#memories of misdeed

[weepinwriter]

Road to Heaven is an 18+ Dystopian fic which takes inspiration from popular media like the “Shatter Me” series and “Hunger Games”. It may contain distressing content like major injury to the characters, character deaths, blood, gore, body horror, amnesia and optional sexual content. More specific warnings will be given at the beginning of each chapter.

You are inmate No. 1441, incarcerated in Tartarus, the most notorious prison on the continent. You find yourself imprisoned for a crime that you do not remember committing, leaving you in a state of uncertainty about your own identity and purpose. The first memory you have is awakening to the sensation of a gun being shoved into your mouth.

Within the grim confines of Tartarus, you have been branded as the most dangerous criminal, feared yet hated by both fellow inmates and prison authorities alike. It becomes clear to you that in order to survive and unravel the enigma of your past, escape from this formidable penitentiary is imperative. However, achieving freedom will not be an easy feat, as you must navigate treacherous encounters with some of the most malevolent criminals known to humanity. In your quest for freedom, you find yourself entangled in complex relationships with three significant individuals. Firstly, your cellmate, whose icy demeanor suggests a deep-seated disdain for your very existence. Secondly, your best friend within the prison walls, whose seemingly excessive friendliness may harbor ulterior motives. Lastly, there is the warden, whose overtly amicable nature masks a peculiar familiarity with your past. As you navigate the perilous labyrinth of Tartarus, your ultimate objective is twofold: to survive amidst the most notorious criminals and uncover the truth about your forgotten past. In a world where danger lurks at every corner, you must tread carefully, for the path to redemption and self-discovery is riddled with uncertainty and perilous choices.

Fully customize your MC. Choose your pronouns, sexuality, appearance and more. Take control of your interactions with the characters and experience the world of Elysium City through a personalized scope.

Romance one of the 7 RO’s, and if you are charming enough, fall in love with any two of them. The four possible poly routes available are: The Cellmate and The Friend, The Warden and The Master, The Protector and The Master, The Cellmate and The Rebel

Struggle against the evil that wants you dead and uncover secrets about yourself

Accept your identity as an Esper and rediscover your powers, or completely reject them

Master your ability of Conscious Manipulation and perhaps learn a few things about yourself unexpectedly

Choose to make allies within Tartarus or antagonize them. Your choices have consequences

Lead a dying rebellion against the Hightable or join them as an equal

There are a total 7 romance options, each with their own personality and a story along with dark secrets for you to uncover

Survive

1. The Cellmate [f/m] | Enemies to Lovers

Subject Name : Twenty

A palpable enigma surrounds the inexplicable disdain they harbor towards you, leaving you to ponder if your past misdeeds have sowed the seeds of their ire. Your questions remain unanswered, rarely do they grace you with a response, and when they do, it arrives veiled in hateful glares and a tapestry of venomous words. The origins of their animosity remain shrouded in silence, with fellow inmates mirroring their reticence. Only when they are complaining about the prison's wretched conditions and the Warden's despotic rule do they momentarily shed their icy facade, revealing hints of vulnerability and human emotion. When they do smile, albeit rarely, it is a fleeting moment of breathtaking beauty. If only you could find the courage to tell them that.

[ Number 1579 is an S rank Arcane Tendency Esper with the Cryokinesis ability. They are under Libra’s Jurisdiction, and thus only follow orders coming directly from them. ]

Other Tropes : Emotional Scars, Nobody thinks it’ll actually work, Hate Sex

2. The Warden? [m] | ???

Subject Name : Nikita

There is an uncanny familiarity surrounding him, leaving you torn between the unsettling grip of dread and the elusive allure of desire. He claims to know you personally. Apparently the two of you were close friends before The Incident. Yet, when you press for details, he skillfully redirects the conversation before your emotions can catch up. "The past is but a fleeting shadow," he says, "no need to talk about something that can't be changed. Besides, you wouldn't remember anything." Evidently your memories had been erased. The question of who hangs heavy in the air, but his response remains enigmatic, offering only a mirthless smile.

