#You can only hear False saying "naked' too many times trying to understand if this is truly what she is saying before going insane

[correct-hermitcraft-quotes]

Pearl: I am feeling very exposed

Iskall: "I am feeling very exposed" Pearl you are walking out in the open world-

False: -Naked

Iskall: With a salmon head on you.

[Laughter]

Iskall: And naked, what is there to not stare at

Pearl: I am not naked if I have a salmon head on my face.

Pearl: Would you like to join?

Pearl: Here you go (Drops salmon head at Iskall), I have plenty more than from where this came from.(Gives one to False and Stress too)

#hermitcraft #a quote #Iskall85 #falsesymmetry #pearlescent moon #I love them #False Hermitcraft Season 10 Episode 1 Time Stamp 32:12 #NOTE Today my hearing isn't that great #I plead the fifth in case some thing was transcripted wrong #You can only hear False saying "naked' too many times trying to understand if this is truly what she is saying before going insane #Mod Evil Rat

[daddyricsdoll]

False God ✭ Max Verstappen

Summary: Being lost spiritually isn't something you can brag about, but finding a new belief in someone is. From that alluring man in the F1 paddock to finding out he's the Max Verstappen didn't effect you as much as discovering his lips are your new religion even if it's a false god.

Warnings: The use of y/n!! (I used it 2-3 times), unprotected sex (what else could you expect from me?), teasing, reader is a virgin, mirror sex, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, creampie, praise, and use of names (good girl), also overstimulation and dacyphilia. I don't know if taking a photo of a naked person counts as a warning or spoiler, I guess it's both.

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Based off of this request. I would also like to thank @mrsevansxstanxobrien for saving me by giving me a perfect storyline for this. 🧡 And also all everyone who waited for this. I feel like adding more at the end, maybe a part two.

Never would I have ever thought I’d wear this dress. But I’ve been lost, and these girls are helping me become found. I’m not used to the material leaving my shoulders exposed and ending before my knees. Some of my family wouldn’t approve, but I feel… pretty. I would’ve worried that my place in heaven might slowly crumble but now, I don’t know. 

I feel so happy and people are looking at me. In my little white dress, the one that hugs my torso and sways around my thighs, loose straps hung above my shoulders. 

This feels like heaven. Being in a place I’ve never heard of with my friends as they pull me to different small buildings. “Come on!! We have to find any driver we can. If you see one, tell me!” Lissie smiles, eyes shooting everywhere just like my other two friends.

“I don’t know what any of the drivers look like.” I say my words with worry but chuckles lacing them. 

“If you see a good looking guy with people around him, then tell me.” I laugh hearing others agree. 

“Oh specifically if they wear red or orange- Ferrari and McLaren drivers, oh even Mercedes which is black.”

“Ok… I’ll try.” Feeling uncertain about this whole thing but I nod. Walking through the paddock and turning my head at every man that would emit a good thought into my head. They looked at me too and I prayed to god hoping it weren't for the wrong reasons. 

My friends quickly spotted a driver and we all got photos and signatures, his name was Charles last I recall and now I understand one of the reasons he has so many fans. He signed my paddock pass in record time and then sent us a remarkable smile. 

We had to leave him and those dimples to jog the other way for drivers who had just finished FP2, meeting so many as my friends explained to me the whole purpose of this. 

Some drivers walked in pairs making it all the more easier for us to capture a second with them. 

I was getting one of my friends' hats signed by a driver called George when my eyes left his hand, looking into the crowd all around us. Somehow locking eyes with a stranger, he then looked me up and down a small smirk on his face.

And I could only do the same, my eyes travelled down his body, his jeans that hugged his thick thighs and red bull polo tight around his shoulders then hanging around the rest of his torso. I became flushed and looked away for a second to gain composure but when I looked back he wasn’t there. It was like he was a dream. 

“Y/n, you good?” Lissie asked, checking in on me as I hadn’t realised they started walking again. “Oh, um yeah I got distracted. So who else do we have to find?” 

“Great question, so I heard that Max is around here somewhere, he might be gone but still keep an eye out for him. And Alex, I love him with my whole heart but our telepathy isn’t telling me where he is.” We both laugh and it feels so good, the afternoon soon reaching the evening. She checks her watch and then looks back at me. “Oh, we have 3 hours until dinner so we can go back to the hotel, do things there, eat, party and then we’ll be back here tomorrow. Sounds good?” I couldn’t say no to that plan so we ended up going back to the hotel. 

20 minutes of swimming in the empty hotel pool turned into nearly 2 hours and now we were running a little behind schedule. We rushed to get ready, but oh didn’t we still look good. “We’re gonna meet the other girls there.” Lissie tells me as we get seated in the back of a taxi, adjusting her makeup. I nod, turning my head to look out of the window, I hold the cross around my neck fiddling with it whenever I get too deep into my thoughts. 

I cast eyes on many people today but that one guy, from the way he looked at me with a light smirk to the smallest tingling feeling he sent through my body. It was as if he tried to make out my whole personality in one glance, if only I could’ve done the same. 

The scenario plays in my head multiple times, each time I react in a different way– my default ways of a smile or being a whole different person by sending him a smirk, or calling him over. 

I know I shouldn’t worry about that, if worried is a word close to what I’m experiencing. But my thoughts make the ride shorter and we both hop out of the car, wearing outfits suitable for a restaurant and a dirty club right after. We stood just outside the restaurant waiting for Leah and Milan.

Taxi’s drove past and dropped people off, each one we looked into searching for those two girls. Then suddenly a car made an abrupt stop in front of us. The windows were tinted and it limited our vision inside of the car. Just until the door opened and a partially familiar figure started getting out of the car.

His face came into view and so many emotions ran through me in that second that Lissies scream was the only thing that brought me back. “It’s Max Verstappen! Oh my god! Can I get a photo or a signature or anything?!” She rushes toward him, searching her bag and finding a pen. I was still in shock, he is Max Verstappen? 

Next thing I know he’s standing in front of me. “Would you like a photo or signature?” He asks me so kindly, making me wonder if he was the guy whose eyes roamed my body then smirked at me like he knew exactly how I’d react. 

“I-um sure. Well I don’t really have anything to sign.” And then a piece of paper is passed to me from Lissie. “Oh, thanks.” I grab it and hold it out to Max, watching as he stares at my face long enough to memorise every inch. He looks away to sign my paper, taking longer than I would’ve thought, but when he gives me that smirk from earlier everything leaves my mind. He then starts walking away, getting interrupted by other fans.

Each step he took further away I wanted to say something even more, call him back, talk to him. But why and what for?

My eyes look down at the paper, his signature, but I see some of the pen ink on the other side, flipping the paper over my breath hitches at what’s written. “Be a good girl” I read, my eyes then following an arrow that points to his number. I lightly squeezed my legs together and tried to force the pink off my cheeks. I couldn’t help but stare at it in disbelief before quickly folding it and shoving it into my bag. “You good?” Lissie asks me.

“Yeah, just surprised.” 

“I know, that was really unexpected but luckily we all got something from Max. I got a photo with him as well he looked so fucking good in that suit.”

She was right, he did look so good and that feeling he made me feel, oh it was stronger than before but a small fire between my legs also grew. I just hoped it wasn’t lust, especially for a man I just learnt the name of. ✭

The next morning we were back in the paddock, me being the only one not partially hungover by the drug of alcohol. We started walking past the red bull hospitality, my eyes flickering over to the door praying to see that one man. But my prayer wasn’t answered as FP3 started and I only saw him on a big screen. 

Once FP3 finished we stayed in McLaren hospitality for a little while longer waiting to catch a glimpse of the two stars with the fastest lap times. And to our luck both of the Mclaren drivers walked in, but they weren’t the only ones, Max Verstappen walked beside Lando in his dark blue drivers suit. I ran up to them with my friends, letting them congratulate the drivers as I stood back. Not noticing one of the drivers leave until a feather touch of a hand was on my back. “You didn’t call or text me. And I thought you were gonna be my good girl.”

I took a deep breath, somehow knowing exactly whose voice it was. 

“It’s gonna take more than that. But tell me… what do you really want?” My voice firmer and somehow trying to gain confidence like his, soon feeling even more flustered when I hear his chuckle beside me. “What do I want? Oh honey, I want you.” My lips part, trying to control my breathing through my mouth. His finger comes beneath my chin and my head is lifted to the side to face him. His fingers trickle down my chin and throat, reaching the cross that sits barely above my cleavage. 

“What’s this?”

“It’s um…” I became lost for words, knowing exactly what I would’ve said but I can’t say it to him. He deserves so much more.

“I’m not into this stuff, gods and everything. They don’t really do much for you, but you give them everything.” I shake my head lightly, trying to show my disagreement but not make him want to leave me. 

“Oh? My good girl doesn’t believe me?” The fake surprise on his face teases me. “Would your god let me touch you? Would he let me make you cry from my dick?” Max brings his face closer to mine, just enough for his breath to touch my ear. His large hands run down my arms and he grabs a hold of my phone. 

“Unlock it.” He commands me, crystal blue eyes hypnotising me. And without a question, I unlocked it.

“Now you have no excuse to not call me.” He shows me his number in which he just typed into my contacts, calling it to watch his phone start ringing. “Now I have yours.” He saves my number, looking back up at me. “Now won’t you tell me your name?” 

“Why? You’ll only call me your good girl.” My lips move faster than my mind. Not recognising my own words. 

“My good girl, trying to be someone you’re not. Now, tell. Me. Your. Name.”

“Y/n.” I say watching a pleased smile on his perfect lips. And then just like last night he leaves me there, standing thinking about something bigger than the whole world—him. ✭

Up came the race day, the one in which the whole place was filled, park passes, hospitality and grandstands. We came in earlier than usual after the girls all somehow noticed the end of me and Max's last interaction. Going crazy and asking if there’s something between us, what his hands feel like, if I’m his new wag and will I see him after this all. 

I thought about that last question longer. I don’t know if god brought us together or maybe he’s something here for something else, but I don’t usually enjoy having no clue what’s going on, so I plan on finding out. 

We find a seat in hospitality and when I finally gain the courage to send Max a text I see that he’s beat me to it. 

‘You’re not my good girl anymore’

‘Why don’t you come to redbull and I’ll show you what you really are’

I become flushed at his words, squeezing my legs together. Checking the time he sent the message I curse at myself for not seeing it earlier. We have nearly half an hour left until the race and all the drivers are with their teams. I couldn’t possibly go now, so I blame myself for not being able to touch his skin or hear his voice before the race.

So instead I send him a text, replying to the ones he had sent.

‘How about you win the race and I’ll be your good girl’

It barely takes a minute for the message to turn from delivered to read. He starts typing then stops, typing again then stopping. He teases me with that for what feels like hours, until I finally receive something. 

‘Be ready, once I’m done you won’t be able to say your name.’

I was speechless, leaving his message on read, letting him know he already stole all the words from me. I turn my phone off, watching the last few pre race interviews before I see Max walk past behind a crowd of people. A tiny smirk on his face, I smile knowing it was for me. 

My emotions throughout the whole race were a rollercoaster. Watching a crash between 3 drivers had me praying they were all ok and that it would never come across Max. There were battles all over the circuit, Max managing to never be a part of any as he led the race. I was surprised at how fast the race went by, from complaining about the length of them to now letting the time run right past.

My friends pulled me away once the race ended, telling me we had to watch the podium. And I was glad I let them take me. I watched max from below, majestic being the word to explain him. He wore his suit and sweat trickled on him, hair swept to the side like always. His eyes so soft I couldn’t imagine he was the same man that threatened to make me cry from his dick. I’m not complaining but he looked so content, so happy with himself and he never had needed God's validation. 

Everything in my head seems to become blurry, Max’s smile the only thing still keeping me here. I manage to find his eyes, remembering the blue of it from the first time. His lips change and I’m certain I see his signature smirk, just for me. 

When both of the national anthems finish they start spraying champagne, becoming my queue to escape to the red bull hospitality. I didn’t have any clue where to go so I waited for him outside the building. 

His teammate Checo walked past me, giving me a smile like I was any fan and then a crowd of people were making their way here. All following the man himself, Max Verstappen. He sees me standing there, that one smirk arises on his face before he whispers something to the woman beside him, probably his assistant or something, because once they reach me she smiles and then takes me to his driver's room as Max finishes with all the fans.

I take in the surroundings, the room being small but big enough to fit the things he needs. A decent sized bathroom and a mirror being the door of his cupboard filled with redbull polos, which seem to be the only thing he wears. 

“You going through my stuff, doll?” I turn at the noise, seeing Max walk into the room and start unzipping his racing suit.

“No, you left me in a room alone, what else am I to do?”

He chuckles and walks closer to me, his suit now hanging around his waist. He comes closer, nearly caging me into the wall with his body. A few strands of his hair fell and now hang between the two of us. I have nowhere to go, not like I’d ever want to leave, but it’s not like he’d let me. 

“I won.” He breathes out.

“And now I’m your good girl.” Max shakes his head, chuckling as his arm rests on the wall above my head.

“You’re not a good girl… but I’m gonna make you one.” He moves his head closer to mine, nearly touching my skin with his lips but he doesn’t make contact. Teasing me by going along my face and down my neck. So close I can feel his breath, but he never touches me. Trailing across my collar bone as I try to ease my breathing.

I lightly arch my back, bringing my chest closer to him, trying to force the contact. But then he stops. He grabs my pendant, the one of a cross. 

“You’ve been worshipping the same man for years, would it bring you to hell to worship another? Let’s say… me.” 

I don’t have time for a reaction as he smashes his lips into mine, taking my breath away. His hands cup either side of my face, holding me in place as he kisses my lips in a way no other person has before. My body writhes against the wall, having no clue what to do but touch him. Try and touch him in a way no person ever has and ever will. 

That my religion is his lips.

I lean into his touch when his hand reaches up my shirt, not touching my breasts yet, but caressing the skin of my back and waist. Max groans into my mouth, lighting a fuse between my legs that I tried to keep out. 

My nails dig into his shoulders, fireproof still tight along his body. I can’t control my body, wanting to feel every inch of him against and inside me. 

“If you wanna be a good girl, then you can wait.” I whine at his words when his lips leave me. My chest still arched and body screamed with need. “I don’t want you to move.” He tells me, eyes a darker shade and voice commanding. I nod my head quickly, hoping the faster I am, he will be. “So needy.” Max chuckles almost as if he’s teasing me of wanting him so much. 

He starts closing the gap between us, standing directly in front of me and looking down because of our heights. I grow accustomed to the heat his body spreads and the pink of his post-race cheeks. Falling for his looks before his touch steals my attention. His fingers slide down the side zip of my short skirt, pulling it down my legs until it reaches the floor. He pushes my legs apart with his foot and my pussy pulses with anticipation. 

I observe him as his fingers don’t go close to where I need him, instead doing the job of taking my top off of me. I lift my arms up to help him, feeling the cool air of the room brush against my body. 

“Take the rest off.” He tells me, standing back to watch my whole body. Eyes skimming me from top to bottom. My skin turned hot, a mix of emotions making me react in different ways. I nod, slowly taking my clothes off. Smiling to myself when I see Max brush a hand against the bulge in his suit. 

Once my panties and bra lay on the floor Max finally comes back. Hands gliding down my arms and then intertwining with my fingers. He guides each of my arms above my head, giving him full access to my body. Making me more vulnerable than I’ve ever been. 

The pads of his thumbs barely touch my nipples, forcing a whine out of my mouth and my chest to press into him. He pulls away immediately, draining his contact from me. And then he comes again, sliding his fingers over my nipples and I have to force myself to stay still.

Max’s fingers tickle down my bare body, he goes between my cleavage and caresses my breasts with the light touch of his finger tips. Soon going over my stomach and my lower abdomen. He delays the contact to my core and starts tracing my hip bones with each hand, slipping to my backside as he cups my ass with his hands.

“Fuck.” He mutters. Moving his hands from my backside to start lightly touching my thighs. Max advances to the inside of my thighs, spreading my legs a little wider, making it easier for his eyes and fingers. My lips parted long ago and breathing became uneven. Suspense ran through my veins as I felt the heat from his fingers approach my core. 

I was certain my arousal was close to dripping on his fingers, and then he finally touched me. Not as firm as I wanted, but his fingers still make contact. Teasing my clit as his eyes are on me, watching as my bottom lip is drawn between my teeth. 

The feeling was so new to me, I had never been touched by a man like this. Do I regret it, not really, because that would mean Max wouldn’t be the first. 

A loud moan rips the silence of the room, the filthy sound leaving my mouth. His middle finger runs between my folds and I flinch at the feeling, letting the moan leave my mouth freely watching as Max smiles. 

My climax surely builds up from his teasing strokes.

I then lose the feeling of his fingers, a cry leaving my mouth. “Be my good girl and show me how you make yourself cum.”

“I thought you were gonna make me a good girl. But I guess you’re not as good as I thought.” I slide my hand down my body, going down the trail between my legs. My eyes firm on Max as many emotions run across his face. I touch my clit and be sure to moan louder and longer than when Max touched me. My eyes were closed that I didn’t see as Max made his way closer, but his loud steps were enough. 

My hand his forces off my body and held above my head. Max’s other hand now occupying the job he told me to do myself. He doesn’t take his time now. Thrusting two digits inside of me with force. “I’ll make you cum. Give me a number.”

“Three.” I whine out between each of his thrusts, focusing on the harsh face he gives me.

“Fuck, making it so easy for me. I already made you cum once.” He chuckles at the confusion on my face. Pulling his fingers out of me and showing me my cum that moves down them. I moan at the sight, then once again as he shoves them in his mouth. My eyes stuck on his tongue as he circles each finger. When he pulls them out of his mouth a string of saliva is hanging from his fingertip. I watch as he brings his digits closer to my lips, telling me to open my mouth to get a taste of him. 

Max slides his fingers out of my mouth and drags it down my body. 

“Let’s do something new” Max says as he goes on his knees. Kneeling in front of me and making my pussy throb. He doesn’t say anymore words as he forces my legs on his shoulders. I clench my pussy as his breath brushes against it in such a way it’s a drug. 

The words slow, leisurely and gentle out of his mind as he starts eating me out. Like a starved man and I’m a whole dinner. The sensation of his flat tongue against such a sensitive part of me makes me crazy. My fingers diving into his perfect hair to ruin it. 

He toys with my clit and slides his tongue inside of me. 

It hadn’t taken long until I was reaching my release. Pulling at his hair with force and whining so loud I’m sure people outside could hear. But that only made it more thrilling. 

“So quick. But I’m not done.” Max says against my pussy before going back in. Bringing me to surprise. He licks and sucks all my cum, fingers coming back to ram inside of me as his tongue toys with my swollen clit. 

He made tears come to my eyes and a moan mixed with a whine to leave my mouth as I came another time. Even more sensitive.

Max helps me get off his shoulders before standing up to peel every piece of fabric off his body. Once my eyes laid on his skin I could truly say the suit doesn’t give him justice. 

My mouth watered at the sight of his cock. Making me question how easily he would fit. 

“Come here.” Max demands. And I do, walking up to him just for him to tell me to get on my knees. I grow nervous as his dick now sits in front of my face and as I’m about to grab it  Max tells me to do something completely different. 

“Go on your hands and knees. And face the mirror.” I quickly do it, seeing myself in the thin mirror. I look further up to observe Max. He grabs my hips, lifting them up so they're in line with his. 

I hold my breath as he brings his dick to my entrance. Circling it with his tip and watching me through the mirror. He distracts me with his signature smirk and then rams inside of me. Bottoming out immediately. My mouth opens in an ‘o’ shape as he takes my breath away with his dick. Pulling out and then thrusting back in with more power. His skin slapping against mine and tip viciously hitting my g-spot. 

Max leans forward and grabs my hair in a makeshift ponytail, forcing my head up. “I want you to watch as I fuck all the words out of your mouth.” 

My vision blurred by the tears, but I make out our figures. My tears fall as Max drives his dick into me once again. 

“That’s it. Cry over my dick. So. Fucking. Good.” He grits between his teeth at each thrust. I look at myself, being utterly ruined by a man I met a couple of days ago. He keeps my head up, not daring to let my eyes leave the mirror. His bottom lip is between his teeth and eyebrows furrowed as he keeps in his moans. Letting mine fill the room instead. 

I can barely hold up my body as I get closer to my climax. Clenching around Max multiple times before I finally release. 

A string of unholy sounds escape my mouth and it’s as if they set off Max, ultimately allowing me to hear him moan just as I had done before. 

Max twitches inside of me before he releases. Swearing in dutch before calling me a good fucking girl. His cum fills and distracts me as he pulls out. Demanding me to stay there.

I expect to see him walk out with a cloth, but instead his phone. He angles the camera right behind me, capturing his cum that drips out of me and both our faces in the mirror.

My face holds confusion and he sees it, keeping a straight face.

“People usually have photos of their gods, something to look at when they worship it. And this is mine.”

#f1 smut #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 fic #f1 fluff #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen smut #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #mv1 #mv1 x reader #mv1 imagine #mv1 smut #mv1 fic #mv33 #smut #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 smut #formula one smut #formula 1 fanfic #formula one #f1fic #f1 one shot #f1 x you

[iiraven]

Fool-Proof Plan

Pairing: Erwin x reader

Genre: fluff, comedy, smut, modern AU

Warnings: size kink, masturbation, squirting, fingering in front of a mirror, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, manhandling, degradation, praise, established relationship, slight dumbification, choking/ breath play 

Word count: 4.6K

Synopsis: Erwin’s business trip leads you to realise you’re not as sly as you think you are.

Masterlist

Erwin Smith is a man capable of absolutely everything. He’s an amazing cook, an amazing masseur, an amazing businessman, and, most of all, an amazing husband.

There’s only one small shortcoming to the person you consider to be perfect. And that’s his inability to use any form of technology. Texting is bad enough with him signing his name after every message, but it’s social media that’s your husband’s true sworn enemy. Erwin might only be a few years your senior, but somehow your grandfather can comprehend the concept of Instagram faster than him.

“So, you just take pictures?”

“Yes.”

“And people respond to it?”

“Yes.”

“Alright but why?”

The conversation is nothing new, but you find it incredibly unfortunate knowing how talented he is at photography. If you two ever go someplace Erwin knows he wants to capture, he slings his camera over his neck, leaves his phone at home (“I won’t be taking any calls today”) and makes his merry way out of the house. You often eye the phone left stray on the desk, half-expecting it to chase you out of the house for abandoning it. Sometimes, for good measure, you slip it into your own bag. Just in case.

It’s for this reason that Erwin’s business trip puts you on immediate edge.

“It’ll only be for ten days,” he had said. “Sina Corporations takes their summits really seriously…”

“Ten days?” You repeated and Erwin gave you a soft smile.

“I’ll call you every day.”

It’s not like you have an obsessive attachment to your husband (well, that’s debatable), but breaking the routine of returning home to his warm hugs, listening to his day and then complaining about your own- it’s uncomfortable. 

Erwin himself wasn’t looking forward to being away from you, away from home. Running Survey Corporations Ltd is no easy task; trying to balance the infuriating board and the long hours with his actual life is something only possible because of you. Time spent together is fine diamonds Erwin clutches onto and although he’d tried to reason with himself that it was only ten days, it wasn’t a trip he was looking forward to. He never said it out loud. But he didn’t need to. You can tell by the way Erwin’s lips linger on yours a little longer at the airport, as if to preserve your taste.

“Oi Erwin- hurry up.” Levi tries hard not to glare. But even the raven-haired man knows that being away from you puts Erwin on somewhat of an edge. You’re his rock, there to ground him when everything is chaotic, and a summit surrounded by the richest people in the world is as chaotic as it gets.

Despite it all, Erwin stays true to his promise. He calls you at least twice a day and although you could stay on the phone with him for hours, he’s often rushing between conferences and can only spare minutes of his time. Even when he does have an hour, talking to a disembodied voice (he still can’t figure out how to switch his camera back around) is not the same as having Erwin right beside you. It’s the way he squeezes your thigh when he’s focussing on what you’re saying or when he pulls you towards him so that you can lie on his hard chest which still makes you blush even after years of being together.

Because, yes, you miss his touch the most.

Not even five days in, you find yourself with your hands down your panties and a tall blond man on your mind. You’re soaked just thinking about him. His groans, the way he calls your name, the way he pounds into you as you lose your train of thought. Your fingers try to imitate his- their curve and how easily they find your soft spot- but it just feels uncomfortable. So, then you try rubbing your clit, and there’s temporary pleasure there, but not even close enough to tip you over the edge. Even your pink vibrator doesn’t cut it. You deny the fact that Erwin Smith has made you an incompetent masturbator, but you can’t keep up the lie for long and soon enough you give up.

