-''

''a scratch normally doesn't cause one to limp darling, at least let me see it.'' he shushed and kneeled down with your ankle in his hand.

Holding back a wince, he looked over the shard of glass and hummed in thought. ''..this might make you uncomfortable darling but my finger tips seem to be a bit to big to get the piece of glass and I don't wish to risk you hurting yourself further so I need you to trust me.''

As if he'd knew you were going to question him first, he then bent his head down to your ankle, making your eyes widen and your cheeks began adopting their knew color of embarrassment as you watched him.

''what are you- ah!'' you yelped, your lips parted in silence a moment after as he raised his head with the glass between his teeth and a sly grin on his lips.

''not to worry darling, It was merely..'' his words slowed as his smile faltered to an unreadable expression and the glass falling to the floor.

Thinking maybe something was medically wrong or something, you glance down at your leg that was bleeding a little with the glass out now but nothing you could see to cause such a concerned reaction as you looked at Loki. ''what is it?'' you asked carefully.

His eyes slowly moved down to your bleeding leg, his eyes having darkened to a burgundy rather than a crimson. A shiver ran down your spine as you saw him inhaling deeply, almost like a wolf tracking a scent before a gasp left your lips when you felt his tongue run flat against your cut.

''gods I was unaware a Midgardian could taste this divine..'' he breathed, his voice almost representing a possessive growl as he placed his lips on your wound and sucked, his hand anchoring your ankle in his grip as your own tightened on the ledge of the vehicle.

''L-Loki stop- that's enough-'' you stuttered, trying to wrap your head over how this entire scene changed from help to get help! Were Frost Giants some sort of.. vampires? But you felt no teeth on you, just merely his tongue lapping at your wound and his lips occasionally sucking. Your heart pounded as you tried resisting his grip but he was far stronger than you.

Just as you opened your mouth to shout, he finally released your leg from his mouth and stood, his hands resting on either side of you to cage you in before you could even think about hopping out from the back. ''you drive me feral Y/N.. I must taste all of you..'' he practically moaned as his hands gripped your hips, his movements careful not to crush you from your mere size as you were but practically a doll to him.

Your eyes were wide and your mind raced to keep up with your heart, knowing what his intentions were and you checked your options. His knee rested just between your hanging legs from the ledge of the car, not allowing you to kick. His arms on your hips, leaving no room to use your arms to bring yourself out and any physical strength you could muster would be practically ineffective to his size and strength anyway.

Trapped. Caged. Frozen.

As he leaned forward, his eyes dragging over your chest and down to the middle of your thighs, your cheeks heated up and fear met your stomach as you leaned back away from him, only to encourage his advance as he climbed in as you tried crawling back away from him.

Trapped.

His Frost Giant size made him barely able to fit the back of the car, even it being a large vehicle but somehow the trunk door closed. His back was pressed up against the ceiling and his head bent low so his horns pressed up against the back of the back seats. All the while you lay caged underneath him with his knees on either side of you and his hands resting on each side of your head. His breathing was deep, as if he was using everything In his being to hold himself and you shook where you lay.

''p-please don't do this- you're a royal.. you can have anyone you want-''

''then I shall have you'' he smirked, his eyes blown with lust as if you had just given him permission and he bowed his head to begin sucking and licking at your neck.

Your hands rested on each of his shoulders, pushing him but to no success. His helmet gently yet firmly pressed against the side of your head as you looked away from him, only resulting in giving him permanent access to attacking your neck.

Caged.

You felt on of his hands running down your side and down your thigh, firmly grasping it and despite your resistance, pulled it around his leg so he had a knee between your own, taking away your ability to close your legs.

His lips moved across your jawbone and nibbled your earlobe, making your nails dig more into his exposed shoulders where his smirk showed he noticed your ticklish spot. you whimpered, pushing him away and pushed at his chest but as his lips traveled below your ear and licked at your neck, the more you realized how the rest of your body was reacting.

Your legs shook as you got light goosebumps over your arms while your shivers traveled more up your body and it wasn't necessarily because of his different body temperature. To your horror, you felt yourself beginning to get aroused and your eyes widened.

Frozen.

His hand gripped your thigh, rubbing it up and down and dipped down now and again to squeeze your ass before you felt it travel to your waist and his fingers curled to grip the edge of your jeans.

''w-wait-''

RIP

He yanked once and your jeans ripped apart, exposing your intimate parts only covered by your black panties. He shifted so he was looming above you again, his eyes traveling down to examine his new findings and smirked, almost seeing a hungry in his eyes as he gripped your hips and pushed you up more so you were closer to the back of the seats for his height to be accommodated but he was still in a hunched position.

You prayed the signs would show that this had to stop, or at least someone would return to their car and perhaps notice the scene but the growing fog in your windows would make it impossible for someone to notice inside. A frost giant with their height alone in the back of the car would have no way to dip their head comfortably and reach your inner most area, even with the top of your head at the back of the back seats.

That wouldn't stop Loki.

Your eyes widened once more as the snap brought you out of your desperate thoughts and noticed he had removed your panties and looked hungrier than ever with lust. His eyes raised to lock with yours, a mischievous and almost a cruel look formed on his lips before you suddenly felt gentle yet firm pressure against your lips.

Fear filling your chest, your hand flew up to investigate but found no object at your mouth but you found yourself unable to open your mouth. Only muffles could be heard as you tried yelling out but your lips would not open. Just before you could panic more with being invisibly gagged, Loki slid a hand behind you to rest behind your back before you were suddenly pressed against his chest.

Without missing a beat, you two were suddenly flipped and Loki now lay comfortably on his back, being able to accommodate his full height and you now on top of him. finding the opportunity to try to dive over the seats, his grip on your hips tightened as your knees rested practically against his chest. Youd practically have to do the slits if you could even dream straddling a frost giant.

''ah ah ah darling, I have other plans for you'' he teased and suddenly you were shoved forward, his hands gripping your hips before you knees landed beside each side of his head, cunt meeting his awaiting tongue as he wasted no time to lap and dive his tongue into you.

A whimper followed be a held back moan hummed on your lips, your heart rate picking up at your panicked feeling of such an intimate position where you tried gripping the seats to try to get away but Loki planted his hands firmly on your hips, grounding you and you could practically feel him smirk against your cunt.

He merely shook his head at your attempt to get away, resulting in rubbing the tip of his nose against your clit while he ran his tongue up and down against your cunt, making you shiver as your arousal picked up.

You hated him, you wanted to hate this, but he was making it very difficult in trying to make this not enjoyable. Your nails dug into the seats as your chest pressed against the back of them. Loki's grip lightened a little on your hips as your resistance to get up faltered and he began rocking you back and forth against his mouth and nose.

Your eyes raised, your head falling back as a hand fell to grip one of his horns and your shivers began to grow as well as your orgasm. The feeling in the pit of your stomach grew intense and your vision danced, cunt clenching around nothing as he tongue fucked you. Your grip tightened, your breathing picked up and your eyes fluttered.

All thoughts were gone, all concerns were gone. All your body wanted now was release. Loki knew you were drawing close as he moaned against your pussy, sending vibrations against you which made you return to now welcomed moans that were able to leave your lips. Your breath hitched and your back arched. Loki's grip tightened and slapped your ass, making you yelp with snapped pleasure before his tongue flicked and quickened.

All was enough and you fell from that glorious edge and climaxed. You moaned, practically screaming his name if it wasn't muffled but his magic and your body shuddered, cumming in waves as he moaned against you, lapping every drop graciously as your body was overwhelmed with pleasure.

Loki's movements didn't slow down until your body began slowing down and you panted with your vision beginning to return. With a smirk, he suddenly sat up, your body sliding down him to lay on your back between his legs practically, his obvious erection against your back as he hunched forward to look down at you. His hands held your hips and your lips parted finally so you took proper breaths, your eyes looking up at him glassy while he smirked down at you.

Proud and hungry.

Raising up two of his digits, long and large, mischief danced in his eyes as they dragged down to your cunt.

''alright darling, I'd say you are practically prepared for your.. fitting.''

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#loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki fluff #loki god of mischief #loki fanfic #loki x reader #lokifluff #loki #loki smut #loki x reader smut #Youtube

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frostandflamesfanfic · 1 year

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Made With Love (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Made With Love (Rated T)

Request?: Technically YES (say thank you to @bakerstreethound, everyone)

Pairing: Husband!Steve Harrington x Wife!Henderson!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k+

Warnings: Brief infrequent language with a slight innuendo; Reader is also AFAB (a female at birth) due to mention of pregnancy

Summary: For Stevemas Day 10; After getting married, you and Steve started to move into his parents' old home. Upon packing, you come across some of Steve's old belongings. When more of these creations keep popping up, you come to discover your husband has a bit of a surprise for you. What happens when it turns out you have a surprise of your own?

The first experience you had with Steve’s new hobby happened shortly after you moved into your new home. Well, your new home, his old one. Once the two of you officially tied the knot, Steve’s parents allowed their son to take ownership of their home. In actuality, it had taken a lot of convincing to get them to feel comfortable moving into a smaller place on the outskirts of Hawkins. For months, your husband needed to go back and forth packing and unpacking boxes of yours and theirs.

It was a lot of work, but he wouldn’t have changed it for the world. The end result was the two of you finally have a place to call your own. You finally had somewhere to settle down and have the family you both laid awake for hours imagining.

You were home.

One night when you were unpacking boxes, you came across some of Steve’s old things. Before the house, your shared apartment was incredibly small, just cozy enough for the two of you to cuddle on the couch to watch tapes from work and go to bed together every night. Most of your belongings had either ended up stashed in boxes in the closet or in your mother’s garage until you had found a more permanent home. Sure, you had to share space with your younger brother’s mad science lab, but at least your stuff was safe…relatively speaking.

You hardly remembered seeing this box prior to the move and curiosity was a temptress. As you flipped open the lid, a smile fluttered against your face when you noticed a soft knitted blanket nestled atop other trinkets. You reached in to pull it out and found yourself immediately wrapping it around your frame. It was a mishmash of pastel colors: blues and greens and purples all intertwined by the softest yarn you had ever felt in your life. You assumed it was a gift to Steve from his grandma, Eleanor Louise Harrington.

When you were dating, Steve would tell you the most wonderful stories about the woman who was always there for him. She would be in charge of watching over him whenever his parents were out of town at a young age, which was more often than not. Grandma Eleanor was the reason little Steve loved the holidays. She’d always make it special for him, whether it was reading the Twas the Night Before Christmas every Christmas Eve or teaching him to make her special gingersnaps for Santa. When she passed away when he was thirteen, Steve had needed to learn the hard way how the world wasn’t always made of the magic Grandma Eleanor helped him believe in.

