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marvelmusing · 3 months

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Keep Your Judgement

Chapter Seventeen

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Fem!Reader

Summary: As Aleksander recovers from the impact of merzost on his body, you search for a way to fix the unexpected side effects and together you make plans for your lives going forward.

Warnings: mentions of sexual content and canon level violence.

My Masterlist • Series Masterlist

The royal bedroom is in darkness as you enter. The shadows don’t scare you, despite how they hinder your vision as you manoeuvre around the pieces of furniture.

“Aleksander?” you call out gently. “My love, can you lift the shadows for me?”

“No,” he says quietly from the corner of the room. “I can’t.” At the sound of his voice, you manage to find him crouched down behind an armchair. There’s a hollowness in his eyes that makes your heart ache as you settle down onto your knees in front of him as he admits, “It isn’t just my amplification that’s gone. It’s my power too.”

“Maybe it’s just a power block. You’ve been through so much. Perhaps you simply need some rest.”

He nods, though he doesn’t seem too convinced. His gaze slowly regains its focus, and he tilts his head aside slightly as he seems to notice something on your face. He reaches out, cupping your cheek in his hand as his eyes examine you.

“You haven’t aged a day.”

“What do you mean?”

“The fox was immortal.” You nod. The fox’s memories stretch to the very beginning of Ravka. “Now, you and the fox are one.”

“Aleksander, it’s been less than a year. There’s no way of noticing something like that.”

“Trust me, I would know. You haven’t aged.”

There’s an unspoken concern in his words – that, with his power gone, Aleksander is now mortal while you, with the power of the fox, are immortal. Your roles have been reversed. Tracing your hand over his arm, you entwine your fingers with his, providing his digits with a soft squeeze as you remove his hand from your face.

“I will get you your power back. I give you my word.”

»»---------------------►

Aleksander is standing in front of his desk by the window when you manage to find him. The sun is setting over the horizon, and it casts a soft orange glow over the bedroom. He places his hand over yours as you wrap your arms around his body, pressing the side of your face against his shoulder so that you can peer around to see his expression.

“How are you feeling today?” you ask.

He sighs.

“Tired of tonics.”

A sympathetic hum slips from the back of your throat.

“I know, my love. But relying on merzost has left your body deficient of nutrients.”

“You’ve been talking to the healers,” he remarks wryly, the corner of his mouth quirking as he glances down at you. A fond smile is what you give him in response.

“Of course.” Your smile falters. “You haven’t told them about the wasting sickness.”

“My power might return before the sickness worsens.”

The small sound of acknowledgement you make is distant as you think intently over his words. He is much frailer than he appears, the corecloth of his kefta creating an illusion of fullness, and you know Genya has been tailoring his face to feign an improvement in his health.

He steps out of your arms, which pulls you away from your thoughts. He circles around you before moving backwards to lean against the foot of the bed.

“I believe you made me a promise,” he remarks playfully. His smile is boyish despite how pale and drawn his face is from the strain of today. “That once you found a cure, we would spend the entire day in bed.”

“Sasha…” you whisper sadly.

“Come over here.”

You shake your head.

“No, Aleksander.”

His brows draw together, tilting his head as hurt sparks in his eyes.

“No?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.

“And if I don’t care?”

Irritation prickles over your skin.

“Stop being such a martyr.”

His frown deepens as he argues,

“You had no issue sleeping with me in the midst of my condition.”

“Just because you aren’t in danger of imminent death anymore doesn’t mean you’re strong enough.” He begins to shake his head, dismissing your concerns. “Every time I touch you, I can feel how brittle your bones are.”

“I can be careful.”

“This isn’t something we can compromise on. I won’t risk hurting you.”

Not wanting to argue with him, you turn back towards the window. Almost all of the sunlight has gone, a cool indigo staining the sky as night draws closer. Aleksander walks across the room, sock-clad feet padding softly over the polished hardwood and thick rug.

“Have I ever told you how marvellous you look when you’re determined?”

He sits down in his chair, by your side as you continue to stare out of the window.

“I love you,” he murmurs. “Until my dying day.”

“You are not going to die,” you insist. “I won’t let you.” He presses his forehead against your spine. His hands lift the hem of your shirt up, fingers spreading eagerly over the bare skin at the small of your back. His attempts at wrangling you into bed bring a smile to your face as you turn your head back to look down at him. “You will only die, when I kill you for being so stubborn.”

He smiles, breathing out a soft laugh as he presses a kiss to the base of your spine.

“Aleksander…” you whisper. “I can’t.”

“I know.”

He remains silent for a long moment, and you begin to fear you’ve upset him. Then he speaks up in a low voice that wavers slightly with emotion.

“In past relationships, I’ve often felt pressured to make things physical, in order to keep the other person interested. It’s an old habit, which I seem to have failed to shake.” He frowns slightly, as if his own actions have surprised and puzzled him.

His explanation makes your heart ache for him.

“Aleksander… I fell for you at a time when you could barely walk a few paces before growing short of breath. I might find you attractive, but I don’t want you solely for your body.”

He nods, his throat moving as he swallows hard.

“That is hard for me to understand at times.”

A soft smile lifts the corner of your lips.

“Well, I don’t mind reminding you.”

“I want you by my side for the coronation.”

The shift in conversation confuses you, but you nod.

“Of course.”

“I don’t want you as my advisor or even as the Royal Consort,” he admits. “I want you to be my equal, my Queen.” There’s a brief pause as his eyes bounce between yours, flickering down to your lips for a moment before he adds, “My wife.”

My wife. The words make your stomach flip and give you the courage to say,

“I’ve made something for you.”

A small crease appears between his brows.

“For me?”

You nod.

Moving over towards one of the cabinets beside Aleksander’s desk, you open a cupboard, allowing the door to swing as you reach inside to remove the false back. The weight of Aleksander’s eyes on your hands is palpable and you fidget nervously with his gift.

Glancing down, you adjust some of the threads and ribbons that make up the piece of rope. Shimmering silver with purple and black – both of your colours.

“It’s… It’s for our wedding.” Embarrassment heats at your cheeks as you fumble to explain your creation. Though it seems Aleksander requires no explanation.

“Hand-fasting?”

Bashfully, you duck your head.

“I know it is quite an old tradition, but I’ve always liked the idea of tying myself to the person I want to spend my life with.”

He smiles softly.

“Is this a proposal?”

“Well, I wouldn’t object to you getting down on one knee with a ring as well,” you jest before your expression softens. “I just thought I would let you know.”

He frowns.

“Let me know what?”

“That I’ll say yes. Whenever you ask me, I’ll say yes.”

Later, the two of you are lying face to face in bed, legs entangled as you draw delicate shapes over his bare chest with your fingertips, when something crosses your mind.

“I have an idea,” you say in a low murmur. “I know you want to secure our position on the throne as soon as possible, but I’m certain you will want to do this before being crowned.”

“Do what?”

“Claim an amplifier.” He goes still and the pillow beneath his head crinkles as he straightens himself to meet your gaze directly. “From what the fox has shown me in my dreams, I think she would be well suited to you.”

“She?”

You nod.

“There’s a wolf – the stories call her koroleva volkov – which lives to the north in the forest near the permafrost.”

“The Queen of the Wolves,” he translates in a low murmur, his brows furrowed as he seems to consider your suggestion. His eyes flicker back to yours. “The fox knows her?”

You nod again.

“He picked her out for you.”

Aleksander’s expression softens and you continue to trace your fingers over his skin, mapping out the veins now blue beneath his skin instead of the black you had become accustomed to.

“I think we should journey north and find the wolf. Allow the two of you to bond in some way, like I did with the fox. Once you’ve claimed her power, I think your shadows will come back.”

“You’re certain?”

“No,” you admit with a soft sigh. “But your power isn’t gone, Aleksander. If it was, you wouldn’t be ill with the wasting sickness.”

He nods slowly.

“When do we leave?”

»»---------------------►

“We can’t survive on a dinner of mouse,” Aleksander remarks, tucking you into his side of the two of you trek through the freshly laid snow.

“I know,” you concede. “I just want to try catching one. I’ve never done it before.”

He sighs, smiling at your enthusiasm.

“Alright then. Go on.”

A smile spreads over your face before you scamper away in fox form, listening for the sound of a mouse pattering away beneath the snow. It isn’t long until you’re following the tiny scratches of paws against hard dirt. The sound of your own paws in the snow crunch lightly. For a moment, you stand still, tilting your ears aside as you listen.

Then you pounce.

The snow is hard against your snout and paws as you meet the ground, knocking you off your hunting rhythm. The momentum you’ve put into the jump is too much, sending your lower half flailing up into the air and you wiggle your tail wildly in an attempt at maintaining your balance. Ultimately, you’re unsuccessful.

Aleksander laughs loudly. Shifting back into your human form, you scrunch your face with a pout, disgruntled as you rub at the tender skin of your forehead.

“You aren’t being very supportive,” you protest from your place on the cold, snowy ground.

“My apologies, darling. You truly are a fearsome predator.”

The only response you give him is a rude gesture that makes him laugh harder. He crouches down in front of you, hooking a hand beneath your chin to examine the potential damage. When he finds none, he leans forward to kiss your forehead and nose, bringing a smile to your face.

“Give it another try.”

Tilting your head aside, you blink up at him and consider his expression.

“You think I was close?”

He kisses your temple.

“Undoubtably.”

Once again in fox form, you resume your search for a mouse. A cool breeze rustles against your fur, but you hardly feel the chill. It takes a little longer this time for you to pick up on the sound of a mouse skittering about beneath the snow.

When you do, you pause, shifting your weight onto each of your front paws. Eyes locked on the spot where you want to land, you leap upwards, keeping each of your limbs firm for impact.

When you realise you actually have a mouse in your mouth, you almost drop it as you wriggle about in the snow. Once you’re standing upright on all four paws, you drop the mouse from between your teeth and change form quickly to catch the creature in your hands. Smiling widely in triumph, you stand unsteadily and move towards Aleksander.

“Sasha! I did it.”

He grins at the sight of your excitement.

“Well done.”

He peers down at the mouse through a crack between your fingers.

“Sorry for the scare, little one,” you murmur apologetically. “I’ll let you go now.”

As you loosen your hold on the small creature, lowering it to the ground, the mouse scampers away. Lifting your head up to watch it, you notice another creature that makes you freeze in place. Aleksander doesn’t notice initially.

“Now,” he begins. “Perhaps we could move our efforts onto something more substantial for dinner? I was thinking of rabbit.”

Grasping onto his forearm, you tug on his sleeve lightly, whispering,

“Sasha.”

He turns to look at you first, studying your expression before he follows your gaze, eyes scouring over the woodland in front of you. The moment he sees it, he places his hand over yours, squeezing it with barely suppressed excitement. He steps slowly towards the wolf and apprehension settles in your chest.

“Be careful,” you warn him, gripping his sleeve again. “If it comes to a fight, I have a feeling she will take a piece of you with her.”

“A fair exchange, in my opinion,” he remarks quietly.

“Sasha.”

“I will be careful, my love,” he concedes, though you don’t quite believe him.

Her eyes are a cool silver that slide calmly between you and Aleksander. She places a paw forwards, as if to move to meet Aleksander. Then she turns tail and runs into the woods. When he moves to chase her down, you tighten your hold on him.

“Aleksander. Give her time. We’ll find her again.”

»»---------------------►

The next afternoon, you’re trekking over a fallen tree in your fox form when you see the wolf again. She surveys you from a distance, standing still like a statue. She seems to know that you aren’t an ordinary fox, but you still aren’t sure how she will react if you try to interact.

Heart hammering, you tilt your head at her, stepping closer cautiously. Her eyes lower to watch you slink over the forest floor. She still doesn’t move as you approach her.

Slowly, you begin to nudge your nose against her body. When she doesn’t react, you step even closer, nuzzling your face into the soft fur at her chest. She makes a small snuffling sound before she raises a paw to nudge at you. The two of you raise your paws, initiating a playful back and forth.

A low sound rumbles in the back of her throat and you back off instantly, fearing you might have pushed her too far. She continues to growl, her snout crinkling as she sniffs at you suspiciously and you begin to fear for your safety.

Even if you shifted back into human form, you wouldn’t be able to fight a wolf. If it comes down to a chase, you might be able to scamper up a tree before she sinks her teeth into you, but you aren’t overly optimistic about your odds.

She nudges her nose against your side, far too close to your underbelly for your liking, and you let out a small yelp of warning, curling away from her before you growl back. The wolf keeps her eyes on you, tilting her head as if pleased by your response. Her expression softens into something more amicable. She makes a small snuffing sound, almost like a dog, before settling down on her front.

Both of you keep your mouthes open, as you nip and bite at one another. While you know, from the fox’s memories, that this is how animals like him and the wolf would play together, it’s still scary to feel her teeth snap at your fur.

She nibbles gently at your ears, tugging on them lightly when she gets them between her teeth. Coiling away from her, you nudge her chest with your front paws, and she rolls onto her back easily. She bats her paws at you, which you bite playfully, slowly getting the hang of this play-fighting.

When the sun begins to lower itself towards the treetops, you give her neck a fond nuzzle before you set off to rejoin Aleksander at your camp for the evening. It isn’t long before you realise, she’s following you.

Several times you pause, turning back to look at her, giving her the opportunity to leave. She doesn’t. She stays with you until the terrain changes, opening out into the clearing where you can see Aleksander sitting by a small campfire.

At the sight of him, you set off running through the frost covered grass. He lifts his head at the sound of you approaching, a smile tugging at his lips as you hurry into his lap.

“Hello, milaya,” he says softly, scratching the space behind your ears affectionately. “Have you made some friends?”

When you shift back into human form, your head is in his lap, face turned up towards him and his smile widens when your eyes lock on his.

“One or two,” you remark with a soft laugh. Then you turn your head to look at the wolf as she paces slowly through the grass, following the path carved by you.

She seems wary at your change in appearance, but you extend your hand amicably to offer her your scent. She steps forwards cautiously, eyes flickering between you and Aleksander. Your voice is a gentle whisper as you encourage her,

“It’s alright.”

She sniffs at your wrist, nose nudging against your sleeve before she moves upwards towards you and Aleksander until she’s close enough for him to touch. He breathes out an astonished laugh as he places his hand down on her head. For a moment, he strokes her fur, his eyes flickering over every each of the marvellous creature in front of you. Then he looks back at you.

“I love you,” he says in an awe filled whisper. “You’re remarkable. I hope you know that.”

The wolf straightens herself, looking directly at Aleksander. She tilts her head, licking his fingers momentarily before she turns and moves back into the woods. The two of you remain silent as you watch her go. Once she’s out of sight, Aleksander looks back down at you.

“Why did you pick the wolf for me?”

There’s a pause as you consider his question, and you sit up as you speak.

“Wolves are strong and loyal,” you reason. Glancing down at your hand, fingers entwined with Aleksander’s, you add, “She’s been alone for so long. I thought you would understand each other.”

He cups your face between his hands, leaning forwards to kiss you soundly.

»»---------------------►

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#keep your judgement au #the darkling x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling au #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone au

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melintowriting · 8 days

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The first Empress-Chapter 2

Hello everyone! Chapter 2 is finally out. I hope you'll like it!

Warnings: arranged marriage, smut (+18), virginity loss, blood, corruption kink, breeding kink

Word count: 2.528

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE

Kaitain, a few days later

Their wedding took place a few days after their first meeting on Kaitain.

The ceremony had been lavish and the young Na-Baron and his wife had become husband and wife before the eyes of all the lords and ladies of the Landsraad.

Monique had been watching her daughter attentively throughout the whole banquet. Her Bene Gesserit eyes, trained not to miss anything, had looked beyond the young woman’s apparent calm to see some agitation. The idea of sending her to Giedi Prime, to that horrible planet, tormented her. But she could not fight against fate. She found peace in her torment only when she reminded herself that Jeremy would go with her, that she would not be alone, that her twins would not be separate.

Monique looked at her, sitting next to Feyd Rautha, observing the guests.

She was studying them in the Bene Gesserit way.

Monique almost smiled: her daughter’s training had been a success.

"You taught her the Bene Gesserit way impeccably." commented Lady Jessica, sitting next to her.

"We both trained our offspring well." confirmed Monique "Paul… is he the Kwisatz Haderach?"

Lady Jessica remained silent for a few seconds before answering: "There are signs. Soon the Reverend Mother will test him with the Gom Jabbar and we will know."

Monique immediately noticed the apprehension in Jessica’s voice.

"He will succeed." she reassured her, smiling with maternal solidarity.