It’s the next day that your ingenious idea kindles. It’s a fool-proof plan. A small flame that has you rushing to the bathroom for the best possible lighting. Erwin can still put his tongue to use at a distance- after all, it’s his voice you fell in love with first. To discretely push him in the right direction, you send him a few photos of yourself. Nothing too scandalous safe he’s in a meeting, but enough that he’ll gets the hint. Sure, Erwin has a couple of polaroid pictures hidden in his brown leather wallet, but he had shot those himself. You want to be a bit more spontaneous! And, honestly, at this point you’re desperate. You could swear you’re developing withdrawal symptoms: just the other day, you were actually temped to pick up a newspaper. It was terrifying.

This had to work. You can just imagine Erwin calling you, voice deep and gruff as he guides you through the process to make yourself cum as he showers you with praise. You feel giddy, eyes glued to the glowing screen, awaiting his response. Even your pink vibrator is out of the box.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t exactly go the way you had planned.

One hour after sending the photos you receive a panicked text from Hange. In the long paragraph, you understand that your poor husband couldn’t get the photos to load and decided to consult the vice president of his company who, upon simply clicking on them, saw you groping your soapy tits. Had it been anyone other than vice president Hange Zoe, Erwin may have broken his phone and quit right there. Thankfully, he only said, “I see” and then asked her where to find the smiley face Emoji.

“I’m so, so sorry Y/N!” Hange screams through the phone. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise! I could send you a picture of my boobs! I’ll go do it right now! I’m sorry! No- You don’t need to feel embarrassed! I won’t mind!”

“It’s alright Hange.” You laugh nervously. “You don’t need to send me anything, it’s really not that big of a deal.”

The whack Levi lands on her head is so hard you hear it through the phone. “Shut the fuck up four-eyes.”

So here you are now. Three days until Erwin returns, a vibrator you’ve given up on back in its box, and a husband who responds to your nudes with a smiley face.

But then Hange Zoe sends you something much better than a picture of her boobs.

The hotel that the trio were staying at- as most hotels do- has a spa. And if there’s one thing Erwin Smith adores it’s allowing himself to relax in a warm, steamy sauna. You’re not sure how Hange was allowed to join them, or how she was able to get her camera clear of fog, or how she was even able to take the picture without Erwin noticing. But you ask her no questions.

Followed by a winky-face is a picture of Erwin sat in the sauna, head tilted backwards, and eyes shut in the pure image of serenity. His arms are propped up on either side of him accentuating his biceps whilst still allowing a clear view of his sculpted body, the sweat running down his chest and abs, making him almost glisten. He’s completely naked except for the flimsy white towel across his lap which does absolutely nothing to hide his thick dick print. You shudder.

You feel like a teenager again, speechless at the sight of a quasi- naked man. Even though you’ve seen him like this thousands of times, you can’t help but fantasise about being trapped underneath him, hair falling onto his face as he loses himself inside of you. God, maybe you do have an unhealthy obsession. But it doesn’t matter. You feel even more like a teenager as you imagine scenarios of him returning home to recreate the picture before you. And with that, your mind is sedated for the next few days.

You have a fool-proof plan. Dress up in the shortest and tightest dress you own, cook your husband dinner, and then give him a blow job at the table so that he’ll never leave you again. It’s going to be just like in the movies and nothing will stop that from happening.

Something stops that from happening.

Just as you’re about to put the potatoes in the oven, Erwin calls. His flight is delayed. You whine through the phone and Erwin’s chuckle just about stops you from sulking like a child. You can be mature about this, right? He’s getting home eventually- complaining isn’t going to help at all. Patience is a virtue and yours has been tested many times before. This is, after all, nothing compared to the time Erwin tried to create an excel spreadsheet. So, you don’t press further. You simply tell Erwin that you miss him and then go find a pillow in which you scream for a good five minutes.

Erwin, on the other hand, is a lot less coveted with his annoyance. He wants nothing more than to strangle whatever and whoever is preventing him from returning to his lovely wife. In the hour journey, the entire plane can feel a crushing tension above their heads, so tense that even the child at the back seems to be holding in his tears. 

Usually, Erwin prefers to spend his flights with a book in his hands, but he’s incapable for picking up the paperback and instead stares out of the window somehow hoping it will go faster.

After what feels like hours, the tight dress has gotten too uncomfortable for you to wear and you resolve yourself to eating the potatoes alone. You still don’t take off your lingerie, though. A two-piece black set with lace detailing that makes you look like a present ready to be unwrapped. It had arrived yesterday, and you had taken your sweet time admiring the embroidered flowers and soft ribbon holding the fragile piece together because you had falsely assumed that you wouldn’t have it on for long. You had in fact contemplated stockings but by the time 11PM came by you simply wrapped Erwin’s favourite robe around your body and tried to take your mind off things. Maybe you should have opted for your own robe because as the sleeves hung from your arms and the soft material effused his smell, it managed to make you feel even worse.

Staying up late was not a foreign feeling but anticipation quickly turns into boredom and you find your eyelids getting heavy. You pause the anime you’re watching and are about to shut your eyes when you hear the faint rattle of keys.

You stumble getting out of bed, knocking your shoulder on the wall before skipping four steps at a time and tripping on the robe at least twice as you rush downstairs. Erwin is barely through the door as you call out his name and he drops his bags right there to let your rush into your arms. You feel so small, so safe, so familiar, within them, as if you’ve returned to the space where you belong. He lifts you up to let you wrap your legs around his waist, your ankles barely crossing. He smells divine, even after hours of being stuck in an airport and his hair is still soft between your fingers. You look at him and the smile that spreads across his face wipes out any hints of fatigue that might have been there just moments ago.

Erwin kisses you and it’s long, deep, and he holds you impossibly closer to him as his tongue dips into your mouth. You don’t want it to end, but Erwin pulls back and says softly, “I’m home, my love.”

You can’t help but giggle. “Welcome home.”

You return to the kiss with a hint of desperation. Tugging lightly on Erwin’s shirt, you know he notices how your core is already warm, but still, he takes his time closing the door with his foot before finally noticing your attire. You’re about to make a sarcastic comment about his obliviousness but the way he looks down at you, at the small flower of lace peeping out from under the heavy robe, the way he slowly wets his lips, he leaves you speechless.

“You’re a gift.” He smiles sweetly though his eyes darken.

“Well, you’ve been working really hard,” You mumble. “You deserve a treat.”

The effect this man has on you is unbelievable. All that anger and frustration you had pent up now crumbles at the light caress of his thumb on your hips.

“Let me unwrap you,” Erwin says. And he walks you to your room, climbing up the stairs with ease as you cling onto him. You attempt to rub yourself against his hard stomach, but one look of warning makes you stop. He’s going to be doing things on his watch, tonight.

Setting you on the floor beside your bed, Erwin undoes the ribbon and you let the fabric pool at your feet. He immediately latches onto your neck, and you gasp, tilting your head to give him better access. His hands begin to roam, fingering the delicate lace of your panties and the straps of your bra as his tongue leaves a trail over your chest. It’s only when Erwin suddenly grabs your breast that you moan, body involuntarily pushing towards him.

He looks up through thick eyelashes and his hands moves to cup your face. You’re about to beg him to touch you where you need it most, but he whispers, “you’re so beautiful.” And you’re speechless again.

You suddenly lean in to kiss him, hands wrapping around his neck and it’s messy and your breath is short. “Please, Erwin,” you say to him between kisses. “Touch me.” You can feel him smile against your lips. “Please”. And before you can stop yourself. “I can’t do it myself.”

Erwin stills and only then do you realise your mistake. He pulls back and stands up straight, towering over you and you recognises that look. It’s the one of a lion who has just found a wounded deer. 

“Oh?”

Fuck. He leans back and raises a brow expectantly and you try to look everywhere but at him. Maybe if you avoid eye contact, he’ll take it as a slip of the tongue. But your husband is not one to let things go. He’s intelligent, he knows exactly what you mean- you don’t need to speak for him to gather what happened, the image of you lying pathetically on the bed, hopeless and desperate. He smirks but stays quiet. Erwin likes it when you use your words.

“No-that’s not what I meant. I mean- you feel best and it’s just-“

You’re cut off by a hand on your scalp, pulling your hair back in one swift motion so that you have no choice but to look up at your husband dead in the eye.

“You were touching yourself whilst I was away, Y/N?”

“I-I mean...yeah…”

“I see.” His gaze is enough to make you gush. “And you weren’t able to make yourself cum.”

Your cheeks burn. It’s not a question, but you affirm it anyways. “No, no I couldn’t make myself cum.”

He’s silent for a moment and you’re not sure if it’s because he’s watching your worried face or because he’s wondering how he’s going to make that face look even more worried.

“I would feel sorry for you, but I suppose that’s what you deserve for touching my cunt without my permission.”

You gasp as he uses his grip on your hair to throw you on the bed. It’s effortless, the way his strength could so easily destroy you and yet he uses it to ruin destroy you in another way- just who you like it. Erwin undoes his tie and all you can do is gawk as he strips down to his boxers. He’s as hard as a rock and you tentatively reach out to touch him, but Erwin grabs your wrist. Without warning, you’re dragged to the other side of the bed where you’re placed to face your large floor length mirror. There’s only a moment of confusion before you understand why Erwin had been so keen on the somewhat awkward placement. He positions himself behind you and you withhold the urge to press your back against his throbbing cock.

“Don’t you take your eyes off the mirror,” Erwin commands, and you nod your head. “Use your words. Or do you need me to show you how to do that too?”

“Yes, sir,” You say quickly.

“Good girl.”

Erwin opens your legs, his hands gripping your thighs hard. You silently wish bruises bloom in their wake- it’s been too long since you’ve had your husband’s mark on you. A reminder of who you belong to. One hand stays on your thigh and the other moves to nudge your panties out of the way of your glistening cunt. 

“I’m going to show you how to touch yourself,” He says in a low, rumbling voice. “And you’re going to watch closely and learn. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir.”

His fingers don’t tease your folds for long. Erwin is feeling merciful, because he simply gathers the slick coating your cut before immediately rubbing your clit. The moan that leaves your mouth is pornographic. You buck your hips but the hand on your thigh moves to pin you down, your body flush against his so that you can almost feel his bearing heart. You’re engulfed by him so small as he easily manipulates your body.

Erwin is overwhelmed by the options. Look at his wife unravel below him or stare at the mirror, where you have no place to hide.

“I should be punishing you, you know.” He presses his fingers down hard on a particularly tenter spot and you moan loudly. “But I need to show my dumb little girl how to take care of herself.”

“I-I’m not- ahhh.” Your back arches and Erwin captures your neck again, sucking viciously.

As his thumb continues its assault on your clit, two fingers find your tight hole, dripping and clenching around nothing. He can see in the mirror how your body is practically begging to be filled up. And fill you up he will. But first Erwin inserts a finger and groans at the warmth that greets him. He begins moving it and although you try to understand how he is able to stroke your cunt so perfectly, your mind is fogged and all that’s on your mind is your impending release. This should be a learning experience, but it serves only as a reminder of Erwin’s miraculous hands. He slips his second finger in and your moans only get lounder.

“Erwin, Erwin- they feel so good. Your fingers feel so good!”

You can see his smirk in his reflection, just before he speeds up and you have to grab his wrist to steady yourself. His fingers slam back and forth into your velvety walls. They suck them in, and he is able to find your sweet spot every time. Every single time. Your eyes roll back, you press against Erwin’s chest and your legs shake as you cum. The mess you make, leaking all over Erwin’s hands, your bed, your thighs- you try to look away, but he grabs your face to prevent you from doing so.

“Don’t you dare look away.” His voice is low, threatening. “Look how good I make you feel. Look.”

Your cheeks are flushed and the set that had made you look like a femme fatale, just hours before, is now yet another set that has has you pliant and submissive. “It seems that I’m the only one who can take care of you,” Erwin says. And you know he’s right.

Erwin lifts his soaked fingers to his mouth and his eyes flutter shut as he tastes you. When he opens them, you swear they’ve gone a shade darker. Wordlessly, Erwin slips from behind you to kneel in front of the bed. He removes your panties and holds them up to his nose, giving them a slight inhale before tossing them to the side and lowering his mouth.

“Erwin wai-“

And before you can warn him that your too sensitive- you orgasm was too strong, it’s too soon- his mouth has latched onto your cunt and Erwin is eating you out like a starved man.

“Ah-fuck, fuck, fuck,” You practically scream.

He sucks on your clit, his tongue doing what it does best. You look down, his eyes bore into yours and you know he’s remembering every expression you make as he pushes you over the edge. Despite your trembling arms struggling to keep you upright, your hand goes to grip Erwin’s hair and all you can think about is how soft it is before you cum again. Your husband doesn’t stop this time. His fingers dig into your soft hips to make sure you don’t move, to make sure that he catches everything on his tongue. And he can feel it before you do. The steady build-up of a feeling slightly familiar, but foreign enough that you warn Erwin too late. Your back arches and you squirt in his mouth and before your eyes roll back, you catch a glimpse of what you know to be a smirk in your husband’s eyes.

You can feel the sheets soak below you so try to press your legs together in somewhat of an attempt to hide the mess, but Erwin doesn’t let you. “Don’t be ashamed now, darling.” His voice is solid, domineering. “This is just you perfect body, doing exactly what I tell it to,” He says.

He could be talking about fruits and you would still nod your head dumbly.

The power Erwin has over you is addictive, and your body seems to know it too. As he kisses your thighs, licking off whatever didn’t find its way into his mouth, you can still feel a distant ache at your core. This time, you don’t need to use your words. As you lie weak on the bed, Erwin crawls over, engulfing your form. The lion is ready for his meal. He leans down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss. “I missed you,” He says. It’s the hundredth time, but you don’t tire of hearing it.

“I missed you too.”

Erwin shifts your legs, and you can feel the head of his large cock teasing your entrance.

“I missed all of you,” he repeats. “Your smile. Your voice. Your moans.” He pauses to place a kiss on your collarbone. “Your taste.”

He’s trying to be romantic, but you know why he stalls, and it makes you unable to graciously except the compliments. Erwin loves to hear you pine for him. And who are you to refuse your husband’s desires? So, you reach your hands out towards his shoulders, attempting to make him move if only a little bit. “Erwin!” You whine, and despite your weakness, you manage to push your hips forward, finding friction against his hard cock. “Please!”

Again, that smirk. He rubs against your clit. “My, my- you’ve come twice already and want more?”

Well, he missed your voice so you suppose you should let him hear it. “Let me be selfish, please sir?” You moan. “I need you inside of me.”

His cock twitches against you. And before you know it his hand is around your neck. “Such a good girl, using your words like that.”

He pushes inside you with a groan of relief, a low sound from his throat that causes his eyes to close momentarily. 

It seems you’ve forgotten how big he is because as he stretches you out like it’s your first time, your mouth drops open and a string of curses emerges. Erwin would usually reprimand you for the foul language, but he’s too lost in the feeling of your tight cunt pulling him in. Using your neck as leverage, he squeezes tight so that he can push forward and when your eyes blur, overwhelmed with the pleasure and pain and the lack of oxygen intensifying it all, Erwin loosens his grip only slightly, and your eyes find his again. You don’t notice your mouth hanging open, too focussed on the way your body is accommodating Erwin’s cock again.

“Really big, ‘s really big, sir,” You mumble and Erwin grunts in response, his teeth clenching because he too is reminded yet again of how tight- how perfect- your body is for him.

When Erwin bottoms out, he stills for a moment, basking in your warmth and taking a moment to kiss your cheek, a gentle gesture compared to the hand still grasping your neck. Your cunt gushes despite you wincing about the pain, about his size, and soon he can’t help but move his hips. Erwin pulls back and thrusts deep. You scream him name, as you feel his cock dragging against your walls. Any idea of taking you gently has evaporated from Erwin’s brain and instead his hips snap back and forth violently, his tip kissing your cervix as he buries himself inside of you again and again.

His grunts are laboured as Erwin’s free hand pushes your leg up to your chest to allow him to thrust deeps and deeper. “Just like that- just like that, good girl. My good girl.”

The new angle has him brushing against your g-spot and you won’t last long. You know you can’t- not with him quite literally rearranging your insides. You have one hand clawing at his forearm and the other grips the sheets and you repeat a mantra of “Thank you, sir, thank you” in between your desperate moans. The honorific coming from your lips is too sweet to his ears and he’s reminded of why phone calls bother him so much- nothing compares to hearing your voice like this.  

Erwin’s hand leaves your neck only to tug your bra down, letting your boobs bounce freely as he fucks you hard. You almost complain about the loss of contact but his tongue latches onto to your nipple and before you know it, you are coming all over your husband, screaming his name. Your nails dig into his arm as he nears his own release. Erwin’s hips stutter and he moans your name before throwing his head back in pure bliss as he cums inside of you. You wish you can capture that sight forever, but you don’t think any photo does your husband justice. It’s true- this is better than anything Hange could send.

Your breaths slowly find a slower rhythm in the post-orgasm silence. Erwin watches the way your fluids pool out of you as he pulls out, admiring the own mess on his lower stomach. You wince at the sore feeling and pull him towards you. This time, he follows your command. Breathless bodies mould into each other, finding their place after too long being apart. At the back of your mind, you know you should be making your way to the bathroom, but Erwin’s heavy body lying on your chest is enough to remind you to focus on the moment. For this is where you belong.

“You know, you should be flattered, Erwin.” You nudge his arm weakly as you lay together, bodies entangled in a random set of pyjamas you begrudgingly forced yourself to change into. “No one has better hands than you.”

He laughs. “I am flattered,” he says. “I just like teasing you.”

“No- you have a degradation kink.”

“Yes, that too.”

Even as you were taking a shower together, Erwin’s subtle attempts at having you admit you couldn’t make yourself cum did not go unnoticed. You suppose it’s an ego-thing, but then you realise it’s more. The power of being the only person able to bring you that much bliss is power Erwin thrives on. And despite the money wasted on your pink vibrator, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Still,” Erwin muses and a small smile plays across his lips. “I did expect the photo Hange took to at least help a little.”

Every muscle in your body stills and your eyes suddenly widen. Oh come on. You try to tell yourself that there’s simply nothing wrong with having a photo of your naked husband, but it’s more than that. You know it. Erwin knows it. And by the way he’s smiling, you also know that plastered on your face is the guiltiest of looks. In your poor attempt to escape his gaze by turning your back to him, Erwin chuckles and shakes his head, hugging you closer.

“That’s not fair!” You exclaim.

“It’s not?”

“No!”

You try to wiggle out of his grasp, but Erwin is made of steel. Why do you expect to get away with anything anymore? Erwin Smith is beyond two moves ahead- he’s finished the game before you’ve even started.

“Did you really think I didn’t notice?” 

“Shut up!” You whine. “Why do you have to be such a smartass about it? Let me think I win.”

“Alright, alright.” Erwin chuckles and places a kiss on your forehead. “You’re my winner. Always.”

#erwin smut #erwin smith #erwin x reader #erwin x you #aot smut #attack on titan erwin #shingeki no kyoujin levi #hange zöe #tw size difference #tw size kink #erwin snk #aot levi #levi ackerman #tw manhandling #erwin smith x you #erwin smith x reader #snk smut #snk fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #tw hair pulling #tw dumbification #tw choking #tw breath play

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

Looking over your blog, I'm not sure weather to laugh or cry at what you believe. You're making God an image of yourself, trying to fit in your beliefs onto him. Giving out a false doctrine, God's word does not change to suit the status of this world, your twisting the word of God to make yourself feel comfortable. You better change the way you view God and Bible, because when you stand in front of God in the end the words that he will say to you are "Depart from me I never knew you"

cw pointless rant, queerphobic anon

so. my policy is not to engage with anon hate because if you’re not willing to enter into true dialogue i’m not gonna spend my limited time and energy on you -- and more importantly, i don’t want to expose my followers to hateful stuff.

but congratulations to anon no. 3 from the other day, you successfully boiled my blood! you’re getting a rise outta me! good work.

_________

“You better change the way you view God and Bible, because when you stand in front of God in the end the words that he will say to you are "Depart from me I never knew you"”

So you’re referencing Matthew 25:31-46, i.e. one of the most powerful exhortations to tangible, active service in the Bible. This is a passage that emphasizes orthopraxy ( “right action” ) over orthodoxy ( “right belief” ) -- and yet here you are accusing me of molding scripture to suit my needs while you make use of this action-focused passage to damn me for my beliefs.

The ones whom "the Son of Humanity” rejects in this story are those who might have their beliefs right (they know to call Jesus “Lord”), but who still failed to attend to the needs of their fellow human beings -- particularly those with whom Jesus most identifies: the hungry, thirsty, naked, imprisoned, stranger, etc.

Look. i’m a human being with a finite understanding and plenty of flaws. i know i don’t have everything right when it comes to what i think about the Bible and/or God. And therefore i thank God that getting in to God’s Kin(g)dom doesn’t come with a written exam where i have to get all the answers right. God knows no human being would pass such an exam! What Jesus is more concerned about is how we relate to one another. My gravest failings don’t involve mistaken interpretations, but rather the many times i’ve failed to reach out to an outcast, to insist that people’s basic needs are met, to stand up for those in prisons, and so on.

Honestly, now that i’ve written all this out, anon, i’m not really angry anymore. i’m just...sad. Because if living into the Kin(g)dom of God is about worshipping God through right relationship not only with Them but also with fellow human beings, well...i might be failing that here with you. i’m ready to curse you and spurn you and refuse connection with you. ...maybe that’s fine -- maybe i can “shake the dust from my feet” because trying to connect with you on a mutual level is so unlikely...or maybe i’m supposed to try to connect if i can. i don’t know. i don’t know. i’m sad and tired just thinking about it.

Anyway. Here’s hoping you and i can both learn to live into Jesus’s challenging call, so that he will recognize us by our fruits and tell us both “well done.” Maybe you and i will connect then, be empowered to build a true relationship then.

________

oh huh, since i’m publishing this where people will see your comments, i should probably respond to the first half of your message too...

....But i get that you and i are speaking two very different languages when it comes to discussing the Bible, so i’m unlikely to say anything that makes sense to you. In case you just don’t know about the different ways different Christians engage with scripture, i’ve got a webpage on the framework i and many of my denominations employ. If you’re interested.

For now, the following is more for anyone else who wants to see my answer to your accusations about making God in my image and all that.

look. i do my best not to let my own thoughts and biases corrupt the blessed glimpses God offers me of Themself..... After all, as Shirley Guthrie writes,

“There is always the danger that we will find in the Bible only what we take with us to it – that we will use it to confirm what we already think and will only hear what we want to hear. …Comfortable, powerful people usually find that the Bible supports social and political conservatism; poor, exploited people usually find that it supports social and political reform or revolution. What is to keep us from simply using the Bible to give authority to our own religious, social, political, and economic prejudices? What is to prevent us from using the study of this ancient book as a pious excuse for refusing to face the radical claims of the living God on every area of our lives, here and now?"

i do everything i can to remain aware of my own biases and assumptions, and sort of balance my own perspective by reading up on as many others as i can -- Fundamentalist, sure, as well as Womanist, Disabled, Indigenous, Dalit, liberationist, atheist, Jewish, on and on. The more perspectives we bring to the table, the more obvious it is how we all are influenced by our own contextual location when we try to interpret scripture or get to know God. But in listening to and learning from one another, we can get more and more glimpses. 

I’ll close with some links to other posts that might help anyone troubled by content in anon’s ask:

“How do we take context into account when reading the Bible without using it to justify what we already think?”

“God is dead. Which God?”

A short sermon I once preached about Romans 12′s “Don’t be conformed to the world” and how it’s used against queer folks and others when it’s those whose theologies uphold the status quo that are “conforming to the world”

“How do you deal with the Bible passages that “condemn” being gay? / If God is okay with LGBT people why does the Bible speak against it?”