It wasn’t until he met you that his Christmas spirit slowly started to make its return.

You placed the blanket back in the box and set it on your husband’s side of the closet. Even though you had already peeked inside, you didn’t want to invade the remainder of his privacy. For the rest of the day, your gaze would lock onto the box and a smile would fall upon your features before you kissed Steve for being sentimental. Now, Steve himself didn’t understand just why you were being so affectionate, but there was one thing he knew for a fact: he would never refuse kisses from the love of his life.

⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫

Your second encounter occurred a few months later, once the winter chill began to set in. You had been waiting in Hawkins High’s parking lot behind the wheel of your husband’s treasured BMW for your brother to barge out and demand entry into the passenger’s seat. Steve had decided to take on another shift at Family Video in order to have a little extra cash for holidays, so you volunteered to pick Dustin up from school.

“It’s alright if you need to use the heat, babe,” Steve had called out. “It’s cold out there. Don’t need you turning into a popsicle before Christmas!”

“Good thing I have you to warm me up when I get back,” you teased with a smile and a wink, fingers snatching up the keys from his left coat pocket.

“A husband’s job is never done, is it?” Steve gave a rather dramatic sigh.

As you made contact with the cold metal, your hand brushed something else much softer. You frowned as you reached deeper inside the pocket and pulled out a grey knitted glove. It was slightly misshapen but made from soft yarn, similar to that of the blanket still stashed away in your shared bedroom. Without thinking, you raised it up into the air in question toward your husband.

“Think I might steal these,” you called out and grabbed the matching mitt from his pocket before you head out the door toward his car.

A knock on the passenger window snapped you from your thoughts. As you turned your head, you noticed Dustin waving at you with a frown on his face. “Can you open the door?” his muffled shout questioned. “I’m freezing my nuts off out here.”

His naturally curly hair looked matted as he yanked off his hat: a red knitted trapper. “Jesus,” he continued to ramble as he tugged on the seat belt across his form. “Where were you?! It has to be like negative ten outside.”

“I’ve been waiting out here for the last thirty minutes!” you argued. “I was starting to think you had gotten a ride from someone else.”

“I mean where were you just now? I was knocking on the window for at least five minutes.”

Oh, whoops. “Sorry.” You reached over the center console to adjust the heat and turn up the radio. A smile formed as “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” began to play over the speakers. “Guess I got a little bit distracted.”

Your brother scoffed. “I’ll say,” he muttered. “Get married and all of a sudden, you and Steve hardly ever pay attention to us anymore. Do you guys ever take a breath from sucking face or is that just around me?”

“Dustin!”

“Fine, fine!” Dustin held his hands up in mock surrender. “Can you just drop me off at Mike’s? We’re supposed to be planning this oneshot for when Will finally gets back home.”

There was a pregnant pause that lingered throughout the car as you shifted gears and started the trek to the Wheeler’s residence. You felt Dustin’s eyes on you the entire time. His mouth opened and then shut a few times, as though he was preparing to ask you something and had decided against it.

“Something’s different about you,” he mused. You felt his stare on you, much more focused than before. In your peripheral, you noticed he was squinting now. “Did you get a haircut?”

“...No?” you shifted self-consciously in the driver’s seat. Your brother was the Sherlock Holmes of the family, detective extraordinaire. Great for uncovering interference from the Upside Down, not so much when it comes to getting involved in your personal life. “And will you stop staring at me like that?” You waved a free mitten-covered hand in his direction. “It’s freaking me the hell out.”

“Oh, he gave you a pair, too!” Dustin noted with a grin. “They’re a lot better than his first try, aren’t they?”

You frowned and risked a quick glance in his direction before you returned your gaze to the road ahead. “What?”

“The gloves! Steve gave ‘em to you, right?”

“Not exactly,” you explained. “I took them from his coat. What do you mean they’re better than his first try?”

The car returned to silence once again.

“Dustin?”

Silence. A quick look over toward your brother revealed he had suddenly become interested in the fresh piles of snow against the side of the road. Nose wrinkled, you shook your head and pulled into the Wheeler’s street. Unfortunately for Dustin, mystery solving was in your genetics, and this was one question you wanted answered.

⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫

“Babe?” you called out as you walked into the foyer of the house that evening. When you had taken Steve’s car from work, you had left him yours in the parking lot. You were surprised to see it back in the driveway once you arrived home after dropping Dustin off. Your stay had been much longer than you anticipated, with Nancy trying to make plans to finish Christmas shopping with you later in the week since she was home from Boston.

“Shit,” came the faint hiss of your husband’s voice from the living room. As you started to make your way toward the sound, you heard him clear his throat. “You’re back early, babe. I thought Dustin wanted to go to the mall to do some shopping.”

“Uh, no. He needed us to drop him off at the Wheelers. Something about some campaign they’ve been planning for Will,” you said with a frown. “Why is it so dark in here?”

As you flicked the lights on, you couldn’t help but blink at the sight before you. There was your husband perched in one of the armchairs you had gotten from your mother. He was wearing his wire-framed glasses, a side-effect of a few too many blows to the noggin over the years. Half a blanket was draped over his knee, pooling onto the floor below. As you walked closer, you noticed two large metal sticks in his hands. They were twitching as he stared over at you owlishly with wide eyes.

“Did you…make this?” you whispered almost far too quietly as you knelt down to lift up the edge of the blanket. Running your hand along it, you smiled at the soft yarn’s texture. It was a beautiful blanket with its blend of purples, orange, and yellows. The pattern reminded you of your favorite time of day: sunset. When you started dating, you used to drag Steve to the top of Walker’s Mountain to watch it almost every night. To most people, the setting of the sun meant the end of another busy day. To you, though, it was a reminder of how you survived another day no matter what evils may have been against you.

“Uh, y-yeah,” Steve stuttered. “It was mostly me.”

You tilted your head to look up at him. “Mostly?”

“Well, Virginia helped. Marge, too.”

“Marge? Virginia?” An amused smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “Something I have to be worried about, honey?”

“No!!” your husband was quick to exclaim. “No, no. They’re just…”

“Just…?”

A sigh escaped Steve’s lips as he set the knitting needles down into his lap. He leaned forward to ghost his lips against your hairline. “Look,” he said. “I’ve uh, I’ve been going to the community center between shifts at the store on Saturday. There’s this class they host– more like a club.” He hesitated, glancing between you and the blanket in his lap. “They teach you how to knit.”

You smiled. “So you’ve been learning to knit?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “It’s actually been…nice, you know? Helps give me something to do. I don’t feel as helpless as I used to. It’s more peaceful than anything.”

“You know I wouldn’t tease you for this, right?” you asked, hands reaching up to gently cradle his face. Your heart strained at the thought of Steve being afraid of getting judged by you for what his father would have considered a so-called woman’s hobby. “I think it’s great you’ve found a hobby.”

“What?” Steve asked in shock. “No- no, that’s not why I was- oh, shit, babe. Did you think I didn’t want to- oh, no. That’s not it. I was going to tell you!” He chuckled a bit and sighed, lifting up the unfinished blanket in his lap. “I, uh, I just didn’t want to until I finished this.”

“Is this,” you started, “for me?”

Your husband nodded and used one hand to smooth out the knitted material. “I know how much you love sunsets,” he said quietly, “and I know we missed a lot of them with everything that went down over the years. I thought this might make up for it.”

You practically melted into a puddle from your kneeling position on the floor. Without another word, you bounced up as pressed your lips to his, ignoring the awkward feeling of his frames as they pressed into your face. “I love you,” you breathed out as you broke apart.

“I love you, too,” Steve was quick to reply. “I just didn’t want to jinx myself and mess up this surprise, you know?”

You smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I get it,” you soothed. “But, uh, I think you might need to make a few adjustments to it.”

Steve’s face dropped. “Is something wrong with it? Do you not like it?!” he fretted. “Oh God, I knew I should have picked another pattern–”

“Babe,” you interrupted. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What?”

Hiding a smile, you reached across his lap to smooth out the blanket. You absentmindedly started to trace shapes into it as you glanced up at him. “It’s a beautiful blanket, Steve,” you said slowly. “But I think it’ll need to be a little bigger.”

Steve furrowed his brow and tilted his head to the side. “What are you talking about?” he asked. “This should be plenty big for us to use on the couch.”

“For right now, yeah,” you chose your words carefully. A knowing smile threatened to stretch around your lips and you had to fight the urge to let it show. “But I don’t think that’ll be the case in a year.”

Steve followed your gaze lower down your body, resting upon your abdomen. You couldn’t help it. A risked glance back up at him told you his brain was slowly putting the pieces together. “Are you-” he asked, eyes snapping up to meet yours. “Are you really?”

When your smile finally broke free and you nodded, your husband all but threw his unfinished product across the room and pulled you into a heated kiss. As you threaded your fingers through the hair on the back of his neck, you felt his lips curl into a smile against your own. His fingers danced their way under the hem of your shirt and pressed themselves against the skin of your stomach. He let them linger there for a moment before he released you on his lap.

“I was going to wait until Christmas to tell you,” you admitted, “but I just couldn’t help it. Especially when you were being as sweet as this.”

Steve laughed, a genuine one that sent butterflies soaring within your stomach. Your heart swelled at the sight of pure happiness which radiated off of him in waves. “That little shit was right,” he said between chuckles. “Knew I should have listened to him.”

You rolled your eyes. Leave it to your little brother’s observational skills to almost ruin the moment.

⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫

One year later, you sat on the couch with Steve’s sunset blanket across your lap and two little babies asleep in your arms. It had been a long and eventful year, but you wouldn’t have traded this moment for anything. This year was Amelia and Emery’s first Christmas as part of your little family and you couldn’t be happier.

Yes, you and Steve hardly had any sleep the night before, thanks to last minute preparations between the screams of hungry twins. Yes, you were already exhausted despite only being fully awake for two hours. Yet this was the moment you had been dreaming about for twelve months. You weren’t so much as going to blink if it meant risking losing a moment of this special day.

A few moments later, Steve slid onto the couch beside you with two mugs of hot chocolate in hand. As much as you would kill for a real caffeine hit, you couldn’t resist the alluring smell of melted chocolate and cinnamon. Your husband placed his mug on the coffee table and reached for Em so you could take the warm beverage from his other hand.

The two of you enjoyed the peaceful sounds of cooing four-month-olds paired with the soft hum of Christmas carols played over the radio for a while. As you leaned against your husband, he pressed a kiss to your temple and gently tapped your side – a signal to adjust your position. He placed a sleeping Em into the portable crib you had brought downstairs the previous evening before doing the same for Amy.