Jessica turned to look at her sister-in-law, unsure whether to ask her the question she had been thinking about for hours.

“And Megan? Is she the Chosen Woman?"

Monique remained silent while the prophecy about the First Empress repeated in her head.

-One day, the Empire will know the power of a young woman. -

The prophecy of the First Empress was the first that was taught at the Bene Gesserit school, along with the one of the Kwisatz Haderach. Both would have been the result of the complex and intricate breeding plan that the Bene Gesserit had carried out for centuries.

The prophecy continued with -Loved by the peoples and feared by the powerful, born by a Bene Gesserit sister and an honorable man from an adverse and distant land, she will be the first woman to sit on the throne. -

Megan had shown signs of great intelligence and power from an early age. The way she spoke, studied people, showed mercy for the weak and ruthlessness for the oppressors... everything had always made Monique believe that she would be the First Empress.

"I think so." she replied to Jessica "Or at least everyone thinks so.”

At the age of ten, during a dinner, Megan asked the Emperor why the people outside the palace died of hunger and while they always wasted their food. He looked at her in shock, opening his eyes slightly, especially when Megan added, "We should feed them too. We have enough food for ourselves."

Since that day the signs had been irrefutable. Her greatness and nobility of mind were known to everyone on the planet. The kind way she addressed servants, the way she always fought with the Emperor, even to no avail, to try to improve the living conditions of the people... everything had led people to love her, to the point of whispering "Empress" at her passage.

Everyone knew about the prophecy, everyone was waiting.

"Our Bene Gesserit sisters have been at work on Giedi Prime to spread the word of her imminent arrival. We’ll see."

The two women looked at each other in silence, almost in a hopeful way. If it was true that their children were the chosen ones... there would be enormous challenges and dangers ahead of them.

"Tell me Jessica." Monique then changed the subject, "My brother hates being here, doesn’t he?"

The two women’s eyes rested on Leto talking to some of the Lords of the Great Houses.

"He hates being in the same room with the Harkonnens. But he would never miss his granddaughter’s wedding."

Jessica’s words made Monique smile.

Her brother, so stubborn but kind-hearted...

He was the only real man in that room.

The two ladies were not the only ones observing the Duke though: Baron Vladimir was also looking at him with prying eyes.

-That damned Atreides- he thought -It will have to be eliminated sooner or later. -

******

The celebrations continued until late evening.

The newlyweds had little conversations during the festivities: they had exchanged a few fleeting words on trivial topics but nothing more.

Feyd only looked forward to the end of the dinner. He could no longer contain his impatience to spend his wedding night with Megan.

He wanted to see her, to explore her, to claim her as his. A mischievous and perverse smile had been printed on his lips for the whole evening; a smile that Megan immediately understood to be a sign of desire.

If until then she had tried not to think about it, the idea of consuming the wedding began to frighten her. The way he looked at her, like a predator looking at his prey... almost terrified her.

Was he going to be gentle? Probably not. Was he going to hurt her? It was easy to see how much Feyd loved pain.

As soon as the banquet was over and the couple got up from the table, Megan’s eyes searched desperately for her mother’s.

Monique looked at her, hinting at a comforting smile. She had explained everything she needed to know about a man and how to give him pleasure. She knew she was ready. Yet seeing her like this, almost seeking help, made her heart clench in her chest.

Jeremy clenched his fists as he watched his sister and Feyd leave the room.

- If he dares hurt her, I swear I’ll kill him.- he thought, barely finishing his glass of wine.

******

The door to the room closed behind them with a slight creak.

-It’s done, now I have no way out.- she thought.

She could feel them, she could feel his icy eyes staring at her incessantly.

She hated being afraid, fear made her feel stupid and vulnerable. Normally she would be able to hide it with forced confidence but at that moment nothing seemed to work.

"Are you afraid of me?"

Feyd’s hoarse voice made her wince.

"No."

"My Na-Baroness, you know what I absolutely hate?"

Megan turned slowly, trying to remain impassive.

"What?"

"Liars." He took a step towards her, passing his tongue over his black teeth. "So I will ask you again and I want you to tell me the truth this time: are you afraid of me?"

-I won’t admit it so easily. - she imposed herself, thinning her eyes.

"No."

-She keeps lying. - Feyd thought, caressing her cheek with one finger. He then whispered: "Such a stubborn pet, I will change that."

Megan shuddered, her heart beating faster.

-Pet, I’m not your pet- she thought but remained silent.

Feyd knew she was a virgin. The idea of taking her innocence, of corrupting her... it was enough to make his cock twitching from impatience.

"I’ll be gentle with you this time." he promised with a perverse smile, "Does that reassure you a little?"

The girl felt her stomach tightening with terror. -This time- she repeated in her mind, gulping.

Feyd shook his head, pretending to be disappointed: "It’s rude not to answer when someone asks you a question, pet. Answer me."

Megan struggled to nod. How stupid she had been. How could she not be afraid to marry him? Thinking back, she should have been. She could have used the Voice, but for what purpose? The wedding night had to be consummated anyway and using her secret weapon this quickly wasn’t wise.

"Yes, it reassures me." she lied again.

When Feyd kissed her, Megan made it seem casual. She returned the kiss with the same intensity he was kissing her with, making her tongue touch his. The kiss was intense, rough, wet.

She slowly began to undress, sliding the straps of the dress along her arms and making it fall to the ground with a slight thud.

Feyd took his lips off hers to admire her. She was just as he had imagined her to be. Her body was harmonious, perfectly proportioned. Her skin was pale, her breasts were abundant and perfectly round, her hips wide. He laid his hands on her butt and then squeezed her flesh, feeling desire growing inside him.

"Lay on the bed, pet." he ordered, grinning.

Megan obeyed, sitting on the fresh silk sheets.

It was all new to her. Being seen naked, having sex... she wondered if it would hurt.

"You’re so beautiful and innocent."

Feyd looked at her with growing desire.

"Now I must prepare you to take me." he explained, unbuttoning his jacket to reveal a muscular and sculpted abdomen "Otherwise I’ll break you, pet, and I don’t want to ruin you. Not now."

Despite the anxiety, the fear, Megan could not deny how beautiful Feyd was.

His body, his shoulders, his strong arms... everything was a pleasant sight.

Feyd approached her, ravenous. He was so close to her that he could feel her agitated breath. Megan’s dark eyes watched him, studying his moves.

"Spread your legs," he ordered, kneeling before her.

Megan obeyed and Feyd almost grinned, eager to find out what she tasted like.

As soon as his tongue touched her sensitive bud Megan could not hold back a moan of pleasure. Feyd’s mouth was tasting her, exploring her already wet folds.

"You taste good, little pet." he said in a hoarse voice before putting his lips back on her.

The girl shuddered, throwing her head back from pleasure. It was a sensation never felt before. Strong, overwhelming, intoxicating.

"Do you like it, little pet?"

Megan couldn’t help herself and moaned again. Feyd’s mouth was experienced, passionate, and she never thought she would have liked it so much.

"If you don’t answer me, I’ll have to stop." he warned her, raising his icy blue eyes to meet hers.

"Yes, yes." she nodded, out of breath "I like it."

Feyd smiled widely, showing his black teeth: "How much?"

"So much."

There was one thing Feyd was particularly proud of: his ability in giving pleasure to women. He knew how and where to touch them, how to make them responsive to his touch, how to make them moan and scream until their voice was lost.

He eagerly licked her intimacy and then started to tease her entrance with one finger, sliding it up and down her wetness. When he inserted it slowly he felt her become stiff, almost retracting from the sensation.

"Don’t run away from me." he said while grabbing her by her thighs to hold her steady.

It took her a few moments to get used to the feeling and to find it pleasant.

When he inserted a second finger, instead of retracting, Megan groaned even louder. She was ready now. Ready to take him.

"Now you’re ready, little pet." he announced to her, getting up.

The girl caught her breath, watching him getting undressed.

The way he was pleasuring her... she wanted more. She watched him take off his pants, revealing his manhood. It bounced as soon as he freed it, already hard at the sight of her completely naked in front of him.

He was so big that Megan wondered how she could take him. It was as white as alabaster, with some bluish veins starting from the base to arrive at the tip, already glistening with precum.

Feyd crawled on the bed, sliding the tip against her wet entrance.

Megan held her breath as soon as he pushed it slowly into her. He began to move inside her, watching her muscles twitch at each thrust.

"If you contract it will be worse." he said in a deep voice, placing a hand on her breast, squeezing it.

At first it was pain, just pain. He was too big for her... he was stretching her at every thrust, her walls tightening around him from the pain.

But after a few moments the pain turned into pleasure, to the point that she could no longer hold back her moans.

"So tight" Feyd muttered, slightly increasing his speed.

-She’s so beautiful, so delicate... I’ll ruin her as soon as I get her used to my cock- he thought, looking intensely into her eyes.

"Feyd." she whispered, feeling his tip hit an unknown spot inside her at each movement.

The way she had pronounced his name with a mesmerized look of pleasure, almost in a whisper... sent him completely over the edge.

Her tight walls tightened, milking his cock as he came inside her, hard.

A long and guttural moan escaped Feyd’s lips as he could feel his cock twitching.

He slowly came out of her, looking at his cum dripping from her. He bred her properly.

"You’re bleeding, pet." he said, seeing blood on the sheets.

Megan looked at him again as if she was bewitched, still panting.

The sight of his seed mixed with the blood of her virginity made him feel insatiable.

"But you haven’t come yet." he pointed, kneeling again "Let me make it right."

His lips kissed her clit again, eating her out like a starved man. The ferrous taste of blood mixed with both of their juices was divine. Feyd continued unabated until he heard her tremble, moaning louder and whining.

"Cum for me, darling." he ordered, inserting two fingers, "Don’t be shy."

Megan felt the orgasm coming hard and fast as she shook in pleasure, screaming his name.

"Feyd, yes!" she screamed as she came against his mouth, rolling her eyes back.

Their panting breaths united to become a unison as their eyes met.

All the fear that Megan had felt seemed to be gone. Willingly or unwillingly, Feyd had ensured that she would also enjoy herself, trying to be as gentle as possible. She knew it wouldn’t happen again but she would always remember that moment, beautiful in an unexpected way.

-And now? Now what should I do? What should I say? - she thought as her husband laid next to her -My mother did not instruct me on this. -

Megan, who always tried to explain everything with reason, understood that rationality wouldn’t have been useful to her at that moment. She understood that she had to improvise and to follow her instinct.

She did not expect any other kindness from him: he had already tried hard enough. And then it wasn’t necessary. They’d just gotten married and most likely never going to love each other. They just had to generate heirs and bear each other for the rest of their lives, nothing more.

She could live without love.

In the silence of the room Megan also laid down, staring at the ceiling as she tried to breathe regularly.

After a few minutes it was Feyd who broke the silence with his hoarse voice, saying: "Sleep. Tomorrow we will leave at dawn for Giedi Prime. You must rest."

Megan nodded, her stomach squeezing with anxiety.

Tomorrow she would have left her past behind. Tomorrow, her new life would have begun.

Tag list: @mamawiggers1980 @avidreader73 @pomtherine

#feyd rautha #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha fanfic #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha harkonnen #house harkonnen #dune #dune part 2 #dune movie #dune part two #paul atreides #smut #fanfiction #fanfic

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inkdrinkerworld · 8 months

Text

a change in place

cw: fluff, strangers to lovers, canon level violence, pre-atsv events, blood, needles, mention of food

wc: 3.1k

pairing: miguel o'hara x civilian!reader

It had started as a regular day, regular enough actually. It was raining hard, and your boots were getting wet and then there was a flash of purple, yellow and red and three people fell from the sky.

You were on your way to work, needing to get to work on time this once. The rain has been keeping you back all week- you’re not sure how your boss would take it if you’re late for the fourth time.

“Make sure you clear the area of civilians!” you hear and quicken your pace. Whatever is going on, you want no part of it.

You’re speed walking, trying to avoid puddles of water in the cracks on the pavement when a metal appendage is flung in your path.

“Hey!” you yell, turning to the direction of the body to see the three spider-people tying whoever it is they’ve been fighting with their webs.

One of them turns to you, black spider eyes blinking at you. There’s a little chill that runs down your arms as he leans his body in your direction, like he wants to hear what it is you have to say.

“Watch where you’re throwing those limbs around!” you don’t linger for something else to fall in your path, stepping over the limb as you carry on your way.

There’s commotion behind you, but you’re trying not to look. You don’t want another thing flung at you.

As it turns out, not looking wasn’t the best decision because you hear a shout and before you know it your umbrella is falling to the ground and your feet are hovering over it as you’re pulled off to an alleyway.

“Let go of me!” you twist and come face to face with the spider-person you’d reprimanded. “What’s your deal?”

“Do you go around grabbing every girl by the waist to save them from imminent danger?”

You can’t see the man’s expression behind his mask, but you assume he isn’t smiling by the tone in his voice,

“Do you go around telling off Spider-people?” you offer a real smile this time.

“When they’re not careful, course I do! That arm could’ve taken my head off.”

They don’t answer; only jut their chin to the villain they’d been webbing bursting through the constraints and is charging down the street, trampling the cars that had been alongside you.

“Oh,” you gasp, the spider-person putting you down.

“You could’ve been crushed.” they say and you flash an embarrassed smile as the person stands on the ground.

Before the man can say any more, there’s a little holographic woman that pops up on his shoulder that makes you gasp.

“Are you a fairy?” you ask, reaching a hand to the woman in yellow who flits around the man’s shoulders and head.

“Oh no sweetheart. I’m this one’s” her thumb points to the man standing beside you. “AI companion, though I guess AI is a bit wrong, because I do everything for him. He’s a little temperamental.”

You giggle at her teasing. He grumbles Spanish under his breath.

“Help him improve his vision, I almost lost my head.” The man wants to argue, but you’re bending down for your umbrella and shaking it. You turn to him, “This was really nice and all but I gotta get to work.”

He nods, watching you walk off. The woman returns, this time taunting him. “For someone so against love, you sure feel attraction pretty quickly.”

“Lyla, scan for any more anomalies.”

The next time you see the Spider-people, you’re on your way back from school. It’s late, too late for crime in your city- most everyone is asleep at this time. Except you, and your ten assignments that were due about an hour ago.

You’ve treated yourself to an Earl Grey tea and three slices of pistachio cake.

However, the Spider-people are trying to ruin it. You’re not sure since when your city had gotten so many super-villains that they needed to defeat but here they are again.

“Watch out!” you hear, the man in the red and navy spider suit from the last time comes swooping down, webbing himself to the bakery you’d just left and pushing you back inside. Even the owner is shocked.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” you say to him, tucking the hair in your face backwards.

“We do.” he seems a lot more tense than the last time you’d run into each other.

“Is this one worse than the ‘Giant Metal Octopus’ from last time?” you’re quoting your local newspaper as you speak.

He doesn’t say anything to your question, just taps at his wrist before a series of little robots pop out. They look like the prongs of a ‘y’ on a tiny ball.

“These should keep you safe, don’t leave the panadería till I come back,” there’s no time to even say good luck before he’s gone.

You turn to the old man as the little robots attach themselves to the door of the bakery, “He was strange, no?”

It takes hours before they’re done, and after the day you’ve had, you’re barely able to keep your eyes open.

The large Spider-man comes in, his robots hopping back to his wrists and disappearing in his watch. He addresses the old man first, whispering apologies about keeping him awake so long, to which the man responds with a flick of his wrist. “We all need a protector, right kid?”

Then he turns to you, “Oye,” you blink owlishly at him as you stand, shoving your pastries into your bag. “How far do you live?”

You wave off his concern, “Two miles from here, s’not far.”

He follows after you as you leave the bakery. “If you’re going to walk me back, could I know your name? Just in case you turn psycho-murderer on me ?”

The man scoffs. You can tell he’s deliberating if he should give you his name and before you can tell ‘nevermind’ he mutters, “Miguel.”

You introduce yourself, “Why did you become Spider-man?” you ask, looking back at the man who’s still in his mask.

“Wasn’t much of a choice.”

‘Okaay,’ you think, ‘not big on conversation.’

There’s silence for about twenty paces before you ask, “Why didn’t you go back to wherever you come from, like the other spider-people? Do you have a crush on me?”

Again he scoffs, and the little woman from last time appears on his shoulder, “Miguel, there’s no more anomaly activity here.”

“Anomalies? Like things that aren’t supposed to be here?” you ask and Miguel bats at Lyla who looks shocked when she sees you. “Are you supposed to be here?”

He grumbles and you imagine his lips in a straight line that looks almost comical for someone as big as him. “Yes, I’m supposed to be here.”