“I’m scared of going to hell for being lgbt / i’m struggling to accept myself”

#not sure how to tag this #matthew 25 #anon hate #discourse /// #queerphobia #Anonymous #sorry y'all i just got so cranky. like. the fearmongering!!!! in threatening me with hell #if i don't change my wicked beliefs in time #and putting that threat in Jesus' mouth when his 'depart from me' was not #about. right belief. ach i get so angry at fearmongerers #but now i'm mostly just tired

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

What drove this country crazy after the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon on 9/11? Was it how vulnerable we had been shown to be, that a group of 19 men armed with nothing more than box-cutters could bring the entire country to a halt? Was it that the attack was aimed primarily against innocent civilians, with nearly 3,000 killed at the Twin Towers alone? Was it that with the 19 hijackers dead in the suicidal attacks, we didn't seem to have anyone to retaliate against?  Was it that we had no grasp whatsoever on understanding why our country, the freest and most democratic ever, was hated so much that they would attack us?

I remember how disconnected things felt for days, even weeks, after the attacks. Travelers outside the country didn't have a way to get home because flights had been canceled. People stranded in cities they were visiting within the country couldn't find cars to rent, there were so many trying to get home. Everyone seemed to feel a need to gather with families and friends and hunker down, as if another attack could come at any moment.

The country's leadership was frozen, stunned. Remember the photos of George W. Bush as an aide leaned over his shoulder and whispered the news into his ear? He was the president of the United States, and he looked scared to death. In fact, he was rushed from the school he was visiting in Florida to Air Force One, and his plane took off on what amounted to a flight to nowhere as his administration tried to pull itself together and decide how they would respond. It wasn't until hours later that Air Force One landed at Barksdale Air Force Base in Louisiana and Bush hurriedly addressed the press in a windowless conference room, vowing to "hunt down and punish those responsible for these cowardly acts." Three days would pass before the president was flown to New York to appear atop the rubble of the World Trade Center at what became known as Ground Zero to take a bullhorn and make the pledge that would launch the country on a trajectory that has yet to change: "I can hear you!" he shouted to the workers at the site, "The rest of the world hears you! And the people — and the people who knocked these buildings down will hear all of us soon!"

A collective madness ensued. A great scrambling began to protect us against … well, against what? Box-cutters first and foremost, it seemed, as a new regime of inspections began at airports everywhere. The initial panic over the hijacked flights would lead to the establishment of the Transportation Security Administration and the Department of Homeland Security, a kind of domestic department of defense which proceeded to put us on what amounted to a wartime footing within our own country that persists even today. How many times have you had to throw a set of fingernail clippers into a bin at airport security because a TSA agent was defending us from terrorism? How about removing your shoes because a lone lunatic made an unsuccessful attempt to blow up an airplane with a "shoe bomb"?

The entire paranoid regimen under which we still live 20 years later grew out of a supposed "war on terror" begun after 9/11 that has never ended. It took a decade to find and kill the actual terrorist who ordered the attacks on 9/11, but in the meantime two shooting wars were launched, only one of which had even the slightest connection to the terrorists who attacked us. There was an elemental problem: The war on terror wasn't against an enemy, it was against an idea, and ideas don't die when you hit them with bombs and bullets.

And so, without a readily definable enemy who could be seen and shot and killed and defeated, which is what wars are usually for, lies were substituted. We were buried with lies, and not just any lies. They had to justify the movement of hundreds of thousands of troops and the expenditure of trillions of dollars in treasure and the loss of thousands more American lives than died on 9/11 and countless more lives — enemies, civilians and, my goodness gracious, even a few real flesh and blood terrorists.

Sept. 11, 2001, was when the Big Lie was born. Or should we say, Big Lies, because they came fast and furious. By now they are known to be so completely without any basis in reality, so wholly bogus, that they hardly bear recounting. Weapons of mass destruction? Connections between Iraq and its government and leaders and the terrorists who attacked us on 9/11? Ha!

And then came new Big Lies to support the earlier Big Lies: that we were "winning" the war on terror. How many times were we reassured that all those lives and all those dollars were not being pissed away for nothing? How many times were we reassured that we were rebuilding the countries that hadn't needed rebuilding until we attacked them? How many times were we told of the miraculous training of the Iraqi and Afghan armies? They even invented a new word that I never learned in the classes I took in military history at West Point, a word to describe the magic bullet that was going to win both wars: the surge. If only we sent 10,000 or 20,000 or 30,000 or 50,000 more troops, we could  win the mythical war on terror.

"Shock and awe" was a lie. "Taking Baghdad was a lie. The army of Iraq just went away. The "surge," each and every one of them, was a lie. "Winning" was a lie, every single time the word was used. Every. Single. Time. The Afghan army was a lie. It didn't even bother surrendering to the Taliban. It just went … poof. The Afghan "government" was a lie. It too went poof. The Iraqi government is a lie. Everything we have done to win the war on terror for two decades, 20 long years, has been a lie. We wasted trillions of dollars that could have been spent to, I don't know, feed hungry children in Arkansas? Pay for health care for poor families? Send kids to college? Reduce our dependence on fossil fuels and save our planet?

We wasted all those lives, American and Afghan and Iraqi and German and Australian and Polish and every other soldier from every other NATO country who died fighting "terror." And we killed hundreds of thousands of Afghan and Iraqi people for nothing.

For nothing.

The biggest Big Lie of them all was that it had meaning, that we accomplished something, that we somehow won the war on terror. Terror hasn't gone away. Hell, we're growing it ourselves now, right here at home.

I'll tell you another war we lost, maybe even a bigger and more important war than the war on terror. We lost the war on truth. And we were warned. Oh yes, we were warned. Take Donald Trump's first Big Lie right after 9/11 as just one example. He claimed — I hope you're sitting down for this — that he could see from his office window in Trump Tower crowds of Muslims across the Hudson River, several miles away, on the roofs of buildings in Jersey City, cheering as the World Trade Center fell.

Remember that one? It was such a patently outrageous lie that it zoomed right past without anyone noticing as the rest of the Big Lies hit one after another.

But Trump got away with it, and he learned from it. Oh, yes. He learned how the Big Lie worked. He learned from watching Bush get away with lying about WMDs, and he learned from the Big Lies that we were winning in Iraq and Afghanistan. So he started trying out other Big Lies of his own, like the one about how Barack Obama wasn't a citizen of the United States, that he had a fake birth certificate, that he was a "secret Muslim." Remember when Trump was all over the TV for days and days claiming that he had sent detectives to Hawaii? All we had to do was wait and he was going to reveal the "truth" about Obama.

He got away with his "birther" Big Lie, and he learned something that he has used ever since, something that helped him drive us into the ditch of the pandemic he lied about for a year, something that has helped him transform an entire political party, the Republican Party, from one of two normal political parties in this country into an authoritarian cult.

He learned that if he told Big Lies that were big enough, and if he repeated them enough times, that he could get away with it, just like Bush got away with lying about WMDs to get us into Iraq. And his party, the Republican Party, learned right along with him. Look at what they are doing right this minute about the insurrection he incited against the Congress of the United States in his naked attempt to overturn the election he lost. Donald Trump and the Republican Party are on a campaign to deny that it happened. They are trying to make a case that it wasn't Trump supporters who attacked the Capitol, it was somebody else, and those who were arrested are political prisoners facing false charges … and on and on and on.

The legacy 9/11 has left us is that there is no common set of facts we can agree on about anything: Not about the COVID pandemic and masks and vaccines; not about the climate change that has killed hundreds and left town after town burned to the ground or under water and destroyed by tornadoes and hurricanes. We cannot agree that votes counted amount to elections won or lost.  We cannot even agree on the common good of vaccines that will save us, that science is worth studying, that learned experts are worth listening to.

The lies that followed 9/11 have torn us apart as a nation and put our democracy in peril. That's our legacy: Lies are now considered by an entire political party to be legitimate political currency. A man who has told so many lies we have lost count of them is now a legitimate political figure supported for the highest office of the land by one of our two political parties.

Lies began tearing us apart after the attacks on 9/11, and we have not regained our footing as a nation. The question hanging over us now is whether we ever will.

Lucian Truscott

#terrorism #articles #Lucian Truscott #Big Lie #Salon #9/11 #War on Terror

[haravath0t]

A Christmas Heist Pt. IV - A Plan Unfolds

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: big word count, implied smut, fluff, worrying reader, inaccurate depictions of computer tech and hard drives

Hello, my lovely readers and lovely followers! I am so so sorry to have taken long on this new installment of “A Christmas Heist!” I am so so glad to have found more mojo on writing out this plot! This will be the second to last part of the mini-series, and we are starting to see a bit more clarity! I hope you all enjoy it, as research has been put into making depictions of this heist as accurate as possible! Buckle up, peeps, the beginning of the end is here! As always, feedback, comments, and any type of interaction is more than welcome! Enjoy reading, my lovelies! ❤️

A Christmas Heist Masterlist 

Main Masterlist

Heavy pants were the only noises that filled the room. The clothes that were scattered everywhere as well as the now fogged up windows of the apartment, however, were a major indication of what had just happened between you and Bucky. Your eyes looked up at his light blue ones, still in your ecstatic state from what you and Bucky both just finished. Bucky could only return the gaze, smiling softly as your fingers gently ran through his hair. He couldn’t help but lean down and press his lips to yours gently, hands gently cupping your cheeks as if you’re glass, a contrast to the ones you both shared earlier. You both relax and let out a content sigh as you both embrace each other underneath the covers, your other hand slowly tracing your boyfriend’s back for comfort.  “Goodness, sweetheart. So amazin’ as always.” he mutters with a smile. A soft giggle leaves your lips. “And you’re so perfect.” You mutter breathily, pulling away gently to catch your breath, looking up at his eyes in awe and wonder. He couldn’t help the big smile that appeared on his face, his thumb continuing to caress your cheek, causing you to relax. 

“I love you, James… I hope you know that I really do.” 

“Of course, Y/N… and I love you more than you’ll ever know.” 

Bucky noticed your gaze started to become one of worry. You were up in your head again.  He gently pressed his lips to your forehead, combing your hair. 

“Doll… you’re up in your head again. What’s wrong?” 

“H-Huh? Nothing,” you try reassuring him, but of course it doesn’t work. A slight smile is felt on your forehead. “Oh, doll… if you are dwelling about what happened earlier, it’s alright to move on. We sorted that out. Nothin’ new. It’s part of the job.” 

“Yeah, I know. But, I always hate it when I gotta resort to that tactic. I really do. I’m sorry Buck. Just worrying about you that’s all.” Bucky pulls back a bit to look at you, giving you a small smile as he plays with the ends of your hair. “Ya know… unlike Brock, I’m the one here with you on this bed, lookin’ at my gorgeous gal after a nice time in bed. Don’t gotta worry about me because I’m with you aren’t I?” He tries to say jokingly, but his smile falls a bit when he sees you’re still in your daze. He realizes. “Oh, Y/N… you aren’t thinking about our safety are you?” He questions softly, making you look up at him again.

“Sorry, Buck I… I can’t help it. It’s just. We’re doing it all in public, and if we get outnumbered without knowing, I can’t afford seeing you hurt. Oh lord..” 

Bucky looks at you sympathetically, adjusting you both so you’re hugging each other while laying down on the bed. You hugged him tightly, inhaling the familiar scent of Bucky to calm yourself down as he continued to comb your hair. “Oh, sweetheart. C’mon… we have not been compromised. We are gonna find that hard drive and install that software ASAP and we’ll be done. I promise we can do this. If we can raid a full hydra base we can do this one. Okay?” You nod and take deep breaths and nuzzle into his neck, pressing soft and grateful kissing along it. “You’re right.. You’re right.. Thanks Buck, I’m sorry,” you whisper softly into it, making Bucky hug you tighter. “I’ve got you and you’ve got me and we’ve got Steve and Steve’s got us… we’ve got it, sweetheart. Let’s just relax, yeah? Let’s try to.” He whispers, with you nodding in response, closing your eyes as you try to let sleep consume you.

You opened your eyes again for the 5th time that night. You looked at the clock, rolling your eyes as you saw that you only closed your eyes for a good 30 minutes. Just the thought of the next steps were enough to keep you awake. It was getting more risky by the minute. Unlike the other missions you have had, instead of an outright obvious Hydra base, or a known worldwide threat, you were completing a mission not only under Hydra’s nose, but also many civilian’ noses. The thought of someone innocent getting hurt was never something you handled well. The thought of someone getting hurt knowing someone loved them back at home was pressure already for you. You were up in your head again. So, you got up to use the restroom with the hopes you’ll sleep after a little stargazing at the window.. As you look at yourself in the mirror as you wash your hands, you start to realize: 

It’s only a matter of time till Brock finds out that he’s missing the keys.

You groaned softly. This was not going to leave your mind anytime soon. Shame on you, you’re an avenger. You’ve done things worse than this right off the bat from recruitment. They trusted you, you should be trusting yourself. But, what if you harm a civilian and do the opposite of what you’re supposed to do? You could easily mess things up and-

“Y/N? Sweetheart?” Your boyfriend sleepily calls out, forcing you to get out of your thoughts. You leave the bathroom and carefully close the door to see your boyfriend now sitting up, his bare chest now exposed with the blanket nicely splayed across his lower body. The moonlight from the outside shining wonderfully on his metal arm and body. You couldn’t help but keep looking, even a small smile was beginning to form on your face. Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle at you, his cheeks even heated up by your stare. He would do more if it weren’t for the fact that he had felt you twisting and turning throughout the evening.

“Sweetheart.” he says softly with a hint of a smile, getting up to cover his naked form with a robe before going to you with your robe. You looked up at him, clearly still in a daze as he covers your form with your own robe, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Sweetheart, come back to me,” he mutters softly into your forehead, gently rubbing your arms for comfort. The act alone brought you back to your senses, ending up with you relaxing to his touch. “Sorry, Buck…” you mutter, nuzzling your nose into his neck. He smiled, happy with how you are relaxing to his touch, embracing you with his arms. “Nothin’ to worry about sweetheart… you’re just a million miles away again.” 

He was worrying about you. And you knew it. He was waiting for you to spill whatever was on your mind. But you loved how he did it. Telling you that made you know that he knew, but also indicated that he would wait for you on your own time. With time, you began to be more comfortable with telling Bucky sooner than you had done before.  “Just… just worried about the mission, Buck… that’s all. What if… what if we hurt someone?”  

“You’re not sweetheart. We are gonna make sure there’s no civilian casualties okay? We can even have them get evacuated. Alright?” 

The lack of response from your end had made Bucky more worried and even a bit hopeless. He really wished he was able to help you more. There were just times where he just couldn’t get you out of your own thoughts. As frustrating as it is, he could understand you, for he was once in your position. 

“What can I do to help you?” He would hear you say to him in his head. It was always something that you would suggest when he was in his head. It always worked, heck it even allowed him to be more vulnerable and transparent about his feelings to you. 

“Alright, sweetheart. What can I do to help you? What do you want me to do?” Bucky whispers to you, cupping your cheeks so that you can look at him, desperately hoping that this helped you as much as it helped him. “W-well… I just got worried because I didn’t leave a substitute of keys when I took Brock’s keys. I am thinking our mission would have to be done much faster, in order to get that hard drive and send its information over to headquarters.” You admit softly, a weight starting to feel lifted after you say the words out loud. This made Bucky nod in understanding. “Mmm.. here, it’s been a few days, so why don’t we go to Steve and we can have a little talk about it, and we can exchange information? It’s due.” He suggests, combing your hair, having you nod with a hint of a smile. “Yes, I’d like that. I’ll go text him,” you whisper softly, kissing your lover’s palms before you go ahead and text Steve about your arrival. “Alright, I’ll get us dressed.” Bucky says, getting yours and his clothes. 

“So what we have so far is this: we have Brock’s keys, the hard drive is in the Apple Store, but it is not in the back where all the products are.” Steve asks for confirmation, looking at you and Bucky next to him on the table. Bucky nods, sighing in frustration. “Yeah unfortunately. Most of these don’t even seem to give it away. Brock’s locker? Maybe. But I don’t know if this will get us anywhere.” He says, running his hands through his hair. “But…” you ponder out loud, making the two super soldiers look at you. “But maybe… it can be hidden in the front of the store too.” 

“You mean in plain sight?” Steve questions, earning a nod from you. “It’s totally possible.”  “Okay, but there’s so much gadgets in that store. How can we figure out which is a false product? How can we be sure it is not suspicious?” Bucky asks, looking at you as your eyebrows furrow in deep thought. “Well… Hmmm.. you think if we went into the locker room in the toy store, we may get a lead in Brock’s locker? Tomorrow’s our day off.” You suggest as you manage to find the key to his locker. However, you had to take a second look, seeing an odd looking object hanging off of it: another flash drive. “No way!” You exclaim. Looking at it and immediately scrambling for your laptop. The super soldiers were confused, watching you opening your laptop and plugging the hard drive in, tapping away at the keyboard.  “Ummm. Doll? What are you doing?” Steve questions, standing up to stand behind your chair, watching a jumble of numbers, symbols, and letters pop up on the screen at a fast rate. Bucky followed suit, watching in you with his mouth agape in fascination. An excited smile starts to form on your lips. “Oh, I’m just trying to see if this may be a backup of this exact hard drive that we are looking for.” “Oh, that’s amazin’ doll!” Steve exclaims as he nods. “But sweetheart, the information on that thing can be outdated wouldn’t it?” You nod. “Yeah, but, if I can somehow locate a driver, maybe we can have information about the device this was last attached to, to help give us a rough area of where this COULD be. I suppose if it is in the front of the store, this device must somehow be accessible. Hell, maybe we can track a sample MacBook and it could be on the shelf behind it.” You giggle as you watched Steve raise his eyebrows, attempting to process it. “I… I trust you. So what I’m getting at is we can see information about the device the drive was inserted in, and we can look at a specific place.” 

“Exactly.” 

“God you’re smart, sweetheart.” 

Heat fills your cheeks, tinting them with a slight pink hue as you quickly look at Bucky before returning to your work. “Well, I’m working tomorrow, but off on Monday. I think that can help. I can pretend to show you and Buck around like you two are interested customers after you check Brock’s locker, and then we can check if the location is found, and then on Monday, we can extract that hard drive on Monday,” Steve asks, nodding when you and Bucky nod. “Alright, then that’s what we will do. You two, don’t forget to keep your eyes sharp. I know you two are off and so is Brock, but we cannot be too sure-”  “I FOUND IT!” You exclaim excitedly, making Steve revert his attention back to your screen. “What have we found?” “Well, it definitely looks like it's a MacBook that is being used. I have to check the serial numbers of the laptops tomorrow, but it’s definitely in the front.” You reply. “Okay, but is there anything else we can look out for?” Steve further questions. “Well, we could also keep in mind this USB can be in fake packaging. We can also assume that if that is the case, it will be the farthest back in the shelf of that said product, since everyone mainly picks from the front of the shelf,” Bucky responds, earning a nod from you both. You smiled more as you were getting more and more information you needed, writing down the device’s serial number as well as the manufacturing code for good measure, scrolling as you read what you could. You then opened the files that popped up, skimming through all of them till you got what you wanted. 

“Well, I can now see what this Barracuda Project was about. Safe to say that Fury was right, but gee, are they not original.” You groan, rolling your eyes. “What is it about?” Steve asks leaning closer to the screen. “Well, let’s just say that it’s practically like Project Insight. From what we have retrieved from this version of the USB, it seems as if they are trying to find another way to eradicate any threat to HYDRA. Again. If they thought helicarriers were the best way to go through with this before, I cannot imagine what it would be like to carry this out again today.” You remark, shaking your head as you continue to write notes. 

You see that Steve is shaking his head, resulting in you and Bucky to wait for the next tasks. “Alright. I’ll clock in early to get a head start. If you hand me the serial number, maybe I can peek as I wipe down counters and devices. You and Bucky can look into the locker in the meantime, but make sure that you leaving the keys in his locker is not suspicious.” He orders, making you nod in a more sure manner than earlier tonight. 

Your heart was pumping the next day, you and Bucky were disguised as you went into the locker room, leaving Brock’s keys in a reasonable place before you two quietly and swiftly made your way out. A sigh of relief leaves your lips as you leave the toy store, walking towards the apple store as you hold Bucky’s gloved hand. “I wasn’t expecting any lead in that locker to be honest,” Bucky whispers to you. “Neither was I, honestly. The copy of the USB was already more than enough information. I also doubt Brock is that shallow of a thinker. Although, I’ll admit keys can be quite an obvious place.” You whisper, looking around to find Steve. “Hi, welcome! How may I help you?” A worker asks you both in a welcoming tone and a welcoming smile. “Oh! I was wondering if I can look at what MacBooks you offer!” You say, feigning enthusiasm. “Oh, alright, I’ll hand you two over to Andy over there,” the worker says, motioning to Steve. 

Perfect. 

You thank the employee before you head your way to Steve, more than ready for the search to commence. However, what you three did not know was that today was Brock’s day to come and patrol the Apple Store alongside his colleagues.

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#mcu #steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes scenario #buckybarnesxreader #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fluff #a christmas heist #mcu imagines #bucky mini-series #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction

[cora-vizsla]

The Broken Jedi

Just The Beginning

I tried to tell myself that I was just biding my time. I would escape and find Master Skywalker. He would welcome me back and tell me how he had been searching for me the entire time. He would understand why I gave in. Living strapped to the table was going to wear my body down. He would tell me I was doing the right thing by accepting an advantage. I wanted to believe that everything would go back to the way it needed to. The way that it should be. I could go back to being a Jedi. I would help restore order to the universe.

I couldn’t get myself to see it, though. Not really.

In truth I felt guilty for breaking. I had looked Snoke in the eyes and told him yes. I told him that I would obey Kylo Ren and do what he wished of me. And for what? A shower, a bed, and some clothes?

Master Skywalker would never want me back after that. I had traded my soul for basic comforts.

The Storm Troopers dragged me back to what I thought would be a dingy cell, but instead we entered a well-lit room. There was furniture as if it were a living space along with a huge bed in the back. They dropped me to the floor and tossed a pile of clothes in front of me.

“The refresher is connected to this room. The only way out is through the door we just dragged you through, and it will be locked. Take a shower and make yourself presentable for your meeting with Lord Ren.”

They both walked out, leaving me completely helpless. I reached out and pulled the clothes to my chest. The fabric felt soft, but I wasn’t sure if that was just me being unaccustomed to anything but the table straps.

I pulled myself up with a chair that was close to me, yelling out in pain in the process. I clutched the clothes to me, almost as if they could enable me to walk across the room. I attempted one step but crashed back to the ground. I looked around, suddenly afraid that Kylo Ren was on the other end of a hidden camera. I could just see him laughing at my pain.

Did he laugh? He barely spoke if I could remember correctly. General Hux I am sure would be much more amused by my pain. Such an arrogant little ginger prick. I laughed out at my description of him, startling myself. The sound was so foreign to me.

I looked back at the chair and contemplated pulling myself back up. I felt like it was useless, though. I was just wasting energy pulling myself up just to crash back down again. I groaned and rolled my eyes when I realized that I was going to have to crawl across the room.

I was naked, bloody and bruised. Then I would be crawling across the floor. With my clothes between my teeth. I could have blown up a planet with the amount of rage I was feeling.

Once I swallowed my pride and crawled across the room, I pulled myself up in the doorway. The refresher was small enough that I was able to maneuver around holding onto what was around me. I set the clothes on the counter and dragged myself into the shower.

I groaned as the hot water washed over my body. It hurt to have the pressure on the wounds, but the heat was doing wonders for my sore muscles. I looked down at the drain and saw all the dried blood and dirt whisking away. I let the water run through my hair as I tried to work my fingers through it. It was matted, but it was almost relaxing to make it lay flat again.

My white hair had always made me stand out. Even during the time when I was a slave. No matter the circumstance, I always was complimented on it and told I was beautiful. I knew that vanity was wrong in the Jedi code, but I never had the heart to cut it off.

I looked down at my body and frowned at all the cuts and bruises. I knew that I would be littered with scars by the time they healed. I finished cleaning myself up and climbed out of the shower. I wrapped a clean towel around myself before I realized that someone else was in the room. I jumped, almost falling, but was able to catch myself.

“You couldn’t knock?”

“I could have.”

I grit my teeth as he walked out, pissed that I hadn’t heard him come into the refresher. I quickly put the clothes on that had been tossed to me. They were a pair of long black pants that hugged my legs. The shirt was long sleeved and hugged my body but had an outer part that closed almost like the clothes I wore at the academy. The material still felt soft to me, but it was putting pressure on my cuts that made it hard to focus.

I quickly pulled my hair into a long braid before limping my way a few steps past the doorway. My steps were unsteady and weak, but I was at least on my feet. He picked his head up to look at me, I think, but he still had his helmet on. I stood still, unsure of what to do.