“Sorry,” he apologized with a meek smile. “I would’ve let them sleep there, but I have something for you.” He walked over to the tree and picked up a small box wrapped in candy cane patterned paper. When he came back to the couch, he set it atop the blanket on your lap and moved to sit down with an arm draped over your shoulders.

“I thought we said no gifts for each other this year,” you mused. “It was just for the girls.”

“We did,” Steve agreed with a nod. “I mean, technically I didn’t break that promise. It’s not anything big, I promise. I just…I thought you might like it.”

You shot him a questioning glance before you used your fingers to delicately tear at the wrapping, being incredibly careful not to wake the sleeping children nearby. When you opened the box, a small gasp escaped your lips. Inside, wrapped in a cocoon of white tissue paper, were two small Santa hats. Knitted in a yarn as red of holly berries, both hats were adorned with a fuzzy white pom-pom and trim around the brim. When you lifted them out of the box, you began to tear up. At the brim of each hat was a series of embroidery of your daughters’ names: Amelia Robin Harrington and Emery Louise Harrington.

Overcome with emotion, you immediately turned to look at your husband. Steve was already looking down at you, concern etched on his features. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asked, voice shaking slightly. “Do you not like it–”

Just like you did twelve months ago, you silenced his ramblings with a kiss. This time, it was one of pure unadulterated love. You clung onto his blue and white Christmas sweater for dear life. Tears of happiness pricked at your eyes as you ran a hand against the side of his face. When you broke apart, you sent him a teary smile. “You really are amazing, Steve Harrington,” you whispered. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he answered almost immediately.

You turned your attention back down to the little hats in your lap and glanced over to the portable crib that held your sleeping angels. You knew it would be a struggle to keep the hats on for long, but you hoped it would at least last until Jonathan arrived with his camera later on in the evening.

This was by far the best Christmas you had ever had and deep down you knew this was only the beginning. You smiled fondly to yourself as you thought about all of the other Christmas Days your little family would have for the rest of your lives. It had been a tough journey to get to where you were, but you wouldn't have changed a second for the world because you and Steve found your family…

…and that's all you could ever want or need.

============

Author's Note: I'm not crying, you are. No seriously, I had so much fun writing down this idea after receiving this through an ask by the amazing Ace. I got to explore the early days of Dad!Steve and learn more about his life with the reader a bit along the way. My only frustration is I couldn't keep this fic as gender neutral as I would have liked, but I'm still incredibly happy with how it came out.

We're only two fics away from the end of Stevemas. How are we liking the event so far?! If you enjoyed this fic and want to see more like it on my blog, make sure to leave a comment, tag a friend who you think might like it, and reblog this post! Likes are appreciated, but it's these other interactions that really help spread the word about my writing and motivate me to keep creating content like this for you all to enjoy! If you want to keep up to date with the last few days of Stevemas or want to see more of my work in the future, maybe consider giving my blog a follow, too! I promise I won't spam you too much with promoting other writers' amazing works :)

Until next time, my little sparks <3

Taglist: @bakerstreethound, @theelmgrove

#steve harrington fanfic #steve stranger things #steve x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #joe keery imagines #joe keery #frostandflamesfanfic #twelve days of stevemas #ficmas 2022 #dad!steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader

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tamurilofrivendell · 1 year

Text

Trial By Proximity | Thranduil/Reader

summary: Reader has been brought before Thranduil in the throne room to answer for some crime they committed. They're feeling argumentative and Thranduil is amused and intrigued by their bravery stupidity.

written using a prompt from this list - “I’ll kill you if you touch me.”

read on ao3

a/n: listen, this took on a life of its own lmao. no real warnings but I guess it might have tiptoed towards the border of almost-steamy-ish, I really don’t know.

You had been brought before the King of The Woodland Realm to answer for your supposed crimes. The argument that had ensued had been unexpected to all in the room, especially the king if the flash of surprise you thought you’d seen cross his expression was anything to go by. It seemed he had expected you to simply wilt beneath his hard gaze and acquiesce to his every word.

Never.

"I'll kill you if you touch me." Slipped from your mouth in a hiss as you stared up at the statue-like figure of the king on his throne. He sat high above you, chin held high, face impassive. Your words had stemmed from his threat to grab you by the arm and personally drag you to the dungeons hismself and throw away the key.

His gaze pinned you in place as a suffocating silence descended over the room. The guards shifted uneasily but you held firm, keeping your head up and your shoulders back, refusing to yield. Something flickered in his eyes as he looked back. Curiosity? Amusement? It wasn’t there long enough for you to figure out what it was but you could swear that the ghost of a smirk had started to tug at the corners of his lips as he stared at you.

Rising gracefully from his throne, Thranduil dismissed everyone else in the room with a gentle flick of his wrist. The guards could barely believe it but they also knew that their king was well equipped to protect himself in the event of a fight, and you were unarmed. You heard the shuffling of feet rushing to do their king’s bidding and leave the room but your gaze was locked together with Thranduil’s own as he began his slow descent down the steps. His hands were clasped behind his back as he closed the distance between you both.

You could clearly see now that, yes, he was definitely smirking.

“You will kill me?” His deep voice filled the room, echoing around you as a gentle mirth sparkled in his eyes. He was amused by you. Where most withered beneath his gaze, you stood tall. Defied him. It was foolish, stupid. It was also curious, intriguing.

“Yes.” You stared him down, though now that you were so close to him it was difficult not to become slightly enthralled. His voice, his eyes, his hair, his scent. He was entirely overwhelming but you reminded yourself why you were here in the first place. Reminded yourself that he was paranoid and distrusting. He was cold, he was cruel. He refused to listen to reason. You would not allow yourself to be enamoured by something so simple as his appearance. You would not fall under his spell.

Thranduil’s smirk widened slightly as he looked down his nose at you. He had moved closer, into your personal space, tilting his head just slightly as he regarded you. His hair fell down his broad chest in a wave of starlight and some distant part of you wanted to run your fingers through it, wondering if it was as soft as it looked.

“How, prescisely--” He spoke again, voice of velvet blanketing you, as he started moving. Pacing slowly around you like a wolf circling its prey before going in for the kill. “--would you expect to manage such a feat?” You found yourself overly aware of every single movement he made, forcing yourself not to look at him as he journeyed around you, looking you up and down.

Thranduil reappeared in your peripheral vision, a silver and green blur before he suddenly bent down, leaning in towards you. His nose was inches from your own and you could practically feel his body hovering in the slight space that still lingered between the both of you. His eyes studied every minute movement of your expression, the twitch at the corner of your eye, the nearly imperceptible quiver of your lips.

He was much closer now, far too close, yet he was not touching you. It seemed that he was going to incredible lengths to move as close to you as humanly possible without making any sort of actual physical contact whatsoever. His expression had brightened almost imperceptibly as he moved back to your front to face you and you looked back at him, taking in the unexpected situation you had somehow found yourself in.

He was playing with you.

You lifted your chin defiantly, scowling at him, which only seemed to amuse him more. He shifted ever closer, leaning down again just a little, his nose once more just before your own... he hovered in the space in front of you, gaze briefly roaming over your face as he took in your expression, like he was trying to read you. To see what effect he was having on you.

Your breath had caught in your throat as he came so close and any other clever comebacks you might have had disappeared before you could throw them his way. You swallowed thickly, watching a grin start to tug at his lips as he became more aware of your discomfort.

“Well...?” He pressed, raising one eyebrow to the sky as he dared you to answer his previous question, to continue your tirade against him. Frustratingly, you opened your mouth and still nothing came. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest at your speechlessness, well aware of the effect his little game was having, as he somehow leaned even closer. You could feel his breath mingling with your own as he stood, lips close enough to yours that you could have tilted your head just slightly and touched them with your own...

Stop it, you chastised yourself. He would not enchant you.

Thranduil shifted in front of you and your heart was hammering in your chest with a ferocity that had you thinking you could faint any second. How he was doing it you would never know, it felt like there was no space left between you both at all and yet he was still... not... touching... you.

However, this time you started moving too, stepping backwards away from him. It was entirely out of your control as you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction but you were unable to stop yourself. He followed you, his smirk only growing as his gaze stayed fixed upon your face, taking in every flicker that passed across your expression.

Suddenly, you came to a stop, and your eyes widened. Your back connected with the hard surface of one of the intricate pillars that stretched from floor to ceiling. There was nowhere else for you to go. Thranduil stopped when you did, having followed your entire retreat across the floor. You could feel the heat radiating off his body and you could smell the heady scent of him. The two things combined threatening to completely overwhelm you.

He was still not touching you.

Your gaze was locked with his own, not wanting to be the first to back down, but as the agonisingly silent seconds ticked by, it was just too much as you reached your limit. Your eyes flickered of their own accord, dropping to his mouth for just the briefest of seconds. That was all it took as another wicked grin spread across his face. You forced your gaze back up to his own, anger flaring in your expression at having lost the fight, but you had no chance to do or say anything because suddenly his lips were upon yours, his hands finally on you, fingers grasping your waist as he pressed his body up against your own.

A shiver of satisfaction ran through him as your fingers clawed at his tunic, kissing back instead of pushing him away, finally giving in.

It lasted too long and yet somehow not long enough as Thranduil suddenly let you go and stepped away, taking in the stunned sight of you as he clasped his hands behind his back once more. You were bewildered as the distance returned, and irritated by the fact that you wanted his mouth and his hands back on you.

“Now then.” He tilted his head, looking back at you with another one of those annoying, amused smirks of his. Smugness radiated off him in waves as he already knew the answer to his question. “Do you still wish to kill me?”

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil fanfic #thranduil fanfiction #idk what this is lmao #lotr x reader #hobbit x reader #the hobbit x reader

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saintunhinged · 2 years

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Salutations! This one's going to be a weird one, so strap in. Imagine if, when Asra revived MC, they came back as an otherworldly, human-imitating cryptid who doesn't quite know how to Human properly. The only thing they remember is that Asra and Faust make up their Family Unit, and the only reason they don't attack random passerby on sight is because Asra Wouldn't Like That.

this was actually so fun to write. hopefully, you enjoy :) i haven’t proof read this yet

content warning : mention of death & violence.

On the outside, you appeared to be as normal as the next person, but you knew you weren’t. You knew it from the moment you opened your eyes. You didn’t feel the sudden urges you had were strange, but the look Asra shot you when you were preparing to act on something made that clear.

You vividly remember the suffocating smell of lavender and dried flowers filling your nostrils. Its aroma was almost overwhelming, and your ability to think of anything else but the scent was quelled. You immediately noticed your field vision being locked by a person with fluffy white hair leaning over you.

You knew nothing about him whatsoever, but his presence alone was enough to make you feel at ease.