[ Nikita is the Warden of Tartarus, the Reformation Asylum in Sector 10, 8th District. He is under Scorpio's jurisdiction. ]

Other Tropes : Slowburn, Betrayal, Puppy play

3. The Friend [f/m] | Friends to Lovers

Subject Name : Victor (m.) | Vanessa (f.)

A compassionate and devoted companion, V. shines as a beacon of light in the desolate depths of this grim abyss that became your world. From the moment you opened your eyes, they extended a helping hand, guiding you through the labyrinthine complexities of Tartarus and easing your transition into this unfamiliar realm. Unfazed by the venomous whispers that tarnish your reputation, they remain steadfastly by your side, unwavering in their loyalty. Their warm smiles and whimsical wordplay serve as a balm, mending your wounded spirit after every bitter clash with Twenty. How fortunate you are to be blessed with such an illuminating presence, brightening the shadows that consume your existence.

[ Number 1339 is an A rank Catalyst Tendency Esper with the Illusion Manipulation ability. They are under Scorpio’s Jurisdiction. ]

Other Tropes : Partners in crime, First Love, Good people get good sex, Slight yandere

4. The Count/Countless [f/m] | Forbidden Romance (relationship history can be friends with benefits)

Subject Name : Emir (m.) | Evara(f.)

A remarkable visionary and an exceptional entrepreneur, E. stands as an unrivaled figure in the illustrious realm of Elysium City. Holding the distinction of being the youngest Grandmaster in history and amassing unparalleled wealth, they reign as the CEO of the renowned Quinn Industries. E. is adorned with numerous titles within the esteemed echelons of society, serving as an icon of inspiration and a beacon of hope, while simultaneously arousing envy in the hearts of many. An arrogant and proud individual, their ugliness is conveniently covered by their astonishing fortune, combined with innate brilliance, seems almost mystical, as if destined for greatness from their very birth. Within Elysium City's grand social tapestry, few possess the persuasive prowess to sway the decisions of the Hightable itself, yet E. stands tall even among this select few. As an eligible bachelor, their daily inundation of love letters and marriage proposals is a testament to their allure. And yet, amidst all this splendor, it is you who has found a place of interest in their extraordinary life.

[ E. is a part of The Senate and thus does not fall under any District's jurisdiction. ]

Other Tropes : Belated love epiphany, Billionaire, Power play, Daddy/Mommy kink

5. The Master [f] | Forbidden Romance

Subject Name : Leo

In her calculated pursuit, you find yourself ensnared. Your allure captivates her discerning gaze, for you possess what she desires most. You are the coveted object of her desires. In this strategic game, you are but a pawn, a possession within her calculated grasp. Yet, curiously she maintains a measured distance. Her reason? She eloquently articulates, “Witnessing the growth of one's possession is a fascinating phenomenon.”

[ Leo is the Master of {DATA REDACTED}. They are the Ruler of the 5th District. ]

Other Tropes : Secret Identity, Second Chance, Blood play, Begging

6. The Protector [m] | Bodyguard Romance

Subject Name : Caesar

A battle-hardened soldier, Caesar bears the scars of a lifetime spent serving the FAE and the city. With an intimacy unparalleled, he has danced with mortality on numerous occasions, making death a companion rather than an adversary. Yet, behind that facade of strength, Caesar is a fractured soul, haunted by insecurities and a self-destructive nature. His journey, filled with shattered dreams and the weight of his daughter's aspirations, has brought him to the edge of despair. The immortality he once embraced now feels like a curse, a harbinger of misfortune that has become synonymous with his presence. In his eyes, he sees himself as not a protector but a bearer of ill fate. However, the stars, in an unexpected alignment, have granted him a final purpose: to protect you. Beneath the intimidating exterior lies a gentle giant, yet one plagued by a profound sense of self-loathing. He grapples with the belief that his very existence is a catalyst for tragedy, a vortex that draws calamity toward him and those he holds dear. Intrigued by this complex guardian, you see the duality within Caesar — an attentive and understanding individual burdened by the weight of his own perceived malevolence. As you navigate through the intricate layers of his psyche, perhaps you could help him ease his suffering, even by a little.