“You will kneel.”

I tried to slowly drop to one knee, but fell much quicker than I wanted to. I stifled a grunt in pain as I tried to hold myself in that position.

“You aren’t my apprentice. You are nothing but a slave. My slave. Drop.”

I felt the words sting me as he said them.

Don’t ever kneel like that Aurora. You aren’t a slave, anymore. You are a Jedi.

I pulled my leg so I could drop to both knees. It hurt my soul to do so, but I kept reminding myself that is what I needed to do to escape. I needed to play along so I kept my eyes on his feet as he stood up and walked towards me.

“Give me your hands.”

I raised them up, almost thinking that he was going to help me to my feet. He scoffed and slapped two metal bracelets on me. They were thin metal that fused together as soon as they met my wrists. They were tight, but not any tighter than the straps I was used to. Suddenly the force left me, leaving all my senses feeling as if they were snuffed out.

“These are to ensure you don’t try to use the force. You will only have what I give you.”

I dropped my wrists onto my lap. I hadn’t even considered that they would take away my ability to feel the force.

“This is where you say yes master.”

I grit my teeth, yet again feeling humiliated.

“Yes, master.”

“This is your room. You may not leave without me. I am the only one who can open the door. Food will be brought to you as I see fit. You will always look presentable here. There are more of those outfits in your dresser and things to do your hair in the refresher.”

He stood up taller in front of me, crossing his arms over his chest while he looked down at me on the floor.

“You would be wise to remember that you aren’t a Jedi anymore. Make sure you act like you know your place. You have been given a chance to live, which you should know isn’t given to many.”

The more he spoke, the more the anger deep in my chest bubbled.

“What about the others you took?”

I felt the force grip my throat as the anger radiated off him. I winced at the pain but tried to keep myself composed.

“Mind your mouth, Jedi scum.”

“You were once a Jedi too, Ben Solo.”

“Mind your mouth.”

Even with the metallic voice, I could hear the malice in his words.

“Why should I? Why won’t you just kill me already. Once less Jedi in the world. That’s what you want isn’t it? To rid the galaxy of anything light. Rid it of anything good. Destroy anything that could possibly remind you of who you are and-”

The force slammed me even harder, holding my whole body in place. He stalked forward and grabbed my braid, yanking it upwards. I gasped at the pain but was unable to move.

“I heard you thinking about your hair in the shower. It makes you feel beautiful. It reminds you of times when you were loved and appreciated.”

I felt a shiver run down my spine as he spoke.

“You haven’t been given permission to feel beauty. You haven’t earned the right to have anything that you want. You have been given the chance to live and yet here you are being an obstinate little brat.”

He yanked my hair harder, winding it around his hand. I let out a small sob as I heard his sabre ignite.

“Now is time for the first two lessons, Aurora. One; you have NOTHING unless I give it to you.”

He brought the sabre down, slicing my long hair off in one foul swoop. He tossed the braided hair on the ground in front of me as the force dropped me, letting me smash to the ground. My now short hair fell to the sides of my face as the tears rolled down my cheeks.

“Have you learned your first lesson?”

“Y-yes.”

He knelt down in front of me and grabbed my chin roughly. He yanked my face up so I was looking at him as I continued to shake and try not to cry.

“Now learn the second. You will never feel love here. Your whole world is going to revolve around me and what I want. And I will never want to love a little slave like you.”

He roughly let go of my face as he stood back up. I wanted to curl up into a tiny ball, small enough that the universe wouldn’t even know I ever existed. He walked out of the room without a second glance.

My heart felt as if it were breaking. Master Skywalker wasn’t looking for me. I had even given into Snoke’s demands. The worst of it all; Ben was gone. He had been killed and taken over by whatever creature was wearing his skin. The man I had loved with all my heart was gone.

Eventually, I climbed across the floor and pulled myself into the bed. It was comfortable, and the blankets were warm. I knew that Snoke wanted me to feel comfort because he commanded it. I knew that I should try to resist. I even considered moving to the floor and sleeping down there. He wanted me to break, and I had.

I tried to remember the comforts I felt at the temple. I tried to remember the smiles and good times. I couldn’t though. Just the damn thing that cut off my hair and stripped my identity from me. He had ripped away anything good and light in my life, just to let the darkness surround me.

Tears stung my eyes, again, as sleep started to wash over me. I tried to will myself to get out of the bed and refuse their false hospitality. My eyes began to flutter as my body protested moving.

He had won.

XXX

I slept without dreaming for the first time in weeks. When I woke up, I felt even worse than the night before. I stayed curled up on my side, afraid to move. It felt like my entire body had been seized up in a tight grip. I tried thinking of something I needed to do, but other than breathe, I came up short. Life didn’t seem to have much meaning anymore.

Your whole world is going to revolve around me and what I want.

I shuttered at the memory of his words. I stared at my hand, trying to keep my mind off him. I had lost weight. Enough so that my hands looked sickly and frail. My nails were broken, at least those they hadn’t ripped off me. Those had almost grown back in. I ran my fingers across the sheet, almost wishing that it would hurt. I would at least know I was alive, then. I had gotten so lost in my own thoughts, that I didn’t hear anyone come in.

“I can sense that you’re awake.”

I pulled myself up, wincing in pain. Every fiber in my body was telling me to stay put, so I hesitated. He stalked forward and send me flying off the bed onto my knees. I hissed out in pain as I smashed to the floor.

“I told you to kneel.”

“I couldn’t get up.”

“You are in pain.” He sneered.

“I will be fine, Master Ren. Just not used to actually sleeping.” I snapped.

“Can you stand?”

I hesitated again. I wasn’t sure that I could, not without falling. I glanced over at the bed and gripped it with my left hand. I slowly pulled myself to my feet, leaning heavily on the bed still.

“Go in and take a shower. The heat will help.”

“I’m fine.”

“It wasn’t a request.”

“You don’t need to tell me when to bathe. I am perfectly capable of-“

I felt the force grip my throat, again. He had his hand extended as he visualized actually choking me.

“I don’t think that you actually learned your lessons last night, slave girl. Your world revolves around ME. You will do what pleases ME. Your entire existence hinges on my damn mood.”

He let go of his grip, allowing me to inhale deeply.

“You should have just killed me in the temple.”

“If it had been up to me, you would have been dead long ago.”

“You took me.”

“I’m not arguing with you, slave girl. Now go.”

I turned and head towards the shower, more out of self-preservation than anything else. I wanted to say that he didn’t scare me, but I knew that if provoked he would kill me without a second thought. I was broken, but I hadn’t completely given up yet.

After letting the hot water loosen up my muscles, I stepped out of the shower. I jumped when I realized he had followed me in. I shivered, but he acted as if he didn’t notice. He pulled one of his gloves off and ran his fingertips across the cut that ran the length of my upper chest, including my collar bone. When he touched it, I realized that it had been opened up again, so it was slightly bleeding. I winced in pain and tried to move away, but his other hand caught me, holding me in place.

“You’re weak. Standing here with cuts and bruises littering your body. Look how easy it is for me to hurt you.”

“And you don’t bleed, Master Ren.”

He stopped moving and his helmet turned towards my face.

“No.”

He wiped the blood on my skin before putting his glove back on. He exited the room quickly and without another word. I used the towel to blot at the wound, hissing in pain as I did. I had no idea what he had in mind for me, other than to make me miserable, but I had a feeling that was just the beginning.

#The Broken Jedi #jedi!oc #Jedi!Aurora #original female character #kylo ren #general hux #star wars #starwars #star wars fanart #star wars imagine

[isis-astarte-diana]

The Piano Lesson

Summary: “Personally, I’ve always favoured the carrot and stick approach to education.” When Missy agreed to teach you to play piano, this wasn’t quite what you had in mind.

Warnings: NSFW. Little bit of sadomasochism but nothing heavy. Possibly dub!con or under-negotiated kink if you squint. On the whole, it’s basically fluff with Missy being a soft!domme.

Word Count: 2390

NB: A long time ago @softlilith​​ said something about a piano and a riding crop and this idea was born. It’s set somewhere between Vault Night and Handmaiden and has been sitting, unfinished, in my Google Docs for weeks. I threw in some praise kink for this anon, too! What was supposed to be porn turned into a bizarre ode to trust, vulnerability and things left unsaid. (Why am I like this?)

“No, dearest. Not like that.”

Missy’s hands flutter about your own, lifting your wrists, adjusting your fingers on the keys with tender precision. A strand of her hair tickles your cheek. She’s leaning over you where you sit at the piano bench, pressed close enough to your back to make your pulse quicken.

“There.” She taps the index finger of your right hand. “This note first.”

“Got it.” You drag your bottom lip between your teeth, flexing your hand, rehearsing the movements. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Her fingers ghost over your arms as she withdraws, giving you room to play. “Try it again. From the top.”

You take it slowly, managing the familiar first few bars of Für Elise at half tempo, fighting to ignore the slow click of her heels while she circles the piano. Her keen eyes don’t leave you for an instant.

The sound of a flat note breaking the melody makes you flinch. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologise. These things take time.” This unruffled patience is an odd change of pace for her. While you’re getting more frustrated by the second, infuriated by the way your clumsy fingers miss their mark and your mind stutters over the sheet music, she seems to be thoroughly enjoying her role as tutor. Even the most hideous-sounding mistakes don’t make her twitch. “Do you know where you went wrong?”

“I think so.” She raises an eyebrow and gestures for you to continue. “I, um, misread the music. That should have been a G sharp.”

“Very good.” Her tone makes you shiver. “You’re learning. Once more, from that bar.”

It takes your hands a moment to catch up with your eyes, finding the right keys to correct your mistake. She counts you in with three raps of her knuckles against the piano’s closed lid.

Slower, this time, you repeat the bar, managing to progress a bit further before another slip of your treacherous fingers interrupts you. “Fuck,” you snap, dropping your hands from the keys.

“Language, poppet,” she reminds you, coming to stand at your side. “You’re doing very well. You’ll get there.”

“I can’t do it, Missy.” Your voice is petulant, embarrassing you almost as much as your amateur playing. “I might as well give up for the day.”

“Oh, now, don’t be so defeatist,” she chastises gently, slipping her fingers under your chin to tilt your head towards her. There’s an encouraging quirk to her painted lips. “Faint heart never won fair maid.”

“I’m making a fool out of myself.”

“You are not.” She presses a soft kiss to your forehead, tickling at the sensitive skin under your jaw until you squeak and duck your head. “I’m very proud of you, dear.”

“But I keep getting it wrong.”

“You do,” she agrees, meeting your eyes again. Ashamed, you try to avert your gaze, but she follows. “But that’s how we learn.”

“Can we start with something easier?” You smile weakly. “Frère Jacques, or something? I feel like I’ve been thrown in at the deep end a bit, here.”

“Did you expect anything less from me?”

In fact, you hadn’t expected her to agree to teach you at all. The way her eyes lit up when you asked had taken you entirely by surprise. She tuts sympathetically, giving you a wide smile that shows her teeth.

“We can always try another way.”

Your brow furrows. “Like what?”

“Well,” she tucks a stray hair behind your ear and you shiver. “I can give you some more firm guidance.”

“Firm?” It’s breathless, more pleading than questioning.

“Of course.” Missy leans closer, her nose brushing yours. “Would you like that?”

The question is loaded in a way that you can’t quite grasp. It makes your neck prickle with goosebumps. “I think so.”

Her eyes crinkle at the corners. “My very good girl.”

She kisses you, gentle but fervent, trailing her fingertips along the nape of your neck. A tremor runs the length of your body, twitching through you from fingers to toes. She chuckles as she pulls away.

“Personally,” she moves to stand behind you, placing her hands on your shoulders, “I’ve always favoured the carrot and stick approach to education.” You swallow hard, mouth suddenly dry. “I think you’ll respond quite well to that.”

“What do I do?”

She strokes down both arms, carefully repositioning your hands. You can feel her pressed against your back. “Play it again. All the way through.”

“But I- I can’t.”

“Yes you can,” she reassures. “If you make a mistake, just carry on. Otherwise you get very good at the beginning,” a soft kiss to the side of your head and a conspiratorial whisper, “and not so good at the rest.”

You wait a moment for her to step away but she doesn’t, keeping her palms resting over your shoulders and her abdomen tight against your back. Heart in your throat, you start to play.

The first mistake makes you falter. Missy taps your shoulder with one finger. “Carry on,” she reminds you, not unkindly, and you do.

It’s slow going but you make it to the end of the piece. Each false note has you wincing but, on the whole, you do feel more accomplished having completed it. You tilt your head to see her and she grins down at you.

“Well done, poppet,” she coos, chucking you under the chin, igniting you with pleasure at her praise. “Now, up you get.”

It surprises you. “I can do it again.” She smooths the confused frown from your lips with her thumb.

“You will, in a moment. First,” taking your hand in hers, she pulls you gently to your feet. “Let me give you some help. Take off your clothes.”

“I- um,” it’s a flustered squeak. “How will that help?”

She speaks as if it’s the most natural request in the world. “Well, they’ll get in the way otherwise.”

“Of... playing the piano?”

“Of the stick.”

You eye her suspiciously for a moment and she raises an expectant brow. “Fine,” you concede, beginning to disrobe.

Once you’re down to your underwear, you fold your clothes tidily and pile them underneath the piano. Mess has its place in the vault - a small act of rebellion - but you get the impression that she isn’t looking for that just now.

“Keep going.”

With a theatrical sigh, you reach for the clasp of your bra. “And just to be clear, you’re very sure that this is still about learning the piano?”

She grins wolfishly. “Cross my hearts, I have only the most chaste of intentions.” The way she drags a finger across her chest, marking two looping X shapes, makes your heart flutter. “Chop chop, now, there’s a good girl.”

It’s cool enough to make you shiver, crossing your arms awkwardly over your naked body. Missy’s eyes flitting over you from head to toe don’t help. “What now?” You’re aiming for accusatory but it comes out timid.

“Now,” she eases your arms down to your sides and guides you forwards with a hand in the small of your back until your stomach brushes the edge of the piano. The glossy surface of it feels cold. “Put your hands like this.”

Close at your back, she positions your hands on the lid, shoulder-width apart. Her hips cradle yours. You’re glad to be facing away from her as heat rises in your cheeks.

“Very good.” You can’t supress a sigh when her lips brush your bare shoulder. “Now bend over.”

Your pulse seems to skip. “Missy...”

“Do you want to learn?” She kisses your earlobe.

“Well, yes, but-”

“Then let me teach you.” Gentle hands land on your hips. “Bend over the piano.”

Beneath your breasts and stomach the piano lid is chilly. The shock, combined with the way your arse is pushed out against the warmth of her thighs through the wool skirt, makes you inhale sharply. She swipes her palm tenderly across your back.

“That’s my girl. Feet a bit wider apart, now.”

You wince as you widen your stance, acutely aware of the way it exposes you, the brush of cool air and coarse wool against your labia.

“Perfect.”

She steps away and you hear her boots clicking down the steps from the platform. You twist awkwardly to look over your shoulder.

“Eyes forward,” she says firmly, and you reluctantly obey.

“I feel ridiculous.”

“Do you?” She’s somewhere off to your right, opening a wooden chest with a creak. “Because you look delightful.”

You roll your eyes. “I really don’t understand how this is supposed to-”

“How many mistakes did you make?”

“I’m beginning to think that this was one.”

“In the piece.” She approaches unhurriedly, ignoring your sarcasm. “How many, do you think?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t count. A lot, I suppose.”

“Eleven.” Something brushes against the back of your thigh. It’s cool, smooth leather. Your breath hitches. “Perfectly reasonable, I would say.”

“Okay, then. Eleven.”

“Count them off for me.”

Before you can ask what she means, something snaps against the undercurve at the top of your right thigh.

“Ow!” Rocking up onto the balls of your feet, you reach back to rub at the stinging mark. You turn an accusatory look at her over your shoulder. “Missy, that hurt!”

“Well it wasn’t supposed to tickle, dear.” She taps the riding crop on the left side of your arse. “What number was that?”

“Well, one, but I don’t-”

“What’s the matter, poppet? Don’t you trust me?” There’s a teasing lilt to her voice but somehow the question feels heavy. You bite back a scathing remark that you don’t really mean - not right now I don’t - and turn back to the piano, dropping your hand.

“One,” you repeat.

"Good girl. Ten more, then.”

“Fine, but not so hard this time.”

“Hmm. We’ll see.” 

Another snap of the crop makes you twitch and yelp. “Ow! Two!”

She alternates sides, sometimes going higher towards the fullest swell of your arse, other times landing the crop on the sensitive undercurve where your thighs meet. By the time you count out eleven, your voice is unsteady and your breathing harsh.  A dull haze of stinging pain like insect bites lingers over your skin.

It’s impossible to ignore the slickness creeping down the insides of your thighs.

Mercifully, she doesn’t point it out. “There we are. That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?”

You scoff and admit sulkily, “no, I s’pose not.” Wincing at the sting, you straighten up and reach back to soothe yourself.

“No, none of that,” she tuts, slapping the crop against your wrist. It doesn’t hurt but shocks you enough to make you snatch your hand away. “Now play it again.”

It takes you by surprise. “I’m sorry?”

“Sit down, and play it through again.” Missy comes to stand at your side, propping her elbow up on the piano lid. “Just like before. I’ll correct any mistakes after the fact.” She pointedly sets the crop down on top of the piano.

Spotting the way that your eyes flit down to the folded clothes on the floor, she chuckles. “Oh, no, you won’t be needing those.” She slides them further under the piano with her boot. “Well, go on.” A sharp pinch to your arse makes you squeak. “Or do I need to repeat myself?”

“Nope!” You pull away swiftly. “Point made. I’ll try it again.”

The cool leather cushion of the piano bench presses mercilessly against your stinging flesh. The pain is already fading, but it’s turning into a prickling, pins-and-needles heat that you can’t ignore. You shift uncomfortably. The brush of leather against your arousal makes you gasp.

“Comfy?” She leans against the piano, smirking at your plight.

“Yes, thank you.” You clear your throat and find the keys. “Just like before?”

“Just like before. I’ll count you in.”

It’s difficult to focus when you can see the crop lying across the piano out of the corner of your eye.

Still, you do your best. Slow and hesitant, you work through the bars, doubling back over the mistakes to correct them with the right notes. Now, when your fingers slip, you wince not only at the sound it makes but at the thought of what will come when you’ve finished.

If your thighs twitch with each one, that can only be out of nerves.

“I think that was better this time.” Your voice comes out shaky.

“Much better,” she agrees. “A very good effort, my dear. How many mistakes this time, do you think?”

You can’t help squirming in your seat. “Seven. I think.”

“Is that so?” She quirks an eyebrow. “I only counted five.”

“Oh. I wasn’t really-”

“No, no,” she holds out her hand and you take it, rising from the bench. “Far be it from me to contradict you. I’ll leave it to your discretion.” Guiding you closer with a gentle tug, she touches your chin. Her fingers brush light and ticklish there. “What’s it to be? Five, or seven?” She looks at you with such tenderness that your chest tightens.

Suddenly it stops being about the piano.

You squeeze her hand and meet her eyes with some effort. She holds you there with her fingers beneath your chin. “Seven,” you whisper, in a voice that sounds like I trust you.

Something melts behind her eyes. She smiles, fond and benevolent. “Seven it is.” Inclining her head towards the side of the piano, she leads you by the hand as if she were asking you to dance.

You follow.

It feels different, this time. Despite the position, you’re not embarrassed; despite the pain, you’re not afraid. Somehow, naked and splayed out for her, you don’t feel vulnerable at all.

You feel held.

“Count for me,” she says again, and now it sounds like a thank you. The first brush of the crop against the inside of your thigh makes you gasp.

For her?

A snap of leather, bringing with it biting pain. Your hips jolt. Your back arches. Inside, deep inside, something comes untied that you never knew was in a knot.

“One!” Breathless, a giddy sort of laugh bubbles up from your chest.

She makes a quiet sound of approval. “Good girl. Back straight, now. Stay still for me.”

You flatten yourself against the cold piano lid. “Yes, Missy.”

For her?

Anything.

#mine #request #missy x reader #the master x reader #doctor who reader insert #nsfwork

[normal-thoughts-official]

welp ok i had been meaning to post this anyway so im gonna do it while i wait for anon to finish. im just having thoughts about this nonstop which is why i had tried looking for rape recovery fics haha and ugh id really love if someone came to talk to me about it because i really want to discuss it and not just talk about it alone, so

(tw for abuse, sexual abuse, and transphobia)

(im copying and pasting what i told a friend btw doiajsioaj)

been thinking like. nonstop about magnus and alec trying to have sex and having a lot of false starts because it's so scary for magnus

like i know that in the show they just went all "magnus is insecure for 0.2 seconds and then it's solved" but i imagine that honestly it took more time even if alec is obviously not his first after camille, he is the first person he trusted u know 

like before he was relatively comfortable with it because there were no emotional attachments and he was relatively in control and he didn't really have to let go and trust, he didn't allow himself to fully relax and he focused more on pleasuring the other person because he's like that, but alec is different because he's his first partner and welp for so long he was a hot one night stand and he feels like sex in a relationship is something that he has to use to prove his worth because that's what it was like with camille, it was basically the one time she showed physical affection and he was always kind of on edge because if he didn't give it to her like she wanted she would "punish" him one way or the other (be upset, scream, draw back, go away, not talk to him for a while, cry. and of course it wasn't treated as punishment just as like she's upset and it was. scary). and if he did it right he might get some cuddling or some other form of affection he craves for a while and he's starved

and he's so scared of disappointing alec or that once alec got what he wanted from him he'd leave (not that his one night stands were doing that to him, he didn't want anything else himself, he made sure to put his distance, but there's that part of his mind that says that that's what he's good for, especially since with camille it pretty much was the only way to get some affection i guess)

and so they have many false starts because he wants to but he's scared to and there's always a trigger somewhere that he didn't see coming because again it's the first time he's allowing himself to be genuinely vulnerable after her

and idk i keep imagining situations like. alec starts to undress him and they're all laughter and smiles but alec gets to his pants and he thinks of camille's reaction to seeing him naked for the first time, thinks of (tw transphobia) her disappointed face and the way he was like "what" because she knew that he was trans obviously but she still goes "nothing, sweetheart, i was taken aback for a second, is all. you know i've only been with real men before". and he thinks of how she refused to touch him for so long and when she started to she always demanded something in return, acted like it was a sacrifice she did for him, threw it in his face that she was willing to do it for him even if she didn't want to so why couldn't he go through with what she wanted every once in a while? why did he have to be so selfish? and so she convinced him to do stuff he wasn't comfortable with both in and outside of bed and guilted him and made him feel like a monster and he panics, he can't do it, because he doesn't know what he'd do if he went through that again, he knows alec's gay, and while alec already knows, he doesn't want to see the disappointment on his face when alec's dreamed of that for so long and except for a glamor there's nothing magnus can really do

imagining a very specific situation too where they are making out and alec starts nosing at his neck and peppering kisses and again they're all smiley and laughter and alec says "i love you" and magnus' immediate reaction is to think "no, you can't" and when it hits him that that was his very first thought he starts to panic because he's hit with how fucked up he is that he just can't believe alec and he keeps thinking about how camille would never say that in bed unless it was to manipulate him ("i love you, don't you trust me? you're going to like it, i promise") or to reward him for agreeing to do something he didn't want to (which counts as manipulation but you know. two sides of the same coin)

and again he has to stop and he feels like shit because how in the world is he SO fucked up that he can't hear his own boyfriend tell him that he loves him without freaking out like a baby

and he can't ever hide it from alec because he always goes from relaxed and laughing to tensed up and alec is always paying attention to his body's reaction and he is always so understanding ("i'm sorry, magnus, can you tell me what it was so i don't do it again? do you want to talk?") and magnus wants to scream because why can't he do it and why is alec being so patient with him when he's already waited for so long and magnus has had no problem having plenty of sex before he got with alec

and he's always focusing on alec, telling him that he didn't do anything wrong, that he's sorry, that magnus swears it's not about him, that he doesn't understand why he could do it before and that he swears it's not that he doesn't like alec enough and that he's trying, but he can't. and he feels so guilty about it 

and alec always holds his face and says something heartbreakingly honest about how he doesn't mind, all he cares about is how magnus feels, and magnus almost cant take how tender he is rd asidjaasadojdsadad

PLEASE COME TALK TO ME ABOUT THIS OK IM GOING THROUGH IT IN THIS CHILI'S TONIGHT

#malec #magnus bane #shadowhunters #sh #abuse tw #transphobia tw #trans magnus bane #camille belcourt is an abuser

[eloisevisualculture]

the hypersexualisation of young girls in the media

The abuse and use of children for an adult’s personal gain is an issue that has always existed, regardless of the existence of the internet and the media. But the propagation of this platform (social media, entertainment or fashion magazines) has lead to a whole new sets of problems like the hyper-sexualisation of children, particularly young girls. The dictionary Larousse defines “hyper-sexualisation as “in society, the fact of giving an increasingly important place to sexuality, by multiplying references to it in the public space (media, advertising)”. In some cases this has been so normalised that criticism of these portrayals can be described as purist and excessive. What is the consequence of hyper-sexualisation of children in social media? The purpose of this essay will be to discuss the way the different ways children are sexualised in media and advertising and the effects it can have on their lives. It is not uncommon to hear the phrase “they grow up to fast nowadays” when referring to the youngest generations, as a result of their exposure to the media. Of course if the only thing young girls had to fear from acting like ‘grownups” was wearing makeup earlier in life, then there would be less cause for concern. Unfortunately, the dangers always revolves back to struggle of the ill- intentioned praying on the weak and easily influenced, and the continued danger of a patriarchal mentality passed down through generations. In the highly publicised fashion industry for instance, that holds a great influence on our society, there have been many instances of very young girls chosen as models, and put into adult life contexts. A notorious example is the 2011 edition of Vogue Paris, who published photographs of Thylane Lourby-blondeau, a 10 year old model who was pictures, in revealing clothes, makeup and jewellery, lying on a bed and looking at the camera with a sultry air.