“Friend woke!” You heard a tiny voice, seconds later another head appeared, but it was much smaller in comparison, and blue.

Asra knew something was up. Every little thing seemed to spark irritation within you, and sometimes he’d even find you sitting in positions that no human could manage. Asra wasn’t naive enough to believe bringing you back from the dead meant you’d be the same, he just didn’t expect to bring back what he brought back.

Despite your condition, Asra was more than determined to get you to your best. You indisputably had a lot to learn. Knowing Asra and his familiar planned to be by your side throughout the journey was the motivation you needed.

Time passed before you were going through life as would you in your previous life. Asra was patient in teaching you everything you forgot. Praising you when you did something well, encouraging you when you didn’t. There were still many things you didn’t understand, but you were trying your best. If not for yourself, then at least for Asra.

Every day you were learning. You preferred to stay to yourself when you weren’t with Asra. Usually, you curled up in the corner and stared off into nothing for minutes or even hours.

You never went outdoors. The first time you did, someone got hurt. Asra had taken you to town to look for ingredients he ran out of at the shop. He didn’t want to leave you alone, but there were things he needed to get done. Trying to kill two birds with one stone, he figured he could restock the shop and allow you the chance to reconnect with society.

That trip ended with Asra apologizing on your behalf for attacking someone who walked too close for your comfort. Though he wouldn’t openly admit it, the frown that played on his face let you know he did not approve.

The walk back to the shop was eerily silent. He dolefully sighed, “I shouldn’t have brought you out here.” His remorse was merited, but you refused to meet his gaze. His purple eyes stared at you intently and he shook his head, hesitantly stating, “Too soon.”

He let you isolate yourself for a few hours, giving you time to process what happened, but knowing you weren’t going to come to him, he went to you. That night, even though you were hardly responsive, he explained why your actions weren’t okay.

You had predacious desires, that was something you couldn’t help. With Asra mentoring you, you were getting better at keeping them at bay, and matter how strong your urges became, Asra believed in you; the last thing you wanted to do was disappoint him.

Usually, when Asra was running the shop you stayed upstairs in the room where you were most comfortable. Today was no different. You weren’t necessarily fond of strangers. On the rare occasions you came down to observe what was going on, trying to pick up on anything you can to improve your comprehension and communication skills, you kept your distance.

You never paid any attention to Asra’s conversations with any customer in particular, but the sound of raised voices followed by shattering glass caught your attention. Your light footsteps carried you to the main floor. You weren’t sure what exactly happened, but you could put together the pieces.

The aggressive energy circulating the room influenced your emotions. Your penetrating gaze locked on the customer who was creating a scene in the shop. The snarl forming on your face was unable to be contained, seconds later an animalistic growl came from your throat, quickly catching their attention.

To his surprise, Asra’s eyes flickered between you and the patron. Your name left his mouth in a pleading tone and your gaze snapped to meet him. Seeing the signs of an oncoming assault, he timidly shook his head. If you wanted to attack, he doubted he’d be able to stop you before you leaped at them. He trusted you to do the right thing. After all, control was what he wanted you to learn the most.

Sensing the danger they were probably in, the shopper was quick to see themself to the exit. On the other hand, Asra stayed where he was until you calmed down. When he was sure you had no intention of acting irrational, he met you in a tight hug.

You’d never forget the look on Asra’s face when you first pounced on someone. The mix of shock and fear that was replaced with disappointment was something you couldn’t stand to see again.

Unexpected maybe, but since it was coming from him you didn’t quite mind his warm, rather comforting embrace. “Thank you.” He softly murmured. It wasn’t much, but you’d grown accustomed to hearing it. It meant you did something right, that was all either of you could hope for.

#asra alnazar #asra alnazar x reader #the arcana #the arcana x reader #asra x reader #asrathearcana #asra the arcana #asra the magician #the arcana asra #asra route #asra x you #asra x apprentice #asra x mc #asra x male reader #asra x y/n #the arcana x you #the arcana x apprentice #the arcana x mc #asra alzanar

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alicenttully · 9 months

Text

Here’s the thing. Dyana returning in season 2 doesn’t have to be terrible.

I do think there is a high chance that the writers intend for her to play a role in Jaehaerys’ murder. That doesn’t necessarily mean it’ll happen, but if it does-

I can’t speak for everyone, but I do think if the writers go this route, not only does it have a lot of nasty implications, but it has the potential to be little more than an awkward attempt by the writers to prevent you from feeling too sorry for the Greens or horrified by the murder of a child, because hey- said child’s father assaulted one of the people involved.

There’s speculation that Jaehaerys’ death will actually be accidental which is just.... frustrating on so many levels, but this is where Dyana could come in.

It would be way better for Dyana to have a totally different idea of what is meant to happen to what Blood and Cheese have been instructed to do.

She could be operating under the assumption that their intention is to abduct Jaehaerys or Maelor. If this comes across as Dyana being too naive, keep in mind that she’s traumatized, and because of that trauma, I don’t find it terribly outlandish for Mysaria to manipulate her. She could convince Dyana that no actual harm will come to Jaehaerys or his siblings, but the Greens (that is Alicent and Helaena) will suffer the torment of their son/grandson being a hostage and Aegon will feel a similar helplessness. I think Dyana wanting Aegon to feel helpless like she did could be a good motivation.

Going back to Helaena, people are right when they say that she didn’t hurt Dyana. But it is possible that thanks to her trauma, she ends up misplacing a lot of the blame and convinces herself that Aegon went after her because Helaena was refusing him her bed. If it wasn’t for Helaena, this wouldn’t have happened to Dyana. It doesn’t make sense because it's not meant to, she isn’t thinking rationally and Mysaria uses it to her advantage.

So, you have Dyana who thinks this is an abduction plot. It builds tension on two levels- for the part of the audience wondering whenever this works out and the audience who knows full well that she has no idea what she’s gotten herself involved in. Only for Dyana to be completely blind-sided and like Alicent and Helaena, be forced to watch in horror as Cheese murders a little child. Maybe Dyana wanted revenge and maybe she wanted to hurt the Greens, but she never wanted that, not that, not that-

The girl they got to play Dyana was excellent, so I’d have faith she’d be able to capture that terrible realization, although for obvious reasons a lot of the scene is going to be devoted to Helaena and Alicent.

Finally, I think writing this for Dyana and having her survive the events of Blood and Cheese (unlike the bed maid who is strangled in Fire and Blood) actually sets up for a pretty compelling contrast to the way Alicent potentially handles her.

In the first season, we saw Dyana begging Alicent to believe that she hadn’t invited/encouraged Aegon. Alicent does believe her and tells her it wasn’t her fault and is gentle with her as much as their society allows her to be. She gives her moon tea and enough money so she can leave the Red Keep. I don’t think Alicent deserves prizes for basic human decency, but I do think its interesting how she is talked about in comparison to say, Viserys or Daemon.

In contrast, after Blood and Cheese, we can have Alicent confront Dyana (likely after some time in the black cells) Dyana begs Alicent to believe her, to believe that she truly had no idea that they were going to kill the prince, she would never-

And instead of Alicent believing her and showing her mercy like she did the first time- in a cold fury she condemns Dyana to death. (Remember how in Fire and Blood Alicent wanted the families of the Blood and Cheese to be revealed so she could bathe in their blood....) I showed you mercy once. You went and got yourself involved in a plot that got my grandson murdered. I don’t care what you thought. Especially when this involves Alicent’s only daughter, who Alicent is shown to be protective of in a way she isn’t with her brothers. (”My only daughter, “My dearest love,” “My sweet girl”)

#alicent hightower #helaena targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd spoilers #hotd speculation #fire and blood spoilers #rape tw #murder tw #child murder tw

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just-dreaming-marvel · 2 years

Text

The Bond Between Us ~ 45

THE BOND BETWEEN US MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,765ish

Summary: You are tortured and seen as a prize to those who run the Empire. Obi-Wan spends his days working and watching Luke.

Warnings: torture, unwanted touching, loss of hope

You quickly found out that Vader cared more about finding Obi-Wan than Tarkin did and that Tarkin simply enjoyed torturing you. It was clear that you were his prize. For some reason, they weren’t willing to kill you just yet but they also weren’t questioning you too bad when it came to finding Obi-Wan’s location.

The torture varied from day to day. Sometimes it was starving you or using electric spears or toxic gas to try and suffocate you. Other times it was electric whips or Darth Vader’s use of the Force. Even with your increasingly weakening state, Vader could not penetrate your mind. He would often quickly grow frustrated, choking you until you passed out and then storming out of the room.

You were ever-growing weaker, and you knew that much of it was because you had broken your bond with Obi-Wan. The bond gave you so much more strength than you ever realized until it was gone and you were dealing with the torture yourself.

During meetings with the Emperor and his council, that included Tarkin and Vader, you would be dragged out. You were tortured in front of the men, proving to them how weak the Jedi were and for simply entertainment. The Emperor was hardly ever physically in attendance, but when he was, he would join in the torture with Force lightning. Sometimes, after the meeting was over and you were basically out of it, the men would be allowed to touch you. They never were allowed to go very far, everything happening over your clothes, but it was still unwanted and would throw you back into the memories of your rape.

Proving to you that Anakin was still deep down inside of Darth Vader, he was the one who would stop the other men from going further than touching you over your clothes. You were thankful for even that little bit of kindness.

Your torture went on like this for years. Eventually, since you were refusing to give no information about anything that had to do with Obi-Wan, the Emperor ordered you to be moved to the Fortress Inquisitorius. There, there was a tomb of Jedi and other Force-sensitive beings. You were thrown in a room near the tomb to basically be forgotten about except for when some of the Inquisitors needed to have some fun.

One day, a younger Inquisitor entered your small prison. You looked up from where you lay on the ground, unimpressed.

“Get up,” the woman demanded. You didn’t move. “I said,” the Inquisitor began choking you with the Force and pulling you off the ground, “get up.”

The Inquisitor set you down on your feet and let the pressure around your neck go. You started coughing, almost falling to the ground again when the woman pinned you against the wall.

“Tell me where Kenobi is,” she demanded.

“They’ve kept me as a prisoner for nine years,” you replied, clearly exhausted, “and I have never once said anything… what makes you think you’re so special?”

“So you do know something?”

“I.. never said… that.” Breathing was hard, having no medical care done to you in the last nine years was taking its toll.

“It’s clear that you are not his weakness, like once believed to be. He would have come after you by now, to save you if you were.”

“You know… nothing… about me and Obi-Wan.”

“Oh, really?” She laughed as her hand came up to toy with the ring around your neck. “Then what is this?” You glared at her, unresponding. “If you are not enough to draw Kenobi out of hiding, I need to know what is.”