You pout, dramatised and exaggerated, “Here I thought you just kept coming back for me.”

The little woman in yellow pipes up, “Well, he-”

Miguel cuts her off, “Lyla, go away.” She does; much to your dismay.

You stop before your apartment door and Miguel lets out a small chuckle at the door. It’s painted a blue that resembles his suit, and there’s a fairy on the handle. “Not all of us can get to your level of brooding mystery, Miguel.” you say with a bashful smile as you fiddle with the key and the lock.

“Not judging, it just makes sense.” you hum, reaching into your bag.

“Do you have nut allergies?” you ask, reaching into the bag as your eyes remain trained to his face to get his answer.

He shakes his head, ‘no,’ and you brandish one of the slices of cake.

“Take it,” you say when his hand doesn’t move. “As a token of gratitude.” you say with a performative lovelorn tone.

Miguel lets another chuckle escape before taking it, “Thanks, coqueta,” his hand makes the slice of cake look foolishly small and that makes your eyes widen a little. You’re not sure if he can tell, but he teases, “Make sure you lock up.”

You don’t see it but Miguel fights the urge to let one of his nanobots stay on your doorstep camera.

For no reason really, just to make sure you’re safe.

The next few weeks you delve deep into trying to track him down, trying to get even a crumb of who he is. You come up with nothing and then decide to take a different approach.

Someone who can make such advanced tech has got to get the information and the funding from somewhere.

Again, you find nothing.

“Who is this man?” you mutter to yourself, chopsticks holding a potsticker near your mouth.

You take a bite just as there’s a knock on your window. Your heart is in your throat and you grab your phone and a knife you have laid on your coffee table.

The knock sounds again, a little more impatient as you draw closer. As you look up, you spot a familiar red and blue suit and let out a big breath.

Opening your window, Miguel’s eyes widen at the sight of the knife, “Most women don’t take well to strangers knocking on their window,” you say amused at the way he’s holding himself on your window sill.

“I’m sorry,” then as a second thought he murmurs, “You were asleep.” clearly catching your tired eyes.

“Not exactly,” you lean towards him and whisper, “Are there anomalies here? Is that why you’re here?”

Miguel almost cracks a smile at your stage whisper.

“No, I’m here to give you something.” he pulls a box from his pocket. You’re surprised that his suit can have pockets, it seems stuck to him.

“What for?” you look up at him, eyebrows drawn low with your teeth nibbling on your bottom lip.

“Repayment,” Miguel explains, “for the cake.”

You can’t argue when he opens the box and shows you a little pair of fairy wing earrings. “I highly doubt this was the same price of a two dollar slice of cake.”

They’re delicate things as you peer at them in the box. The pair are almost holographic in colour, swirls and delicate lines indenting the wings- like those from the fairy illustrations you’ve seen almost about a thousand times. You’re enamoured by them; by the effort it more than likely took to get a pair like this.

“No, they were a little over four dollars. Lyla spotted them for me.”

Your face flushes, then you gather yourself, “So you’ve been thinking about me then?” Miguel indulges your flirting with a chuckle.

He’s nervous though, or annoyed, you’re not sure you’re reading him right- but to aid your assessment, his hands are shoved into his pockets and his head hangs low beneath the mask. “They’re beautiful.” you say, taking them from his hand and inspecting them close up.

“There’s a little amethyst stone on the end of it.” he says and you smile wide.

“You went through all that trouble,” you say and Miguel frowns. “Do you want to come inside or are you just making your Spider-rounds?”

“Spider-rounds?” He’s confused and intrigued by you at the same time.

“Yeah you know, your little patrol of the city to make sure everyone’s sleeping soundly and safe from the anomalies.”

Miguel shakes his head, “I think you’re letting your imagination run away from you.”

Before the conversation can go further, Lyla pops up, eye mask pulled up as she says, “Some Vulture thing just came through a tear in the arachno-humanoid poly multiverse,” as a secondary thought she turns to you, “Hey honey, might want to get inside.”

It’s a blur, the moment between the Vulture attacking Miguel and him getting his mask on and pushing you into your apartment.

You hear a lot of crashing, shattering and grunts. You’d never been close during the other battles, but now it’s quite literally on your doorstep and you feel the pin pricks of panic settle in your chest and fingers.

If you’d had a little more blood pumping to your brain you might have stayed inside your apartment, hiding behind the door and the little fairy earrings. But your door is opened and you’re rushing outside to catch a glimpse of Miguel on the Vulture’s back claws digging into its back as he tries to get it to yield.

He spots you, eyes widening behind the mask as he catches you walking towards him and the Vulture.

“Get back in the house!” Miguel yells, the distraction enough to have the Vulture throwing him off his back and making his way to you as you hold your hands to your mouth as you watch Miguel’s body hit the ground hard.

“Hello dear, why was the Spider-man visiting you?” The Vulture is on his way to you when you grab a rock and launch it towards his head. It hits him square in the forehead, but it doesn’t slow him.

His wings are enveloping you in seconds, your screams ringing out as you’re off the ground.

“Pretty enough, maybe we could get a reaction from the Spider-man.”

It’s not like when Miguel had saved you those last two times- this time your heart is beating in your throat and your fingers are trying to grip some part of the Vulture that will cause him pain.

He gets to you first though, talons biting into your obliques and your bicep. There’s a burning sensation and you’re not sure if it’s poison or if it’s just the pain- but it stings like all hell.

You fight and twist, trying to get a good grip on him. You pull on the feathers just under his neck and you pull. As his wings open, and you’re free-falling you get why people would want to skydive. There’s an adrenaline rush that makes you feel like you could actually fly. It makes you sympathise with Icarus; the boy had a taste of a freedom that’s usually not afforded to humans and it’s freeing in a way that makes you accept the splat that’s going to be you hitting the pavement.

Miguel doesn’t let it happen.

His nanobots form a blanket on the ground, holding you as he rushes off to capture the Vulture.

“Lyla, call Margo and tell her open the multiverse anomaly receiver.”

You don’t hear much of what her response is because your hand is covered in blood as you press it to your side.

“Coqueta, pensé que dije que me quedara adentro?” I thought I said to stay inside? Miguel’s hand moves to his watch, giving new instructions to his nanobots that mould to your open wounds. “You have a hard time listening, don’t you?”

You look up at him, breathing harshly, “Sometimes pretty people distract me. I thought you said, ‘For sure come outside, I need help,’ it’s easy to mix up the words.”

“You don’t even know what I look like,” He points out and watches you roll your eyes as best as you can in your current position, “Hold on to me.” He thinks better of the simple instruction and lifts his mask up to look at you, “I mean exactly what I said. Hold on to me.”

Swinging with an open wound wasn’t as nice as the other times. This time you could tell Miguel was very conscious of where his hands were and how much pressure he was applying to your body.

You're wherever Miguel stays, and it looks very him. The room he takes you to is full of dark reds and blues, matching his suit completely. “Did you want to camouflage in your own office?” you’re a little breathless as you speak, body tired and growing even more tired as you lose more and more blood.

Miguel doesn’t say anything, he just clears a table and lays you on it. “Don’t scream or anything. The other Spider-people are asleep.”

“There’s more of you?”

He gives one deft nod and then digs around his desk till he pulls out a first aid kit.

Your eyes are fluttering shut and Miguel notices your breathing getting worse.

“Don’t close your eyes.” he instructs, tapping your cheek lighting to get you to open your eyes again.

“I’m tired,” you groan, jolting away from his hand on your hip. You melt into it when you open your eyes and find Miguel staring intently at you. “You could’ve left me at the hospital.”

“And explain your wounds how?” he holds an antiseptic cloth in his hand. “This might sting.” you nod, biting your lip as the cold cloth presses against your side.

“Fuck,” you murmur, clenching your fists as he finishes cleaning the blood. Miguel tries to distract you but talking to strangers isn’t really his strong suit.

“Is this your first time getting stitches?” he asks and you hum- a broken little sound as the needle pierces your skin. Miguel feels awful at the sound, “I’m sorry, it’s going to pinch the whole way through.”

You nod, trying not to focus on the way the needle pinches on your side with every stitch. “Do you have to stitch yourself a lot? Is that why you’re good at this?”

Miguel doesn’t say anything to your question, just ponders the way you put on a brave face as he closes the stitch.

The second time the needle pierces your skin you feel your head spin, “Think I’m gonna pass out,” you say and Miguel frowns.

You hadn’t looked that bad to Miguel, but he feels his mistake fester and feels the way it can all go wrong so quickly.

“Lyla, get her vitals up on the screen,” he instructs, hoping the nerves aren’t reflected in his voice, watching as your blood pressure drops. “Fuck,”

You go to say something but Miguel stops you, “You’ll have to stay here tonight. There’s no way you’re going back to your apartment.”

Your eyes feel heavy as you look at him, “Okay,” you twist to lay flat again but the movement seems to have taken the last bit of energy from you. “I’m sorry.” Your bones liquify and your breathing is even and Miguel swears lowly.

His chest feels heavy and achy.

“Looks like you’re getting bedside manner training,” Lyla coos as she finishes displaying all your vitals.

“I just don’t want her to die here, Lyla. When she’s a bit more stable I’ll take her to my room.” Miguel uses a gentle hand to brush your hair from your face, and he takes a moment to let his affection guide him as his thumb strokes the slope of your nose then the curve of your lip.

“You won’t die, no one else is dying,” the words are whispered as he finishes sewing you up, taking his time in cleaning the wound before sitting back in his seat, just watching your vitals till they’re good enough for him to move you to his room.

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delimeful · 8 months

Text

helpless (7)

warnings: restraints, blood and injury, unethical treatment, spider mention/drider, misunderstandings, cannibalism mentions, kidnapping, lmk if i missed any

Janus managed to bite three different people before they finally pinned him in one place long enough to force the makeshift muzzle over his head.

He didn’t regret it, persay, but the little victory would have been far more gratifying if he hadn’t gotten his head slammed into a wall hard enough to make him see stars right afterwards.

If it weren’t for the cobbled-together gag, he would have started swearing. It was already extremely unlikely that he’d make it out of this particular clusterfuck unscathed, and seeing double certainly wasn’t going to improve his odds.

At least he’d ruined a few lives on his way out, he reflected as they hauled him up and out the door of the decrepit barn at the edge of town. His curse wasn’t useful for much, but he’d made the most of his venom and its ‘truth-telling’ properties no matter where he went.

The ones he’d bitten would be spilling their guts for the better part of a day, and he was more than sure that they’d be dropping some unpleasant secrets. If he was lucky, they’d be forced to regurgitate his little vigilante scheme to someone in town who’d see it for the idiocy it was.

Well, no. If he was actually lucky, he’d miraculously wiggle his way out of a painful and messy death. Getting his tormentors punished was more of a pleasant afterthought in the luck department.

He was unimaginably pissed that of all the plots against him, this was the one he hadn’t seen coming.

Sure, in retrospect, the dragon that used to demand tribute from the town had clearly had a bigger impact on the older populace than he’d first assumed. He’d been wary about settling there for a while, what with the scales and the eye and the other dragon-adjacent traits, but nobody had given him more than the usual level of confusion and distaste, and some people had been outright friendly.

How was he supposed to know that opinion would suddenly shift because something as generally positive as a rescued child?

He hadn’t even been involved with the whole situation!

Sure, he’d felt the overwhelming dread in the air when the child of one of the town’s governing members had disappeared. He’d breathed in a sigh of relief the same as everyone else when she’d been miraculously returned barely a day later. He’d even heard a fair number of the rumors recounting the stories she’d told about the creature in the woods that had helped her.

Strange, and definitely a reason to keep an eye on those woods, but the ordeal had nothing to do with him, and he’d thought it was over.

Except, according to his oh-so-gracious captors, that wasn’t the end of it. No supernatural presence came without strings attached, and with the rescue of one that could (at a stretch) be called an heir, they were convinced that the town would be called on to repay the debt.

So they’d decided that rather than wait for a monster to come claim a resident and steal them away in a week or two, they would choose the payment themselves. At that point, it was only a matter of picking someone they could afford to lose. Unsurprisingly, they settled on the cursed foreigner with the bad attitude.

Janus had had his humanity doubted his entire life, and now he’d been forced into the role of human sacrifice. He imagined he would have appreciated the irony more if it weren’t at his own expense.

His only balm was the fact that this clearly wasn’t a unanimous decision, going by the cloak-and-dagger way he’d been abducted and dragged out of town. He liked a fair few of his neighbors at this point, and he would have hated to find out that in addition to his imminent demise, he was also a horrible judge of character.

His attention snapped back to the unfortunate situation at hand as his captors slowed to a stop. They had reached a small, man-made clearing a little ways into the woods, with a tall, worn post driven deep into the earth. The wood was stained and the ground indented in strange places, as though the dragon and a bloody sacrifice had departed only hours ago, instead of years.

A shudder ran through the idiot on his left, clearly remembering something about the horrors that had taken place here. As someone who was about to become a horror taking place here, Janus found himself utterly unable to dredge up any sympathy for him.

In fact, he abruptly decided that the hypocrisy had earned his captor a knee to the groin, in the name of him getting the hell out of here.

The person on his other side must’ve been the keener sort, because their reflexes were much sharper.

One very short escape attempt later, Janus was firmly tied to the post, now with a spattering of heavy bruising all along his ribs in addition to his probable concussion.

To add insult to injury– or rather, injury to injury, they’d bid him farewell with a gash sliced into the front of his lower leg, relatively shallow but easily deep enough for blood to start seeping into his pants.

Fantastic. More obstacles to him getting out of this, exactly what he needed.

He tried not to dwell on his own helplessness, but it was everywhere he looked. He’d been stripped of his work belt and all the tools on it. He couldn’t make them doubt themselves with any well-placed remarks. He couldn’t even glare at their retreating backs without sending a new spike of pain through his throbbing skull.

A glance at the post was enough to dispel any hopes he’d had of physically breaking free; it was covered in various scratches and scrapes from previous victims, and there was no sign that any of them had gotten anywhere close to damaging it.

He tenderly leaned his head back against the wood and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to think of a way out. Trying not to let the creeping fear overwhelm his irritation.

A distant rustle made his head snap up with a painful jolt, scanning the treeline for a long moment, body drawn as taut as a bowstring.

Nothing. Nothing he could see, anyway.

Janus hissed lowly against the cloth of the gag, ignoring the way his hands had started shaking from where they were pinned behind his back.

It was going to be a long night.

—

Virgil was doing some early-morning web maintenance when he found them.

Or more accurately, stumbled across them. He regularly cut across this part of the forest to avoid running into anyone in the grove of fruit trees that the nearby town liked to harvest from, and he’d already been halfway across the clearing when the scent of blood hit him.

He stopped dead, shuffling his legs slightly to make sure he wasn’t imagining things, and then turned to actually look over the open space with a growing sense of dread.

Oh. The weird wooden pole driven into the center of the clearing now had a human tied to it. One that was staring directly at him.

… How many times was this going to happen to him?!

Not the thing to focus on, right now. Virgil took a deep breath, forcing himself to assess his latest mess instead of cursing whatever deity had apparently thought it funny to put him in situations like this.

The human was on the shorter side, with disheveled blonde hair, mismatched eyes, and a startling pattern of greenish-gold scales along one side of their face. Their clothes were meticulously embroidered, though Virgil couldn’t make out the patterns through the extensive amount of ropes binding them to the wooden pole. As though those weren’t bad enough, there was a strange haphazard gag tied around their head, preventing them from speaking.

Clearly, they had been brought here against their will. Not unscathed, either. Their legs were stretched out in front of them, and though their pants were black, one pant leg was torn and glinting wetly with what was almost certainly blood.

The sight was enough to jolt Virgil into action, and he turned to actually face the stranger, skittering forward a few steps–

They recoiled harshly enough to bang the back of their head against the wood, and made a low, panicked sound of pain.

Virgil froze, his chest growing tight at the way they were watching him. Their eyes flicked over every inch of him like a cornered deer, their chest rising and falling in shallow bursts.

This wasn’t one of his humans. This was a stranger that had been left to an uncertain fate, now faced with a monster. They were terrified.

“Hey, I– I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his voice coming out slightly hoarse. He crept forward, slower now, with his hands raised in the human version of nonaggression. He tilted one down to gesture at their wound. “I don’t know how you got here, but that leg looks pretty bad.”

The stranger dragged both legs up to tuck their knees against their chest, curling into a defensive ball with a glare that screamed ‘back-off-don’t-touch-me’. The injured leg was visibly shaking with the strain.