It sparked a controversy and brought up the issue of the hyper-sexualisation children. Many people and parents stated that it was inappropriate and dangerous to picture a young child in an undeniably sensual light, and that directing a shoot to appeal to post-pubescent men, while the child was too young to understand the implications.  Thylane Loubry-Blondeau, on the cover of Vogue Paris, 2011, January edition Others defended it simply as ‘art’, the portrayal of a girl playing dress up, which ultimately does little to justify morals. Art was also the excuse Irina UNESCO gave after photographing and publishing albums of her daughter in sexual, pornographic scene, also nude, from the age of 4 to 11. In an interview with the purple magazine, Ionesco reflects on how her mother used her for years for her own personal gain and career, her works being widely known because they were so scandalous; “She would put make-up on me when I was a child. I slept very little, didn’t go to school. She took erotic photographs of me and made me act in erotic films, of which I was the subject. It wasn’t just about the photos — her entire approach was abusive. Sometimes she would send me to other photographers. She’d say: “You’re going to see such and such a photographer. It’s not great, but you’re going anyway.” It was becoming very dangerous.”(Ionesco). One of the disturbing things about the work Irina published about her daughter is that it is still available to purchase today, and even praised for it’s artistic value.

Eva Ionesco in her adult years has described in detail the “loss of childhood” and the life long effects she had to deal with from being sexualised and abused from such a young age “You were thrown into a world of adults, of nightlife, sex, and art very young — from the age of 12 or 13. And in one of the most liberal periods we’ve seen so far in terms of morals.” She went on to write a film inspired by her childhood and relationship with her mother. As with everything, it is important to avoid blind censure, and condemn anything without a deeper understanding. It is very easy to doggedly pursue a cause and become set in our opinions, and not allow freedom of expression to well meaning individuals, if their children are understanding and willing participants. The artist Sally Man was criticised for publishing nude pictures of her children. They were done as a celebration and a chronicle of her children’s evolution, childhood and slow progression to adulthood, and were done with the children’s understanding and consent, as was made clear in an article in the New York Times “The collaboration of the children in their mother’s work is apparent to anyone who spends time in their company. They are impish, argumentative participants, not robots. (When a photographer asked them what kind of portrait of their mother should accompany this article, they shouted, “Shoot her naked, shoot her naked.” She did.)”(2015).

Sally Mann put the safety and wellbeing of her children above personal gain, choosing to publish her photo album ‘Immediate Family”, when the children would fully be aware of their choice. “I thought the book could wait 10 years, when the kids won’t be living in the same bodies. They’ll have matured and they’ll understand the implications of the pictures. I unilaterally decided.” (2015). One of the effects of the explosion of social media, and their ease of access, is that young children know have the ability to not only watch content that might not be suitable for age but to create content themselves. On Tiktok for instance, there is a lot of content based on visual, and sensual appeal, like women doing suggestive dances in revealing clothing. Women who are old enough have the experience and sense to be fully aware, and take distance themselves from the comments, they are doing it for their own enjoyment. Young girls watch these videos and see the adulation and attention these influencers get, and want to try it out for themselves. Dr Elaine Kasket explains this system on TikTok is artificially amplifying a natural phenomenon. Unfortunately, the same ease of access that allowed the children to post these videos also means that the people who want to abuse them can see them too. Not only do they write inappropriate sexual comment in the comments, or encourage more extreme behaviour for their own benefit, they also get in touch with the minors, and message them privately. Dr Kasket explanation is well illustrated by the 2020 film Cuties shows the traumas and effects of young girls lives governed by social media. This film portrays the journey of a young eleven year old Amy, as she joins a self organised preeteen dance group and is confronted with a whole new world of social media, pressures to be sexual and grown up.

"Teenagers are naturally interested in taking risks and they’re naturally interested in finding out about sex and The sexualisation of young girls is an issue which can be confused, but is also linked to their natural desire to imitate their mother, or older siblings. Every single child has tried at some point to act like their parents. But with the rise and ease of access of social media (instagram, TikTok), children have access to whole new world, and many try to imitate what they see on these platforms. discovering themselves as sexual beings and exploring that. "They are open to flattery, they are open to seduction, they are open to the verification they get from the hearts they get and the likes they get”. (2020, The Sun)Unfortunately, the same ease of access that allowed the children to post these videos also means that the people who want to abuse them can see them too. Not only do they write inappropriate sexual comment in the comments, or encourage more extreme behaviour for their own benefit, they also get in touch with the minors, and message them privately. Dr Kasket explanation is well illustrated by the 2020 film Cuties shows the traumas and effects of young girls lives governed by social media. This film portrays the journey of a young eleven year old Amy, as she joins a self organised preeteen dance group and is confronted with a whole new world of social media, pressures to be sexual and grown up. Through their imitation of sexualised adult women on the media, young girls inherit patriarchal and misogynistic ideals that superficial beauty determines their worth.The child beauty pageants are intensely popular in America, and raise a lot of money for charity. They parade toddler and young children in false nails, high heels, heavy makeup and heavy wigs, and are trained like performing animals to smile, pose and wave at the camera. 

Naturally, many people argue that the simple fact of wearing makeup does not affect the girls in the slightest, and while that is true on the surface levels, there is much more than meets the eye. By dressing them up in all these gowns, and covering them in makeup and accessories to make them look “prettier”, the young girls are being taught that their natural appearance is not enough, and  moreover that they need all these additional to get praise and win in life. 

These little girls might enjoy looking “ like a princess”, but they are also adopting restrictive and superficial beauty ideals, and learning the all importance of appearance. Naturally, it is important to avoid completely vilifying pageants, they are not always the traumatic experience described by anti pageants or even shown behind the scenes pageants show. In her article for The Cut Goode collects the testimonies of other pageant stars and they are a mixed bag. Some describe that they have fond memories of competing, as ' bonding experience with their mother. An other used the platform to raise awareness about suicide, after her mother took her own life when she was 10 years old.But most often pageant are for the parents gain, and while women and mothers are often the ones organising them, they are, unknowingly or not transmitting the pressures of performative femininity to their daughters. Perpetuating a patriarchal and misogynist mindset in which Women must prioritise their appearance above all else, as the only thing giving them value. 

And this cult of appearance and the emphasis on changing your appearance too fit the standards is the reason why eating disorders are so common in young girls and women. It could be argued that this is not the same as sexualisation of young girls, but beauty ideals and sexualisation are often intrinsically linked, especially if children are trying to abide to rules set by adults.  While this essay has been essentially focussed on young girls, because they are the most targeted and at risk, the sexualisation and perpetuation of beauty ideals gives a toxic example to a future generation of men. Young boys are taught from a young age that pretty girls must look a certain way.

Conclusion:The sexualisation of children is a topic that is heavily discussed, by those against it and those who deny it’s existence or effects. The fact remains that sexualisation along ever occurs for an adult’s personal gain, or benefit.Little girls want to be pretty and attractive, but it is rarely for themselves.Admiring and wanting to be an adult is the most natural thing in the world, it is just tragic that they incorporate toxic ideals of femininity and beauty at the same time.

Bibliography

COTTAIS, C. LOUVET, M. (2021). The dangers of the hypersexualisation of young girls: a stolen childhood​. ​growthinktank.org.​ ​[online]​ Jan. 2021​. at https://www.growthinktank.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/The-dangers-of-the-hypersexualisation-of-young-girls_-a-stolen-childhood.pdf(Accessed 8 apr 2021)

Woodward, R. B. (2015) ‘The disturbing photography of Sally Mann’. The New York Times. At:https://www.nytimes.com/2015/04/19/magazine/the-disturbing-photography-of-sally-mann.html(Accessed 5 apr 2021)

Cuties (2020) Directed by M. Doucouré. Available at: Netflix (accessed 20 April 2018)

Ionesco, E.(unknown date) ‘Eva ionesco’. Interview with Eva Ionesco. Interviewed by O. Sham for The Purple Magazine, Paris issue num 32At: https://purple.fr/magazine/paris-issue-31/eva-ionesco/ (Accessed 9 Apr 2021)

Good, L. (2012) ‘I was a child pageant star: Six Adult Women Look Back’. The Cut. (November). At: https://www.thecut.com/2012/11/child-pageant-star.html (accessed 18 April 2021)

Hall. D. ‘How ‘supercharged catnip” Tiktok is fuelling the sexualisation of young girls an exploitation of teens.’ The Sun online. At: https://www.thesun.co.uk/news/10941512/tiktok-catnip-sexualisation-teens/ (Accessed 18 April 2021). 

[colehasapen]

(ONE SHOT) oya'karir STAR WARS

(belated) Whumptober no.28 - Such Wow. Many Normal. Very Oops.

Comfortember no.2 - First Day/Night

There’s an injured animal in the forest, Obi-Wan can hear it from his cabin over the sounds of his banthas bellowing to each other, and the shrieking of his chickens. Standing on his porch, Obi-Wan can hear the sounds from the dense underbrush of the woods that surround his home, traveling up the mountain, as well as the distant sounds of hunting dogs. The druid had lived in the mountains long enough to have memorized what hunting season is when - it’s like clockwork - but whatever is out there isn’t something that’s supposed to be hunted, and it’s not an animal that he’s heard before.

Obi-Wan had never been able to ignore a creature in pain, he’d never been able to turn away from something in trouble, and walking away from the monastery hadn’t changed that, no matter what his former mentor seemed to believe. He had been raised to love and care for all beings as an orphan left on the doorsteps of the Jedi Temple, he had been taught to protect and heal, and choosing to leave didn’t change that. It didn’t change who he was.

So with hot determination burning in his chest, Obi-Wan abandons his tea and his planned morning of gardening, to instead slip into his traveling clothes and sling his bow over his shoulder, and set off into the woods. For a gifted animal druid like Obi-Wan, tracking is a breeze, and he’s very quickly able to pick up the trail. There’s no obvious prints in the dirt; they’ve been brushed away and covered with leaves, showing an intelligence not seen in common animals, which makes it likely that Obi-Wan is tracking a magical creature. It’s illegal everywhere to hunt magical creatures, as they’re recognized as sentient, but it didn’t stop certain sorts from seeing it as either sport to hunt them, as their ancestors once had, or they consider them delicacies and their bodies go for a lot on the black markets.

He finds a broken, bloodied bear trap deeper into the forest, likely what had injured the unknown creature, and a quick taste of the flaky blood has the creature’s emotions exploding in his senses. Pain, frustration, and fury were the strongest, burning like spices in his mouth and nose, followed by an undercurrent of protectiveness and determination, and the faintest sting of rotten fear. Whatever creature was injured here is protecting others, younger than they are, because the protectiveness carries the smallest traces of the sweetness of a parental love.

Obi-Wan straightens. Using the creature's blood to draw a quick tracking rune on a leaf, and setting it flat on his palm, the druid watches it spin like a compass. The spell would lead right to where he needed to go, whereas tracking the trail would waste much needed time. Time that could have the creature suffering needlessly, or help the hunters catch it’s trail.

Obi-Wan continues to duck through the trees, covering his own trail as he goes, following the compass through the underbrush while also keeping one eye on his surroundings. Finally, the leaf quivers, pauses then drops, and Obi-Wan stills. A warning growl from the thick shadows around him has the druid carefully lifting his hands to show the creature watching him that he means no harm to them.

“Good morning,” He greets, slowly scanning the trees around him, straining his ears to try and pick up where the creature could be. Whatever it is, it must be a predatory creature, because they’re soundless beyond the growling and the faintest ruffling of underbrush that shows where it was as it stalks him. “I’m not a hunter.” Obi-Wan assures, “I’m a druid from further up the mountains.” The creature’s growling quiet slightly. Most magical creatures knew instinctively that druids could be trusted, being linked to them and nature in ways that most would never understand. While they weren’t drawn to druids like common animals were, they weren’t often aggressive either. “I mean you no harm, I just want to help you.”

The growling stops, going quiet. The only sound he can hear is the rustling of the thick foliage over his head, and the chirping of birds. Obi-Wan keeps himself carefully still, keeping his body language loose and nonthreatening. And then, like a ghost, a large figure steps out of the shadows.

It’s a wolf, larger than any wolf Obi-Wan had seen in person before. As black as night, and with glowing golden eyes, it’s the size of a large pony, and the blue and white marks splashing through it’s fur give them away as a magical creature if it’s size hadn’t already. He - and now that he’s close enough, Obi-Wan can sense that the wolf is male - either a young Direwolf, or something else entirely. He’s limping too, hind leg dragging behind him as he shuffles towards Obi-Wan, nose twitching and teeth bared in a silent threat, ears perked.

“Oh.” Obi-Wan breathes in shock, awed at the sight of the magnificent creature in front of him, “Hello there.”

The wolf is large, streamlined for speed and endurance, and Obi-Wan can see powerful muscle moving under his lovely pelt. The golden eyes are sharp with intelligence, even for a magical creature, and he studies the druid in turn, probing. Then, in front of his eyes, the wolf gives a full body shake, fur melting away to reveal scarred brown skin, and Obi-Wan takes an instinctual step back in shock.

Oh.

Oh - a Mandalorian wolf.

Obi-Wan feels vaguely faint - the Mandaloran wolves had been labelled endangered and nearly extinct when he had been thirteen. Hundreds of them had been hunted and slaughtered on the fields of Galidraan, by a party led by once-Master Dooku and on the orders of the Duke of the territory. It had been under false pretenses, but it had still been horrible, and the monastery had felt the consequences of their participation and had removed Dooku from the Order for his crimes. The Duchess of Mandalore had banished the last of them from their ancestral lands when they had refused to bow to her newly claimed authority. Obi-Wan had loved Satine once, he might always love her, but it didn’t mean he had to agree with her, and her decisions involving the Kingdom she was leading were most of the walls that had been placed between them.

“You’re a druid?” The Mandalorian grunts, voice guttural and deep, and Obi-Wan can smell his muted hesitation and hope. He’s a large man, just as he was a large wolf, with thick rolling muscles packed under brown skin and handsome features, and short-cropped black hair that curled tightly on top of his head. Golden eyes are watching him, and Obi-Wan shakes himself out of his shock.

“Yes.” He says in a rush, forcing his eyes away from the rippling muscles of the man’s chest and stomach, painfully aware that the Mandalorian is naked. He’d barely had any interactions with another person since leaving the monastery, and now he finds himself face-to-chest with a very muscular, and very attractive man.

An injured man who needs his help.

“My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi.” He introduces himself, and the Mandalorian tilts his head, assessing and hesitant.

“Alpha.” He says, “You said you have a place up the mountains?”

Obi-Wan nods, “Yes, it’s not large, but no hunter would dare enter my land. It’s safe there.”

The wolf’s hesitation tastes sour in the air, though it doesn’t show on his face. If it weren’t for his scent-based empathic abilities, Obi-Wan doubts he’d ever be able to read the man’s expression.

“Got enough room for cubs?”

 

 

The druid is an odd one. Admittedly, Alpha had never met a druid before in his life, but it couldn’t be considered too odd, since he’d spent most of it, up until a few moons ago, in confinement. There were no druids on Kamino, and if they were, Alpha suspects their little zoo would have long since been destroyed, and the Kaminoans’ experiments would have been halted. Alpha and his cubs would have been free before now.

When he had escaped Tapioca City with six cubs of various sizes in tow, he had been intent on hunting down a pack to take them in, to help him protect his cubs. They may not be his, not by birth, but Alpha had claimed the litter, and the runt, as his own. He had taken them in, he had protected them, nurtured them, and trained them to defend themselves. They were still young though, still small and breakable, and they wouldn’t be useful on the battlefield for years yet, not unless the Kaminoans used their disgusting alchemy. They needed the protection of a pack, they needed stability and a place where they wouldn’t need to be afraid of being taken back to the cages.

Alpha had spent long enough in captivity that he barely remembers being free, he barely remembers his family, or his home, and he’s long since forgotten his name, but his cubs? The children magically created from his blood knew nothing beyond the cages of Tapioca City , and the cold cruelty of the Kaminoans.

The world outside is strange and odd to them, and more dangerous than Alpha remembers.

The hunters had been tracking them for weeks, and Alpha had thought that their luck had finally run out. They had been hunted up the mountain, forced to keep moving or risk being caught, with little food or rest. Rex, smaller and more sickly than his older brothers, had fallen ill - he had been deemed defective by the Kaminoans and slated for culling to remove his “unwanted genetics” because of his white fur and hair, and his frailness. When he had been distracted by Rex’s sickness, his older pups had slipped away, wanting nothing more than to help and bring back food in hopes that it would help their younger brother get better, but it had ended with Kote getting injured when the hunting hounds found them. Alpha had fought the hounds off, had killed them, but they were still coming, so he had been forced to hide his cubs in what had once been a badger den, then leave them behind to lead the hunters away.

Exhausted and distracted by his hunger and worry, Alpha hadn’t seen the bear trap until it was too late and it had already snapped closed around his leg. He had been forced to shift to pry the metal trap from his ankle, likely making the injury worse, and then shifting back to keep moving. He had continued going out of stubborn determination to keep his pursuers away from the cubs he had hidden.

He hadn’t expected a druid to come out of the trees and offer him and his cubs a safe place to rest and heal. Obi-Wan Kenobi; Alpha isn’t sure what to make of the human. His instincts tell him he can trust the druid, but his experiences tell him to be wary.

So Alpha stands at Kenobi’s shoulder, hovering protectively as the druid finishes stitching the wound on Kote’s face closed, a dozing Rex, drowsy from the tonic Kenobi had given him, held securely in his arms, white and blue fur smelling of herbs. Wolffe and Fox press against his legs, their curiosity strong, while Bly and Ponds roam around their new environment. The human’s pale hands contrast against Kote’s dark skin, and Alpha’s second youngest cub stares up at the druid with large amber eyes, completely in awe.

Kenobi keeps up a stream of inane chatter as he works, talking about the flora and fauna of his mountain, or the funny things his bantha herd had done. Anything to keep Kote’s attention away from the sharp needle poking through his magically-numbed face, but it wasn’t really needed. Kote is completely enraptured by the pretty human looking after him and tending to his injury.

Maybe if his cub was older, Alpha would push Kote towards Kenobi as a possible mate, but he’s only nine.

Kenobi was definitely everything Alpha himself had always imagined in a mate; he’d only known the man for a few hours, but he could feel the stirrings of attraction towards the druid and his sweet scent. Strong enough to defend himself, smart enough to provide, beautiful and fertile-smelling, and kind and gentle with his pups. Alpha had been imagining his possible mates since the moment he was sexually mature enough to able to breed and the Kaminoans had started shoving female wolves into his cage - he’d never taken any of them, had been insulted by the insinuations that he’d breed with common animals, and the scientists hadn’t been overly pleased with him for it. He’d imagined a pack far away from Kamino and any possible intruders, with a mate at his side and plenty of room for his cubs to run and grow without fear. Kenobi’s mountain sanctuary already met those criteria, and the longer Alpha was around the druid, the more he thought about those dreams.

And he’d only just met the man; what would happen during the long recovery period that stretched before him?

Kenobi had welcomed them into his lands, had treated Alpha’s leg and gave Rex medicine. He’d gone out and hunted them dinner when Alpha couldn’t, he’d let Ponds paw through his books and carved Bly toys, even after Alpha had warned him that the cubs would chew them up within a day. He’d shown Wolffe how to string a bow when the boy had asked, and had comforted Kote through his fear of needles and distrust of medicine. Alpha could smell the arousal on the man whenever Alpha was in his space, which could also be counted as a possible success as a potential mate.

Though Kenobi’s attraction was likely as instinctual as Alpha’s. The druid is alone, any scent beyond his own, and now Alpha’s pack, is so stale it’s nearly non-existent. The clothes Kenobi had given him to wear were larger than the druid, like the only thing that would fit Alpha, and made from rough-spun fabric with a scent so stale that it couldn’t have belonged to anyone in years . Kenobi had been alone for a long time, he needed a pack.

Well. Alpha stares at the human, considering, scanning his eyes across broad shoulders and his gentle expression as he talks with Kote. There’s always room in his.

#cole writes #star wars #fanfiction #whumptober 2020 #comfortember 2020 #obi wan kenobi #alpha 17 #alpha-17 #obi wan kenobi/alpha 17 #no.28 #no.2 #wolf au

[lady-of-the-lotus]

Fractured Ice - Ch. 2/7

“Xiao Xingchen,” says Lan Xichen, trying to infuse his voice with as much of his old gentleness as he can, “there is no contacting this man’s spirit.”

“Try again!”

“Daozhang—”

Xiao Xingchen is on his feet. “Try again!”

Relationships: XueXiao & XiYao - Rated M

Read on AO3!  Tumblr: Chapter 1 Chapter 3

Ch. 2 - I’m well acquainted with villains that live in my head

Lan Xichen is alone when he wakes, pierced by a headache that could stun a tiger.

His body is heavy and sluggish, but his mind races from the moment he opens his eyes.

Last night. Last night he—

The things he had said! To someone he’d known three months! Things he'd only told—

Told A-Yao.

“A-Yao,” he says out loud.

It’s been almost a year since he’s heard himself speak that once-familiar name fully out loud, and it’s like stabbing himself in the chest.

“A-Yao,” he says again, more firmly this time.

Another stab, but he survives it. Survives the pain. Sits up, washes his face in the basin. Gets out of bed. Allows a servant to shave him. Takes medicine for the headache. Drinks some tea.

A-Yao.

Something has changed, but he’s not sure what.

He’s more alert than usual at the daily status meeting, and when he asks a question about the upcoming tax conference, Lan Qiren shoots him a surprised look.

Pleased? Displeased? Lan Xichen can’t tell, but finds he doesn’t care. He feels more grounded than he has of late, almost completely certain that he’s awake.

He remains behind to meet with Lan Qiren privately.

“About that matchmaker,” he starts, opening the discussion in the middle of a conversation, exactly the way he’s been taught not to. “I won’t be needing her.”

It’s almost pitiful, the spark of hope he sees in his uncle’s eyes. He crushes it before the Grand Master can ask any awkward questions about whether he’s found a wife on his own.

“I won’t be getting married.”

Lan Qiren stares blankly at him.

“I won’t be getting married,” he repeats, louder. The words sound foreign, as if his words are in a language he once knew but has since forgotten. He repeats them one more time, just to be sure he is in fact speaking Chinese.

“I heard you!” Lan Qiren’s face is bright red. “What do you mean by this?”

Lan Xichen is on his feet, as if the gently expanding air in his chest has floated him upright. “I mean that you need to look for a wife of your own, Uncle,” he says, bowing deeply.

“Such insolence!” Lan Qiren has quite a temper for someone who is supposed to be a paragon of virtue. Hypocrite, something deep inside Lan Xichen hisses. “What do you mean by this?”

Lan Xichen feels like he’s hovering several inches off the floor. “That Uncle needs to meet with the matchmaker and let her know what he is looking for in a wife.”