[ Caesar is a registered S rank Endura Tendency Esper with the Regeneration ability. He comes under Leo’s jurisdiction. ]

Other Tropes : Beauty and the Beast, Single parent, Stop calling me daddy

7. The Rebel [f/m] | Enemies to Lovers

Subject Name : Gael (m.) | Gwendolyn (f.)

You betrayed them. Or perhaps it's the other way around? You do not remember. The trust you once held dear has been shattered, and now you must face the price for your misguided beliefs. Like a fool enchanted by deceit, you must bear the weight of your choices. Remember this lesson, for betrayal's toll is a heavy one to pay. Proceed with caution, lest you become ensnared in the web of your own treachery.

[ There is no known information on this individual. Extreme caution is recommended. ]

Other Tropes : Amnesia, Revenge, Redemption, Breathe play

Links

[ DEMO ]

[ PINTEREST ]

[ THE DISTRICTS ]

[ THE HIGHTABLE ]

All asks and reposts are welcome 😁!

#current wip #interactive fiction #if game #interactive game #hosted games #twine game #interactive novel #dystopia #if intro #thriller #road to heaven if #upcoming if #twine wip #no demo

[risuola]

III — GAMBARE, GAMBARE — F. READER x SUKUNA RYOMEN

In the world of crime and blood, Sukuna knows what's off limits. You certainly are one of those things and yet, he's unable to stop thinking of you.

cw: smut, little angst-ish in some places, mafia!au, unprotected sex, a hint of body worshipping, violence, mentions of death, subtle threats, reader discretion is advised — 3,2k words

a/n: third part, thank you so much for support guys! it means the world to me to see how INSANELY big is the tag list now. i literally love y'all~ ❤️ also, just as the first part got inspired by the absolutely menacing quote from our king, it only felt natural to include the famous gambare, gambare (do your best) into this one.

series masterlist

Sukuna prefers to think of himself as one of significant intelligence. Over the years, during which he ruled over the entire criminal milieu, he proved himself to stand atop of anyone who dared to even think of overturning his jurisdiction. All the exceptionally dumb bold ones that once wished to take the position of a boss from his hands had learned the hard way why troubles with Sukuna Ryomen are the least desirable fate of anyone who bears any volume of oil inside their brains.

It’s not only tactical or business intelligence that he’s priding himself with. It’s also the excessive knowledge about general rules of life that allowed him to comfortably push and pull the edges of what’s right and wrong, bending his own reality to his liking. Now it’s intuitive – he just knows where he can put more pressure and where it’s not worth his time. He knows what to bet his money on and what won’t realistically pay back. And most importantly, up until that point, Sukuna thought he can tell with his eyes closed which people he should consider crossing paths with, what men can be useful whilst he aims to reach his targets and which crowds he shouldn’t mess around with – for various reasons, most of which being just business and inconvenience. Same thing concerns women. Ryomen’s position works like a magnet and not a day passes by without girls, often way too young to even think of him, throwing themselves at him, led by fantasies of money and power veiled in the shades of love. If he wished, he could have a different toy every time the night falls and if he’d be just slightly less trained, he might have fallen for the temptation. But he didn’t.

Sukuna learned it from experience, not exactly his own, but of his pawns, that allowing random women in the proximity of their profession usually leads to catastrophes. Girls get persistent, they grow attached, they fall in love sooner than it’s even logical and then they threat, they blackmail; all of which eventually leads to their deaths because dealing with just barely adults that weaponize tears and screams is something he doesn’t allow in his circle. There were no exceptions, any man bearing similar power to Ryomen knows that there’s no place for romance in the world of death and bones, the one that’s stained in red and sorrow. If there happens to be love, it’s always of people from inside the criminal circle, sharing the same set of broken morals. Mafia should never tie itself romantically with civilians. Especially him, the leader, the menace that he is in the world of misdeed, murder and corruption, knew all too well why he should never, ever, even think of someone from outside of his tale as of anything more than one time plaything. That would be irresponsible, straight up naïve. It would be foolish. He knew all of that and not even once he felt any need to engage into any kind of relationship with someone that he deemed non-profitable to his general targets.