“I am afraid… you are speaking something quite impossible…”

“I am not so sure. Everyone has a weakness. And I will find Kenobi’s, whether you help me or not.”

You studied the woman in front of you, feeling something familiar about her. “Do I know you?”

She scoffed. ��You’re not so powerful as everyone believes.”

“Or maybe… this is me showing my power… that this has always been the plan… me being captured and tortured… to allow others a chance…”

She growled. “I will have Kenobi and I will bring him to Vader, if it is the last thing I do.”

~~~

It had been almost nine years since Obi-Wan felt you last—since your bond was severed. Since then, Obi-Wan’s hope and ability with the Force slowly faded. He kept himself busy with work and watching over Luke, never making any friends or willingly interacting with more people than he had to. Without you connected to him, guiding him, he realized that they had really lost. The time of the Jedi was over. What kept him watching over Luke was making sure that the Empire didn’t find the boy if he became Force-sensitive. And he couldn’t handle disappointing you. Even if he believed you were to be dead.

It took years for him to recover from the pain of the bond being severed. Obi-Wan still wasn’t fully recovered. Due to the amount of pain he had felt, he was convinced that you were dead. It was the only thing that made sense to him.

His lonely nights in the cave in which he lived were the hardest. His dreams were filled with you and Anakin—mostly surrounding the fall of the Republic and the Jedi Order. Obi-Wan would often wake suddenly, calling out for you or his old Master, Qui-Gon Jinn. Before Obi-Wan had left Yoda ten years old, Yoda had told Obi-Wan that Qui-Gon had training for him and yet, nothing had happened over the span of ten years, leaving him continually disappointed.

Tonight was no different. Obi-Wan’s mind relived memory after memory, ending when you leaving him behind on Bail’s ship. He inhaled sharply and he woke suddenly. Breathing heavily, he looked around his cave, silently wishing you would just appear to comfort him. He sat up from his mat and ran his hand through his now longer hair. Glancing up at the ceiling, he called out.

“Master Qui-Gon.” He was met with silence. “Master?” Again silence. “Y/N.” He tried. “Please, little star…” Nothing.

Obi-Wan sighed, his head falling into his hands as he was at a loss of what to do.

~~~

The next day, he didn’t have to work. Obi-Wan decided that he would check on Luke. He rode his Eopie over to his usual spot close to the Lars moisture farm. Climbing onto a small ledge, he got his binoculars out and watched as Owen and Luke worked together. Eventually, Luke ran off somewhere. Owen began to worry.

“Luke?” The man called. “Luke!”

Obi-Wan began to widen his scope, trying to see if he could find Luke.

“Luke!” Owen shouted.

“Did he go back inside?” Beau asked, coming to her husband.

“He’s run off. Luke?”

Obi-Wan caught sight of Luke on the other side of the home entrance. He was on top of the dome building with goggles on, pretending he was flying a ship. Slowly, the hand Obi-Wan was using to hold up the binoculars fell to his lap. He was stuck in the past as an image of a younger Anakin doing the same thing filled it. He couldn’t help but feel saddened by the sight before him, thinking about what could have been.

Once night had fallen, Obi-Wan rode his Eopie over to the Lars’ and left a bag with a gift for Luke on the doorstep. He wanted to do what he could—what he knew you would have done. Then he snuck off and back onto his Eopie. He was riding it home when he heard rustling and could sense that someone was following him.

“Master,” a younger man stumbled out in front of him. “I thought I saw you in the town, but I wasn’t sure. I didn’t think you’d survived.”

“You’re making some kind of mistake,” Obi-Wan responded, trying to make it clear that this interaction was unwanted.

“I’m sorry, my name is Nari.” Nari pulled out his lightsaber. “Um, there’s no mistake.”

“You’re looking for somebody else.”

“What are you doing here, Obi-Wan?”

“My name is Ben.”

“Come on, please. Please… you have no idea what I’ve been through.”

Looking at the young man, Obi-Wan knew Nari wouldn’t leave easily. He commanded his Eopie to lay down and Obi-Wan rushed off of him and over to Nari.

“You must leave,” Obi-Wan stated. “You’ll draw too much attention.”

“But I have nowhere to go,” Nari replied. “They’re hunting me. You have to help me.”

Obi-Wan glanced at Nari’s hands and took the lightsaber from them. “You want me help? Take this. Walk into the middle of the desert and bury it in the ground. Stay hidden. Live a normal life.” He pushed the lightsaber back into Nari’s hands and turned to leave.

“What about the people that need us? What about the fight?”

Obi-Wan turned back to Nari. “The fight is done. We lost.” He got back on his Eopie.

“What happened to you? You were once a great Jedi.”

“The time of the Jedi is over.” He commanded his Eopie to stand. “Go back to the town. Let it go.”

~~~

After another long day of work, Obi-Wan found himself walking through town to reach his Eopie so that he could head home. He had just arrived when something clattered at his feet. He looked to see it was the gift he had left for Luke. His eyes moved up to see Owen standing there.

“I want you to stay away from him,” Owen demanded. “We don’t need anything from you, Ben,”

“It’s just a toy,” Obi-Wan responded as he picked it up.

“It’s a lot more than that.”

“There’s more to life than your farm, Owen. He needs to see that. There’s a whole galaxy out there.” Obi-Wan came closer to the man.

“I’m asking you to leave us alone, Ben. I mean it.” Owen turned to leave.

“Is he okay?”

Owen turned around, clearly irritated. “You don’t care if he’s okay. You care if he’s showing.”

“He’s my responsibility, Owen.”

“I’m his uncle.”

“We talked about this. When the time comes, he must be trained?”

“Like you trained his father?” Obi-Wan fell silent. “Like how his aunt was trained?”

“Y/N is no part of this—“

“Anakin is dead, Ben, and I won’t let you make the same mistake twice. So, leave him on the farm with his family, where he belongs.” Owen walked away.

~~~

After Owen had left, Inquisitors appeared and were threatening people for knowledge of Jedi whereabouts. A female one, Reva, threatened Owen. Eventually, the Inquisitors disappeared into an alleyway. Obi-Wan quickly left town and back to his cave for safety. He was sitting outside of his cave, watching over the desert, when a device began beeping from inside the cave. Slowly, he stood up and walked over to where the noise was coming from. It was in a chest, buried down within it. The device was for emergencies, the Organa’s having the matching one.

When he finally gained the courage to answer it, Obi-Wan was quickly informed that Leia had been taken.

“We don’t know who it was,” Bail’s hologram said, his wife standing at his side. “No ransom, no leads, Whoever they are, they knew where she would be. They… they were waiting.” Bail cleared his throat, clearly getting emotional.

“She needs you, Obi-Wan,” Breha said. “We don’t know how to get ahold of Y/N and we can’t trust anyone else.”

“What about the Senate?” Obi-Wan asked.

“We cannot let this become public,” Bail replied. “It would draw too much attention.”

“Well, your guard then? Or a bounty hunter?”

“Only you and Y/N know how important she really is, Obi-Wan. If Leia is discovered—“

“I can’t leave here, Bail. My duty is to the boy—“

“What about your duty to his sister? She’s as important as he is.”

Obi-Wan sighed, trying to think through it all. “It’s been ten years. I’m not who I used to be... Find someone else. She’ll be better off.”

Obi-Wan ended the call. He went back out to looking at the desert. He stood with his feet shoulder-width apart and his hands behind his back as he often saw you and Anakin do. As he thought of you, he knew that you would have dropped everything to go and find Leia and would be yelling at him for not doing the same. But in the past ten years, Obi-Wan had changed. He was not connected to the Force like he used to be and was not strong enough. Besides, with the Inquisitors on Tatooine, he could not leave Luke.

~~~

After work the next day, Obi-Wan saw that Nari had been killed and hung as a show in the town. He felt bad for not helping Nari but knew it would have only cost him more. Upon arriving to his cave, the droid Obi-Wan had hidden under the sand to sense intruders to his cave glowed red. Obi-Wan was immediately on alert. He carefully entered the cave to see someone in a cloak looking out over the desert.

“She’s headed for Daiyu,” Bail stated, pulling down his hood and turning to face Obi-Wan.

“You should not have come,” Obi-Wan said.

“They hid their signature behind a freight transport. The ship is on its way there now.”

“I can’t.”

“She’s my daughter, Obi-Wan.”

“I told you… I’m not the man you remember.”

“Well, you’re going to have to be!”

“I can’t leave the boy.”

“This isn’t about the boy, and you know it! You’ve made mistakes. We all did. It’s the past. Move on. Be done with it. You couldn’t save Anakin… but you can save her.”

“And what if I can’t?”

“There is no one I trust more with my child than you and Y/N… Please, old friend. For her… One last fight.”

Obi-Wan looked away. “Y/N is dead.”

“What? How did you—“

“I felt it… nine years ago… that is why you cannot find her. She’s gone.”

“Obi-Wan… her death is not your fault. She left to protect the children and she did her part. Do not let her death be in vain.”

~~~

Bail had left before Obi-Wan climbed onto his Eopie and headed into the desert. He did so with a speed he had never before. When he reached where he wanted to, his Eopie laid down and Obi-Wan pulled out a small shovel. He knelt down and began digging. It took him a few minutes to reach the wooden box that he was looking for. He pulled it out of the hole and set it down.

Opening it, Obi-Wan looked at the canvas cloth and pulled it open. His own lightsaber stared back at him along with Anakin’s and yours. His hand reached up and held the ring dangling from his neck as if to ask you if he should go through with this. Though a part of him didn’t want to, he knew he should. He took his lightsaber out and placed it on his hip, where it used to constantly reside. He was about to close the box and rebury it when he felt something in the Force telling him to grab yours as well. With furrowed brows, Obi-Wan took your lightsaber by the hand and slowly attached it to his other hip.

Obi-Wan buried the box before heading back into town. He bought himself a ticket off the planet but stopped before he reached the ship. Looking conflicted, he twirled the ticket between his fingers.

“Well?” A woman called from a few feet ahead, noticing his conflict. “You coming or not?”