Lan Qiren is on his feet too, fists clenched. “You have a duty to the Lan—”

“ ‘Do not argue with your family, for it doesn’t matter who wins.’ ”

“Stop talking!”

“ ‘Be easy on others.’ ‘To lose one’s temper is to lose one’s self.’ ‘Equanimity in all th—’ ”

“Get out!” Lan Qiren is gripping his inkwell as if getting ready to throw it, ruin Lan Xichen’s beautiful blue robes. “Get out this instant!”

Lan Xichen half-floats from the room. Spends the rest of the day playing Liebing until his fingers cramp up. There’s something inside him that he’s trying to get rid of, though he doesn’t know what it is, or how to expel it from his body.

Joy? He’s suffused by an odd sense of glowiness. Is that it? It seems to be coming from outside him, entering him, being magnified inside his chest and radiating back outward.

He’s been lying in bed for an hour that night when he suddenly leaves his chambers to rouse the very surprised sword instructor, urging her out to the training ground so he can spar for the first time in months.

He retires to his room sweaty and panting and feeling as if he might be halfway there—hallway where he doesn’t know—but first thing in the morning Uncle is there, wearing the same look he’d worn when finding him sleeping naked in the grass, chilling him, and suddenly Lan Xichen is having green tea gently pushed on him and he’s being bundled off to the library to sit and quietly paint—something he used to enjoy—while a disciple plays soothing music for him.

He shoos the disciple out around noon. As if waiting for this, Xiao Xingchen ducks into the library soon after, bows at Lan Xichen, and settles himself down across from him.

“What are they saying?” Lan Xichen asks without looking up from his brush.

“Gusu Lan is the most rumor-proof clan I’ve ever been to,” says Xiao Xingchen. Lan Xichen can’t tell if he’s being tactful or if he’s telling the truth, that Lan Xichen’s frantic midnight sparring match isn’t common knowledge. “I didn’t see Zewu-jun yesterday, and wanted to make sure he was all right after the other night.”

Lan Xichen feels his old half-smile back on his face. He’s not sure if it’s fake or not. “He is all right. More than all right. And I think much of it is thanks to you.”

Xiao Xingchen ducks his head, granting Lan Xichen a smile of his own. “An honor, then. May I ask what I said?”

“Many things were said.” Lan Xichen glances down at Xiao Xingchen’s hand. “How is your arm? I would love to spar with one of your famed skill someday.” All day he’s been itching to get back out there with his sword, but Shuoyue was missing from its usual spot beside the bed that morning—taken to be sharpened, the servant said.

Sharpened. Of course.

Xiao Xingchen touches his hand bandages almost unconsciously. They’re not as bulky as they used to be, but the hand is still fully covered in thin white strips. Rumor has it that he’s self-conscious about his injury, not even letting the physicians near it. “I don’t think I’m quite ready for that, Zewu-jun.”

“Was the wound truly that terrible?” Normally, Lan Xichen would never ask such a personal question, but he feels like he can to Xiao Xingchen.

There’s something new in Xiao Xingchen’s eyes. “Far worse than Zewu-jun can imagine,” he says. He smiles again, with his teeth this time. Then the smile winks out and reappears, soft and toothless.

“Will you be able to use it again someday?”

Xiao Xingchen’s eyes drop. “I wanted to speak to you about that, actually. I was wondering if perhaps there was a remedy in the secret library of yours.”

He drops this so casually that it takes Lan Xichen a moment to register what he said. “Secret library?”

Xiao Xingchen nods. “I know it survived the Wen’s fire. I know it exists.”

“…How do you know?”

Xiao Xingchen smiles again. Again no teeth this time. “Perhaps Gusu Lan isn’t so rumor-proof, after all. To be quite honest, I wasn’t sure it existed at all. I’ve spent years trying to heal my hand, and nobody has been able to give me anything but false hope.”

“Is it paralyzed?”

“It’s gone,” says Xiao Xingchen. “Gone, but still here, and I need it back.” He touches his left sleeve, as if not wanting to touch the bandages themselves. “And I will get it back.”

“I have some experience with medicine. Perhaps if you showed me your hand, I can look through the medical texts—”

“No! I mean—” He ducks his head. “I thank you, Zewu-jun, but…” Xiao Xingchen’s eyes drop again. “I can’t show it to anyone.”

“Injury is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not ashamed!”

“If I can help—”

Xiao Xingchen is on his feet. “I’ll take my leave, then.”

“Please understand, only Family and clan elders are allowed into the Forbidden Chamber—”

“I understand perfectly.” Xiao Xingchen seems to be struggling with himself, as if fighting to keep a grip on his temper. A surprise, all this. Lan Xichen could have sworn the gentle, pleasant rogue cultivator hadn’t a temper at all. “Outsiders be damned, am I right?”

Rule 14: Foul language is strictly prohibited.

Lan Xichen suddenly remembers Su She’s words in Guanyin Temple. Remembers the Wen invasion of the Cloud Recesses, the outside disciples being left out in the open to die while the inside disciples sheltered in the Cold Pond Cave.

Su She had been a murderer, and misguided, but he hadn’t been wrong.

A sudden surge of emotion buffets Lan Xichen at the memory of Su She’s denunciation. It’s been so long since he’s felt anything so intense outside a panic attack. It’s fear, but a fresh fear, the fear of Xiao Xingchen taking umbrage and leaving Cloud Recesses forever.

“If there is anything else I can possibly do to, daozhang—”

Xiao Xingchen eyes him evenly, tilting his head, then relaxes his shoulders and reaches up to toy with the long tendrils of hair framing his face.

“I heard that Zewu-jun was practicing his flute again,” he says. “I was glad to hear it.”

Lan Xichen gives a small nod, forcing a smile onto his face, hoping that Xiao Xingchen sees it, sees how sorry he is that he can’t allow him into the Forbidden Chamber.

“Have you taken up your guqin again as well?”

Lan Xichen’s hands tremble so hard that he completely ruins the tree he’s painting, the brush wobbling off the side of the paper and onto the table.

“I’ll take that as a no, then.” Xiao Xingchen gets back down on his knees across from him. “A shame.”

“Rules 32 and 27; I know.” The large blue-and-white banners emblazoned with the Lan rules hang all around him, with Rule 32—Maintain your own discipline—directly behind the rogue cultivator.

“No, I don’t care about any of that discipline and training the mind and body business. I mean because of this.” A shower of orange qiankun sparks above Xiao Xingchen’s left forearm, and suddenly there’s a brown pouch in the young man’s hand.

“Do you know what this is, Zewu-jun?”

Spirit-trapping pouches are nothing unusual, but Lan Xichen instinctively knows these are the kind that can capture and transport a person’s entire spirit, not just the faint whispers left behind by ghosts. He’s heard of them, but never seen one. Baoshan Sanren took the secret of making new ones with her to the mountain, and there are only a handful left in the world.

“One of my master’s spirit-trapping pouches,” says Xiao Xingchen slowly, as if relishing the drama of it all. He sets it down on the table, keeping his hand on it as if afraid to let it out of his grasp. “Inside this bag, Zewu-jun, is the man who can heal my hand.”

“And you want me to communicate with him?”

“Zewu-jun is the foremost cultivator of his generation. I believe he can succeed where others have failed.”

“Failed how?”

“Empathy, for one. They’ve all told me there’s not enough left of his spirit to communicate with. Frauds! Liars! They—” Xiao Xingchen breaks off, gets himself under control with difficulty, and shoves a fixed smile on his face. “They failed. Everything for the past seven years has failed. But Inquiry…nobody I’ve met has been skilled enough. Only the direct Lan family members are taught the technique, I have heard.”

A subtle accusation: Only the inner circle. Only those deemed important enough to have such a valuable tool in their arsenal. To hell with the rest.

“Why did you not ask my brother?”

“I met him but briefly, and had no wish to extend our acquaintance.”

Lan Xichen frowns, and Xiao Xingchen hastens to add, “Frankly I found him rather intimidating. The man is a living legend. I couldn’t ask the Chief Cultivator to help me with my petty problems.”

“I can try,” says Lan Xichen. A part of him is afraid that this is the sole reason Xiao Xingchen befriended him. Then he remembers how he, Lan Xichen, was the one to bring up the hand and offer his help. How Xiao Xingchen had taken care of him the other night. Of all their walks—

And yet—

Was this all he had wanted from him from the beginning?

No. This is his paranoia speaking again.

Xiao Xingchen smiles, a genuine smile this time. “When?”

“We can…tonight, I suppose.”

“Where?”

“My mother’s house.” He had taken him there once, to see the crane. Ridiculous, in hindsight, to take someone all that way just to see a crane that may or may not have been there at the exact moment of their arrival, but that crane had been his sole company for—for however long he’d lived in his mother’s home, and it had been there, and Xiao Xingchen had appreciated it, so… “Two hours after curfew.”

“All right, then.” Xiao Xingchen doesn’t look overly grateful, something Lan Xichen appreciates for reasons he doesn’t quite understand. “Enough of that, then. Have you eaten today?”

“I had tea.”

Xiao Xingchen sighs, shaking his head. “On your feet, Zewu-jun. I’m taking you to Caiyi Town for a proper meal.”

“There is plenty of food here in the Cloud Recesses, and Gusu is closer, besides—”

“If you consider that unseasoned rabbit food to be edible. Get up, my friend. When’s the last time you’ve left the Cloud Recesses? The Grand Master never leaves, and look at him. I know the perfect place in town. Quiet, with the best pastries you’ve ever had.”

It’s all overly familiar, but Lan Xichen embraces it. Nobody has ever dared to treat him this way before, so there are no bad memories tied to it, unlike everything else in his life.

They eat an early supper at the Flowering Begonia Teahouse. Xiao Xingchen’s meal consists of dumplings in sweet wine and pastries. Lan Xichen can’t bring himself to stomach such a horror, but he finds himself eating every bite of his steamed rice and vegetables.

“Zewu-jun prefers simple foods,” observes Xiao Xingchen. He’s been watching Lan Xichen eat as if he’d been thinking about something else and forgotten to glance away at something neutral.

“We eat simply at the Cloud Recesses.”

“I know; I’ve been suffering.” He smiles as if this were a joke. “Zewu-jun’s order reminds me of someone.” He glances off towards a waiter, as if trying to change the subject. “Shall I order more wine?”

“You know it’s—”

“Against the rules. I know, I know. As is speaking during meals. Has Zewu-jun never been drunk?”

Lan Xichen winces. “Such a thing doesn’t interest me.”

“Me, neither, to be quite honest. I’ve found that it’s dangerous to be impaired in any way.” Xiao Xingchen starts to lick his fingers, then catches himself and instead daintily dips them in the bowl of scented finger-water. “I like the flavor of sweet wine, though, and I know when to stop.” He pushes his cup towards Lan Xichen.

Lan Xichen takes a few sips of the wine. He’ll rid himself of the alcohol with his golden core, he tells Xiao Xingchen, but for once he doesn’t.

He doesn’t quite like how it makes him feel. Too hot, too blurry. Normally he’d be happy to be outside himself, to feel like something other than what he is, but as always this past year, alcohol just makes him feel heavy and queasy. He immediately eliminates the alcohol, but a brightness remains in his chest, a strange airiness.

Xiao Xingchen launches into a discussion of the various wines he’s tasted. Even Lan Xichen can tell that he knows nothing about wine, but his commentary on the various places he’s drunk that wine is entertaining. An idiotic, completely pointless conversation, but Lan Xichen welcomes it. Welcomes Xiao Xingchen taking him on a walk through the town afterwards, welcomes him taking him back to Cloud Recesses by the longer route, all on foot, no suggestion of riding their swords and ending their excursion. There’s warmth in his limbs for the first time in a long time, from the exercise or conversation or wine he doesn’t know.

They part outside the Family Courtyard.

“Two hours after curfew, then,” says Xiao Xingchen, bowing, and Lan Xichen nods.

This is not the right thing to do, he somehow feels. He doesn’t know why. Just a little prick in the back of his mind.

He disregards the feeling. There hasn’t been anything this past year that he hasn’t second-guessed.

Lan Qiren summons him as soon as he steps foot in his room. The entire Cloud Recesses he learns, has been turned upside-down looking for him. He gets the idea that his uncle thought they’d find him floating face-down in the Cold Spring.

The image makes him smile for some reason, and Lan Qiren’s worried frown hardens into a disapproving one.

Lan Xichen starts to feel cold again.

 *   *   *   *   *

He’s late to his rendezvous with Xiao Xingchen.

“I was beginning to give up,” says Xiao Xingchen. He’s sitting on the stairs to the porch, tossing white pebbles into the grass, ruining the perfect green turf. He’s changed into what Lan Xichen recognizes as the best of his three outfits. Green with black trim, gold accents, and a black inner robe. “Despite Rule 892—” Do not break promises “—and Rule 17.” Be punctual in all things.

“People were…interested in me.” He doesn’t mention that he’s ninety-percent certain that a watch is being kept on his room. He knows how that would sound. But he’s not crazy. It’s the rest of the world that’s gone mad. All he’d done was slip away for a single afternoon—

“Where shall we do it? Inside? Outside?”

“Inside. Can’t risk anyone hearing. I won’t be able to spare any spiritual energy on a silencing spell. That’s why I chose this place.” Lan Xichen unlocks the door, locking it again behind them.

It’s been five months since he’s last been here. Someone has been in to clean, but everything is exactly as he left it.

He takes a certain comfort in that. This is still his sanctuary, despite being violated by whomever came in and dusted.

He leads Xiao Xingchen into the main room, gesturing at him to sit down at the low table across from his. He kneels before his own table and produces his guqin from its silky white-and-blue qiankun bag.

It’s been a long, long time since he’s so much as lain eyes on the instrument. He runs his fingers down the lacquered wood, grounding himself in its solidity. He is here, now, in the present. All the bad memories of the past belonged exactly there: in the past.

But…

He gets to his feet. “Switch places.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Sit here. I’ll sit there.” He seats himself in Xiao Xingchen’s vacated seat.

That’s better. He’d always sat on the right while playing for Nie Mingjue in the Unclean Realm, but here he’s on the left.

Different. Entirely different.

The music he will play now will be good. Will help, not harm. He will be in control. Nobody else will be playing. Nobody else is here to harm his new friend…

He has Xiao Xingchen set the spirit-trapping pouch down on the table. Soft brown felt-like material trimmed with black, with a black tassel and symbols written in what looks like blood. Xiao Xingchen is reluctant to let it go, sitting leaning forward as if readying himself to dart across the room and grab it at the first sign of trouble.

“What exactly do you want me to ask?”

Xiao Xingchen doesn’t seem to hear him.

“Xiao Xingchen?”

The rogue cultivator’s head jerks up. “What?”

“What do you want me to ask the physician’s spirit?”

Xiao Xingchen swallows. There’s a smile on his face, but it’s one of his fixed ones that looks uncomfortable to wear. “Ask him how I can bring him back.”

“What about your hand?”

“Ask him how to bring him back! But not his name,” he adds. “He’s extremely private. Won’t respond at all if you ask that.”

But, name or no name, the spirit doesn’t so much as twitch.

“It’s too badly fractured,” says Lan Xichen. “I can barely so much as feel it.”

“Try again.”

“Xiao Xingchen,” says Lan Xichen, trying to infuse his voice with as much of his old gentleness as he can, “there is no getting information from this man’s spirit.”

“Try again!”

“Daozhang—”

Xiao Xingchen is on his feet. “Try again!”

“Complex questions are always a shot in the dark, daozhang. Qin language is not—”

Xiao Xingchen heaves the table across the room, sending it tearing through a delicate screen painted with blue cranes. “Try again, fuck you!”

Lan Xichen remains completely still. “Xiao Xingchen, this spirit is mere powder.”

Xiao Xingchen turns on him. There’s madness in his eyes. “There has to be something left! There has to be! I felt it! It’s been too long since you’ve last tried, you’re out of practice—there has to be something left, there has to be—”

Lan Xichen summons all of his spiritual energy, pours it into the guqin, plucks the strings with more concentration than he’s given anything in eleven months. The simplest Inquiry question, the first he’d ever learned: Who are you?

The response comes faintly, as if from across a vast gulf. The merest quiver of the guqin strings, the slightest brush of air:

Xiao Xingchen.

***

Up Next: Lan Xichen decides that solipsism and nihilism make an excellent combination. 

Or: The joys of library research are many and varied.

Chapter 3  Read on AO3!  

#Summary: Xue Yang whisks a solipsistic Lan Xichen off on a murder roadtrip to raise Xiao Xingchen and Meng Yao from the grave. Because that #AU where Wei Wuxian never came to Yi City and Xue Yang is still running around post-canon. #hope you enjoy #Fractured Ice #fanfic #reposting because the other got deleted #lan xichen #xue yang #the untamed fanfic #murder #death #mental illness #cw mental illness #cw mental health #xuexiao #xiyao

[thecleverdame]

The Oath - 2

Parings: Dark!Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

Masterlist

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Summary: After an unsuccessful escape attempt, the reader finds herself taken as a spoil of war. She ends up in the bed of a ruthless Alpha, the son of John Winchester, leader of the kingdom of Gilead. She struggles to conceal her true identity and navigate a society where being an Omega means nothing more than serving at the pleasure of powerful men.

Warnings: non-con, sexual assault, rape, attempted suicide, sexual slavery, branding, torture, ownership, voyeurism, anal play, smut, violence, and murder.

Sam is dark in this story. If any of the warnings are triggers for you, I would suggest skipping this one. Please read and heed all the warnings.

Beta: ilikaicalie

Chapters 1-9 are currently available on Patreon.  To get access to this and many other stories, subscribe for a pledge of 2.50 per month. CLICK HERE

-

TWO

“What’s this?” Sam asks. 

He could smell you from the moment his brother dragged you into their tent. Your Omega is masked by something but it’s there and it’s unmistakable. 

“An Omega the men were about to ruin.” Your captor lets you go and you stand there, eyes finding a rock on the dirt floor and staring at it. 

Two Alphas. This is not what you hoped. But maybe you can still make it out alive. 

You’re a squirmy little thing, and it’s hard to get a good look at you. At first glance, it would be easy to dismiss you as just another desperate Omega trying to get away. In Sam’s experience, your kind rarely embraces your place in the natural order of things. Yes, it would be easy to overlook you, but Sam pays attention to details. He can see past your stringy hair and tear-stained face, your bloodied knees, and dirty breasts. He’s willing to bet you’re really something to see when you’re not a snot covered mess. 

The scent coming from between your legs is thick like honeysuckles in the summer, you’re still sweet. On the verge of being broken but holding yourself together. 

Dean looks unhappy and Sam waits for what’s to follow. 

“As much as I’d love to stay and play with her, I have to ride the outer camps. If one of us doesn’t do the rounds the men start thinking they’re above the rules. We need to do something. They can’t be trusted, they didn’t even check before they started on her.” Dean pushes you forward and you nearly fall over. “She’s yours, for now at least. Unless you want to take a ride...”

“It’s your turn to go.” Sam looks to Dean for the first time. 

Dean shrugs, snorting as he shakes his head. “Better you than me. She’s a fucking mess.”

“Leave her to me.” Sam watches you with interest, your eyes bulging wide with uncertainty. Dean grabs his saddlebags and heads out. 

Moments later you’re alone with this new Alpha who’s circling you slowly, examining every inch of your battered skin. He moves as a predator, a wolf stalking its prey with slow, deliberate steps. 

“Did they fuck you?” he asks. 

“N-no,” you stammer, awash with both shame and paralyzing fear. 

“But they did touch you?” He stops directly in front of you, looking at your breasts, then to the patch of hair between your legs. 

“Yes. They touched me.” You don't know if you should look at him. Everything is a calculated choice. These sorts of men are volatile, he may not think you’re worthy to make eye contact. Further punishment is the last thing you can withstand, so you keep your eyes on the floor. 

“I’ll deal with them in the morning.” He tilts his head, wiping off his hands with a cloth before tossing it on the table. “Do you know who I am?”

“No,” you whisper, a tear rolling down your cheek. You don’t want to know. 

“Samuel. The son of John Winchester,” he explains. You think you may vomit. Samuel Winchester. Of all the cruel twists of fate, this has to be one of the most merciless. You’ve heard of him, you can’t recall the specifics but you know his general reputation; brutal and sadistic.  “The man who brought you here was my brother, Dean.” He pauses and you say nothing. “You lived in Hayward Village?”

“Yes,” you nod, sneaking a peek. He’s a beast of a man. All you can do now is pray he doesn’t kill you, or do irreparable damage. 

“I need you to understand you’re never going back there,” he explains calmly. 

Hayward never felt like your home. It was a place to hide, to fade into the background. But hearing him say that makes this all too real. You will never be the same again. 

“I understand,” you confirm. 

“The rest of your life will be very different. You’re the property of Gilead now. You belong to me. Do you understand?”

It’s clear you don’t like that declaration of ownership. Your eyes snap up to his, swallowing hard. It’s always difficult for Omegas to truly understand this new world order. It’s best to be up front. False hope only creates desperation. He doesn’t need you trying to run in the middle of the night. 

He looks on with interest, the way you swallow your emotions, holding them back at all costs. In his experience not many women would be able to express such self control under these circumstances. You’re strong, whether you know it or not.

“I understand,” you agree quietly, unsuccessfully covering the tremor in your voice. “M-may I ask what I should call you?”

“Alpha,” Sam explains. “In Lebanon Omegas don’t use the names of their Alphas. It breeds familiarity and that can be a dangerous thing.” 

You shift and squeal in pain, cradling your arm. Fresh tears fall. You’re in agony and he can’t have that. He needs you in working order. 

“What’s wrong with your arm?” Inching closer he tries to get a better look. 

“I-I think i-it’s broken,” you sputter.  

“One of the men did this?” His eyes narrow, displeased by the news. “Intentionally?” 

The fucking men have been on his last nerve for weeks and now this. They think themselves equal. Deserving of such riches that they would cross this of all lines. It makes his blood boil. 

“He threw me down from the horse. I don’t think he meant to hurt me.” You’re shaking, entire body rattling in cold and in pain. 

“He should have been more careful. An Omega requires special handling. Come here, let me see it.” He sits down in a chair, his expression unflinching as he waits for you to move closer. “Move your hand so I can see the damage.”

You let go of your arm and howl as the bones shift, but he takes your elbow and wrist, holding them in a manner that offers the first relief you’ve felt in hours. It makes sense, he’s a soldier. He knows how to treat wounds on the battlefield. He’s seen a thousand broken bones worse than this. 

“Here.” He carefully tightens his grip on your elbow, sliding his hand along your forearm until he’s holding it in place. He changes the position and you think you might vomit, the pain is so great. It’s making you sweat and squirm as he feels where the bone has snapped. “This is going to hurt.” 

Before his words register, he pulls on your wrist and elbow at the same time, realigning the bone as the two pieces snap back into place with a sickening crack. 

You scream, trying to pull back but he grabs you by the hair to keep you from retreating. 

“You’ll be fine, calm down,” he orders. He doesn’t exactly care, but seeing a woman in pain doesn’t bring him pleasure like many of his men. In fact, it’s always made him uncomfortable.“I’ll find something to hold your arm in place. Sit down and don’t move.”

He points to the chair and you lower yourself into it, cradling your newly set arm, watching as he looks in trunks and sacks. Finding long, flat pieces of wood he kneels in front of you, and using a thin rope and cloth he secures the wood around your arm until it’s completely immobile. 

“What’s your name?” he asks. 

Your mind races. You need to give him something, anything but your real name. The hours in the forest come back to you. The wild things all around you, as you search for any name to give him. You blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. 

“Sparrow,” you sniffle, wiping tears from your cheek. 

“Sparrow,” he repeats, looking up at you. “A fitting name given your broken wing.” One massive hand grips your knee and you jerk in surprise, looking him in the eyes. You almost forgot you were naked. “Do you know what’s expected of Omegas in my country?”

“I’ve heard stories but...no,” you answer honestly, looking at him as your heart breaks. You’ll never see your family again. Not that your father would ever take you back after this. There’s no coming back from being with a Winchester. If he did nothing more than talk to you, it would be a permanent black mark. 

And if Sam knew who you were he’d kill you on the spot. You’re damned any way you look at it. 