“No, look– hey. I promise I’m not going to kill you or eat you or anything,” he tried, attempting to meet their eyes directly. He crept forward a few more steps. “I know that might be hard to believe with the whole giant spider thing but I’m very firmly anti-cannibalism. Even if it’s technically like, only partial cannibalism.”

That… actually didn’t sound super reassuring, out loud. Virgil winced, resisting the urge to groan. Why had he decided to start using words like ‘cannibalism’?

He really should just call it quits and go get one of the others. After all these years of avoiding contact to avoid scaring the life out of people, he finally had friends that could help him out of awkward situations like these.

Except… the thought of turning around and leaving the stranger like this, bound and helpless while those who did it to them were presumably still running around…

It would only be for a little while. Just until he could poke Patton awake and lead him back here. But a lot could happen in a little while.

The stranger was studying him with a little less mindless panic, now, but he could see the fine tremors running through their frame. It was probably from fear, or pain, or even… cold?

This close, he could see that their clothes were actually pretty damp everywhere, which was odd. The dirt was hard packed under them, no dew-covered grass in reach, and Virgil had been out and about for most of the night. It hadn’t rained this morning, only late… last night…

“Holy shit, you’ve been out here all night,” he said, horrified. “Bleeding!”

The stranger blinked at him with a level of mild disorientation that Virgil probably should have picked up on earlier.

Okay. Forget trying to coax them into letting him close enough to undo the binds and lead them back to town. The stranger was getting help whether they liked it or not.

Scurrying around the post, Virgil pulled his dagger and slit the restraints in one smooth movement, and then immediately swept in and plucked the human off the ground, lifting them up with the practiced strength of someone who regularly caught humans flinging themselves in his direction.

They responded with a distinctly-upset muffled protest, and a well-aimed kick to the gut.

“Don’t kick me with your injured leg, are you stupid?!” Virgil demanded through a wheeze, holding them out a little farther and twisting away from a second, much weaker kick. “Stop that!”

Deciding that making sure they didn’t bleed out took priority over trying to calm them down, he pulled some silk and wrapped it around the wound as best he could.

The stranger made a gargled hiss through the gag. Virgil hissed back absently, sticking the end of the webbing in place and deeming it a good enough placeholder bandage.

He readjusted so that he was carrying them more securely, an arm under their back and another wrapped around the crook of their knees, and hurried off towards the slowly-growing campsite where his humans were sleeping.

This was now officially an abduction; hopefully Roman wouldn’t get stabby about it.

#sanders sides fanfic #drider au #ts virgil #ts janus #helpless #my writing #writing

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ronaldofandom · 10 months

Text

Forever, and for always!

And, after a few titbits, the proposal fic is up :)

Written at the request of a few readers. And also because I missed writing about my babies.

Summary: Bheem wants to ask Jenny to marry him. He's shit nervous and takes help from Ram & Sita. Then, he proposes in the most 'Bheem' way possible. This is fluff & fluff & more fluff.

................................................................

‘Anna - meet me riverside. It’s a matter of life and death.’

Ram had just finished the training session when a kid handed over Bheem’s note to him. The haphazardly scribbled words added to the urgency of the situation. Ram dropped everything and galloped towards the river, bracing himself for the worst. Ready to go on absolute rampage if anyone had dared to hurt Bheem.

His eyes scanned all directions, searching from pillar to post. When he finally spotted Bheem, he dashed towards him.

‘What…what’s wrong? What happened? I came as quickly as I could.’

Bheem looked curiously at Ram. The man was bent over, his hands on his knees, desperately trying to catch his breath.

Ram had also gotten the chance to look Bheem over. He didn’t seem physically hurt, thankfully, and there didn’t seem to be any imminent danger either. What was the issue then? Why did Bheem scare the living daylights out of him with that note?

‘Anna - why are you panting?’

Ram was more than mildly irritated by the question.

‘Isn’t it obvious? I came running because you said it’s a matter of life and death.’

Bheem looked guilty. Instantly. And Ram started to get irked by the look.

‘Well, what is it then? Spill. NOW.’

Bheem started to pace around the area, nervously. The man was driving Ram nuts.

‘I…uh…I am thinking about asking Jenny to marry me.’

Ram processed the information for a few seconds. Then picked up a pebble and hurled it at Bheem. It was small enough to not hurt but large enough to at-least sting.

Bheem rubbled his hurt shoulder, and gaped at Ram, all crestfallen and confused.

‘THAT was a matter of life and death? THAT? Do you have any idea what all went through my mind in the last 6 minutes? DO YOU?’

Bheem looked down sheepishly. He should have worded the note better, instead of letting his heart overpower his judgement.

A few more cuss words and bear hugs and puppy eyes later, Ram’s mood improved markedly and he calmed down enough to focus on the matter at hand.

‘What exactly is bothering you, Bheem? Tell me.’

Bheem started to pace up and down again, making Ram dizzy.

‘You remember how you had told me to give her time to get acclimatised? To not pop the question too soon? To not put her in a spot where she feels compelled or pressured to make a choice?’

‘Yes I said that. Because you wanted to propose marriage to her two days after you guys said ‘I love you’ to each other.’

Ram rolled his eyes in annoyance at the memory. He believed he had saved Bheem from falling off a cliff with that herculean stupid idea of his.

Bheem paused the frenzied pacing abruptly and held Ram’s shoulders.

‘Exactly. I did all that you said. I waited. Patiently. I didn’t blurt out or hinted anything. Not even once. I stayed mum all this while. But Anna, it’s been 3 months since we have been together. I…I think we are ready to take the next step. What do you think?’

For the first time that evening, and in a long time, Ram smiled. Fondly. While shaking his head at Bheem.

‘My sweet brother - how could I be the judge of that? Only you two could know where you are in your relationship.’

‘That’s not true. You know her world better than me. You can see things from her lens. If she hadn’t been here, if it hadn’t been me but one of….well….those white men, would they have waited 3 months or more to pop the question? What’s the norm?’

Ram smiled even more, irking Bheem this time.

‘Glad my troubles are amusing to you.’

Bheem huffed and crossed his hands across his chest.

‘Oh no no, it’s not like that. It’s just funny that of all the people in this world, you decided to come to ME for relationship advice. I am laughing at the irony, not you.’

Bheem just shrugged in response. Ram was the smartest person he knew, and he trusted him with his life. So ofcourse he had gone to Ram for advice. Plus, Ram had saved him from quite a few faux-pas during his whirlwind romance. And, he had asked Sita to marry him. Surely he would have some pearls of wisdom to offer.

‘Look Bheem, no part of this is as per the norm. While you made your courtship official to the tribal council, her living together with you all these months is not the accepted practice in her world. In fact, it would be frowned upon and would cause immense uproar in her family. She has defied every rule set for her by following you here, so that shouldn’t be your benchmark. Your relationship has moved at a very different pace. You both have been through a lot, in this short span of three months. Forget the norm, just ask yourself if you think she is ready.’

Bheem was dreading this answer. Frankly, he didn’t want to rely just on his own heart. If he had followed his stupid heart, he would have foolishly proposed three months back itself.

Ram saw his inner turmoil through his transparent face.

‘Ok - let’s go through a few parameters. She wanted to be more self-reliant, right? To learn the ways of your world. How do you think she fares in that now?’

‘Frankly, she has surprised me. Surpassed all my assumptions. She has been the most diligent student, Anna. In household stuff and outside stuff alike. I don’t need to tell you that, since you have already graduated her from knife training to a revolver. She has picked up the language so quickly. All day, she busies herself in one thing or another. As if wanting to do a crash course on everything related to my world. Long story short, I don’t believe that to be an issue anymore.’

Ram nodded in agreement. Jenny was one of the best students he ever had. He had seen her evolve rapidly in all departments.

‘Great. Now, what about communication? She wanted you to share more with her, about your troubles, and not keep shielding her from the sad realities. Where do you guys stand on that?’

Bheem paused for introspection. After that massive and near-terminal fight at the beginning, they had started to communicate better. It had taken conscious effort, on both sides, to not let their insecurities affect what they said to each other. To actually share things as they were. Because the unspoken things were doing more harm than good.

‘Yes, we learnt it the hard way but we are fine now.’

‘Super. What about her health? You were worried initially about her adapting to the climate and food.’

‘That’s settled too. She got a few bouts of fever and food poisoning initially but that I had anticipated. Since then, she has adapted well.’

Ram nodded his head silently, while going through the checklist in his mind. There wasn’t much else to ask. All of their initial hiccups in the relationship seemed to have been sorted. There was one elephant in the room, though. Ram decided to address it head on.

‘Finally, Bheem, are you over the stupid notion that you don’t deserve her? That she would walk away any day, wanting no more of this life with you?’

Bheem’s mood suddenly turned solemn and his face fell. Ram had to resist the urge to offer physical comfort.

‘Anna, to be honest, I don’t think that fear will go away fully. Ever. I think she knows it too. But she has shown me in her own way how much she…loves me. And that this isn’t some exotic adventure for her. She has given her all and more to our relationship. So, I don’t want to let this fear rule my life anymore.’

This time, Ram couldn’t stop himself from hugging his little pumpkin. The pumpkin hugged back instantly. Separating after a few pats on the back.

‘In that case, my friend, you are ready. Go and make me proud.’

Panic hit Bheem, suddenly.

‘Go? What do you mean go? I can’t just say it like that. What would I even say? What should I do? I should do something, right? I can’t just ask this plainly. It has to be special, how do I make it special? Why are you looking at me like that, Anna? What should I do?’

‘That is not my department. You should ask the wise one.’

‘Yes, Sita would know. Surely, she would know what to do. I will go find her now. Oh Anna, thanks a ton.’

Bheem crushed Ram in a bear hug, his excitement palpable from his every move.

Before galloping away to find Sita, Bheem turned around to look at Ram one final time.

‘Anna - she won’t say no, right?’

‘Bheem, the only question is, how quickly will she say yes. My guess is under a second. Unless there are tears. From both sides. You are going to cry, aren’t you?’

‘I shall neither confirm nor deny that.’

With that, Bheem ran away to find Sita. Leaving Ram in an uncharacteristically pleasant mood.

Sita had just finished her chores for the afternoon, and was sitting under the banyan tree near her hut, knitting for the village new-borns.

Bheem whooshed past her in his rush, only turning back when he heard her singing.

Sita was initially alarmed to see Bheem so frenzied, but he quickly assured her that all was well.

She patted to the makeshift bench next to her, and Bheem sat down, nervously wriggling his fingers.

‘Where were you all day? I made kheer. Was looking for you but you were nowhere to be found.’

‘Ahh I was caught up in something. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something.’

‘Let me get you some kheer. Then we will talk.’

Bheem didn’t protest. A little kheer won’t do anyone any harm.

Sita returned shortly with the creamy delicacy, which Bheem gobbled in 5 bites, licking around his mouth for any leftovers. Sita smiled fondly at his antics.

‘So, what did you want to talk about?’

Bheem looked down & quickly repeated what he had told Ram, about his intentions to marry Jenny. In some ways, Sita’s thoughts would be more insightful here since she was the closest to Jenny here, after him.

When there was silence for the next few moments, Bheem looked up to find moistness in Sita’s eyes.

She cupped his face gently, and dropped an affectionate peck to his forehead.

‘Oh dear, you have no idea how happy that made me. I am sooo thrilled for my friend. And I am equally overjoyed for you, my sweet Bheem. You two deserve all the happiness in the world. May god save you from all evil eyes. My love and blessings will always be with you both.’

Sita held his hands, while saying all the prayers for the couple. Bheem couldn’t help but smile at this pure soul. Her nobility, her kindness, her wisdom, and her resolve was second to none. Truly, a goddess reincarnated. Sometimes, Bheem saw traces of his mother’s care and affection in her. He was very fond of Sita and always held her in high regard.

She was also as intuitive as his mother, quickly sensing his hesitation.

‘What’s troubling you, Bheem? Your smile isn’t fully reaching your eyes.’

‘Sita - you know her as well as I do. Tell me - is this the right time? Will I overwhelm her by asking now? Should I wait some more. I don’t…I am not going to do anything which causes her any stress.’

‘I will tell you what I feel. But before that, tell me, what does your heart say?’

‘I feel marriage is just a nomenclature for us now. We are already married in our hearts. But still, this is very important for me. And I know that she believes in marriage too. I just want her to be mine, in every way humanly possible. That’s what I feel.’

Sita smiled serenely at the adorable person she loved like a brother. They must have been siblings in a previous life.

She reached out and held his hand.

‘Here is what I think. She has been in this world for 21 years but she has truly lived in the last one year, since she has met you. And especially the last three months. Her hopes, fears, prayers, trepidations, pretty much all sentiments are linked to you, Bheem. She never thought this could be a reality, that you would ever love her back like she did. Every day, she thanks her stars for bringing you to her. Every effort she has made to assimilate and adapt here has all been for you.’

Bheem felt a lump in his throat, too overcome with emotion to say anything. She squeezed his hand lightly and continued.

‘Her time here has not been without challenges. You know that. But what you may not know is how much she appreciates you letting her navigate her own path. To make her own choices. Bheem - when you understood her hesitations about motherhood, it meant the world to her. When you let her fall, get hurt, get lost sometimes while learning this way of life, that support is all she needs. It shows her that you see her. You hear her. You understand her. You support her. You respect her. We all know how much that has hurt you, to let her go through any kind of pain, which is why she is all the more grateful. Her world begins and ends with you, my dear Bheem - there is no need to have any second thoughts.’

Bheem hung on to every word, smiling through his hazy eyes. Sita’s validation is what he needed. He had no doubt that Jenny loved him as unconditionally and irrevocably as he loved her. It hadn’t been easy but they had gotten here. What they had was so special, he couldn’t afford to make any stupid move to mess that up.

Grateful, he beamed back at Sita, who was wiping her eyes with her pallu and smiling like an idiot at the same time.

They brainstormed on how best to tell Jenny. And the things Bheem wanted to do to make the occasion even more special. Sita had a ton of ideas, Bheem loved them all. He had only two ideas but Sita cried again when she heard them. Clarifying between sobs that they touched her heart.

‘Oh Bheem, Jenny is so so lucky. Yes, please go ahead with both. I will help with the logistics.’

They were going to need at-least two days to execute the plan. Once all the details were finalised, Bheem looked at her earnestly.

‘I can’t thank Anna and you enough. Without you both, I would never have had the courage to do what I am going to do.’

‘One second, you asked Ram for suggestion? OUR RAM?’

‘Umm, yes?’

‘You do know he proposed to me when we were half asleep, after a harrowing day and a tumultuous fight, out of nowhere right?’

‘But you said yes, didn’t you?’

She sighed, resigned.

‘Yes. Yes, I did.’

‘I think that qualifies as mission accomplished.’

‘Yeah, whatever.’

They spent few more lazy moments together, then went their own ways. There was a lot to do.

Two days passed. And the D-Day was here.

Bheem was in Sita’s hut and they were cross-checking if everything was in place. Once Sita was satisfied, she kept the bag aside and held Bheem by his shoulders. Both smiled at each other. Both looked like absolute lunatics to Ram, who was observing their histrionics from a distance.

But when Sita put tilak on Bheem’s forehead and fed him some sweet curd, for good omen, Ram couldn’t help himself from chiming in.

‘Sita, he is not going on a war, for heaven’s sake.’

Both pair of eyes turned on him, Sita’s more annoyed than Bheem’s, obviously.

Ram looked away, muttering under his breath.

‘Bheem, ignore this robot. He can take his cynicism and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. You go on. I will wait to hear the good news.’

After a comforting and reassuring hug from Sita, Bheem headed out, smiling at the faint bickering between Ram-Sita in the background. Holding the bag close to his chest. Trying to relive all the pep talk from the last few days, to not panic.

But alas, Jenny wasn’t in the hut. Where could she go at this time?

He looked around, trying to keep a lid on his paranoia. Just then, a neighbour told him she had seen her near the well in the village courtyard.

And there she was. Frolicking with toddlers in the makeshift pool created for them, since these children were too young to bathe in the stream or the river.

She had a one year old in her lap, who was too young to even dip in this pool. So, she was splashing him with tiny droplets while he was bouncing in her arms. The other kids took advantage of the distraction and splashed her with fists full of water. Their giggles sounded like a song of nature. A celebration of freedom. An expression of pure unadulterated bliss.

Bheem stood in the shadows, admiring the scene. He should take her swimming soon. Last time, the river current had been too much for Jenny. She was used to swimming in pools and lakes but not in running water. So she had clung to him the whole time, head to toe, not letting go for a second. The memory made him all fuzzy.