Taking a few more seconds, Obi-Wan gained the courage to walk up to the woman and turn his ticket in. With a deep breath, Obi-Wan walked forward to the ship.

~~~

Something had shifted in the Force, you could feel it. Even in your weakened state. You were close to giving in, to letting yourself be one with the Force and be free of the pain of torture. But now something was telling you to fight, to stay alive just a little bit longer. That it would all be over soon.

next chapter >

TAGLIST IS CLOSED - Taglist Information

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leggerefiore · 1 year

Text

You sighed as the Zoroark nuzzled his face into your neck. The passing glances by onlookers were warranted, as it was quite rare to see this specific fox pokemon being so friendly with its owner. Of course, should they glance a bit closer, they may notice certain features of this fox did not align entirely. His fur was soft white with a grey undercoat. This breed of Zoroark was believed to have been rendered extinct. Which was another reason for the gawking. Emmet, Lord Kudari, or whichever name he preferred from whoever was referring to him, had decided to hunt you down in his fox from after you had gone to the nearby city for a market.

The fox god had extreme discomfort with humans from previous experiences, so he preferred you not venture into the city unless it was an absolute must. Of course, you still were your own person with wants and interests. Normally, Emmet left it alone or managed to swallow his disgust and disguise himself entirely as a human to join you, but today… Well, today seemed like a bad day for him. He whined when you said you were leaving and clung to you in an attempt to stop you, mumbling something about humans ganging up on you when you were away from his protection. You somehow reassured him that there was a low chance of anything like that happening in the modern age. Then you headed out.

Now, however, as stated, he cuddled you in his Zoroark form. You tried telling him to act more pokemon like, so everyone stopped gazing at you so oddly, but he simply refused and grasped on to you tighter. It was obvious he was partially enjoying himself, from the way his tail swished back and forth. Tugging lightly at his fluff, you forced him to gaze into your eyes for a moment and pout at him. His grin only grew. While you were in a near silent confrontation, a man stepped forward from the crowd with a fedora and trench coat.

He cleared his throat as he remained within a few feet of distance, “Is that a Hisuian Zoroark?” You both froze at his deeper voice. It had a certain commanding presence to it that forced both of your attention onto him. Emmet was clearly uncomfortable by his sudden appearance. His lips were pulling back to snarl and growl at him. You were quick to comfort him enough to not further this scene.

“Er… yes,” you nodded, trying to pretend you actually knew anything about your husband's family lineage. Did he even have a family? He was a god, after all.

“How much would you want to be willing to part with it?” he asked. Emmet stopped dead in his tracks at the words. Somehow, this was more terrifying than when he was trying to attack people. You could feel the newly forming chill in the air as he was readying an attack.

“… Nothing,” you shook your head and quickly stood up, “He's not for sale.” Then, you made a dash for it. The plan was to get away from him and make Emmet follow you. Judging by the loud panting and claws scratching against pavement, it seemed to have worked. You kept going until you made it towards the road that took you back to the city. Resting against a building, you tried to catch your breath for a moment. Emmet was not at all in the same condition as you. Yellow eyes stared at you for a moment before he shifted into a human form. His hand grasped yours as he turned to from where you just came. The man was clearly searching for you still.

“I used an illusion,” Emmet explained, “He won't find us.” You nodded as you slid to the floor. Your leg muscles burned from the sudden running. “Buying a Zoroark… Humans never change,” he hissed. Looking up at him, you wondered what he was remembering.

“I can't exactly sell you,” you joked, “Ingo would be mad.” Emmet snickered at your joke and sat down beside you.

“You should have stayed in the village, darrrrrling! Humans are awful!” he whined and rubbed his cheek against yours, arms wrapping around your shoulder. You allowed yourself to rest against him with a hum.

“Is that so?” you questioned, “Well, I'm a human.” It was strange how much he claimed to hate humans, but waited on you, his human mate, to reincarnate to love again. A bit of contradiction, but he did claim you had shown him kindness that no other human had in your previous life. He felt so indebted to you that he simply chose to make you his mate and grant you an extended lifespan.

“Special human,” he retaliated, “My human is not buying fully grown Zoroarks who are clearly happy with their 'trainer'.” That is true. You had absolutely no plans to do that. Or buy Zoroarks in general. Being mate to one and living in a village full of them would quickly change one's mind about how to view them.

“Did humans ever offer to buy our kits?” you wondered aloud. A rendition of one showed a shiny, Hisuian Zorua kit as one of the children you had lost. His sad eyes even in a painting of when he was supposedly happy made you wonder. Emmet let out a dramatic sigh.

“All the time,” he nodded, “They still do. When Zorua play with Ingo at the shrine, they ask him or the caretaker if they are for sale.” You hummed. Seeing as they were the villagers' children, they were most certainly not for sale. You could only imagine the offence Ingo took to their offering of cash. He was also a divine protector of families, too.

“Well, since my shopping experience is ruined, and I'm tired now, let's head home,” you managed to stand up. Emmet laughed a bit, but you gave him a firm glare. Suddenly, you embraced him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Leaning towards where his fox ears should be, you warned, “Next time you do something like this, we won't have sex for a week.”

He suddenly was much more willing to agree with you on your walk back to the village.

Sometime in the near future....

“I heard there were Hisuian Zorua around this shrine,” a man with a deep voice called out to the odd person wandering around in out-dated, yet gaudy robes. The black paint of his Zoroark mask was clearly well taken care of as he turned to the hatted man standing under the shrine gate.

“Only Unovan,” the deity spoke, recalling a warning from his younger twin about an interested man from the city, “They belong to people in the village, however. You would have to speak with them and not us about buying. I will not let you take any for that reason.”

“… You're lying, then,” the man sighed, removing his hat and revealing his aged face, “I will obtain one. Do not think this is over.” For a moment, Ingo wished to let his disguise slip to threaten the man, but he knew that the stranger would likely remain unaffected. All he could do is shake his head.

“I would stop you,” his voice was strong and unyielding, “Zorua and Zoroark are precious to our village. We allow no one with bad intention to remain.” The stranger's smirk haunted him even after he turned to leave.

A whimpering Zorua kit with blue-tipped fur came out from behind him. “Erin…” Ingo shook his head, “Go inside and play. Your father needs to handle this, okay?” He whined but agreed and ran off.

The fox god would do anything to protect his family.

#emmet.ima #pokehybrid au

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the-vixen · 7 months

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𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥 : 𝙀𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙃𝙪𝙣𝙩 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

PART 7 PART 8 PART 9

-------- MASTERLIST

When you are sent on a mission to rescue Ethan Hunt from prison, the events that domino will force you to face the ghosts of your past and your guilt tied to Ethan.

This takes place throughout the events of ghost protocol. There will be a change in the story and the events of the mission impossible 2 and 3. Ethan and Julia never got married, a certain amount of information will be changed that will be revealed in the story.

After packing up from the Burj, the team needed a place to recon without worry of being seen and discuss the developments of the mission.

Namely; loosing Hendricks with active launch codes and killing the only asset the team would've had.

You stepped in and offered up your safehouse, much to the surprise of your teammates. You knew it had running water and power and was still hidden under a separate identity so you and your teammates could stay off the grid while using its facilities.

After washing up and getting a change of clothes, you found yourself wandering outside in the heat of Dubai. Ethan hadn't spoken to you directly since he bandaged your feet in the shack, and for once you were grateful for it---regardless of whatever his reason might be.

The moment in the shack kept replaying in your head, millions questions accompanying the butterflies that took home in your stomach as you thought about what happened with Ethan.

It made you wonder if being borderline fired was just warning.

It made you wonder if you shouldve been disavowed.

Your mission in Ukraine ended as terribly as one would expect. You lost the asset and Ethan had to pay the price for your mistakes as your team leader.

At least..thats how you remember it.

Ethan disappeared after Julia's abduction, three months after Ukraine.

The secretary took you off the IMF and threatened to fire you for your rash decisions that costed the mission and the asset. You were on a year long probation that would've been three years if you had not appealed for it; if the secretary didn't let you appeal for it.

During your time on probation you were allowed to travel; provided a handler knew your location at all times; what you were doing, where you were sleeping, what you were eating, what you were even wearing at times. At the time it irritated you, being watched constantly; you weren't able to sleep because your training forbade you any rest so long as you were not alone.

What you hated most about your probation was that you couldn't see Ethan.

You couldn't see any of your friends.

Your family had moved on with their lives, you lost contact with them after you joined the IMF; determined to keep them away from all the problems and ensure that they'll never become targets.

You were alone.

Your handlers forbade you from making friends. Any source of income would be budgeted based on the country you were in, and the secretary's review of your past behavior of the previous month.

It was nice to other countries and their cultures for once; to take time and live.

But it wasn't really living.

You felt like a wanted criminal.

Alone, being watched, guilt and paranoia eating away at you as you didn't know where Ethan was.

Initially, at the time you were bitter, thinking Ethan gave up on you and went to live his life with Julia.

But after enough pleading to the secretary, you found out Ethan went to Rankov Prison a month after rescuing Julia.

You were refused any further information regarding when or how or why Ethan was sent to prison. Later on into your probation you did subtle digging of you own; the most solid conclusion coming in the form of a connection to the hostiles that attacked you back in Ukraine taking the fight to Moscow; the cost of Ethan cleaning up your mess sending him to prison with the secretary being okay with it.

With probation and the prison of your own thoughts surrounding you and suffocating you, you believed Ethan shouldve been free; free to live his life with Julia while you essentially go to prison; paying for your own fuck up.

Your mistakes in Ukraine didn't just cost one life; it costed two.

Your probation was extended for another four months due to misconduct with one of your handlers in London.

You didn't mind it. It was on purpose.

You didn't feel ready to come back.

You wanted to, but you just didn't know what you'd do without Ethan.

He was your first partner.

Doing a mission without him felt like loosing one of your senses.

After your reinstating, you were still busted down from rank to Benji's level.

A novice.

An agent.

But branded as a novice none the less.

Any mission you would go on; you'd be the helper, the backup, the sitting duck.

You didn't know if it was a cruel joke or irony that led your first mission to be breaking Ethan Hunt out of a Russian prison.

But it didnt matter when you felt like all the work you did to get better as an agent was null and void as soon as you were left alone with Ethan.

It made you wonder if Ethan shoudve benched you regardless.

It made you wonder if the secretary made a mistake going easy on you.

Ethan commenting on you really needing to follow orders wasn't unwarranted.

You had an unfortunate track record of not following orders that didnt help your case when it was reviewed by the secretary.

You ended up on the creek side of Dubai, unsure what your teammates were up to. A part of you thought that they'd leave you behind and move onto the next phase of the plan--whatever it may be after the failure that occurred at the Burj.

But another part of you hoped that Ethan would chase you down.

Tell you that he was wrong for undermining you.

Tell you that he saw your hard work.