“You belong to us. The sooner you accept this, the easier things will be. You’re lucky, most of your village was killed. A half dozen were taken as servants. And you are the lone prize. The only thing worth the effort of that Godforsaken place.” Lucky. It’s a strange way to describe being driven from your home and nearly raped by a group of disgusting men. “Depending on how well you perform, you’ll be offered as a prize to a high ranking Alpha. Or perhaps you’re bound for greater things.”

Sam’s words are unmistakable. There’s a hunger in his eyes as he looks from your breasts down to the patch of hair between your thighs. One could find him handsome in other circumstances, but right now he’s simply terrifying. He’s large enough that he could easily take anything he wanted from you. His eyes burning with an intensity you can practically feel. 

“I understand,” you whisper. “I’ll do my best.”

“You stink. I’ll have someone clean you up.” He stands, arms folded across his chest. “Then we’ll have a good look at you.”

-

The tent doesn’t feel like a temporary shelter set in the middle of a makeshift camp. There are clothes and weapons everywhere as if the two brothers have been here for months. Carefully marked maps are spread across a long wooden table. There are markers in the form of little metal horses across it. It’s a miniature version of the war raging on around them. There’s a treasure trove of valuable information here if you could get it to someone, but it’s a fool's errand. This is where your journey ends, you can feel it in your bones. 

The only available woman in the camp is a gray-haired cook who bathes you while Sam watches from the corner of the room. The light of the fire licks across his face, his eyes never faltering as the old woman washes your hair and helps you scrub until the mud and grime are gone. 

The cook helps you bathe and leaves in a rush, never looking up. She’s more terrified of him than you are, a fact that doesn’t escape you. 

Sam was right, you’re beautiful underneath it all. Healthy Omegas have a glow about them, not that he’s seen a healthy one in years, but he remembers. Yours is faint but there’s a glimmer to you, like an aura emanating from your body. You’re holding your arm, with eyes trained on the floor but your head is held high, back straight despite the oppression of the situation. It’s that inner strength that fascinates him. You may be compliant or you might try to stab him in the middle of the night. There’s only one way to know for sure. 

“May I have something to drink?” you ask, naked and dripping in front of the fire. 

“Yes. What would you like?” He’s on his feet again, slinking closer with the stealth of cat “Wine? Water?”

“Tea. I’m very cold. Something to warm me up would be appreciated.”

He takes herbs from a pouch, grinding them into the bottom of a mug before adding hot water. Then he sits across the table watching you sip. 

“You’re beautiful,” he asserts and your breath catches, fear churning. “And unclaimed. How is it that an Omega like you hasn’t been claimed already?”

The truth is that your father kept you under lock and key. And when he was forced to send you away, he picked the one place you’d be the least likely to cross paths with an Alpha. 

“There were no Alphas in my village.” You explain the question away praying that's the end of it.  A tingling sensation is blooming to life in your belly, dulling your senses. “What is in this tea?”

“Herbs to help with the pain. I broke a rib last year, it’s the only thing that brought relief.” His eyes drop to your tits, licking his lower lip. “We’re lucky my brother had to leave. You wouldn’t have lasted an hour. He would have knotted you the moment he realized how pristine you are.”

Your cheeks flush hot as you fight off tears. While you overheard crude talk in the village, it’s rare that any man has ever spoken so frankly to, or about you in such a way. 

“Have you been with a man before?” You hesitate and he rolls his eyes. “I expect honest answers.”

“Yes,” you admit, feeling shame wash over you. At least he doesn’t know who you are, it would only serve to exacerbate your sins. A woman of your standing should be a chaste virgin, untouched by any man until her husband. But as a country girl from a small village its less of a transgression. Either way you think about it, the admission makes you feel like a whore. 

“How many?” he asks. 

Jesus, you’re not sure you can stand much more of this intimate questioning. 

“Two.” 

“Interesting.” A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, entertained by the confession. “Have you taken a knot?”

Your whole body goes tense, a fact that doesn’t escape him. You’re scared but with fear comes compliance. He’s good at reading people, maybe he won’t have to worry about you trying to slit his throat.

“No,” you whisper, barely audible. “I’ve never been with an Alpha.”

“Good.” His fingers strum the table. “I’ll be your first then.”

There, now it’s a sure thing. No more guessing. He plans to have you for himself, at least tonight. While he’s nowhere near the nightmare of men that had you envisioned earlier, there’s a darkness in him that’s simmering right there for anyone to see and it scares the daylights out of you. 

“Will you open your legs for me?” he asks evenly. “Or will I have to have to show you who’s in charge?”

“Please don’t,” you beseech, looking to him in desperation. 

“You don’t get that choice,” he counters, unhappy with any pushback. 

“I’m just in so much pain.” Your voice is shaking, hand curled into a fist at your side. “I haven’t slept in days. If you would wait until morning, I’ll do anything you want. I’ll give myself to you freely. I just...I’m not sure how much more I can take tonight. I’m so exhausted I can barely stay upright.”

He’s silent, contemplating your request. The men found you in the forest. You probably are exhausted. You could also be exaggerating, trying to buy yourself a little time before he fucks you. And yet he’s inclined to believe you. He can read the exhaustion on your face like the war maps on the table. 

“How long were you in the forest?” he asks. 

“Two days.” 

“With no shoes and no cloak?”

“There was no time. When the men attacked my home I ran with what I had on, nothing more.”

“I see.” He sits back, rubbing over the pads of his fingers as he decides what to do. “You should sleep. You’re no good to me broken and delirious. You’ve already been mishandled enough.”

If you were any other Omega he’d have you gag on his cock and make you sleep on the floor next to his bed, but you have this smell about you. That sweet lingering scent he’s never encountered before. He wants to fuck you, see what it feels like to be inside you, to give you his knot. 

“Thank you.” You close your eyes, trying unsuccessfully to hold back the tears that fall. “Thank you.”

“Are you still cold?” he asks gesturing at your bare tits. 

“Yes,” you admit, embarrassed to the point of giving up as your nipples stand out like little pebbles. “I’ve been cold for days.”

“Then come to bed and I’ll warm you.” He gets up, pulling his shirt over his head as he walks to the bed farthest from the fire. He toes off his boots and drops his trousers to the floor, stepping out of them. 

He’s a sight to behold. Long, lean muscle, just as powerful as you suspected. His cock is thick, bobbing just below his stomach. He fists himself, looking to you as you dutifully walk over to the bed, careful of your arm. 

Has he changed his mind? 

“Lay down,” he instructs, waiting as you shimmy under a heavy fur pelt. He pulls a small pillow from somewhere under the bed and places it beside you. “Turn on your side and rest your arm here.”

You do as he instructs, watching him with a wary eye as you settle into the bed. 

Sam climbs in behind you, pressing hot, naked skin against your back, letting his erection poke at your buttocks. 

“How is your arm?” he inquires as his mouth connects with your shoulder, open lips dragging over skin. Can this be happening? You jump as his teeth scrape over the back of your neck, praying that he’ll be true to his word and allow you time to recuperate. 

“It’s not as painful as it was,” you admit, feeling your eyes fall heavy. Exhaustion trumps all. “The tea helped.”

“Good. Go to sleep, little bird. The next few weeks will be difficult ones for many reasons. You should rest when you can.” 

His warning sends a thousand thoughts spiraling. A thick arm lays over your hip and you close your eyes as sleep overtakes you. For the first time in nearly three days, you’re allowed to rest. 

#alpha!sam x omega!reader #alpha!sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester au #sam winchester smut

[hometothecanyonmoon]

@ot3flopped

I AM COMING AT YOU

First of all, this is nothing personal, I just hate you. Read this whole thing with a cool brain for once.

Because you keep popping in my feed when I don't even follow you and I've reported you at least 5 times.

You are without a doubt going to find loopholes or grammatical/spelling mistakes in this rant and you're going to attack me for it, but that's only because you're too egoistic to accept that you're an idiot. You may even ignore the main point i'm trying to make and focus on one sentence or whatever. You'll get stuck on one out of place or irrelevant sentence. I may have started a war and you may report me as many times as you like for whatever, but I don't care. I'm proud that I stood up for what I believe in. People do see your posts and hate them, but at least I did something about it.

I honestly think you need help. You should maybe show your blog to a professional and then let's see if they call it "a lovely place" and "the best thing I've seen during quarantine". I don't know how your filthy followers think your blog is a lovely place. And also no wonder you don't have many followers because people actually love ot3. It is NOT ok to bully anyone, even celebs.

The people you insult are someone's idols. Someone has remained alive because of them. They've helped someone through their dark days. You don't get any right to insult the person or their fans because simply, it's got NOTHING to do with you.

I don't like Justin Bieber, Lizzo and Billie Eilish, but I don't insult them. They all have massive fandoms, and they mean so much to each and every fan. Just because I don't like them, doesn't give me the right to humiliate and make fun of them. Just because I don't agree with it doesn't give me the right to call their fans crazy. It may mean the world to the fans. And you know, when you speak about ot3 the way you do, it hurts. It actually really hurts. Ngl, I cried last night after stalking you [which was probably a mistake but yeah, it happened. It made me sick.]

Harry Styles is not the most perfect person on this planet. He has flaws too, just like everyone else. I could say so many bad, false things about H or Zayn, but I won't, because I love them and accept them for who they are. And also I won't stoop down to your level.

You don't believe in Larry. Understandable. But that does NOT mean that you can insult fans or shippers. If you need to know, I'm the same anon who asked you what you're going to do when Larry come out, and you called me deluded. No worries. I'm used to it. I'm a Larry shipper.

I also asked you that your blog can simply be a Harry Styles fan blog, but you don't need to drag ot3 down. You replied saying that it is indeed a Harry fan blog. NO. It's not. It's a place where you simply hate on ot3 and try to prove your point by using rumours and irrelevant words.

If you are indeed a Harrie, I'm assuming you believe in treating people with kindness. Even though you may not like the song, he's your 'idol' (who I'm not going to insult because I'm not a jerk) and you are most probably going to hang on to his every word.

You say that Harry hated his bandmates and similar shit. [Once again, you are going to attack me saying "I NEVER SAID THAT STOP TWISTING MY WORDS"] Yeah whatever. According to you, Harry was the only good person in One Direction and he believed they were foolish idiots and so he distanced himself from them but he's still humble. Bullshit. BULLSHIT.

Harry loved and to this day loves each and every single one of them. I'm not going to believe your baseless facts.

If you do believe in tpwk (which, even if you don't, you should, you dumbfuck) then why the hell is Liam the exception to your so-called kindness? He said he was suicidal, he said his mental health is deteriorating, and if he's finally doing something that makes him happy {the YT weekly things that made you call him a clown}, then why do you have to ruin it? We are loving it!

LP1 was definitely not his best work, he could have done better, but hey, it makes him happy. He's experimenting with new music, he's getting a chance to make music his way, however he wants, so why poke your nose in between? Don't listen to the album if you don't want to, easy as that.

And he's doing it so casually, he's enjoying himself, we're enjoying watching him, WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM?

Not everyone has to be a perfect YouTuber. It's ok if Zayn's tattoo artist made a mistake in the poem. Just because you think you're perfect (jokes on you mate, you're not) does not mean people are not allowed to make mistakes.

Everybody makes mistakes. And everybody is allowed to make them. It's part of being human. People make mistakes. They're forgiven. Big deal?

So what if Niall is half naked on Instagram and he shows his chest hair? If you don't want to watch it, don't. Easy shit. No one is forcing you to look at him. So what if he slid into some Arabella's DMs? His life bruh smh

It's so easy to bully a celebrity. You think it's ok because they'll never see them. Maybe they'll never see those posts, but that does not mean it's ok to bully them. They already have such low self esteem because of staying in the limelight 24/7, and just when they get it back, there's people like you waiting.

I made 4 drafts trying to speak to you properly, but I've decided to fight fire with fire. Maybe it wasn't the best decision, but I'm willing to take the risk. Maybe I shouldn't be wasting my time doing this, writing to you when you'll stop reading after the first paragraph, but I will not let you spread hate. I'll report you and I will END you if it's the last thing I do.

Most of the times, I don't call out hateful people on the internet, because I assume they're having a bad day and yk sometimes it happens.. I'm not perfect either. But you do this everyday. Every single post. You might have low self esteem and you channel that hate on your blog. You are a bully.

I honestly don't want to be mean and I didn't want to generalise (also no offence to solo Harries who are not jerks) but you are the definition of a solo Harrie. Hear me out, I'm not saying every single one of you is bad, some of them are actually really good. But there's lots like you who believe Harry Styles is the best gift this universe gave us and no one else on the planet compares to him because he's perfect. I love him endlessly but his fans are obnoxious. It's people like you who feel the need to interfere everywhere. Like for example, that Billie-Zayn-Louis drama. What the hell did Harries have to do with anything?? You think you guys own the Internet. Sorry to burst your bubble, you don't. It's people like you who hate on ot4/ot3 and you shut down his social media presence. It's now used only for promotions. Poor kid's been in the spotlight for 10 years, give him a damn break.

Do you ever think Harry sees the tweets about his bandmates and feels his heart break? Harry and Zayn were not the only members of One Direction. Each one of ot5 made One Direction what it was. It would've been hella different if even one of them wasn't there. One Direction never was and never will be Harry&Co.

You guys are also in love with Modest! management, and I will not even go there because this rant will be twice as long. All I can say is, you're blind. You're fucking blind.

So what if Louis acted like a kid and he comes across as immature? He can be whatever the fuck he wants to be, he doesn't need your approval. He's been through so much shit and he'd give his life for the 1D boys. I can't imagine how someone can be this rude and hateful. And I saw an anon on your blog about the Torn performance, where Louis was lip-syncing. Like, bruh, duh! He missed rehearsals and Harry carried it, big deal! Everyone knows he lip-synced, even Simon, and everyone knows the reason why. They didn't even try to hide it.

I don't expect you to immediately fall in love with ot3 and start stanning them [here's the part where you say "as if I'd ever like those losers" in that case FUCK YOU YOU FUCKING HYPOCRITE] but I tried. If you feel even a bit of remorse, a tiny drop of regret [which I know you will though you'll never admit it] and if you have even a bit of feelings and kindness and compassion left in you, I succeeded.

Please -I'm not begging you, simply asking- spread love. As I said, make your blog a Harry fan blog, which you can do even if you don't hate on ot3. To prove your devotion to Harry, you don't need to hate on his bandmates.

Thank you for reading this.

I hope the best for you. Truly.

[valkirsif]

Unthinkable CH 40/???

Word 3100

Warning Smut

Y/N unhooked the tail of the dress to be able to sit comfortably at the table, the gala was a showcase to admire and be admired no one cared about the comfort or practicality of what was wearing and the woman was no exception for an evening she could be uncomfortable and smile as if were wearing pajamas, a small group of authorized photographers walked around the event taking pictures, the woman tried not to pay attention to the flashes, everyone else at the table acted as if the photographers were not there, tried to adapt by smiling and remaining as natural as possible, Tom held her hand while he conversed with other people trying to make her participate, was having a great time, found herself chatting about furniture with Sunrise, Mark Ruffalo's wife, she was a really sunny woman as the name suggested, whimsical and extroverted who gave her some artistic advice,

".. I will take you to NY in my favorite gallery when you come back, they have amazing paintings" she said as they brought the first of the appetizers, following the theme of the evening even the dishes looked like flowers,

"I'd love to" Y/N replied, "I don't know much about it. Help will do me good" laughed

"It's not a question of understanding .." Sunny said , ".. rather it's a question of how what you see makes you feel"

"I had never thought of art in these terms ... it's fascinating" she replied reflecting, the dinner went smoothly, between one course and the next there were shows and music reigned everywhere,

"Darling I'll be right there, do you feel like being alone for a moment?" Tom asked getting up and leaning over to kiss her,

"Sure" Y/N replied smiling at him, "And anyway I'm not alone" said pointing to Alissa behind her, the man moved around the hall followed by Luke, Y/N gestured to her PR who came over,

"Can you give me the phone please?" asked, "You've been following me all day and taking care of my needs .. but have you eaten anything?"

"Mister Hiddleston had warned me that you would be a particular client" she replied laughing, "Don't worry, I ate" said shaking her head as handed her the phone,

"Thank you, and sorry is that it's really strange to have you behind me .. " the woman said turning on the device, ".. it's stronger than me to worry about those around me" she smiled embarrassed, it was her PR and even if she was working didn't want her to skip meals .. for the umpteenth time she felt silly, found lots of messages, hadn't looked at the phone for two days,

§Hey Poppy, how's the evening going? § Niko asked ,

§Come on, tell me!! Did you make any interesting acquaintances ?? § Marco was curious like everyone else,

§You've rather been okay you haven't been in sight for days ! § Phil scolded her,

§Hello everyone, sorry I was taken from the new house to be furnished, from organizing the return and from my man§ she wrote with a smile,

§How like .. new house ? Didn't you like the glass one? § Gian asked,

§I liked it a lot but it was only rented, Thomas and I saw some of them and we chose a Tuscan-style villa§ told about the house and the new move to Scotland,

§So see you for a bit of shopping! § Phil wrote enthusiastically, §I have an overdue vacation we could go out and about together§

§It would be great, I would send you my itinerary of commitments from PR§ the idea of ​​shopping with Phil exalted her,

§Even a program? § Roby wrote making fun of her,

§Guys you have no idea what my life is now§ she replied, §If I didn't have Alissa I would be lost, she organized my flights, transfers and managed to set up appointments in the furniture factories§

§ Talking about something else .. you are beautiful Poppy , the dress and the hair .. gorgeous§ Rice showered her with compliments,

§ Ohh have you already seen the post that Ali put ?? § she asked, § And you were right .. Tumang is a genius, other news Lucifer .. I'll be there at the show, when Thomas moves away from Sassy §

§I can't wait to show you everything !! You could stay at the hotel with me instead of going to Evans… right ? § Rice was elated

§It will already be a delusion to work for you .. I don't want to be in your way, we can talk to organize ourselves§ she wrote greeting everyone and passing the phone back to Alissa , she was tempted to tell them that had met Tom's ex but did not want to arouse curiosity of the group, it was already quite difficult to keep calm and it seemed that the woman was doing it on purpose to wander near their table .. she needed air,

"Ali you know where the smokers room is .. I really need it" she asked her PR in a low voice,

" Sure .. " she answered getting up, " .. I'll take you" she smiled, adjusted her skirt and walked towards a terrace, she was not the only smoker sat on a sofa occupying it all with the dress, stopped a waiter and had to drink for both,

"Please sit down," she said to Alissa , "I'm comfortable at the moment and there's no one around .. just relax for a moment" smiled,

" It's against the rules, you know, right?" the embarrassed PR answered, "My other clients are not that sociable let's say" said, "I should be more professional but you don't make it easy for me" laughed seeing Y/N's face,

"If it's not a problem for you I would prefer to have a more relaxed relationship" Y/N explained quietly, "There are so many things I have to learn, if you think I should be more rigid I can try" she smiled, Alissa shook her head,

"Don't worry if you want a friendlier working relationship, that's fine for me" she smiled back, "I confess that calling you at the beginning was strange .. " they were talking about ten minutes,

"Before I forget, you should send my travels to Phil, he's in my address book, so I'll see you while I'm in Scotland" Y/N said, Alissa nodded and picked up the phone to write everything down,

"Perfect the bodyguards you had in Greece have just confirmed availability for when you are in England and Scotland" reported Alissa ,

" It ' really necessary? Phil will be with me I don't need the bodyguards" answered Y/N, she didn't like being followed like that she felt uncomfortable," In Greece I had no problems .. "

"Mister Hiddleston has requested them for you" Alissa said seriously, "Safety first of all, they will stay at a distance but they are necessary I'm afraid you'll have to get used to them" she smiled, Y/N shook her head in resignation, checked that didn't have anything out of place and went back to the table where Tom was waiting for her,

"I thought you would miss the dessert" he laughed standing up to make her sit down, "Did you see anything to your taste?" asked pouring her a drink,

"I confess that I went for a smoke, going around without you made me anxious, I don't know anyone and it's full of journalists and flashes" smiled the woman plunging her fork into the peach cake, "This cake is delicious" said enjoying the cake covered in cream and mint leaves, the evening moved to the dance floor, Tom took his lady by the hand and almost dragged her to the dance floor, put hands on her hips making her pirouette and threw himself into the dance with her, Y/N laughed happy, Tom was an exceptional dancer, the woman wondered if there was something he wasn't perfect, it was now dawn when they headed to the car to go back to the hotel.

"I am destroyed" Y/N said yawning as took off heels, " It was a beautiful night", Thomas had taken off his jacket and was loosening his tie,

"You were beautiful Darling I'm sure you will be beautiful in the newspapers .. " he said reaching in the bathroom where the woman was taking off her false eyelashes before taking off make-up, ".. long hair looks good on you .." he whispered moving her hair to the side and kissing them the neck, "..can I help you with the dress?" he asked mischievously passing his fingers on the hooks of the bodice, Y/N stared at him from the mirror nodding, she was never too tired for that, the man rolled up his sleeves and began to undress her by opening the buttons that fixed the skirt to the dress, the cloud of petals slipped to the ground, Tom brushed her hips kissing her back, body pressed against her, the woman put her hands on the edge of the sink and arched back rubbing butt on his pants, she felt the man laugh on her skin .. a shiver ran down her back and sighed, she began to love more and more the way he seduced her .. slowly .. touching her skin with nimble fingers, savoring every inch without haste enjoying every movement and every whispered, moved skirt to avoid trampling it and took off the rigid bodice of her dress, the woman turned smiling to kiss him,

"Don't move" he said, moving away from her and taking a few steps back to look better, Y/N blushed and looked down, it always made her uncomfortable to be stared like this .. as if she were perfect, "Look at me, don't be shy .. " he ordered with a half smile, "..you are so beautiful dressed like this, my beautiful impudent Kitty "

the woman looked up and stared at him, stood straight as if to challenge him, she didn't play sexy, it wasn't for her, just was herself .. half naked in her corset with heart beating madly anticipating the end of the evening, Tom approached, touched her face, stroking lips down her neck, followed the pattern of the collarbone and placed his hand on her chest,

"It makes me crazy to hear how fast your heart runs when I touch you" he whispered, brushing her ribs and stopping on hips,

"My stupid heart always betrays me" she smiled kissing him, Tom's body pressed against her, felt his excitement, slipped her hands on the man's chest unbuttoning his shirt, going down to his pants teasing mischievously, she felt his cock through his clothes, touched him delicately, barely squeezing, the man moaned, squeezing her hips playing with the elastic of the shorts ,

"I should take a shower .. " Y/N whispered, ".. will you keep me company?",

"It would be a shame, I like iridescent skin .. " Tom replied pulling her panties off, "..you look like a fairy .." whispered in a low voice, taking her by the hips and putting sit on the sink cabinet, "... fairy tales in Scotland .." kissed her," .. did you kidnap my Queen to take her place? " asked staring at her,

"My beautiful knight I don't understand what you are referring to .. " she smiled returning the kiss, "..it's always me .." said placing her hands on the edge and leaning towards him, the man caressed her breast following the fabric almost transparent corset,

"There is only one way to find out the truth .." he smiled mischievously kneeling in front of her, his hands descending from hips squeezing and scratching her skin as he kissed her inner thigh, Y/N closed her eyes enjoying the tongue of Tom making his way between her legs, kissed her Venus mound before slipping his tongue between her folds, licked her clit gently making her gasp, reached out again to her breasts pinching nipples through the fabric thin,

"My knight .. " she meowed opening her legs, ".. don't stop .. please", the man's free hand slipped on her pussy exposing the clit to be able to suck it, Tom pounced with increasing greed, pushed his fingers inside she rubbing the fabric of her pussy quickly, Y/N arched resting her head against the mirror holding on to the cabinet in spasm, the man felt her pussy tighten around his fingers stopped sucking her clit and pressed the palm of his hand continuing to move the fingers biting the delicate skin of the thigh making her scream with pleasure,

"Enjoy for me .. " he ordered in a deep voice squeezing her breasts, ".. enjoy for your lord my lusty fairy", the woman stifled her screams putting a hand over mouth and came panting, Tom stood up wiping his lips before kiss her fervently, the woman smiled still shocked by the orgasm she could not say anything, straightened up leaning on his chest,

" Mmm you could be my Queen .. " he growled excitedly, "..but I'm not sure yet .." said unfastening his pants, taking cock in his hand and touching himself, took her by the hip without delicacy with his free hand moving her on the edge of the cabinet making her lean back, rubbed his cock on her wet pussy and entered, ".. how welcoming you are .. " he said holding her by the hips, puffing moving impatiently, Y/N leaned head against the mirror moaning, the man made his way into her rude, "..look me .." growled grabbing her face because concentrate on him, touched lips putting thumb in her mouth, she began to suck breathlessly following the rhythm dictated by him, her eyes fixed on his, "..you so excitant.. so hot and wet .." growled angrily .. fucking her forcefully, ".. mine .. all mine .. ", the left face bending over her, kissing her aggressively, biting her lips, squeezing her breasts, the woman moaned clinging to the mobile the second orgasm was growing, he had never treated her like this, but she liked it .. she liked it too much,

" Tho .. mas" she gasped with a light head, " I .. I .. " letting go, leaning her back against the cold mirror,

".. shh .. not a breath .. " he growled taking her by the ankles, ".. I don't want to hear a word .. while I fuck you .. ", he felt the woman's pussy squeeze him and increased the blows violently treating her as if a toy .. HIS toy, Y/N screamed tarnished with pleasure by sticking her nails into the cabinet, the man growled her name and imprisoned by her orgasm came, they did not move for a time that seemed infinite lost in the echo of orgasm , panting and sweaty,

".. Darling?! .." Tom whispered catching his breath, "..hey are you okay?" asked, rising not having received an answer, the woman just nodded, she was not yet able to say anything, the man kissed her delicately touching her face, "I .. sorry I got carried away .. " he whispered, seemed .. guilty,

" Thomas .. " she replied in a whisper, reconnecting brain to the tongue, "..you .. I .. " Tom helped her get back into a comfortable position and squeezed, ".. don't you dare apologize .. it was .. it was incredible "she laughed before kissing him,

"Safety?" he asked staring at her unconvinced, "You're not telling me nonsense are you?"