Bheem couldn’t wait anymore and called out to Jenny. She waved back happily, safely returned the infant to his mother, bid goodbye to the other kids and semi-hopped towards him. Just when he thought she couldn’t get any more adorable.

Seeing her with toddlers always tugged at his heart strings. A strange desire mixed with ache. A hope for a family, if and when the notion appeals to her.

‘Hello hello. Earth to Bheem. Where are you lost?’

They were walking back, hand in hand. Jenny was chattering away, but Bheem was too lost in his imaginations to register her pearly voice.

Pearly voice. Bheem was amused as to how he had an adjective for everything related to her.

‘You had a good day?’

‘Oh it was absolutely lovely. I was walking by and the kids just dragged me in. You could have joined us in the merrymaking.’

She elbowed him lightly, glancing up at him. He seemed a bit lost today and she wondered if everything was well.

‘I have other plans for us today. But before that, let’s get you changed. You are soaking wet right now.’

She hummed and rested her head on his shoulder, lacing their fingers together.

Upon reaching the hut, Jenny started to pick up a change of clothing, when Bheem gently held her wrist.

‘Umm I have brought something for you. A saree. Will you wear that for me?’

‘Awww my darling. That’s so sweet. Ofcourse I will wear it now. But, how come this all of a sudden? Anything special today?’

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he held her close and looked straight into her eyes.

‘Every moment with you is special. You make it special, by just being with me.’

He said it so earnestly, so matter-of-factly that she nearly forgot to breathe for a few seconds, losing her way in his eyes.

When she went to take out the garments from the bag, Bheem jumped & took the bag out of her reach, handing her the red blouse and petticoat sheepishly. She looked at him curiously, convinced that he was up to something, but decided to play along.

While she changed in the adjoining chamber, Bheem bounced around the hut, praying to all gods known to mankind. Praying to his parents, seeking their blessings.

He also did a few squats, push-ups to dissipate the nervous every plaguing his body. He was in the middle of a headstand when he heard the door open, losing his balance and falling flat on his face with a loud thud. Thankfully, she didn’t see any of it.

Jenny walked out, knocking the wind out of his chest. The red blouse, fitted to perfection, a perfect match for her radiant skin. The petticoat around her slender, smooth, curvy lower waist. Her damp hair dangling over one shoulder, while she ran her fingers through them to sort the messy strands.

‘Help me with this please? I can’t reach it.’

She turned her back to him, pointing to the thread to tie the blouse.

Bheem’s fingers slid up her part-bare back, of their own volition, and tied the thread gently. Checking on the sturdiness of the knot by pulling at it with his teeth. Enjoying her resulting shudder & goosebumps.

Sliding an arm over her waist, he turned her around, admiring her from head to toe. He was particularly proud of the fit of the blouse, given he had relied solely on his memory for the measurements. She realised it too & glanced away, trying to hide her fluster.

Finally, he pulled out the saree from the bag and she clapped in delight. It was a traditional Indian red & white saree. Jenny had been longing for one since she had seen it on a few women in Delhi during festivities. But only Sita knew about her fondness for it. And ofcourse she had told Bheem. Ofcourse.

Draping the saree was an adventure. Neither knew how to do it properly. Bheem knew the mechanics but actually doing the pleats was far more complicated than the concept of it. She helped however she could, letting her body loose like a doll for him to manoeuver, as he figured out which side to pull the pallu from. They laughed and giggled through it all.

The end result was quite close to a saree. Atleast that’s what they both insisted. Sita would have disagreed, ofcourse.

Bheem was far from being done. He sneaked into that suspicious bag again and pulled out a set of jhumkis, a waist chain, a red bindi and a gajra. Donning them all on her carefully, like she was made of rose petals.

Mesmerised, she just followed his movements. Every little thing he had picked to adorn her body was perfect. Stunning. He was dressing her up like a devoted priest would dress a goddess before the temple opening every morning. Readying her to be worshipped. The lump in her throat grew.

‘B-Bheem, all this….what’s happening?’

The way he looked at her then, she knew something momentous was going to happen.

Bheem held her hands, bringing them to his eyes first, and then to his lips, finally keeping them close to his chest, letting her feel his rapidly thumping heart.

‘Do you hear what it is saying?’

He pressed her hands further into his chest. She looked at him pleadingly, voice cracking in her throat.

‘Bangaram, it’s saying that it belongs to you, now and forever. For this life and the next six. You own my heart. You own my life. You own my soul, Jenny.’

Jenny leaned forward and lightly brushed her lips against his while pressing their foreheads together.

‘I…I know, my love.’

She whispered against his lips. Then stepped back to communicate the same through her eyes.

‘It is also scared. Not as scared as earlier, though, when it used to not feel deserving enough of you. Because you made it believe that you did love this fool back. You made the fears go away. You made it dream. You made it fly. You made it hope. You made it full. You made it worthy. You made it your home.’

Jenny tried hard to rein in her emotions but tears had started to drop from the corner of her eyes. He kissed away a few. She was shaking, as was he. They continued to cling to each other for support.

‘It’s scared because without you, it will suffocate to death. It won’t know how to function, how to get by. It doesn’t recollect what life used to be before you, or if that was any life at all. It can not imagine a life without you. You made it greedy, bangaram. Because now, it wants you fully. Exclusively. Forever.’

She desperately gripped his shoulder for support and started to respond, but he placed his palm over her lips.

‘If you say something now, I would lose the strength to continue. I am not good with words jaan, you know that.’

Jenny broke into a helpless giggle. Man had the audacity to say that after putting Jane Austen to shame with his ballad of love. But she nodded nonetheless, asking him to continue.

What he did next made her head reel.

Bheem went down on one knee, looking up at her with all the love he could muster.

‘I have wanted to do this since the day I told you I loved you. It felt right then. It feels right now. You are the light of my life, the centre of my universe, the reason for my existence. I want to grow old with you, Jenny.’

He pulled out the last item from the bag. A pair of gold-plated bangles that belonged to his mother. Jenny knew what those were; he had told her it was the only belonging of his mother that he had. That his father had given her on the day Bheem was born. It looked recently polished but Jenny was certain it was the same pair. Her heart threatened to burst out of her chest.

‘I know you know what these are and what they mean to me. All I can say is, you mean as much now, as she did. Amma would have loved for you to have these. I wish she was here. I wish she had given these to you herself. But I know she is smiling up there, watching over us.’

Jenny felt like she would combust any moment. She pinched herself a few times to ensure it wasn’t a dream.

‘Jenny Buxton, would you make me the happiest being to ever exist on this earth, by being mine forever? By….by being my wife?’

She fell down on her knees, throwing her arms around him, almost toppling him with the impact. She cupped his face and kissed him all over, like her life depended on it, whispering ‘yes’ with each kiss.

It took Bheem fifteen yes to finally believe it. When he did, he pulled her into his lap, kissing her back as desperately and passionately. When they parted after what seemed like an eternity, he held her wrists and slid the bangles lovingly on them.

He found her beautiful always. But today was extra special. No goddess, no angel, no divine being could match up to her glow today. He wanted her to see what he was seeing. So he took her in front of the full length mirror, that he had especially gotten for her (with immense efforts) when she had come to Adilabad.

She stood there, fiddling with the fabric and all the ornaments, quite pleased with herself too.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind, as Bheem buried his head into the side of her neck, which she could both feel and see through the mirror. His fingers started to play with the chain on her waist, as he nibbled around her neck and shoulder.

‘You could wear this saree on our wedding. It has both red and white. To represent both our cultures and marriage traditions.’

Jenny had to close her eyes, and not just because she was feeling dizzy with all his ministrations. Every-time she thought this man couldn’t get any more thoughtful, he did something like this.

She traced his arm which was wrapped around her waist, playing with the hair there. While her other hand reached back to caress his bearded cheek. He immediately leaned into her palm, nuzzling against it.

‘I want to take your name.’

He paused and looked up. Their eyes met through the mirror.

‘I don’t wanna be Jenny Buxton after the wedding. I want to take your name. I want everything a married woman has with her husband. Everything.’

Jenny didn’t know why that statement generated such fire in Bheem. He seemed to be undressing her with his eyes now, through the mirror. She had to break the gaze and look away.

His hands became more urgent, more insistent, roaming all over, turning her into a hot mess.

‘Since you have to wear this attire on our wedding, maybe we should keep it safe and take it off, yes?’

‘Oh, ‘we’ should take it off is it?’

She managed to find her voice.

‘Yes. It’s a two-person job.’

‘Uh-huh.’

Bheem took it atrociously slow, taking his time to undo her piece by piece. Not letting her help. Pinning her wrists in one hand.

He planned to only leave the bangles on her.

Just then, a loud knock on the door interrupted his flow.

‘Anna - the recce team is back from Hyderabad. Should I tell them you will meet them now?’

Bheem took a few deep breaths. The messenger was just doing his job, he didn’t want to yell at him.

Jenny was amused, observing his reaction. Pressed up close to him, she felt the state he was in and knew he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

‘Tell them I will come later.’

‘Ok. Should I tell them 15 minutes?’

‘15 MINUTES? Tell them one hour.’

He thought for a second, then called out again.

‘Actually, make that two hours. Go, tell them right now.’

The messenger scuttled away quickly, wanting to relay Bheem’s message ASAP.

And Bheem went back to celebrating his engagement with the love of his life. As planned, he left only the bangles on her. Loving the way they looked. The way they felt as she wrapped her arms around his neck. As her hands gripped his shoulders, his arms, his back, his face.

He just wanted to indulge in her attentions, immerse in her softness, drown in her love. Other things could wait. Other people could wait. Today was just for the two of them. The day that neither would forget for as long as they live. The day where they committed to be each other’s. Forever, and for always.

.................................................................

That was it, folks. Hope you liked it. Would love to hear your thoughts, as always!

@irisesforyoureyes @rambheem-is-real @thewinchestergirl1208 @eremin0109 @eenadu-varthalu @rorapostsbl @yehsahihai @budugu @maraudersbitchesassemble @justmeand-myinsight @rambheemisgoated @rosayounan @jrntrtitties @obsessedtoafault @rambheemlove @jjwolfesworld @alikokinav @iam-siriuslysher-lokid @dumdaradumdaradum @lovingperfectionwonderland

@chaanv @ssabriel @milla984 @kaagazkefool @boochhaan @mesimpleone @filesbeorganized @ladydarkey @teddybat24 @stanleykubricks @burningsheepcrown @veteran-fanperson @ronika-writes-stuff @beingmes-blog @yonderghostshistories @nisreenart @chaidrivenwhore @bheemaxrama @umbrulla @mizutaama @rosefulmadness @gifseafins @fangirlshrewt97 @voidsteffy @maooyinysparkle @amalthea9 @vijayasena @stars-in-the-distance @astrafangs

#rrr #tarak #jr ntr #bheem #ntr jr #charan #rambheem #bheem rrr #ram #bheemjenny #jenny rrr #sita rrr #ramsita

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not-goldy · 4 months

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https://www.tumblr.com/not-goldy/739682356919697408/httpswwwtumblrcomnot-goldy739667897212862464

No seriously, I’m not trying to start anything or gaslight you! 😅😅

Maybe I misunderstood, sorry.

So if we think Jk was quick to clear any gf rumors and dropped the gay Tik Tok, and a ‘queer cleanse’ does not seem necessary.. then I guess I’m a having a hard time connecting the dots on what you’re saying here overall?

I think the whole ‘queer cleanse’ bit tripped me up.

(No lie, I actually did fail reading comp in school 😭)

Ah I see.

The point I was making is, queer cleansing of an Artist's image is a real thing. Hollywood does it, kpop does it. However it's done as a way to salvage an Artist's image to improve their commercial viability.

Think of it this way, if Jungkook who has a tattoo has to appear on certain channels in SK, he was to cover up his tattoos. That is a form of cleanse. He is clearing up his appearance in order to appear consumable to an audience.

If a song is explicit, certain lines would have to be muted to clean it up.

Similarly, if a someone is mired in queer rumors, he will out a straight relationship to prove he is not queer or to detach from that image.

Lil Nas faked a queer cleanse recently to promote his new music- of course we over here knew it was a ruse. But apparently people took him seriously 🙄

He pretended he had "repented" the gay and was back into the church and was promoting conservative Christian values etc only to disappoint them all with a sike🥲🥲🥲🥲

It's very common for people who are queer to cleanse their image, to break away from any associations with the queer community or their queer identity by entering into "straight" relationships or marriage, converting to Christianity or whatever other means as a dramatic exit from queerhood.

It's a denunciation of a sort if you will.

And usually it's done to mitigate whatever negative impact your queer image is having on you either socially or commerciallly

For queer artists they do this by either "accidentally" revealing a relationship, (sort of like celebrities calling Paparazi on themselves) or allowing straight rumors to fly about them to suggest they are straight and to rebut any queer rumors surrounding them only to later recant this- openly or privately. It's a keeping it low sort of thing or going under the radar when you find yourself in controversies that are overwhelmingly adversely impacting you or that's imminently going to impact you.

But it's not always done just to hide something. Sometimes it's done to expose something.

Tae did the same thing with Jennie when he followed and unfollowed her. We all knew he had started seeing someone but we weren't in the know as to who it was and we wouldn't have known had he not pulled that "accidental" stunt.

Sometimes, they choose to post and delete where they "accidentally" post a text message photo etc and delete it immediately to make it seem it was inadvertent.

Some idols will post a rant and delete it to set the record straight on things or for Tae, post a get out of your imagination and delete. It's a brief quick statement of their intentions done in a way as to placate themselves.

It's all very manipulative and PR rubbish. Quite effective. But not very slick

So what I'm saying is, I understand OPS original post as them saying JK will be queer cleansing soon. And I don't know their reasons for believing that, it's their blog their opinion however I disagree with them.

Im saying I don't think he will or need to unless he's done something outrageously gay to warrant such a cleanse or unless his public image is been stinky lately that it's affecting him commercially.

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antipolin · 23 days

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Luke Thompson for The Guardian

The actor Luke Thompson, 35, was born in Southampton, grew up in France and trained at Rada. He was nominated for two awards for his first professional role in A Midsummer Night’s Dream at Shakespeare’s Globe. After 10 years in theatre, his screen breakthrough came playing Benedict Bridgerton in the Netflix hit Bridgerton, which will return soon for its third season. On stage, he recently played Willem in A Little Life, opposite James Norton, and is now making his RSC debut as Berowne in Love’s Labour’s Lost.

You recently won a WhatsOnStage award and were nominated for an Olivier for A Little Life. Was that gratifying?

It’s a lovely cherry on the cake of that experience. It’s easy to have an opinion on awards when you haven’t been nominated but actually they mean a lot. I’ve devoted a lot of time and thought to getting better at acting, so it’s incredibly meaningful to be recognised like that.

What was the audience reaction like? There were reports of fainting.

Oh god, yes, everything. There were weeks when it was mad. The craziest one was towards the end of the run. Someone was coughing very loudly during a quiet moment in the play and the show had to stop. It turned out they’d projectile vomited in the dress circle, over other people, who then started retching too, so it was like a chain reaction. I wonder sometimes how much of it is self-perpetuating. The more people come expecting graphic content, the stronger they might react. There’s definitely been an uptick in fainting incidents post-pandemic.

How was working with James Norton?

Fantastic. What I love about James is that he keeps it simple. I don’t know if it’s because of his screen experience but in theatre, the risk of repeating a show over and again is that you start to decorate it and it becomes unrecognisable. Whereas James always wanted to trim the fat and get back to the core of it.

We’re speaking during a break in rehearsals for Love’s Labour’s Lost. Is your RSC debut a big deal for you?

A really big deal. It’s a lovely time to do it as well, when there’s been a changeover of artistic directors. It feels like a fresh page. To be the first production in the big theatre is a real honour.

Director Emily Burns’s production is inspired by billionaire tech bros, right?

The play itself is very Elizabethan. We’ve tried to put it in a modern, more relatable context. It opens with a group of rich, powerful men who are very anxious about what to do with their time, what’s real, what’s honest, what’s fake. We all live in that online world now. It’s also about self-improvement and how to deal with these horrible things [points at his mobile phone].

The play includes Shakespeare’s longest speech. How do you go about learning that?

As always with Shakespeare, there are different versions swimming around but yes, it’s a mouthful. Lines in these great texts work like magic spells. You learn them, repeat them and it stirs things in you. So I mutter it to myself and see what happens. Somehow it’s easier when I’m on the move, but I have to be careful. I’ll be walking down the street and run into someone while reciting lines at full throttle. Then I’ll go quiet because it’s like being caught out.