Then why the fuck he kept thinking of you? Why he kept seeing you after what was supposed to be a fun one-time fuck? Why did the taste of your lips and the sweet scent of your skin made him so completely addicted that he couldn’t focus on his own business without his mind wandering to the memory of you at least once an hour? He just liked your body, he told himself every time he thought of sending you a message. You were a good lay, it was purely physical. You did, after all, take his dick like you were born solely for this very purpose. He was meeting you only for sex and it was an accident that some of these meetings began with a dinner. All of the gifts he showered you with were just a form of payment for the service. Sukuna knew much better than to let his emotions take control of him.

“What’s on your mind?” Your quiet voice tore Ryomen out of the realm of his self-criticism. The tone that you spoked with was raspy, the testimony of the rough, throat-fucking he had used you for just few hours prior, and yet, it still somehow flowed with cottony softness, so characteristic to you.

“Nothing important,” he replied bluntly, lowering his gaze to where your face was buried into the broad muscle of his chest; your frame completely hidden in his own, much larger and stronger. It was another night you spent in his house, one of those that began with the reservation in one of Tokyo’s best restaurants that served traditional Japanese cuisine. You showed up in a dress made of dark olive silk, long enough to reach your high-heeled sandals and clinging to your shapes as if it was made to be worn over the divinity that was your body. The long, scandalous slit exposed one of your legs and the thin straps accentuated your shoulders and cleavage just perfectly. It was a dress that he himself bought and ordered to be delivered to you in an expensive box before that day. Now that very same gown was laying somewhere, discarded on the floor in the living room of his mansion.

“Sometimes I feel like you’re plotting my death,” you chuckled against his skin, the vibration of the act made him scoff because both him and you knew that the scenario you offered wasn’t exactly falling into the realm of fiction.

“If I were to kill you, I wouldn’t need to plot it. One bullet is all it would take,” he retorted with calm and despite any logic, instead of creating some distance, instead of running away you hummed at his statement and pressed your lips to the center of his chest.

You were way over fearing Sukuna and his world. The few months that you spend seeing him, you came to terms with the heavy weight of tragic fate that was now resting on your shoulders. It couldn’t end well, you shouldn’t tangle yourself with a man such as him, the path of your normal life should never come even close to the blood tainted one he was walking through. You should have never left the club with him and once you did, you should have run out his house the moment he gave you a chance. Instead of that, you stayed. That night, after the time of Ryomen’s pursue and the unfortunate event with Naoya and his gang, soon turned into two. Then just few more and then many more. The one-night stand evolved into continuous romance and though it was strewn with roses and intimacy, it came also with the realization that the more you see him, the less days you have left. There was no way for someone like you, an outsider, the mere civilian with no mafia bonds whatsoever, to be living a long life. Sukuna has enemies, there are people that want the power he holds and will eventually target you. That is, of course, if he doesn’t kill you himself over time – out of boredom or prevention. You knew a lot, he had told you more than he should.

But you loved him. You had seen him do some pretty dark things that would make most people’s eyes water, and in all honesty, it did the same thing to yours, but then, with you, Sukuna was always protective. You loved the way he always seemed to know just what you needed, the way he read you like an open book and knew just what to say or do to put you at ease. You loved the way he made you feel like the only woman in the world, how he made you feel beautiful, even on the days you felt like a total mess. He was a danger, a threat so deadly you shouldn’t play with it, he was a flame that you were bound to burn yourself on, but he was also the only person in the world you felt so safe around. Ever since you met, he had protected you. Even if his words were harsh and his own deeds rough, he never failed to envelop you in a bubble inside of which nothing and no one could hurt you.

“Oh, how much you’d miss me,” a certain sense of amusement hinted in the tone you used as the sheepish smile stretched your lips. Ryomen acted suddenly, grabbing the tiny thing that was your body and pressing your back to the mattress. His fingers wrapped around the frail of your neck; it wouldn’t take much of his strength to snap it and yet, you seemed rather comfortable with his grip secured around your airways. Over the time you managed to grow enough trust to know he won’t hurt you for no reason. Your lover was a man powerful enough, there was no need for seeding fear in you. You were also smart enough to differentiate the real danger from the playful acts. If Sukuna truly wanted you to be scared, you most definitely would be scared shitless.