" My love .. " she said stroking his face, "..if you think you treat me like this again you will really gag me .. I struggled not to howl" she replied, "And no I'm not telling you nonsense .. it was beautiful", they looked smiling for a few minutes,

"I'm always afraid to overdo it when the situation is so .. so .. hot and exciting" Tom said undoing her corset, "when YOU are so hot and exciting" laughed kissing her neck,

"Speaking of exaggerating and exciting situations .. I have to confess something .. " Y/N said embarrassed, she felt the man stiffen, ".. the night of the party when I saw the bedroom .." she continued, ".. I was hoping you would tie me to the canopy supports .. ",

" Ahahah and why didn't you say that?" Tom asked puzzled, bursting out laughing, "You're not the kind of woman who doesn't express herself when it comes to sex",

" Well I was intimidated by the situation .. and by you" she replied "Usually it's not something you ask a man you barely know .. I didn't want to look like a bitch .. " sighed,

“My Queen” he said hugging her, “I love the little bitch that hides inside you when we make love, but I understand how you felt” he turned her around to look at her, “No more secrets from now on ok? If you have any wishes say it and I'll do the same, and now we shower and go to bed at 8 we have to get up to go back to LA” he laughed taking her hand and taking to the shower, the woman just nodded and smiled.

At 8.15am Alissa and Luke joined them in their room, the couple was having breakfast,

"Good morning" Tom said cheerfully, "We had coffee for you too"

"Thank you" they replied sitting at the table, "The flight is in two hours we have to move" Luke said checking the schedule, "And your purchase was delivered before we went out to join you" he said giving a package to Tom who thanked him with a smile,

"We just have to get dressed" Y/N replied yawning, they had slept just a couple of hours it would undoubtedly collapse as soon as they took off, they went to the room to get ready and checked that they hadn't forgotten anything, Alissa would have taken care of recovering and bringing London their bags and the dress still lying on the bathroom floor, she only had to worry about taking her backpack with a couple of changes to stay with Evans,

"Darling, I have something for you," said Tom smiling at her, putting the purple velvet box in her hand,

"Thomas you have to stop ... " she laughed nervously opening it, couldn't finish the sentence, inside the box wrapped in crimson velvet there was a bracelet with a complicated pattern of roots and leaves in white gold surmounted by a series of sunflowers in sapphires and yellow topazes, Y/N was about to cry, ".. it's beautiful .." she said excitedly,

"Look behind" the man encouraged, smiling, the woman found a dedication behind the bracelet in a language she did not know, looked at the man with tears in her eyes,

"What's written my King?" she asked curiously, it was a beautiful and very expensive object, she was afraid to wear it,

"It's Scottish .. it says “You are my sun” .. and it's true" Tom answered putting the bracelet on her wrist, the woman threw her arms around his neck not knowing what to say, she just kissed him,     "Forcibly divided for a couple of weeks I wanted something that would always remind you how much I love you" he said holding her tight, they finished getting ready and went out following their respective PRs, Luke took her aside before getting into the elevator,

"Y/N you should let your hair down" he whispered, the woman looked at him asking why, she hated long hair and, the few times let it grow, she always kept it tied, "I don't care what you do behind closed doors .." he explained gesturing for her to look in the mirror, ".. I just don't want rumors about how Tom treats you" concluded, Y/N looked at himself and blushed violently when noticed the purple marks on her neck and collarbones, in the whirlwind of the night she hadn't realized anything,

" Damn .. " she almost screamed, "... I'll also need a sweater to hide the ones on my collarbone"

"Are you okay Darling?" Tom asked noticing his girlfriend's face,

"Luke was pointing out these to me" she laughed making him see the signs, "We know what they are but, rightly so, if some paparazzi noticed them surely you would end up becoming a man who abuses his woman and I the poor victim .. " concluded shaking her head,

"Nothing irreparable" said Alissa taking off her scarf and arranging it to hide the tracks, Y/N thanked her, the group took the elevator and headed for the airport to go home.

She spent the next two days preparing the luggage that would travel with her so Tom could leave light, put a couple of light changes in her backpack and checked that he had put shoes and handbag in the case along with the dress she wanted to wear to the show, agreed with Elsa on where to be on the day of the show and left her a copy of the keys to the new house just in case, she decided to leave with Tom, she would join Evans as soon as he left,

"Thomas did you get everything?" she asked, checking all the rooms,

"For the tenth time yes Darling I have everything I need" he replied laughing looking at her as wandered around the room, "I put your passport in my backpack so you can find it immediately" he said taking her by the hand coming out of their nest for the last time glass to go to the airport,

"Chris is waiting for you at home, I have already given the address to Martin, enjoy the stay and the parade" he said as the city passed by the car, arrived at the airport the man got out Luke was waiting for him in front of the entrance , Y/N followed him to accompany to the gate,

"Call me as soon as you land my King" said the woman kissing him ignoring the people, "See you in a few days",

"Have fun and if you see something you like at the parade go shopping" he replied squeezing her, "Just to avoid compromising scenes, no" gifts "when you arrive at the camp anyone could get into the camper .. " they looked at each other laughing and said goodbye, she went back to the car that drove to Evans' house.

[justatiredghost]

Fixes to the Timeline Ch7

Dave faces his biggest challenge being here in the future: surviving Klaus' family.

-

The Hargreeves have never been particularly good at pleasantries, so it was really thanks to Vanya that the conversation didn’t immediately fizzle out once they all got seated and started digging in.

“So,” she said, looking like she’d thought a long time about what she was going to say. Klaus couldn’t help but wonder how many questions she’d prepared ahead of time. “How did you two meet?”

“Oh, you know,” Dave said with that goofy grin of his that Klaus loved so much. “I like to think it was fate, or something. I mean, out of all of space and time, he got dropped literally right in front of me.”

It was a ridiculously sweet sentiment and Klaus had to bite his tongue to stop himself from making a joke about them both being half naked at the time. Not that either of them had really had time to think about anything like that. While Klaus’ inclination was always to ruin the moment, especially around his siblings, he knew this couldn’t be easy for Dave, talking frankly about their relationship when he’d had to keep that part of himself quiet for so long. He didn’t want to make it any harder for him and instead just took his hand under the table, squeezing it gently. He did roll his eyes a little though to keep up appearances. 

“That’s sweet,” Vanya said, smiling at them.

“And what is it that you do?” Luther asked. Apparently he also had a list of questions. 

“I mean, I got drafted,” Dave said a bit evasively. “Fought in a war, that sort of thing.”

“Right, Vietnam,” Luther said uncertainly. It was obvious he’d been asking for a bit more than that but didn’t exactly know how to prompt him along. Unfortunately Diego was much more blunt. 

“And before that?” he said. 

“Oh, you know, odd jobs,” Dave said. “I worked at a few restaurants, a couple bars, construction yards. Pretty much wherever I could find.” 

He and Klaus both knew they were trying to figure out if he was going to be dead weight like Klaus, or if he was actually going to make himself useful. Their intentions were good, Klaus supposed, and understandable given the kinds of people he used to associate with. But it still wasn’t fair, he was trying so hard to be different now. And Dave deserved a chance to prove how amazing he was without the interrogation. 

“And now?” Diego continued to push. “What are your plans here?”

“Come on, Diego,” Klaus groaned. “What does it even matter? Give him time to settle in at least. Time travel’s a bitch.”

“I know,” Diego said pointedly because of course they’d all done it by now.

“Fifty years is a big change,” Vanya said, voice still soft but at least they were listening now. “It isn’t fair to expect him to know what he’s supposed to do immediately. And he just came back from fighting in a war.”

“Exactly,” Klaus exclaimed, grateful to her for stepping in. 

“Man, you guys are such buzzkills,” Ben groaned.

“You aren’t even drinking,” Luther pointed out.

“I’m gonna need to if you guys don’t stop bumming me out. Come on, we’re supposed to be celebrating here. Unless, of course, you want to ruin the meal Mom worked so hard making for us.”

That shut Diego up at least.

Klaus grinned. They were all still a little weird about talking back to Ben. But Ben had no qualms about taking full advantage of that. Maybe Klaus had been a bad influence on him all these years. At least it meant tonight might actually go okay, especially with Ben and Vanya looking out for them.

-

From what Dave knew of Vanya, she had often been separated from the family, made to feel like she wasn't one of them. So when he saw her sitting slightly apart from the rest after dinner, he decided to join her. Besides, the conversation was rapidly descending into roughhousing, and Dave’s injury wouldn’t let him join in, so he dropped down into the seat next to her. 

“Wow, aren’t they a rowdy bunch?” Dave said. “Are they always like this?” Considering Klaus definitely was he thought he knew the answer, but at least it was something to talk about.

“Honestly, this is better than usual,” she said with a small chuckle. “You should have seen them at dad’s funeral. Diego and Luther were at each other’s throats.” 

“This is an improvement?” Dave said in disbelief, watching as Klaus jumped onto Diego’s back, trying to get the bag of chips he was currently trying to devour. Luther bodily picked them both up when Ben snuck in and snagged it from Diego and jumped back out of their reach, laughing.

“Yeah, it’s kind of nice seeing them all like this. Growing up we were more concerned with just trying to survive dad, I guess we have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Ah, I guess I did hear a bit about that,” Dave said. “Klaus doesn’t really like to talk about it. What I have heard is pretty fucked up though. Did you guys really only get a half hour a week to play?”

“Yeah, that really wasn’t the worst thing he ever did though.”

Dave hadn’t actually wanted to talk about depressing shit, not when they were actually all trying to get to know each other, so instead he changed the subject. “Hey, you know, I bet if we worked together we could get the chips from them.” He leaned in conspiratorially, pleased with himself when she smiled and leaned in a little as well. “If I go in as a distraction, you can snag it from them easy.”

“Are you really hungry after dinner?” she asked.

“Nah, but it’s the principle of the thing,” he said sagely.

“And you’d really sacrifice yourself? Are you sure you want to put yourself in the line of fire against all of them?”

“I was a soldier, you know,” he said with a wink.

She smiled and shook her head. “I have a better idea.”

The air seemed to hum suddenly. Most of them didn’t seem to notice, too caught up in their game, until the bag was suddenly ripped out of their hands and went flying towards Dave and Vanya. He flinched, but there was no need to worry apparently because Vanya easily snatched it out of the air easily.

“Whoa,” Dave said, staring at her in awe as she blushed and looked away, trying not to smile. “That was amazing. Can you teach me how to do that?”

That got a laugh out of her.

-

Dave made the mistake of going to the kitchen to get another coke alone and ended up cornered by Diego and Luther on his way back. It was kind of funny, Luther trying to look intimidating but mostly just looking uncomfortable. He was still huge, though, and Diego was plenty intimidating all on his own.

“So,” Diego said, standing much too close as he cracked his knuckles. “You ever do drugs?”

“Oh,” Dave laughed nervously, glancing over to where Klaus was animatedly talking with Ben and Vanya. They were clear on the other side of the room but hopefully he could get over here before Dave got himself murdered if this conversation went as poorly as he thought it might. He thought about lying but there probably wasn’t much point in it. He was a terrible liar. “I may have indulged a bit in my youth.”

Technically that was true, he had been younger a month ago. The army was practically handing them out, more than encouraging them all to take a cocktail that would keep them on their feet as they were all run ragged. Dave figured that little detail was better left unsaid, but apparently that didn’t matter because that still seemed to be the wrong answer given the way Diego’s eyes narrowed and Luther attempted to look disapproving.

“Any thoughts to ‘indulge’ again?” Diego asked and Dave couldn’t help but notice his hand playing with one of the knives strapped to his chest. 

“No, of course not,” Dave said and he didn’t need to fake the sincerity. “Klaus wants to get clean, I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize that. 

“You sure about that?” Diego said, voice full of scorn. “Guys like you, you’re all the same.”

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Dave said because he always did have a bad habit of talking before thinking and maybe getting in an argument the first time he hung out with Klaus’ family was a terrible idea, but he just couldn’t stand the thought of anyone belittling Klaus and that’s really what Diego was doing, wasn’t it? Implying that Klaus couldn’t change despite how hard he was trying? “Klaus has been working so hard, he deserves more than a little faith here.” 

“He’s right.” 

They all turned to find Five standing there casually with his hands in his pockets. 

“Thank you,” Dave said vehemently, raising a hand for emphasis.

“Now, hold on,” Diego said. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“We’re just worried about Klaus,” Luther said.

“Yeah, it’s you we aren’t so sure about,” Diego said, pointing an accusatory finger at Dave.

“You forget I was stuck with him for quite some time before I could bring him to the present,” Five said. “I could have killed him at any time if he turned out to be not worth saving.”

“Great, great,” Dave said with false cheer, once again not sure if he was joking or not.

“Don’t worry,” Five said, apparently having pity on him. “Do you really think I would have gone to all that effort if I thought it might have been a waste of time? Now, if we’re done here, I believe Dave owes me a rematch.”

“Whatever,” Diego muttered, apparently giving up as he and Luther retreated. He gave Luther a shove and Dave could have sworn he heard him mutter, “This is your fault,” and Luther shoved him back.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Dave said with a relieved sigh. The perfect excuse to get out of this incredibly awkward conversation. “Thanks. I’m pretty sure you just saved my life. Again. I don’t think they like me very much.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much, we hate most people. Barely tolerate each other, actually,” Five said with a shrug. You’ll grow on them like you grew on me. Like fungus.” 

“I like mushrooms,” Dave said, perking up at that. He caught sight of Klaus heading their way, no doubt wondering what was keeping him. It apparently did wonders for Dave’s confidence and his impulse to ruin any tension with terrible jokes as well because he added, “Also, thanks, Five. You’re a fun-gi.”

“Aaaah yeah, finger guns!” Klaus exclaimed, overhearing, raising his hands to do just that.

“You don’t need to say it out loud,” Five muttered, rubbing at his temple like he was getting a migraine. “Diego? I changed my mind. Please come back here and stab them both.”

-

“Are you encouraging a minor to gamble?” Klaus asked in mock disapproval as he leaned against the back of Dave’s chair, arms crossed. This left him at the perfect height to place his chin on Dave’s shoulder as he watched.

“Fuck you,” Five said, not even bothering to look up. Thankfully there wasn’t really any anger behind the comment and it got a chuckle out of Dave so he considered it a success. 

“I’m not sure you can really call it gambling,” Dave said. 

“It definitely is,” Five said. “You really are much more devious than I would have expected.”

“Devious?” Klaus repeated in disbelief. “Are we talking about the same Dave? The one who saves earthworms from sidewalks and feeds stray cats his own dinner?”

“Hey, come on,” Dave said, turning to face him and mock whispering. “I’m trying to look cool in front of your brother.”

“Well that’s been a losing battle from the beginning,” Five muttered. 

“Sorry, babe,” Klaus said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. 

“He’s just mad because he’s losing,” Dave said, holding up his current hand of cards. 

“I still think you’re cool. Well, kinda,” he added with a teasing wink. 

“Hey, I’ll take it.”

“With all the handicaps we put in place to make things more fair, you better be winning,” Five shot back.

“You wish,” Dave laid his cards out on the table with a smug grin and Five tossed his stack down with a sigh.

“Fine, what do you want?”

“I want,” Dave said thoughtfully. “For you to compliment someone you haven’t talked to in a while.”

“Easy enough,” Five said, standing up and leaving Dave to gather up the cards.

“What was that all about?” Klaus asked, taking Five’s seat and watching as Dave shuffled the deck.

“We started that while we were hunkered down in hiding after he saved my life,” he said. “I suggested it, he’s a hard one to get to know. Whoever wins gets to ask the other person to do something. Usually it’s just to answer a question, but I thought we could use a little levity here.”

Klaus glanced over to where Five was talking to Diego. Five patted his shoulder as he turned to leave and Diego looked like he was trying very hard to remain stoic but was obviously equal parts confused and pleased. Klaus couldn’t help but snicker at that. 

“Sometimes I think you’re too powerful, Dave.”

Dave just grinned back.

-

One thing Dave was realizing was that this family did not like to sit still. That was fine by him, he liked the energy just fine, but it did mean he kept finding himself confronted with a new sibling every few minutes. At least it was Ben who dropped into the seat next to him when Klaus got up to harass Diego after being egged on. The ribbing was all in good fun and thankfully not intentionally cruel so things were going well. According to Klaus, that was a work in progress.

“Hanging in there?” Ben asked.

“Still alive, for now,” Dave replied with a smile.

“Hopefully they’re not giving you too hard of a time.”

“I get it, it’s all good,” Dave said. “I suppose it’s your turn now, though. Go ahead, give it to me straight, I can take it.”

“Don’t worry,” Ben said with a laugh. “So far you’re good in my book.”

“Really?”

“What, you want me to have a problem with you?”

“No, it’s just, I kinda figured, out of everyone, you’d be the one with something to say. Diego gave me the shovel talk first thing but you haven’t really said a thing.”

“Look, Klaus tells me things he doesn’t usually tell the others,” Ben began.

“Uh oh.”

“It’s obvious you mean a lot to him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this happy. I mean, sure, he always acts like it, but it’s never been this genuine. You make him a better person and it’s just really nice to see him this way. So yeah, I don’t have a problem with you.”

“Oh,” Dave said, his voice breaking. 

“You good?”

“Yeah, yeah, all good, just-- I dunno, I guess I always hoped I made him even a tiny bit as happy as he makes me. It’s just good to know.”

“Rest assured, he is utterly hopeless.”

“So am I,” Dave said, glancing over at Klaus, feeling so warm and fond. 

-

After the little confrontation earlier, Luther seemed relieved not to have to try to be threatening. Diego for his part seemed to be trying a bit harder to behave himself. Although he was watching Dave very closely, like he was trying to find something to hate about him. To his credit, Dave managed to keep his cool and pretended not to notice. 

Maybe it was because of his close watch that Diego eventually seemed to relax and warm up to him as the night progressed. Well, as warm as Diego ever was with anyone who wasn’t his siblings or Eudora. But he saw the way he and Klaus interracted, how soft Dave was and how happy they both were together. Or the way he stuck up for Klaus and seemed to truly mean it.

They all constantly poked fun at each other, Klaus understood that, he didn’t take it personally if the comments hit a bit too close to home, but Dave was always quick to counter, to heap on the praise and drag everyone up with him. That’s just how Dave was and Klaus couldn’t help but smile to himself, feeling immensely proud of Dave even as he tried to brush off any compliments because, really, that was much too embarrassing. He knew Dave would win over his family, though. He was good like that. 

He was even managing to engage Luther who was usually not the greatest at this sort of thing. Luther could be a bit awkward with strangers at the best of times, but the added pressure of Dave being an important part of Klaus’ life as well as Diego pushing for most of the night for none of them to like him seemed to have left him a bit lost for words. But that’s always where Dave shined the most, finding anyone who was uncomfortable and making them feel like they belonged. 

Between him, Klaus’ relentless antics, and Ben and Five discouraging any arguments, things honestly weren’t as bad as Klaus had been expecting. It actually had been a little fun, even if it still had been an incredibly long night and he was incredibly relieved when he and Dave could finally escape. They hadn’t even reached the bedroom door yet when Klaus started pulling off his shirt with a heavy sigh. He tossed it in the corner once inside and stretched as Dave closed the  door and flopped down onto the bed still fully clothed, arm over his face. 

“You good there, my man?” Klaus asked, sitting down next to him and patting his knee.

“Yeah,” Dave said unconvincingly. “So, how do you think I did? Do they hate me yet?”

“Are you kidding?” Klaus said, leaning down to kiss his cheek, taking the opportunity to snuggle up against him as Dave raised an arm for him to slip under. “You were perfect and they all love you.”

“You sure about that? I mean, I know I didn’t get stabbed, but it’s a little hard to tell how they feel.” 

“Trust me, in this house? Not getting stabbed is practically a form of affection.” 

“They are quite the bunch, aren’t they?” Dave said.

“I mean, granted I was probably a bigger warning than they’ll ever be, but really if you had any sense this would be the queue for you to make a break for it.”

“Never,” Dave said, kissing his cheek and Klaus couldn’t help but smile. Dave was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. “I know things haven’t always been great with you and your family, but I’m glad you had them around after you got back.”

“Yeah, about that,” Klaus said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly and avoiding eye contact. “It took me a while before I finally opened up about everything that happened. Most of them didn’t even know I was gone.”

“They didn’t?” Dave said, looking heartbroken. Klaus hurried to explain, not wanting to give the wrong impression.

“To be fair, I used to always disappear, it’s really no big deal. And hardly any time had passed for them. Eventually they started noticing I was a bit different, I think. Well, they expected me to give up on being sober, I guess, so after all the end of the world business was taken care of and I was still at it, they finally started asking the right questions.”

“You never were great at opening up,” Dave said, voice fond if a little sad, bumping his nose gently against Klaus’.

“Even I can’t dodge questions forever,” he said. “Well, and Ben was around by then and he wouldn’t let me. Five knew I’d time traveled and Diego knew I’d lost someone and Ben kept yelling at them to just ask me and eventually I cracked. I’m sorry, I wanted to tell them all about you, but it’s hard when no one takes you seriously.”

“I get it, you don’t have anything to apologize for.” 

“Do you,” Klaus began and then hesitated because was he really ready for this conversation? But he owed it to Dave especially after everything he was doing for him. “Do you want to find your family?”

Dave laughed involuntarily, sounding almost nervous. He paused for a moment, as if he’d surprised himself with his own reaction and took a deep breath.

“No,” he said eventually. “I don’t think that would be a very good idea.”

“Why not? I mean, I know all this shit is weird, but everyone knows about the Umbrella Academy here, time travel is probably the least weird thing they’ve heard about us.”

“I don’t know,” Dave said, looking away. “It’s been fifty years, man. That’s a long time. They don’t need me dropping in on them now, they have their own lives.”

“I mean, I know it’s not really the same thing, but Five was gone for fifteen years and we were all still glad to see him,” Klaus pointed out.

“Five is great, though,” Dave said.

“So are you,” Klaus countered.

“But what good would it do?” Dave asked, suddenly sounding exhausted. “Either they’re great and I’m just getting in the way of that, dredging up any grief or loss, or they’re terrible and there’s nothing I can really do to help. I think it’s better this way, it’s not like they really lost much.”

“What are you talking about? They lost a whole person,” Klaus exclaimed.

“No, I mean-- fuck, this is gonna sound fucked up but, if I stay out of their lives, at least I can’t disappoint them. I’ve been telling myself that since before I got drafted.”

“Hey, come on,” Klaus said, putting as much emotion behind the words as he could because he hated how Dave was talking about himself. “You’re not gonna disappoint them. You’re amazing.”

Dave gave him a sad smile but instead of arguing he just pulled Klaus closer, wrapping him in his arms. “You’re here. That’s all the family I need right now.”

#klaus hargreeves #klave #dave katz #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #fixes to the timeline #fanfic #my fic