There’s an ongoing debate about West End ticket prices. Should theatre be more accessible?

Of course. It’s not just about accessibility, it’s about the role of theatre. I sometimes worry it’s for the 0.05% of the population who go all the time but I still believe theatre has a societal function. It’s a bit like politics – you need everyone involved, from as many different backgrounds as possible. Theatre should be the opposite of an echo chamber. It’s about coming together and sharing ideas. That’s increasingly rare nowadays. We’re all stuck behind our screens, slightly uncomfortable with the idea of proper debate and exchange.

Bridgerton series three is imminent. Where do we find your character Benedict?

Things come to a head in terms of trying to work out what he actually wants. When you’re “the spare”, there’s a lack of pressure. Benedict flits around having fun, free and easy, but he’s also paralysed by choice and searching for something more meaningful. He’s quite a modern character in that way: I know a lot of people trying to build meaning in their life.

Is this series as sexy as ever?

Of course. Julia Quinn’s books are romance novels, so it would be a betrayal not to explore that. It’s a genre with its own codes. That’s what’s so delicious about the show. Sometimes it’s dismissed as unserious, but there may be some misogyny in that. People love romance. There’s not enough of it around.

What’s it like seeing your bare backside on screen?

Quite strange. We don’t often get that view of ourselves. In a way, it’s good to keep track of these things.

A disabled character joins the cast this series. Are you proud of Bridgerton’s diversity?

Hugely proud. It’s great to see everybody represented on screen. Disabled people were around in those times. It also gives the lie to the authenticity police who govern how period dramas are done. Particularly in the UK – it happens with Shakespeare productions as well – there’s a whole army of people ready to insist that it’s supposed to be like a museum piece. It’s often governed by a nostalgia for something that never even existed. Bridgerton’s not a documentary, it’s a drama. In drama, you can do whatever the fuck you want, Shakespeare wrote history plays that are completely inaccurate historically and no one gives him any shit about that. I guess partly because he’s dead. But it’s a poetic reality and Bridgerton is no different.

What’s it like learning Regency dance styles for ballroom scenes?

Great fun. I have to be careful with spoilers or I’ll get arrested, but I get a nice dancing moment this season. It’s fascinating when you understand these dances as basically like a dating app. They get people to speak, touch, be close – then literally swipe to the next row.

Luke Newton plays Colin Bridgerton. Does it ever get confusing with two Lukes playing brothers?

It’s OK because I tend to be referred to as “Lukey T” and he’s “Newts”. There’s a whole flurry of acting Lukes suddenly. Later in the RSC season, Luke Thallon is playing Hamlet. I grew up thinking I was the only Luke in the village but it’s back in fashion. We’re all roughly the same age, so there must have been a Luke moment back in the late 80s/early 90s!

What do people tend to come up and say when they recognise you?

It’s always a lovely exchange. The breadth of people who are Bridgerton fans is heartwarming. Although once someone asked: “Are you from Bridgerton?” I evaded the question a little bit, then saw her Google “Bernard Bridgerton” on her phone, which made me laugh. Who’s Bernard? Another came up with a photo of Jonny Bailey [who plays Lord Anthony Bridgerton] and said: “This is you, isn’t it?” I was like: “Well, obviously not. We play brothers, sure, but we look quite different.” The funniest was on a plane to New York recently with some of the Bridgerton lot. The air steward came up to Claudia [Jessie, who plays Eloise Bridgerton] and said: “Oh my god, you look like Eloise from Bridgerton!” She pointed at me and said: “And doesn’t he look like the brother?” The air steward said: “Oh, I wish!” So apparently I look shit in real life.

Which fellow actors do you admire?

I just saw American Fiction and the whole cast were terrific but Sterling K Brown was particularly great as the brother. It was just simple, warm, easy acting. It was also lovely to see Jeffrey Wright front and centre for a change.

What theatre have you enjoyed recently?

I loved An Enemy of the People with Matt Smith and had the best time at Sunset Boulevard. It was so fun, sexy and exciting.

How do you relax when you’re not working?

I’m a pianist. I’ve played since I was a kid and did all the grades. Sometimes acting can feel like you’re always deferring to other people and don’t have much control but piano is something entirely yours. I can sit down, play classical stuff for two or three hours, and not notice the time pass. I’d be up for including it in an acting job someday.

Do you have a dream role? It’s a terrible cliche to say you want to play Hamlet, but most actors do. And I’d love to play Iago, mainly because a casting director once told me: “You can’t play Iago because you’re too nice.” That’s such a misunderstanding of how evil works. It’d be nice to explore something a little bit more unpleasant.

#Luke Thompson #Bridgerton #Bridgerton cast #Benedict Bridgerton

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nevis-the-skeleton · 2 months

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Black Bird Fazbear Fright : Why it's a bad representation of school harassment

Hello everyone, today we are going to talk about one of the Fnaf Fazbear Fright stories: Black Bird. Well, I would like to warn you, I didn't read the story, because it is not available in my country, but I saw Dawko's summary, and I documented myself as best I could to have the best vision as clear as possible. And, from what I've seen, this story is frankly… Not bad, but it has a very bad moral! Not about apologizing and forgiving, but about the representation that is made of school bullying.

For the summary, a boy named Noel, who has harassed a girl in the past is pursued by a demon bird who haunts him and plunges him into the guilt of his actions, and the only way he has to escape release it and apologize to those to whom he has harmed. Well, that's a very rough summary, but it's so that those who haven't read the story can follow, because I think it's important that as many people as possible know what's wrong with this story.

Bullying is bad, yes I know I'm not learning you something, but apparently the author doesn't think so, or presented it in a very bad way! First, when Noel tells his friend Sam that he bullied a girl, he laughs about it, and it's only because Sam tells him that it's not funny that he questions himself a little. Come on, I can understand that, if he wasn't aware that what he did was wrong, why not. But, I think that from the moment you put a dead mole in someone's locker, it's not to make them laugh! It’s clearly meant to do harm!

Already, this point prevents me from becoming attached to Noel, but even then it is not that problematic, as long as the character questions himself, which he seems to do. The problem is how he questions himself, why he does it. Basically, he's being chased by Black Bird and his girlfriend is telling him that he should apologize to the girl he bullied. He says he's going to do it, but the second Black Bird is absent, he withdraws, like: "oh come on, I'll check that he's really there, because frankly I don't want to apologize." He didn't say it like that, but that's really how I felt it.

And it’s only because Black Bird comes back that he decides to apologize to Christine! Man, you can't be more selfish! He only apologizes for his own well-being, because he is afraid for his life! If my bully came back to me, with someone holding a knife to his throat, and forced him to apologize, I would not consider his apology valid. Since he's fucking threatening imminent death! So that’s already a very big negative point, but it’s not the worst!

When Noel goes to Christine, who seems to be doing very well (she is in good health, she has lots of friends and everything), she does not recognize him. Like, bruh, no actually! That's not how it works! A bullied person generally doesn't forget their bully, and certainly not the one who called her fat and shoved dead f*cking moles into her locker! This is basically not possible! But it's not just that, and honestly that's what triggers me the most, she thanks him for bullying her, because it made her stronger, opened her eyes, and allowed her to get better.

…

Really, I don't have the words… What kind of bullshit is this? What kind of morality is that?! What it teaches the reader, indirectly, is: “Bullying is good, it allows people to improve!”, “Come on, tell this shy kid that he’s fat and ugly, so he’ll start playing sports and take care of his health!” NO! NO! and NO! Sorry, but I'm angry right now! There is nothing more destructive than school bullying! This shit kills people every year, it doesn't help anyone, and it certainly doesn't make you better! It's not a funny thing, it's not a joke! This is truly the worst moral I have ever seen in a story!

Remember one thing: apologizing is good, forgiving is liberating, but bullying is the worst creation of humanity. That's all I have to say about this story, I'm sure some will disagree with my opinion, but I really needed to get this out of my mind.

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fazbear frights #black bird #my opinion #bullying is bad #yes #fnaf books

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numinousmysteries · 6 months

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Vanquish by Wisdom Hellish Wiles (9/9)

On AO3 Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

@today-in-fic

I started this story in October 2017 after first seeing the season 11 trailer, forgot about it for six years, and then finally finished it. Compared to what some other amazing writers in this fandom are creating, it's honestly not great, but coming back to it helped me remember that writing can be fun. I hope to keep writing and hopefully keep improving. Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy my vision for how the show could have ended.

As a baby, William moved the mobile above his crib using his mind. As a teenager, he employed his psychic powers to save his birth parents’ lives by spontaneously killing an entire cadre of black ops forces and, presumably, the smoking man and Reyes as well. And yet, in Scully’s mind, neither of those facts were the most impressive thing about her son.

To her, it was simply that he was there—alive and in front of her in the flesh. She wanted to stop time and catalog every detail of his body the way she and Mulder did days after he was born, laying him out on her bed and silently marveling at his tiny toes, chubby limbs, and rosebud mouth. She wanted to run her hands over his face and memorize every feature. Her baby was almost a man and he was just as perfect to her as the day he was born.

There was so much that she missed and so much she doesn’t know. When did he take his first steps? What’s his favorite food? Was he a cautious rule-follower like herself or was he constantly pushing the limits like his father? She’d never get those years back and she’d never forgive herself for giving him away, but in that moment all that mattered was that they were together again.

Mulder’s eyes reflected her astonishment back at her. In their almost 30 years together, they’d learned to communicate without words. A glance, a wink, or a nod could convey missives of emotion. As they stood in the driveway, too stunned to move, she could tell he was as overwhelmed—by shock, by love, by awe—as she was.

“Come on,” William said. “There might be others coming. Let’s go.”

Her son’s voice. Low and deep like his father’s.

“Yeah, Scully,” Mulder said, reaching for her hand. “We better get going.”

She could only nod in response and let Mulder lead them both back to their car.

“You call each other by your last names,” William said. She could tell it wasn’t a question but him logging a fact about them, or confirming one he had already sensed.

“We work together,” Scully said. “And it just stuck.”

William nodded. She was grateful he didn’t ask any questions about her and Mulder’s current relationship that she couldn’t answer. Working together the past couple of months had been good for them. They’d found their old rhythm and had been spending more time together outside of work as well, but she hadn’t felt ready to move back in yet.

Back at the car, Scully realized she didn't know where they’d go. Would they bring William back to DC with them? If colonization was imminent, she needed to get started on developing a vaccine as soon as possible.

“Can we go get my parents?” William asked, as if reading her mind. “They’re probably worried about me.”

Mulder smiled. “Sure,” he said.

“Sorry,” William said sheepishly. “I mean my adoptive parents. That’s just…what I’ve always called them.”

“Don’t apologize, William,” said Scully, even though she admitted to herself that it cut like a knife to hear her son refer to strangers as his parents. “I’m thankful you were placed with a good family who took care of you all these years.”

“Yeah,” Mulder responded. “And I do imagine they’d be worried about you.”

******

They arrived in Wyoming the following morning. William slept on the plane but Mulder and Scully, sitting on either side of him, stayed awake—both keeping guard and watching him in awe.

“This is where you grew up?” Scully asked, after William directed them to a small but well-kept farmhouse.

“Yup, lived here my whole life—well, that I can remember.”

Scully nodded. His childhood must’ve been so different from the one she could’ve given him. Instead of living in a city, he had fields to run and roam in. She wondered if he played baseball like his father and what kind of games he invented for himself when he was little to stay busy in this wide open space.

As they approached the house they noticed the front door was open and the screen door was swinging on its hinges.

“Do your parents normally leave the door open like that?” Mulder asked.

“No,” William said. “That’s weird.”

“I’m going to go check it out,” Mulder said, reaching for his gun. “You two wait in the car.”

It was the first time Scully was alone with her son since finding him the night before. She sat in the passenger seat stealing glimpses of him in the rearview mirror.

“This must be a lot to take in,” she said.

William shrugged his shoulders. “I always knew I was different. Monica told me about you guys.”

Scully swallowed. She wanted to ask Wiliam so many questions but it was impossible to even know where to start. How do you make up for fifteen years—an entire life in his case? She had once known every inch of skin on his tiny body and now he was essentially a stranger. Did he have any scars? Any broken bones? She didn’t know what he liked to eat or his favorite movie.

“Have you ever seen The Exorcist?” he asked from the backseat, startling Scully.

“It’s one of my favorite movies,” she said.

“Me too. My parents don’t watch any horror movies but I started downloading some classics and I love them.”

“William, were you reading my thoughts just now? Why did you bring up The Exorcist?”

“I guess I had a sense of what you were thinking,” he said. “It’s not so clear cut like listening to someone talk out loud but I get sentiments and sometimes words. It’s strong with you. And Mulder, too.”

“Could you read your parents like that?”

“Yeah, I got better at it over time.”

Mulder emerged alone from the house. He jogged back to the car and knocked on Scully’s window, gesturing for her to come with him. She followed him to the front porch.

“Scully, there are two bodies inside. A middle-aged white male and female. Looks like gunshot wounds. I think I can guess who they are and I’d rather not ask William to have to identify them.”

“Shit,” Scully said. “What do we do?”

They heard William’s car door open and watched as he came to stand with them. “They’re dead, aren’t they?”

“Oh, William,” Scully sighed.

“I had a feeling,” he said, looking down at his sneakers.

“Is there anyone else we should try to find? Any other family or friends?” Mulder asked.

William shook his head. He was still looking down but Scully could see him starting to cry.

“I’m so sorry, William,” Scully said. She embraced her son and felt his tears dampening her blouse. Mulder stepped closer and wrapped his arms around both of them.

They were three broken people. Parents who’d lost their child and a child who’d lost his parents, but somehow they were also a family. They just had to find a way to pick up the pieces and find each other once again.

*****

Mulder and Scully offered to move to William’s hometown in Wyoming for him to finish up high school and start their vaccine research there, but he felt no connection to the place without his adopted parents. If anything, he was desperate for a fresh start. His old town was filled with reminders of what he’d lost.

So instead Wiliam moved into their home in Virginia. It was an older, more rundown house but he could tell they had made it a home. He preferred that it wasn’t in the heart of the city because it was less of a dramatic change from his childhood home. Mulder explained that he and Scully had been giving each other some space and she had her own apartment, but as soon as they were back from Wyoming she started every night at the house and slowly moved her belongings back.

There was a spare room on the second floor for him to move his things into.

“I know this is uncomfortable,” said Scully, showing him to his room. “We love you so much, but we know you’re still just getting to know us. I don’t want to rush you into anything you’re not ready for.”

“What was in here before?” William said.

“Nothing,” Mulder said. “We never spoke about it, but I think we both hoped you’d be here one day.”

They’d had nearly everything from his old bedroom shipped out to Virginia to try to make the transition smooth. At first he told them he didn’t mind starting over, but as he sat in his new-old room he realized he appreciated the small comforts of home—his snow globe collection, his family photos, and his worn-in baseball glove.

“We should have a catch sometime,” Mulder said, picking up the glove.

“I’d like that.”

They had a lot of work to do. They were racing against an unseen clock to beat the invasion. Scully had already taken blood and saliva samples from William to try to isolate his alien DNA to create a vaccine. They had some old associates who were going to help with the science but there was still the issue of convincing the entire global population to take a vaccine to prevent the colonization of the planet–without inciting mass panic.

William had faith in his birth parents, though. Every night they told him about their old cases which never failed to thrill him. And each day the awkward silences between the three of them started filling up with inside jokes, spirited arguments, and stories of the past that helped close the fifteen-year gap since the last time they were together.

They were careful about giving him space and typically after dinner he’d retreat to his room while his parents sat and talked on the front porch. He couldn’t hear what they were saying but it was comforting to hear their voices drifting up through his bedroom window.

One night around a month after moving in, he decided to join them outside. Scully smiled and scooted over, making room for him to sit in between them on the bench.

“I know you guys keep saying I don’t have to thank you for taking me in,” William started, “but I really do appreciate it. Growing up, I never thought I’d meet you or that if I did… you wouldn’t want anything to do with me because of…who I am and what I can do.”

“William, we love you for being exactly who you are. As I’m sure you’ve started to realize, the two of us aren’t exactly the picture of normalcy either. I think, together, we make a great team,” said Scully.

“Now we just have to save the world,” William said smiling.

“No pressure, right?” Mulder chuckled.

His parents draped their arms around him from either side and he felt himself relaxing against them. For the first time in his life he felt like he was exactly where he should be.

#xfiles #xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #today in fic #now excuse me as i go mainline gaslight

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kingedmundsroyalmurder · 5 months

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It's been a Day already and it's all of noon, so have an excerpt, because I want validation and maybe some of you need a distraction, lol.