“You think so?” His tone dropped an octave as he crawled above you; your bare figure now trapped underneath the weight of his presence. He got your legs between his initially, the heavy shaft of his dick rested over your lower belly as he shifted his hand from your throat down to cup your breasts. Your body seemed to never stop attract him, no matter how many times he touched and tasted it. You looked almost angelic in the dim light of that morning; the remnants of sleep still painted over your features and the only things that disturbed the innocence of your picture were the marks he had left on your plush, velvety skin. Red and angry spots that he sucked onto your flesh adorned the beauty of your frame, ultimately making you his own. “Aren’t you a little too confident?”

“I think I’m confident just enough,” you grinned playfully, smoothing over his hands, one staying on top of his palm on your breast and the other reaching up his arm to touch more of him. There was always a hunger lingering inside of you, you were never completely satiated and even if your body was utterly exhausted, you were always happy to take more. Sukuna made you feel ecstatic, like you were really his only one and though it was an illusion that you chose to believe in, it felt good to imagine yourself as his only care.

“And why would I miss you, huh? Aren’t you only a plaything for me?” The question he asked was meant to sound venomous but the sound of his voice betrayed the lighthearted intention. “Do you think I’ll blink twice when discarding you when I get bored of what you can give me?”

“I don’t think you’ll hesitate,” a chuckle once again shook your chest gently as you watched how Sukuna gently pulled your legs up from underneath him and brought one of your ankles to his face. The kisses he smeared along your shin were delicate, completely contrasting with the threatful impression that he was trying to make. He was worshipping you so openly, it made you blush every time. “But even though I know you wouldn’t think twice before killing me, I also think you’d miss me afterwards.”

Once the tender caresses finished, your calves landed on top of his shoulders as he leaned forward, squeezing a breathy moan out of you as he pushed his length into you to the very base of it, sliding on enough spit that it made the entrance easy. Ryomen learned your body through and through, he knew you can take it, he knew you’re always ready and eager to take him. Even if it’s early, even if it hurts. No matter when and where, if he told you to sit on his dick in the middle of a grocery store, you’d probably do just that and ask no questions. And yet, he knew where the boundaries are. Not once he pushed you when you were feeling bad. Not once he used you when you were not ready. The knowledge he now had about you came from observation.

“I think I would miss you,” he purred, his lips so close that they brushed against yours as he spoke. He’s got you in a mating press, filled to the brim with his bricked-up manhood and completely at his mercy. “You are addicting.”

“So keep me safe,” you whispered, cupping his face and chasing the kiss he was yet to give you. The request caught him slightly off guard. The pleading undertone made his heart clench; a feeling that he’s gone without for a decade at least and though he hated the odd sensation in his chest, he also couldn’t deny the warmth that spread throughout his body.

“You are safe with me,” the reassuring lie he followed with a heavy press onto your lips, sealing his words with his own tongue and silently promising you his protection. A vow that he wished to keep and yet, feared he won’t be able to. But now, it wasn’t important. Now you were here, in his bed, on his dick. Now there was just you and him.

Your dainty fingers found their place in his hair as he began thrusting into you. The new slick that combined with the remnants of the night made his movements easy as he dragged his hips back almost all the way out and then pushed back to the point of his pelvis clashing with the back of your thighs and your ass. The pace he set wasn’t fast. It wasn’t anything of what he’d most often pick, there was no violence intertwined into the melody of his hips. That morning it was sensual, it was deep and just rapid enough to stimulate every sweet spot inside of you. Stroke after stroke he was driving you crazy, he just barely started and already you felt yourself dripping. The filthy, wet sounds filled in the early aura and the muffled moans and whimpers accompanied them.