Tell you that he forgave you.

It was pathetic how much you cared for his approval and attention; it was very unbecoming of an agent.

Doubts and self criticism kept crashing like waves against rocks; your mind so fuddled with thoughts that it would've alarmed a previous version of you to see how unable you were to keep a clear head.

You thought about telling Jane you're dropping out of this mission.

You'd think she'd understand.

Ethan would probably think it was a good riddance, cutting loose ends; getting rid of the liability.

The older version of you would want to fight to prove yourself to Ethan, tell him to shove it and that youre seeing this mission through whether he liked it or not.

That same version came alive many times during your time in Dubai. Even through it was mostly to argue with Ethan, or to want to punch him; it brought a sense of happiness to you to know that you can still feel things that used to be; to know that the old version of you and Ethan is still alive somewhere.

Somewhere in another life, still bickering, still challenging, still joking around and laughing,

Maybe even loving each other.

If fate had been any kinder.

There could've been a future where you and Ethan were lovers.

#Ethan hunt x reader #Ethan hunt imagine #Ethan hunt fic #tom cruise #mission impossible #mission impossible 4 #mission impossible: ghost protocol #ghost protocol

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nixnephili · 2 years

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Ooh, I'm glad you are still with the idea of writing.

Can I request a scenario with fem!reader and fyodor but like from your last drawing? I'm sorry if this isn't detailed.

Thank you and please!

Small Scenario for Fem!Reader x Fyodor Dostoevsky.

Fantasy, Kingdoms AU

Ok so, I didn't particularly know if you wanted romance/ smut so I simply wrote up the context for the piece.

The idle sounds of the wood cracking and splitting before the face of the fire served as keys to unwind your tense and pained mind.

You were on the brink of war. It was a difficult enough subject to navigate through with a single person in a private place, but in the past few days, today included, you had to discuss the matter with the other kingdoms. And while Ougai managed a firm hold onto the reigns of his entourage and his guard, specifically his hot headed Nakahara...- when it came to Yukichi and his own party, it was inevitable Osamu would absolutely refuse to take the subject as seriously as it was. Him and Ranpo both.

The situation was, the northernmost kingdom established certain threatening positions, as well as allegedly send out spies and assassins-

What was that noise?.

You slowly stilled your breathing, holding it momentarily, to provide enough silence besides the sounds of the wood in the fireplace . You then heard the murmurs of your guards outside, followed by heavy thuds against the floor, the door cracking open for a cloaked figure to snake their way in.

You stood immediately-

"No need to panic- agh-!" The stranger grunts once you've landed a throw with a book.

"Leave." You demanded coldly of your... familiar -looking intruder...?

"Now now, is that any way to patten out your already frail political situation?." That was when his voice finally graced your memories, the honeyed smooth rhythm of his dialect falling like silk from his lips, his gaze lifted to you and he pulled a strand of his hair aside, the light of the fire dancing in his violet eyes.

"What're you doing here, Dostoevsky. Surely you know you shouldn't be here-" The King of the Northen kingdom. A presumed soon to be enemy of war- and he waltzed up inside your residence in the middle of the night- this put too much at stake for your comfort...

"Do I seem like the type of man to not know what the consequences of my actions hold? No, I'm here to talk- that is all."

"You expect me to believe that.."

"I do, what reason do I have to lie in this specific situation? No war has actually started as of yet between me, you and your allied kingdoms, while it is a tense atmosphere I'll admit let's not allow that to ruin things between us."

He walked over to the window of your room, looking out towards blue moonlight..

"There's no need for bloodshed..between any of us" you attempted to talk sense into the circumstances but it wasn't any use- he cut it off immediately..

"I simply wish to have a civil conversation, let's just say I need to convince myself of something" He turned to you then, the blue light of the night sky softly glittering upon his raven hair, the darkness of it complimenting the moonlight much like the night sky. His violet eyes softened for a mere moment before a slender hand emerged from his heavy winter cloak to beckon you closer.

"And what do you wish to talk about.." your steps cautious, your mind on edge, you walked over to the window, facing him. If you could get any information out of him this was the time- who knows if you'll get to speak with the northernmost ruler before he began his offense upon you..

"Tell me about yourself to start things off, you and your allies already dug up everything that was buried about me, make it fair"

His smirk was subtle but noticeable, when he turned his entire body to you, you looked him over properly at last. He wore a large winter cloak, adorned with gold patterns upon its edges and a thick fur trim around his shoulders, a beautiful violet brooch that matched his eyes lay among the fur..underneath all you could make out was another high collared sort of coat or shirt- you couldn't tell...alas this was an outfit very adapted to his region of origin..

"Well..the first thing you'll want to know about me, I don't like wars." You measured your tone, your voice soft and fragile from the presence of the enemy.

"Mmm..Interesting, please do go on." He only hummed, and smirked quite gently, seemingly amused.

Then your gaze lifted from his clothes up to his face and you saw it, a single drop of blood painting his cheekbone..ah- your guards..it's how he got in. He used his hell-sent ability no doubt.

"And secondly. I do not like my guards dying for no good reason."

His façade fell, then. His face freezing over with cold unmoving emotion, before his eyes moved to observe your face. "The blood of sinners will never stain my conscience, my dear."

-Nix 🌙

#bsd season 4 #bungou stray dogs #bsd headcanons #bsd fanart #fyodor fluff #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor fanart #fyodor x y/n #fyodor icons #fyodor x reader #fyodor x you #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #fyodor bsd #bsd fyodor #fyodor headcanons

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titansarmy · 2 years

Note

Okay, so finale predictions!

I'm sure we'll get Kourt singing Let It Go. I refuse to believe they put Frozen in hsmtmts without capitalyzing on its biggest song.

Channing sowing enough drama that someone almost misses their cue to go on stage. Where the people on stage have to awkwardly improvise around someone showing up late. Maybe he manages to push Kourtney's anxiety until she it looks like Ash might have to go on, only for Kourtney to pull through and kill it? Though that might be too similar to last episode and the S1 Troy debacle...

Maybe Channing lets something about Ricky's confession slip to Gina? After all, in a reality show that storyline would need a solution.

I also hope for a Redlyn reunion/Red getting to be supportive of Ash's newfound sexuality. And I hope EJ gets to talk to Val or Ash about the stress he's been under too.

What do you think?

if kourtney doesn't sing let it go..... what a waster opportunity really.

channing creating drama omg yes. i mean they've said that that's his plan the question really is who's going to be the main target???? the obvious answer is ricky and i can definitely see that happening but at the same time we've been there, we've done that you know? kourtney would be cool as a little empowering moment but you're right, it'd be a repetition of the last episode. i just had a thought that maybe the one who's going to get the more targeted might be ej. channing doesn't know that he has broken up with gina but he's going to show up with something to exploit. also ej's going to be under so much stress, he'd be a somewhat easy target. although i don't agree at all that ej's being painted as a villain, if this is the straw that breaks the camel's back and he genuinely goes into his villain era, i'd support him.

REDLYNN !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i think a lot of the characters that have not been throughout the season are showing up for opening night, right? do u (or anyone) know if red is confirmed??? if so omggggg i cannot wait for them to have their talk and for big red to be nothing but supportive. i also really !!!! want ashlyn to say she's bi/pan (yes, she can be unlabelled but given that outside of the actual show i think they labelled it as a "bi storyline" then i would fucking hope that they used the word in the show as well).

EJ TALKING TO SOMEONE !!!!!!!!!!!!!! that's exactly what we need and what he needs. i also want an ej that reevaluates his reasons for staying in salt lake or to discuss something about his future. idk at some point halfway through the season the whole "i'm doing all of these so that i can stay in salt lake with you (gina)" felt like..... there's so much more here that you're not allowing yourself to touch upon because its so much easier to say you have an external, visible and tangible motivator. idk if any of that made sense but yeah that lol

#hsmtmts #i need the finale to set up ej to have one big arc to fulfil in the next season (if he's staying which i think he is)#i think that's how his character should be closed tbh #give him one final arc before u send him on his merry way #and idk have him back for opening nights and the sorts bc he wants to support his friends

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masterthespianduchovny · 2 years

Note

Okay. I'm back. And I had a realization: I think the reason why I am so defensive of Sydney is that I recognize myself in her. This dawned on me when I was reading an article about Industry, and about how one of the main characters is so ambitious and overachieving (because she lacks qualifications and makes up for it in talent and intellect). But the thing is that she fucks up (a lot!), is kind of cold and aloof, and is ruthless and cutthroat (which makes sense. She works at a bank and everyone else is like that too). And so many people hate her for it. And for some reason...I don't. I want her to win. And I feel the same way about Sydney. I don't think Syd is cold or fucks up a lot. Is she imperfect? Yes. Is she overly ambitious? Definitely. But she is honest and creative and real. But I think a lot of people don't understand that desire to be the best. Not necessarily because you are above people (which, in all of its egoic foundation, is kinda nice haha) but because you're proving something to yourself. You're acknowledging your limitations and saying, "I'm beyond that. I am better than my own weaknesses, even though I still have them." It's not necessarily about hubris or arrogance or cockiness. It's knowing that you put in the work and getting that confirmation that you are the shit, precisely because you did the work and the self-reflection. And I think for Sydney, for Harper (the Industry character), and a lot of other, girls, especially Black girls, it's easy for people to see all of the work you do and dismiss it. People do it all the time. They negate it. Me, personally, I think I got comfortable believing I wasn't good enough because my work was negated for so long. It became like a self-fulfilling prophecy. It affected everything. But now that I've lifted that veil and realize that people bank on me thinking I'm not worthy, I have become obsessed with excellence. I have become obsessed with producing the best and being the best. And I can say I am the shit because I do the work. And deep down, characters like Sydney and Harper see that in themselves too and are active about it. And I think people like to throw out judgments because they don't get it. They don't relate to it; they find it alienating, not welcoming, and not something women should subscribe to. It's the opposite of deferential, subservient, meek, and modest (and because a self-assured Black girl is an affront to everyone apparently). But the work, and the drive behind that work, never lies.

I’m a series of contractions. I think I’m talented as fuck with grand ambitions, but my own (perceived) limited and insecurities limit me. It also may be undiagnosed ADHD and depression (meaning most likely).

Even if someone can relate to it, it’s definitely a black girl thing. Either we sink or we swim, and if we swim, we know the sky is the limit. We know we’re talented and refuse to allow others to tell us others. It’s quite funny, despite my own insecurities being an albatross, no one can tell me who I am and what I can achieve. No one can say shit to me if they haven’t proven themselves (as in I’m wrong about something or need to reconsider a stance). And consistently this approach has paid dividends. Because people love talking over you, telling you you’re wrong, and telling you about themselves when they know Jack shit. Entire years will go by and things people told me I was wrong about, they adopt my opinion and/or was proven right.

Being a black girl isn’t just sinking or swimming, it’s swimming against the tide with weights around your ankles. It’s people telling you you’re not good enough at what you’re doing despite them not being able to do it and are jealous that you can.