Really, Valancy owed it all to Will Desmond. Had he lived, Olive would have married him at 19, clad in satin and lace in a church festooned with white roses. Valancy would have watched from the pews, wearing her drab brown silk, seated between her mother and Cousin Stickles, secretly seething at the whole affair. There would have been no cause for Olive to go to Montreal or for Augusta Green to share her unfiltered opinions at an inopportune moment, and Valancy would have been stuck at home, clad in brown silk, between her mother and Cousin Stickles for the rest of her life.

But instead of marrying Olive in a beautiful ceremony, Will Desmond died young and left Olive behind. Olive cried crocodile tears for a year in public and real ones in the secrecy of her bedroom and kept her engagement ring on a chain around her neck where no one could see it. After eighteen months, she began casting a speculative eye over the eligible men of Deerwood. What she saw did not fill her with hope. Donald Jackson's roguish demeanor suited her tastes, but her parents disapproved violently. Elmer Price's fortune appeased her parents' worries, but he was nearing 35 and Olive felt strongly that she could do better. With no one both handsome enough for her and well connected enough for her mother available in Deerwood, and with only two months of mourning left, Olive hatched a plan.

She explained the whole thing to Valancy one rainy Saturday afternoon. Valancy had gone to Aunt and Uncle Wellington's for tea, to comfort Olive in her grief, and the two girls retreated hastily to Olive's bedroom until called down to eat.

"There's no hope for me here," Olive declared. "You know all the men in this town, just as well as I do. All the good ones are already taken, and the rest are worse than useless. I mean really, Doss, it's hopeless."

Valancy, whose romantic prospects had peaked when she refused to be kissed at fifteen, agreed that it was indeed hopeless.

"I could try Port Lawrence, but Augusta's looking there this summer and, just between us, there really aren't enough decent men for both of us to be looking at the same time."

Augusta Green was Olive's best friend. She was tall and opinionated, the kind of girl adults would have politely called "handsome," if her father were not the owner of the largest newspaper in Port Lawrence. This combination of future fortune and social supremacy did as much to improve Augusta's prospects as it did to sour her character, and she had long ago claimed the men of Port Lawrence as hers to comb through first. Valancy detested her intensely.

Olive was waiting expectantly, and Valancy realized she wanted prompting. "What will you do?" she asked obediently.

Olive dimpled charmingly. Valancy, long accustomed to her cousin's tricks, remained un charmed. "Just watch," Olive said. She turned towards her wardrobe, where an array of black, grey, and mauve dresses greeted her. "Tell me, do you prefer the purple or the grey?" She indicated two of the dresses for Valancy's consideration.

Valancy knew which of the two Olive preferred -- the dove grey silk was new, commissioned just this month to herald Olive's imminent return to society, while the lavender lawn was now two years old and had been dyed its current color last summer so that Olive could continue to wear it to family gatherings during her bereavement.

"The purple is nice," she said dutifully, so that Olive could enjoy the thrill of correcting her. In truth, the lavender brought out the pallor in Olive's skin, and made her look rather like a corpse unless she arranged herself in the sunlight just so.

"Oh, do you think so?" Olive asked, pretending to consider it. "I think the grey suits me much better."

Valancy allowed that the grey silk suited Olive well.

"But, of course, it hasn't yet been two years," Olive said. "I really cannot be seen in public in anything but blacks for at least another month. Can you imagine the scandal?"

Valancy could.

"Still, one can't live in the past forever. Poor Will wouldn't want me to wither away on his account. You know, when he was on his deathbed he told me not to mourn him at all? 'I want you to find your happiness,' he told me. Isn't that just the most considerate thing you've heard in your life?"

Valancy, who had listened to this anecdote monthly for the past sixteen months, agreed that it was.

"I think I shall bring the grey," Olive said decisively. "Thank you dear, you're always such a help when I can't make up my mind."

This statement required no reply, and so Valancy stayed silent.

***

Over the meal, Olive skillfully laid the groundwork for her plan. She spoke of the upcoming summer, and of how difficult she would find it, when she could go out again. After all, every inch of town reminded her of her poor dear Will. She bore the burden bravely, for Will had charged with his dying breath that she should not mourn him forever, but sometimes a peal of laughter would hit just as she was gazing upon his favorite corner and she felt ready to follow him into the grave all over again.

"I only wish," she declared wistfully, "that I could have a fresh start of it." And she lowered her eyes to her plate, blinking her long eyelashes as though staving off tears.

The effect was nearly perfect, except that Valancy caught her stealing a glance up at her parents, checking how her performance had been received.

She needn't have worried. Aunt and Uncle Wellington picked up the thread immediately. Aunt Wellington berated the gossips of Deerwood for not giving Olive so much as a single moment of peace during her mourning, Uncle Wellington opined that a change of scenery could cure all ills, and by the end of the meal they had nearly talked themselves into uprooting the entire household and moving to Port Lawrence. Olive was obliged to hastily talk them down from the ledge and suggest a less drastic measure. A summer away, perhaps.

"Don't you have a cousin in Montreal, Mother?" she asked, as though she had not spent the past two weeks meticulously combing through the family bible to find the most useful of her relatives for her scheme. "I was just thinking the other day that aside from Grandmother, I don't know your family at all. It's such a pity, to not live close to ones relations."

In that moment, Aunt Wellington quite forgot that she had spent most of her life cordially despising her relations, and she agreed wholeheartedly with Olive's words. "I shall write to Justine at once," she declared and Olive smiled smugly into her scone.

***

Bernie hadn't wanted to go.

Mrs. Baker was giving a party for her daughter's birthday, and all the right sort of Montreal had been invited. Bernie's invitation had arrived two weeks ago, hand delivered by a footman in livery who could barely hold back a snicker at Dr. Redfern's gold and marble entrance hall. Bernie had been out, roaming the trails of Boucherville's islands as he was increasingly prone to doing. It was the only place he really felt at peace these days, amidst the sugar maples and the birch trees, the dappled sunlight creating shadows between the roots that, if Bernie didn't think too hard, almost let him think he was lost in the woods somewhere, miles from any other people. He'd spent an especially long time on the island that day, watching a pair of kingfishers hunt, and his good mood had not entirely dissipated by the time he made it back home.

The gilded envelope waiting for him at the supper table fully ruined it.

"Will you go?" Dad asked, trying and failing to keep his eagerness from seeping into his voice. Poor Dad, Bernie thought, as he forced himself to set the ridiculous card down gently instead of hurling it into the fire. He really hasn't got any idea what it's like, being 22 and a laughing stock.

"No," Bernie said.

Dr. Redfern's face fell. "Really?" he asked. "But everyone's going to be there. All your friends -- all their sisters." This last was said with a wink that Bernie opted to ignore.

"I don't like parties," he said instead.

"No, I suppose you don't," Dad said, and he shook his head, mystified. "I don't know where you get it from, my boy. Not from me, eh? That's for sure."

Bernie didn't reply, and Dad sighed. "Well, you'll do as you want," he said. "You always do. Just do your old dad a favor and find something to make yourself happy once in a while. I don't think I've seen you smile once since you got home from school."

In response, Bernie pulled a horrible face and sent his father into gales of laughter. "Ah, that's my Bernie," Dr. Redfern gasped when he could breathe again. "Don't change a thing you don't want to, son, no matter how much I nag at you. You know I don't mean it."

"I know," Bernie said. "How was your day?"

Dr. Redfern launched into a characterful accounting of his day, leaving Bernie free to think peacefully. He had long ago mastered the art of nodding his way absently through his father's monologues, and he did so on automatic now, firmly not looking at the invitation sitting on the table next to him.

Maybe Dad was right. He'd been home for a couple months now, and much as he loved roaming the islands on his own, maybe it wasn't the way to live. Maybe… maybe it would be different this time. Ten years ago, Dr. Redfern had been a new arrival, a novelty for schoolchildren to mock. But maybe they'd gotten bored by now, or realized that Dr. Redfern was around to stay and not just some passing charlatan. And Mrs. Baker's party wouldn't be filled with people blinded by the thought of money. All her friends were old money, the ruling set of Montreal, the one his dad dreamed of one day gaining admission to. They wouldn't try to impress him just to get at Dr. Redfern's inheritance.

Maybe he would go. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

"What's that?" He realized a beat too late that Dad had fallen silent, clearly expecting an answer to a question Bernie hadn't heard.

"I asked what you've been up to since getting back," Dr. Redfern repeated amiably. He was never offended when Bernie lost track of a conversation.

"I went out to the Isles de Boucherville," Bernie said, surprising both of them by not deflecting the question. "I saw some kingfishers today."

"Really?" Dad asked. "You'll have to bring me out with you one of these days. I could use a change of air from the old laboratory."

Bernie thought about trying to get his father to stay still and silent long enough to coax the wildlife out and just barely managed to suppress the resulting wince. "Sure," he said, in that way that they both knew meant 'no.' "One of these days."

***

So Bernie sent his RSVP to the Baker house with Henry the next morning, and now here he was, dressed up in an expensive suit, hair combed and oiled until he gleamed in the lamplight, feeling utterly out of place and ridiculous. Why had he let Dad talk him into doing this? He knew he didn't like parties, and he certainly didn't like parties filled with Mrs. Baker's set. Magnolia Baker, the guest of honor, had barely kept from smirking as she greeted him at the door and thanked him for coming, and he knew from that moment that he'd been wrong. Redfern hadn't become a more respectable name, not any more than when Bernie was eleven years old.

But he was here, and he couldn't leave for at least an hour without causing offense. Bernie didn't much care about that, but it would upset Dad, and old Dr. Redfern didn't deserve that. So Bernie stayed, holding a glass as an excuse to refuse invitations to dance, planning his escape.

Just as he'd identified the most unobtrusive path to the door, the most beautiful woman in the world walked in.

She had rich, golden-brown hair, curled and dressed elaborately. A wave dipped down over her forehead, drawing attention to large, sparkling blue eyes framed with elegant lashes. She wore a silvery grey gown with three quarter sleeves; a sash of shining silk emphasized her figure, and the high collar was made of cobweb lace, letting glimpses of her neck and shoulders through as she moved. She greeted Magnolia Baker with a brilliant smile, and handed her coat off to a footman with graceful insouciance.

All thoughts of escaping the party had vanished. Bernie watched as Magnolia Baker put a hand on the woman's arm, murmuring something to her. The woman cast an eye around the party, and he saw an unmistakable spark of intelligence in her gaze, covered up immediately by a laugh as a man came to join them. Bernie hated him. He hated all of them. They were all dullards and bores, sons of fortune who'd never worked a day in their lives and couldn't hold an intelligent conversation if you put a gun to their temple.

He must find a way to speak with her.

He set his half full glass down on the nearest surface. Magnolia Baker was talking with the woman again, and he knew he did not have much time. If he could just reach them before Magnolia told her who he was, he might have half a chance.

Magnolia spotted him approaching. With a smile that looked only a little painted on, she waved him over. "Bernie!" she said brightly, for all the world as though they were the best of friends. "I was just about to come find you. You must meet Olive." She gestured at the apparition beside her, who bestowed a dazzling smile upon Bernie. His heart beat so fast in his chest he thought it must be visible through his jacket. "Olive, this is Mr. Bernard Redfern. He's been away at school, and only just come home again. Bernie, may I present my friend, Miss Olive Stirling." Magnolia lowered her voice, as though sharing a confidence. "Olive has only just returned to society, after her fiancé passed on two years ago."

"I am sorry for your loss, Miss Stirling," Bernie heard himself say. "But it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Miss Stirling offered him a pale, elegant hand. When he took it, her grip was cool and soft. She gave him another smile, this one somehow softer but just as dazzling, as though she were smiling specifically at him. "The pleasure is mine, Mr. Redfern," she said.

"May I have this dance?" Bernie asked.

"It would be an honor," Miss Stirling said. She had yet to release Bernie's hand. He led her onto the dance floor, where the couples shifted minutely to make room. He was distantly conscious of the jealous looks being thrown his way by every other man in the room, but he had eyes only for Miss Stirling. They took their place on the floor for the next dance, and everything else melted away. The Baker house could have burned down around them, and Bernie wouldn't have been able to tear his attention away from Miss Stirling. It was the happiest he had been in his entire life. If he dropped dead at the end of the dance, it would be with a smile.

#Moonlight and mistawis #The short unfortunate courtship of olive stirling and bernard redfern

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decepti-thots · 11 months

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I had no idea that anything was actually happening with otw but thank you I see this as a sign to start downloading all my fav fics lol

On reflection, I suppose I did make that comment offhandedly without thinking that many people have no idea what I'm talking about- it concerns stuff I suppose falls into that "if you're in circles that know it seems obvious, if not you have no idea it exists" valley.

I should probably clarify that that post wasn't me talking about some imminent risk of AO3 as a platform imploding or disappearing or anything, and nobody needs to start panicking in that regard. I was referring to the current boiling over of a lot of very long term (like, back to when it was founded) institutional/structural/operational issues within the OTW as an org that have been coming out over the past week or so. So me looking at being less solely reliant on AO3 was more a matter of longterm "seems a good idea not to be on just this one platform having these issues" planning and not anything anyone needs to be worried about like, right now.

...and because I know folks not as familiar with this same longterm stuff WILL ask, I'll put a brief summary below the cut for if any of you are curious. However, please be aware, this discussion will by necessity include reference to an incident last year in which OTW volunteers were sent CSEM/CSAM materials as part of a horrendous targeted campaign; while nothing graphic regarding CSA itself is discussed, I mention it here for post filtering and general warning purposes.

So these past couple of months there has been a sustained fan organizing action going on under the name #endOTWracism, which is a specific, targeted attempt at pushing for the OTW to make good on promises they made in 2020 to look at improving their response to racism on their platform. There's an FAQ covering the scope of the action (which ended yesterday, and ran through May) here.

I've been following this with very great interest and it's brought a lot of really good focused discussion out in fan communities, bringing back up a lot of talking points which have historically been shouted down re: the OTW and its poor (one might say "nearly entirely negligent") response to racism in fandom over the span of its existence, and the long standing attempts to get them to address this.

Anyway, one of the posts I especially was recommended that looked at it from the perspective of someone with experience in volunteering and organizing was this post, which takes a look specifically at the issues of how the OTW is structured as an org in a practical, real-world sense. I think it's a great post that brings a really good, grounded approach to the whole issue, looking not just at the big ideas but at how to really run a functioning organisation in a way that is able to be e.g. antiracist. A post like that of course brought in a lot of discussion of... how the OTW is structured and functions day-to-day! That being the topic at hand, and folks wanting to bring their own experiences to the table.

Which, both on that post itself and elsewhere, has uh. Brought some stuff to light that makes even the most hardcore OTW skeptic look like maybe they were overly optimistic. To be quite honest

Some highlights:

Last year, there was a horrendous attack in which OTW volunteers were directly emailed and bombarded with high volumes of CSEM. This was of course horrifically traumatising and scary, and even at the time it was noted that the OTW's response to this was wildly negligent in terms of taking action to safeguard and help their volunteers. Well, it turns out that a) this was an escalation of preexisting issues that the OTW knew about and failed to reasonably address, b) they took a HIDEOUSLY unethical approach to how CSEM distribution attempts were moderated on the platform and just dumped it on one unsupported volunteer who was left horribly burned out by the experience. This post has a good summary and roundup. The fallout from this entire debacle is way too much for me to summarize in full but suffice to say: folks are thinking maybe people should consider not continuing to volunteer for an org that is this unethical and exploitative towards its workforce in a way that directly puts that at serious risk! This is a standpoint I would agree with given there's seemingly also been internal retaliation against the person speaking out! This is terrible! I feel so bad for all these poor volunteers! I have been reading about and fuming regards this situation for two days now and it truly is awful.

There has recently been an instance in which Chinese OTW volunteers got hung out to dry regards their specific work with OTW on Weibo, where it was made clear to them that the org really wasn't interested in any of the work they were doing to engage with and support specifically Chinese fandom. Basically, "we don't really think this is worth doing, and noone involved in the board etc even speaks Chinese, so whatever". This follows an observed and longstanding pattern of higher ups at the OTW undervaluing... basically anyone who isn't part of Western anglophone fandom.

In general, just a LOT of current and past OTW volunteers talking on various platforms about the sheer dysfunction that means things at OTW are deeply incapable of getting basic shit done at best and straight up chew well meaning volunteers up and spit them out at worst. This is basically the nth round of this exact cycle since the OTW began, but in conjunction with the above, it seems to be getting a lot more attention than such things usually do.