Sukuna allowed your legs to fall lower from where they were pressed against your chest and you hooked them around his hips. The newly earned access to his neck and shoulders you immediately used by allowing your hands to wander in the area, scratching his skin just to force a low purr from his throat. Every sound he made, you swallowed greedily as the kiss continued. Your tongues were dancing to the fiery rhythm of intimacy.

The coil in your stomach tightened all too quickly, you wished it to give you more time to enjoy what he was willing to give you but no matter how much you wanted your body to calm down, he made it absolutely impossible to achieve. Your veins were running with pure ecstasy and lust, the heated flurry that now was your brain was focused only on him, on the rhythm of his hips, on every sweet little lie that he whispered to you. Ryomen knew how to make you weak, he knew just how to angle his body to hit that one spot, the most sensitive one and you could feel him grinning against your lips. He knew you were close. The delicious squeezes that your cunt did on his girth were enough of a hint to notice and it gave him a sense of pride to be able to make you come undone so easily.

“Just few moments more,” he murmured and you nodded eagerly. Tears prickled in your eyes, gathering along your lash lines like crystals that he wished to kiss away, but was now too engulfed in the taste of your lips to part. His movements got quicker, just a little heavier as he began slamming into you with more force than at the beginning. Mornings tend to rid Sukuna from the ability to last – the ones that he spends with you in his arms, with your naked body pressed against his, unknowingly shifting against his dick for hours. That makes him unable to keep his composure for too long. Sometimes he feels like you strip him of all qualities that he once prided himself in, leaving him bare only to your eyes, with only the most primal needs exposed and he felt good with that kind of freedom.

“…don’t stop, oh god, ‘kuna~”, you were whimpering, arching your back underneath him and squeezing your little hands over his shoulders. “I can’t, I—”

“Oh, you can. Do your best,” Sukuna chuckled, teasing you with such impossible tasks. Your head fell back, your thighs were trembling against his sides and he could tell he’s losing you. You were far too deep in the realm of desire to hear his words; all of your world now came down to what you felt, to how you felt him and Sukuna loved your blissed out state. He loved the way he was the one to push you so far over the edge that you wouldn’t notice if the world was ending. But what he loved above that, was how you were gripping onto him; holding him tightly, pulling him closer as if you never wanted him to move away, as if he was everything you needed. And he was.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he muttered against your throat, painting the skin over there with wet trails of kisses and new, red marks – the ones gentle enough to fade in a matter of hours. You moaned something incoherent. “Cum for me,” he allowed, not even sure if you’re registering his words. It had to be unconscious; the way your brain caught his voice between the blurry lines of everything else.

Your climax hit you like a rock; his name was slipping over your tongue continuously, so sweet and breathless that Sukuna was once again reassured that he never wants to hear anyone else calling him. Your walls were squeezing his throbbing length, he twitched and flexed inside you, groaning with satisfaction and before he allowed himself to come, he pushed himself up. As he sat on his heels, he pulled you with him; your body now on top of him and he used his hands to guide your hips up and down his dick. You wrapped yourself around him, finding a safe space for your face right where his neck connects with his muscular shoulder and all he needed to feel the bliss was the sensation of your teeth sinking into his skin.

White seed painted your insides as he shot it as deeply as he could reach with you on top of him. Few more moves, few more groans and you could feel him relax. His strong arms snaked around your waist as he shifted slightly to lean against the headboard, straightening his legs in front of him. You stayed pressed against his chest, catching your breath and feeling the tension leaving your body as the morning went by. And as Sukuna held you so close to his heart, he couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that it felt so right and that made the question bloom inside his brain. Was it still strictly physical? Was it ever only about sex?

» PART FOUR

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#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jjk fanfiction #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #ryomen #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna smut #sukuna mafia boss #sukuna ryomen smut #ryomen smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #sukuna ryomen x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna smut

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Crawl Home to Her

Pairing: Osferth x f!reader Warnings: Religious guilt. Canon-typical violence. Mild angst. Loss of virginity. Smut. Word count: ~3.5k

Summary: Part two of Deathless Death. Osferth has a crisis of conscience and faith, however, an attack on their party by the Danes makes him realise what's at stake. Based on this request. Series masterlist.