You don’t have to work twice as hard, you have to work THRICE as hard.

It’s why I never talk down on myself or say I’m not smart. Because I know I am. And I’m esp not going to talk down on myself when I know mediocre whites people have a head start in life and I’ve seen it myself. What’s funny is, as much as people try to shit on black girls and women for our intelligence, determination, and such, I was known as the smart girl in high school and college. I wasn’t the valedictorian or even close to it, but hell, people would listen to me talk in class and knew I was intelligent. Even now, complete strangers are amazed when I break certain things down to them or know specific info that only industry people know. The way I break information down, compare and explain how it’s applicable in other things, or am able to process certain information…

I know I don’t know everything, but at times, yeah, I have a chip on my shoulder because I’ve always had to prove myself in ways others didn’t. I have to know what others don’t and now it’s a habit. Just like you, I too am obsessed with excellence and obsessed with the best. Even obsessed with hard work and reflection. Hell, even obsessed with proving things to myself.

But we’ll never make sense to a world who doesn’t want to understand us. However, we give more grace, understanding, and consideration to women like Harper and Sydney because we get it! We love it! And whether or not it’s irrational, it’s why I get annoyed when people say they don’t like Sydney (likely Harper too) because she reminds them of someone they didn’t like or who annoyed them. And, I don’t know if they get it or not, but when you’ve spent most of your life swimming against the tide with weight in your ankles, some people just aren’t going to like you. Because you’re not concerned about that or their opinion, you’re concerned about doing what you came here to do.

Chile, I remember one time some white girls got upset because I THOUGHT they were wrong. I didn’t say it and had specifically shut up not to start an argument, but because they knew what I thought about their stance, they were upset and bothered. Lol. Or how I got accepted into study abroad program and my roommate didn’t tell me, despite the fact that she got the idea from me. She was being all secretive and shit and it’s like, “for what?” I could’ve helped her.

We defend them like we wished someone had defend us. We’ve always had to do that—be our own protectors and look out for ourselves. Always wanting to be understood or not misunderstood. So many assumptions about us and people refusing to change their stance because their minds are made up. And it’s so disheartening at the same time, to excel and be one of the best and have very few appreciate that due to fucked up reasons. It’s isolating as well.

😔

#the bear mail

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tarnishedxknight · 3 months

Text

[ Wounds That Refuse to Heal ]

Mantis considered her answer as Ashelia asked if she had heard of therapy. “Yes, I have heard of it, but I am not of Earth. I was raised on… um… on another planet.” Her smile faltered, though only barely. “But I am really glad it is helping you, Princess.”

Her antennae twitched, confusion written across her features when Ashelia asked if Basch cared for her. “Oh, I thought you knew. I mean, I am sure you know he is a very caring man. He seems to truly care about others. He’s a selfless soul, which is rare.” Ashelia deciding she was going to tell Basch about Vossler was very admirable, even though she did not wish to contribute to his pain. “But… only tell him if you are prepared to do so. I believe you would not be adding to his pain, because you did not ask for what happened. Do not blame yourself, okay?”

Mantis shook her head when Ashelia apologized for dragging her into the conflict. “Do not worry. I am very happy when I am able to understand things or people, and it also makes me happy to help people understand one another better.” She followed Ashelia as she guided her to the outside of Noah’s room, and when Mantis heard the noises, her eyes went big and sad. He was clearly angry; nevertheless, it did not scare her. Rocket and Nebula would sometimes turn to violence as well, and Mantis knew it was a way to release anger. A destructive one, but not enough to scare her. When Ashelia seemed to be frightened, the empath simply gestured for her to get behind Mantis.

She knocked gently, although she did not expect him to open the door just like that. “Noah? Um… Ashelia wants to speak with you…” Mantis scratched the side of her head as she thought of something to say. Noah said he liked the way she viewed the world because her perspective was unique, right? “I know you are frustrated. I know you think you have been defamed by medical staff. You told me how they’ve pointed out that your mind does not work well enough. But I think that is not true. Your mind works too well; so well, it has created its own version of life, and it won’t let you leave that place.” She fumbled with her hands, wondering if she was making any sense. After all, she didn’t know Noah. Basch and Ashelia did.

“This version of life your mind has created is a hopeless one,” she continued. “You might say that’s just the way life is, and you would not be wrong. Life is cruel. Your mind knows this, and believes it to such an extent where you cannot see anything other than gloom and loneliness.” Mantis lifted a hand to rest her palm against the door. “But you are not alone, no matter how often your mind tells you otherwise. You don’t have to believe everything your mind tells you. If your mind did not work, it would not be able to create its own narrative and believe it. It would not be able to keep you in it as a prisoner. You can acknowledge you are capable, and still realize the tricks your mind plays on you. There is no shame in doing so. Like you’ve said to me… you matter.”

__________

“Another planet?” Ashelia asked, her eyes going wide. “I had no idea there was life on other planets. My, but you are a long way from home, then. I hope you have friends with you…” she said out of concern. Goodness knows if she didn’t have Basch with her in this time, she would have been far worse off than she was. Perhaps being in a different time was not the same and being on a different planet, but Ashe supposed that some aspects might feel the same.

“No, I… We… are just friends,” she said, telling herself as much as she was telling Mantis. Their stations, their ages, their pasts… they all kept them apart. Even if he did feel something for her, which Ashe very much doubted, it just simply would never be allowed. Was that the only reason she couldn’t be with him though? Was she suggesting to herself that she wanted to be with Basch? No, don’t think about that! She suddenly told herself, shaking her head a bit to banish the thought. “We are very close because we lived together in my family’s palace for so many years, but our… we… our stations are very much separate. Our social stations… I mean,” she said awkwardly, knowing in her heart that no matter what social station Basch was, she’d still very much care for him, in a way she never cared for her husband.

She nodded at Mantis’ advice. “I will adequately prepare myself, yes. One day soon, I will tell him,” she resolved herself with a strong nod. She wanted to tell him, but only if he reacted in the way she wanted. If he was his usual kind, understanding self, then yes, she needed that from him desperately. But if he’d turn his back on her or say she was mistaken in the way her father did… then she wanted nothing to do with that. She’d have to take the chance, though. Mantis was right, it wasn’t fair to him that she didn’t tell Basch about his friend. He deserved to know. Not blaming herself, though… that was a tall order Ashelia knew would take time. “I… will try,” she said unconvincingly.

She was uplifted by Mantis’ help and understanding, and even was optimistic about going to speak with Gabranth. That is, until heard the man going positively ballistic inside his room. Basch had mentioned to her that his brother had a volatile temper. She’d always found that curious, since Basch’s own temper seemed to be near non-existent. How could identical twins be so very different? Her lips parted to say something, but when Mantis motioned for her to get behind her, Ashe simply did so. While she was not one to hide from danger. Mantis seemed to have an idea of how to deal with Noah.

When Mantis knocked and called to Noah, saying that Ashe wanted to speak to him, it was as if there had been ghosts raging inside the room and the sudden presence of the living had caused them all the scatter. The noise, the chaos, the violence… they all stopped suddenly, and there was… silence.

No, she does not, Noah thought, but he stayed silent, breathing hard, having sat down on the edge of his bed. Surveying the damage in his room, he felt weak and frayed. Still, even after expending all of his rage, he could feel Amoretta’s presence, as though she were right there with him, mocking him. And the thought that he had made Ashelia feel the same way that woman had made him feel… He just couldn’t deal with that at all. He was many things… a calculating politician, a firm judge, a skilled warrior, a cold-blooded killer, but Amoretta’s special brand of manipulative abuse was something he knew he would never capable of. And he’d been proud of that, to know that no matter how terrible of a person he grew to be, he’d never be that kind of terrible. But the princess’ reaction to him had told him otherwise… and it broke him.

He sat in silence, listening to Mantis as she tried to make sense of the rotting battlefield that was the foreboding insides of his mind. Could it be? Could he have created a terrible version of things in his mind and encased himself in it like the bars of a prison? It made no sense to him, but at the same time, it almost made too much sense. After all, hadn’t that been how Noah had always overcome adversity in his life? By living inside his own head and holding fast to his own narratives? Him against the world. He’s evil but the world is far more so. If others would think him a monster then he may as well be one. There were many stories in the book of Noah’s life, but were any of them really true?

Tricks? Noah’s brow furrowed for a brief moment as Mantis mentioned his mind playing tricks on him. Amoretta was the biggest trick of all. She was dead. Long dead. Dead and gone. He’d taken her life with his own hands. And yet she appeared to him. Often. He could see her face, her cruel smile. He heard her voice. He smelled her perfume. Tricks, all of them. Yes. But did it matter when all his senses were telling them she was real? Rational thought could argue with that all it wanted, but the fact was that those tricks… were enough to rattle him to his core, whether they were real or not.

Ashelia was surprised at what she was hearing. Did… Gabranth have flashbacks too? That was what they were called in therapy. Like reliving memories, but not just with thoughts or dreams. No, they were so real, with sounds and scents and sights just as clear as the day those memories were made. So unwanted, expected, and terrifying… and there was a feeling of being trapped by them, like a ride one could not exit that refused to stop moving. She wondered if it was true that he experienced those things too, and if so, why? Had something happened to him to cause them? Basch had never told her of anything…

If it had been anyone else but Mantis, Noah might not have bothered to answer. He didn’t feel like he mattered, currently, but that was his own failing as far as he saw it. As he’d told her, if he couldn’t love himself then no one else would. Well, Noah had really never loved himself, not if he stopped to think about it honestly. Slowly approaching the door, he wanted to open it, but didn’t. It was the last barrier protecting his dignity. “I frightened her. It is best if she stays away from me,” he said, not realizing Ashelia was right there, trying so hard to sound strong and not how he really felt. He leaned forward, touching his forehead to the door, feeling fear, shame, and frustration swirling in the pit of his stomach.

At this point, Ashe felt the need to speak up. “N-no, Gabranth, listen to me, please,” she said, moving closer to the door. “It was not your fault. Whatever… animosity there is between us… this had nothing to do with any of that. You reminded me of someone else for a moment. Someone who wronged me. That’s all. I… I was not afraid of you, but of him… if that makes sense to you. I’m… I’m sorry… if I… made you feel badly…” she said awkwardly, wanting to apologize but not even fully understanding why he was so upset.

This was thoroughly embarrassing. But now Noah felt as if he had no choice but to open the door, since both of them were standing there expectantly, waiting for him to do so. Even so, a sinking feeling overcame him. So it is as I feared. Someone had hurt the princess, perhaps in a similar manner to how Amoretta hurt him. Despite their differences, he was deeply sorry for that. He unlocked the door and opened it just a little, turning and walking back to his bed to sit. “Watch your step,” was all he said, since… well, there was broken furniture and things scattered about the room…

#side muse: ashelia #alt muse: noah #{ wounds that refuse to heal }#tw: flashbacks #tw: abuse

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