This is only some of the stuff that's going on right now but basically, every single issue of internal bullshit the OTW has been accruing as an org for the past ~15 years seems to be blowing up at once, and it's really the first time I've considered that this time it might, in the long run, have a serious impact on the viability of the org in the future. (As things stand: it absolutely should do, because any org that so comprehensively fails the human beings working for it in such an immediate, real life sense needs to make huge immediate changes or fuck right off tbh.)

So that's a bad summary of... SOME of the stuff going on right now. It's a lot. Needless to say.

I wanted to make this post for a couple reasons. One: many folks came into fandom well after the AO3 was just this... site that was there, used by default, and which just sort of operates and you don't think about how. Which is understandable. A person coming into fandom in a post-AO3 world will see the site the same way one sees Twitter or Tumblr or Wattpad; a thing too big and too... default to really concern yourself with the details of how it came to be so big, and used by default. I, personally, have been in online spaces since I was very young, and AO3 launched when I was around sixteen, many years into my experiences with the fandom spaces it came out of. I was around at the time that the OTW and AO3 were proposed, developed and began to expand in scope. I was in circles where folks were talking about this stuff in a very direct way, basically. So I think I have a decent enough sense of context to help lift that veil a little for folks who have no such advantage, and also to help highlight that these are issues years and years in the making, not sudden revelations as they sometimes seem.

Two, because I expect to see many, many folks trying to pass this off as "discourse" or "wank" or "purity culture" in the coming weeks as the fallout continues, and I want dig my ankles in and say if you try that shit on with me I will laugh you off my blog. I think this post makes my opinion fairly clear on where I draw the line between "dumb fandom wank" and "this is not dumb fandom wank, this is serious shit"; it is well before this stuff. So.

tl;dr: I don't know what the OTW will look like in a year or two or five, and this shit has reminded me I shouldn't bank on pretending I do. So, I'm mirroring stuff elsewhere, not because I think the org will collapse, but because maybe the centralization of fandom is overall bad, actually. I encourage folks to consider their own feelings on the topic, since this is as good a reason as any to consider for yourself how you feel about this stuff.

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omi-papus · 11 months

Text

Fuck I wish I had it in me to write properly because Im constantly exhausted. But like ok imagine.

AU, where Robin and Al-An actually want to get hit up with Alterra, a little too much.

Renata Goodall is an official Alterra employee, who is totally very qualified to be here and got in through recommendation alone based on her impeccable portfolio and titles that are very real and totally all belong to this inexplicably distracted and danger-prone lady, don't question why her resume claims thirty years of experience, when she looks about twenty-five, that's just a good skincare routine.

Only two days after she's come in, one of the employees of a high-ranking position has had an inexplicable change in behavior. The upper manager of the division, who has a reputation for being lazy, impulsive, extremely unprofessional, known for getting extremely friendly with all employees, especially the female staff, among many other faults, whether he has stolen directly from employee wages is "a theory" if you ask the higher-ups, kept in that position exclusively due to being a long-distance relative of one of the corporate heads. After privately conducting a... personal inspection of foreign cargo that was theorized to be of alien origin, outside of work hours, he's... different.

The hostile human subject was inadvertently killed when attempting to dislodge components from the emergency storage medium, that had incited an electric discharge that resulted in fatal brain damage. This also caused the storage medium's energy to deplete rapidly, initiating emergency procedure of implanting the housed consciousness into the safest nearby receptacle. The functionally uninhabited human body left behind is considered the best option.

It has been noted that the general manager has developed an almost extreme difficulty to walk, concerning low appetite, and an almost manic desperation to avoid the bathroom at all costs, only ever doing it when the threat of contamination of the space becomes imminent. He has also been far less talkative; his previous friendliness had completely vanished, replaced with remarkable rudeness and even worse cluelessness. One thing is decidedly stranger. He reorganized the entire seven-year company plan to be optimized in under an hour, had all salaries updated based on market value as well as counted tax and medical costs, improved a multitude of policies in days, and somehow made the budget dedicated to technical repair of vents, computers, water, and light drop to zero since he has easily fixed every single one of those problems himself.

Alan Whelihan

Is never seen out of the office building.

Does not engage in conversation that is not related to work.

Does not answer personal questions, ever.

Renata feels some type of off around him. Something about the way his veins show from under the pale skin of his wrists, in the milliseconds they show from under his long sleeves looks eerie. It reminds her of something said in a research log she has saved on a pen drive that her sister, who died in an expedition to study the remains of a civilization that was thought extinct, sent her right before she was never heard from again. Declared dead only hours later. She is going to get information about what happened to her at all costs, even if she has to infiltrate this disgusting company, and if she has to beat it out of the superiors themselves, as strange as he was, he was probably her fastest way to the truth. She was sure she only kept a copy of all the information on physical hardware and wiped it all from her PDA. She was absolutely sure she got it all.

Her real name is Robin Ayou. The alien knows this; he had easily hacked the personal devices of everyone in the building; he has learned a lot from it. Her story crumbled under his scrutiny in mere seconds, and he had little difficulty having her pinned in every available facet of her known identity. Now, he has let this slide, for one reason: he needs her close. He needs to extract everything he can from her. Because he's seen something peculiar and terfifying.

On her device theres inexplicably, blurry, low quality, partially corrupted, but unmistakable images of a Sea emperor leviathan.

And while it would be most convenient to just corner the other and get what they want by reason or by force, neither is in a position where they can act out. Both of them are trying to hide their secrets, and they have enough suspicion on them already. So they will have to be more careful about this.

#she only fucks him once he gets an architect body btw #subnautica #subnautica below zero #alan #al an #al-an #robin ayou #al an x robin #human au

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poptart-productions · 1 year

Text

❝ Black Swan ! ❞

[snk x reader drabble]

↳ ❝ [summary] ¡! ❞

just thinking about y/n getting sent to the world of attack on titan and building relationships with the characters <3

↳ ❝ [content] ¡! ❞

drabble ; isekai ; black coded reader ; fem reader ; mild language ; ( romantic and platonic ) headcanons ; perv! connie ; a bit lengthy

——————————✩———————————

okay so imagine wit me:

so you get isekai’d but you grew up with your old memories—very aware of the fact that this isn’t a good place to be.

you grew up with your mother who was a hunter , selling her wares and learning to use a shotgun—yes that comes in handy later.

you’d learned to live in the moment and enjoy your childhood , despite living in constant dread of the fall of wall maria.

you’d accidentally been eavesdropping on eren and armin when you met them—you don’t even remember what you said but you’ve been best friends ever since.

ngl i feel like kid!eren is a “this is my friend and my friend only” kinda kid so he was kinda disrespectful toward you at first.

but it’s when you nursed him back to health ( and your mother cooked for him ) after he got in a fight , he soon started visiting your house every day.

you always knew it was him , too because he’d always call out , “me and armin are gonna go play! wanna come with?!”

you weren’t there when eren saved mikasa but you were there to help her deal with the tremors of living through a traumatic such as that.

she moved in with you instead of eren ; you two shared a room , and you were there to help her when she had night terrors.

you and armin were close but every interaction you had when it was just you two was almost always incredibly awkward for no reason ( the reason is that he’s always had a crush on you )

ngl , you were kind of a coward—or let’s just say that you ‘knew your limits’

so you’d magically gone to merchandise with your mother in the inner wall the day maria fell.

( off topic but i love a little angst so—eren prolly harbored a bit of resentment for you after that—because you weren’t there )

you were there when the trio decided to join the cadet corps, “[y/n]. . .” armin and mikasa turned to you , expecting you to be the voice of reason.

you only shrugged , knowing eren would probably just go anyway.

he did , and so mikasa and armin followed ; you didn’t want to be alone , so you followed—figuring you could just become a nurse or something.

shadis was on your ass—pause—because you sucked at the whole training thing.

although you were born into this world , you were still of the 21st century—you really couldn’t do it ; the early days and late nights , the grueling physical training , the standing around under the burning sun for hours for seemingly no reason , the food

yet somehow , you didn’t get kicked out and eren wouldn’t let you quit.

the three tried their best to help you improve , and with eren’s aid ; you became a master at using the odm gear.

and by aid , i mean using the gear recreationally without shadis’s knowledge.

thinking about sneaking out to use the gear with eren.

his dumbass prolly got caught too :(

you cracked under pressure during the trost mission ; you’d been absent for the drama up until this point—and you knew it was going to happen—but you’ve never seen death up close before.

to make matters worse , you were separated from the trio—which had become your lifeline.

you were probably about to die when reiner , of all people, came to your aid.

you had been trying to keep your distance from him and the rest of the warrior unit , hyperaware that their betrayal was imminent.

he knew it , too ; he knew that forming relationships with a devil of paradis was a bad thing.

but despite that ,

he wanted to.

as for your relationship with all the cadets—

reiner

i’m sorry but i’m a firm believer in loverboy! reiner—reiner who falls in love with any girl who’s kind to him—helps if she’s pretty. you have both ofc so yes , you piqued his interest , smiled in his direction , and he’s been smitten ever since

bertholdt

platonic : i feel like your friendship with bert is more of a silent understanding than anything ; he helped you out—saved your ass during the trost battle alongside reiner—when he didn’t have to. we all know he has feelings for annie though

romantic : now for wishful thinkers, he’d literally be so cute oml—he’s shy and isn’t assertive , but he melts when you’re around. always excited whenever you two are paired for literally anything.

annie

platonic : we all know she acts like she doesn’t care when in reality , she’s gone out of her way to help you numerous times.

romantic : to be completely honest , i’m not sure how annie would show romantic interest other than being more tolerant than usual.

marco

platonic : literally so sweet , always making sure you feel comfortable and happy , although you don’t really get to spend much time with him :(

romantic : still so sweet , just a bit more than usual—asking if you’re okay after missions , giving you his food , buying you small trinkets.

jean

platonic : jean can be belligerent at times , it’s the reason he only had one real friend ; with your foresight , you were willing to see past that. jean just wants to be liked—for people to see his talent. you did. jean appreciated that.

romantic : we all know he has a thing for mikasa but i don’t think his feelings for her are unshakable—if you catch them early , that is because we know he’s actually in love with her by s4 so. . .but he clearly has a thing for foreign women , strong women , and long dark hair so if you’ve got any of things : go for it!

sasha

platonic : sasha gets along with everyone , but you especially, just because you always give her your food ( baby doesn’t know it’s just bc you didn’t want it :( )

romantic : i wouldn’t go as far as to say that she’s aro but i feel like she’s not really romantically interested in anyone—in another life without titans , maybe. gives me the vibe of a friend who jokingly calls you “wifey” or gets “upset” when she sees you with someone until it’s suddenly not a joke anymore.

connie

i’m also a firm believer in perv! connie. WAIT HEAR ME OUT! he’s a closeted perv and never crosses any lines

i say closeted , but i should really just say “mildly perverted” bc he doesn’t even hide it—nigga literally took a double take when you came out of the barracks in your uniform for the first time.

he tried to laugh it off when you glanced at him but it was painful.

do not walk around in your athletic wear around him either , because he will say something ; you keep forgetting you live in an era where tank tops on women were “provocative” but it helped that no one really cared.

except connie bc—c’mon now—he’d never seen so much cleavage

once you became close enough , he’d always point and scream , “boobies!” at any sighting ( he’s such a child smh )

off topic but imagine teaching connie aave and modern slang—y’all gonna regret it—he will never shut up omfg

historia

platonic : she’d be that friend ; does your makeup , always has snacks , brushes and braids your hair—she’s quite literally the best.

romantic : ngl , i feel like historia would give zero indication that she likes you—mainly because she would act the exact same.

ymir

platonic : i think how she treats you depends on the kind of person you are ; let’s say the reader is sweet but still challenges her in a way—she likes that , and it’s always fun to trade playful jabs with you in the middle of life or death situations. ymir is just like that.

romantic : i’m sorry but no , historia only—I’M SORRY I HAVE A CRUSH ON HER TOO BUT IT JUST DOESN’T FEEL RIGHT

( okay for my wishful thinkers again : ymir is the kind to love from a distance—you can get on her protecting you with her life , but she knows you could never be fully happy with her )

mikasa

( i kind of already explained your relationships with the main three in the first half so i’ma just ramble here and you can take it how you will )

imagine being in that one scene from s3–y’know the one. resigned to her fate , mikasa smiles at you ; “you taught me how to live with a purpose , thank you”

she smiled at you , slender fingers intertwined with your eyes ; her gentle eyes letting you and eren know that it was okay—you could die like this—you three have lived a good life already. there’s no need to fight anymore.

she says your name. . .a lot

you two are attached at the hip , she gets active when you’re in danger , and she gets nervous when you two get separated—if she had it her way you’d still be sleeping in the same bed. It

mikasa is relatively soft with you ; you grew up living together after all. you were the first person to see her cry , and she openly talks about her worries with you

you know she’s afraid of being left alone , living alone , dying alone

you promised her you’d do everything together and she said “bet”

armin

likes to read with you

could and would listen to you ramble about anything for hours

he wants to help you see your ambitions through

i’m sorry but armin has an inferiority complex—so the idea of you doing anything or crying over him will break his heart and confuse him to no end.

i feel like armin gives the best hugs ; like he’s so warm and his breathing is so soft and soothing ; you two deadass fell asleep like that while cleaning the barracks.

( armin took the fall and levi made him clean the stables )

SEEING THE OCEAN WITH ARMIN—he was so so so so so pretty with the sea in his eyes and the breeze in his hair.

you were floating on your back , and he joined you ; you were just vibing , enjoying his presence when you heard him sniffling.

you turn to him ,“what’s wrong?”

“i’m just happy. this is—. . .” he turns to you , eyes wide with wonder and admiration.

“. . .everything i ever wanted”

eren

you’re his sunshine ; he’s all smiles and giggles whenever you’re around.

he’s not very verbally affectionate , but you find him gravitating towards you sometimes ; like deadass , you’ll be on the other side of the room and he’s slowly inching towards you.

pats your head a lot.

listen—i typically play the pacifist route but imagine starting the rumbling by eren’s side. . .that’s it.

y’all know i had to bring up the “what am i to you” scene

“eren!” you called , gripping mikasa’s sleeve as you stumble up the hill.

there stands eren , silhouette illuminated by the lanterns of the village below.

mikasa glanced at you , and you shrug ; she tugs you along with her as she continues to approach the boy.

you let go of her , allowing yourself to fall back—not wanting to break this moment. make no mistake , you had full intention of eavesdropping.

“everyone’s been looking all over for you—“

she noticed he was crying , and you began to walk away , “[y/n]” you jumped , glancing back to find eren staring right back at you.

“come here” he beckons , to which you stared wide-eyed for an embarrassingly long time.

you look to mikasa—who shares your expression—she isn’t much help , resulting in you having to approach him , not knowing what to expect.

eren looks away from you once again , “why’d you come looking for me?”

you stammered ,“what—because i was worried about you?” you looked at him like he was stupid.

“. . .why do you care. . .?”

mikasa raised a brow , and she intuitively understood what was going on ; she began to inch away without either of you noticing. well maybe eren noticed , but he wasn’t particularly concerned with that.

“because—“

“is it because we’re childhood friends?” he turns to you once again , walking closer to you.

“or is there some other reason?”

you turned to mikasa again , only to find her gone.

“eren—i—“

you knew you couldn’t fumble this , but you didn’t know what to say.

you remembered acting out what you’d do if he asked you this—but now that he was actually in front of you. . .eyes glassy , face dusted red , and lips raw from being gnawed on in his nervous state. . .you were at a loss for words.

your hand found your chest , a failed attempt at making your heart be still—but in your silence , you found an answer.

“you’re everything to me. . .—i , love you.”

you looked up at him again , and he smiled at you—for the first time in a long time , he smiled

he reached out to touch you , caressing your face before drawing closer to you ; he inched closer , and then pulled away—unsure and nervously.

he was shaking , and you were too ; but you’d been wishing for this kiss for a long time , so you leaned forward and pressed yourself into him

it was clear he didn’t know what he was doing but he had enthusiasm ; the years of built-up romantic tension helped.

slightly off-topic but i just imagine sasha bounding up the hill—“YES!” she fell to her knees in tears upon seeing her ship getting together.

↳ ❝ [tags] ¡! ❞

@y-yinyang , @cafesho

↳ ❝ [nova’s notes] ¡! ❞

considering making a series of this. . .lmk

bc i'm kind of in love with this

#anime #fanfic #eren x reader #black coded reader #attack on titan x reader #aot x female reader #mikasa x reader #armin x fem reader

63 notes · View notes