Author's note: For @valeskafics. No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

Osferth rouses slowly into wakefulness, blinking his eyes open. For a moment, his mind is blissfully silent, focusing only on the canopy of green leaves above and the chirping of the birds in the woodland that surrounds him and his travel companions.

That is until the memory of the previous evening floods back to him; the taste of her upon his tongue, her cries of pleasure that had echoed through the trees and up into the night sky. He can still feel the smoothness of her thighs beneath his fingertips, the way the softness of her flesh had yielded beneath his hands as she’d hovered above his face while he’d devoured her like a man starved.

His throat tightens at the thought, his cock stirring in his breeches. He turns on his bed roll to face her, expecting to see her peacefully sleeping next to him, just as she usually is, her features a vision of angelic beauty. However, the space beside him lays empty and his brow furrows in concern as he props himself up on his elbow to look around for her.

He spots her. She kneels at a fallen log, her hands clasped in prayer against it. The early morning sunlight filters through the branches casting the top of her head in golden light. She is the picture of innocence, truly angelic, and guilt and shame wash over Osferth in thick, hot waves. He would have sullied her upon the filthy forest floor, if the others had not come back and interrupted them. Worse still, she would have allowed him to. This pure, devout, impressionable girl had been a vessel for his lust. Seeing her as she is now, Osferth vows to keep his distance; he must do better by her, despite his yearning for her.

He is startled momentarily when she opens her eyes and looks directly at him, clearly having sensed his gaze upon her. Her smile is warm, making her eyes soften with fondness as she looks at him.

“You’re awake,” she says, her voice gentle. Osferth will never have enough of that dulcet sound, it is sweeter than honeyed wine. “Will you join me?”

He nods, not trusting himself to speak and makes his way over to her, kneeling on the opposite side of the log. It’s a deliberate choice, a need to place a physical barrier between the two of them so that he is not tempted to reach out for her, to feel her lips upon his once more.

If she is offended by his decision, she does not show it, lowering her head once more and closing her eyes. Osferth wonders what she prays for. Had she awoken this morning filled with regret for what they’d done and is now praying for God to cleanse her of her misdeeds?

Pressing his own hands together, he closes his eyes and bows his head.

Please, Lord, give me the strength to resist her. Do not allow me to sully her innocence with my sinful behaviour any more than I already have. Forgive her for transgressions, for she does not understand fully what she has done, and was led astray by my lust.

“First one awake’s meant to light the fire,” he hears Finan grumble sleepily in annoyance from a few feet away.

He sighs, standing and walking towards the pit that had been dug the day before. “Apologies, Finan, I’ll do it now.”

The rest of the morning passes peacefully. Uhtred’s talk of their travel plans serves as a welcome distraction, though he is unable to stop himself from glancing over at her. She looks at him with such adoration that it makes his heart squeeze. He is not worthy of basking in the affection of her gaze, yet he craves it all the same.

When it comes time to move on, she leans back against his chest as they ride, and it takes everything he has not to wrap his arms around her waist. His knuckles turn white from the intensity with which he keeps a hold of his horse’s reins, knowing that if he lets go his hands will be upon her in an instant.

She tucks herself against his chest as they bed down again that night and he is glad to wrap his arms loosely around her, keeping her close. He reasons he is simply keeping her warm, nothing more, until she looks up at him doe-eyed and expectant.

“Will you kiss me again?” She whispers into the darkness and he feels a pit open in his stomach.

“Not tonight, my lady”, he tells her quietly, “get some rest.”

He hates telling her no. The way her face crumples in disappointed sadness feels like a dagger to his chest, but it is for her own good. A kiss would lead to more and he cannot do that to her. He must control himself for the both of them.

She nuzzles into him, closing her eyes and he allows himself a moment to simply let his hands stroke through the silken strands of her hair, soft as angel’s wings.

He is thankful that the constant presence of Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric during the day prevents her from asking about the night he had tasted her. He can see it in her face each time she looks at him, longing in her eyes and questions on the tip of her tongue, but she’d never dare speak of it in company, so he always ensures they are never alone.

Come nightfall she clutches against his robes as they lay together, and he savours her closeness, her warmth, her scent, pretending his actions are a matter of duty that he derives no pleasure from.

She catches him off guard a few mornings later, excitement in her eyes as she approaches him.

“There is a river close by. I’d like to bathe. Will you join me?”

Osferth feels himself flush scarlet all the way to the tips of his ears. The thought rivulets of water running down her skin, tracing the curves of her body, has him swallowing thickly in order to maintain his composure. But he cannot give in.

He picks up his sword, fastening it to his belt. “I will keep watch to ensure you are safe, my lady.”

Her gaze lowers, he can see he has disappointed her yet again and guilt gnaws at him. He detests that doing the right thing makes her so sad.

She turns and walks off in the direction of the riverbank, and he dutifully follows her. He has to physically force himself to turn away when she begins to undress. Never having seen her fully bare before, he is desperate to look, but knows he will not be able to control himself if he does.

In his peripheral vision he sees her form illuminated by sunlight as she steps from the bank and into the water. Her movements are slow, deliberate, and he glances quickly at her, seeing how her hands move through the water, over her hair and down her body. 

Looking quickly away, he wonders how someone so angelic can be such a temptress. He wants to protect her virtue, yet ravage her at the same time, and it seems she is attempting to lure the latter half of him out to play. She does not know the full weight of what she is asking, however, and Osferth could not live with himself if he laid with her, only for her to regret it.

He keeps his focus on the surrounding woodland, to make sure no one approaches or sees her as she is bathing. He does not look upon her again until she returns to him, dressed once more, her hair damp from the river.

She looks up at him with wide, imploring eyes and Osferth feels panic flutter in his chest. They are alone. They are alone, and she is going to ask him about what happened between them and he will not know what to tell her. What could he possibly say? That he is a sinner? That he cannot control himself? That he swore to protect her and has taken advantage of her instead?

“Did I do something wrong?” She asks sadly.

The question hits him like a punch to the gut. How could she assume she is to blame for anything?

He opens his mouth to reply, but she beats him to it. “Was it not good…the other night? Have you decided you don’t want me after all?”

Her tone is filled with insecure hurt and Osferth feels as though he wants to cry. He had never meant to make her feel unwanted. If only she knew that she is everything he has ever wanted and everything he does not deserve simultaneously.

“Osferth?” Sihtric’s voice echoing through the trees interrupts them, as the crackle of branches heralds his approaching footsteps.

He turns to face the direction he is coming from, brows rising in concern as he sees the hardened look upon Sihtric’s face. This is serious.

“Get ready to go,” he tells them both. “We are being tracked by Harald’s men.”

Without thinking, Osferth grabs her hand, rushing her back to camp. They hurriedly pack away their belongings, kicking out the fire, before mounting up and moving on at speed.

She rests wordlessly against his chest, and he knows they will eventually need to continue their conversation from earlier, but right now his only focus is on keeping her safe. If he cannot do that then he has failed in his entire reason for taking her with him from Alton in the first place.

Their horses are brought to an abrupt halt, rearing up slightly when Danes ambush them in a clearing, surrounding them. Bile rises in Osferth’s throat, icy fingers of fear wrapping around his heart - not for himself, but for what may happen to her.

As Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric dismount, withdrawing their weapons, he leans forward whispering quickly to her. “Run. Run away and don’t look back. I will find you after.”

He feels her trembling like a leaf, and wishes he could do more to comfort her, but in this moment the best source of comfort is to protect her and, so as she flees, he jumps down from his horse and unsheathes his own weapon.

Osferth is not a masterful warrior, but travelling with Uhtred has sharpened his skills and he fights with more confidence than terror with each passing day. 

Allowing pure instinct and adrenaline ro guide his movements, he drives forward, slashing with his blade, ignoring the ache in his shoulder and the wet, dull sounds of steel biting into flesh.

A sharp sting against his temple happens so quickly that he barely registers he is cut, until he feels the warm trickle of blood in his eye. He blinks it away in time to see Uhtred run through the Dane responsible for causing the injury.

He is panting, sweaty, sight in one eye reddened by ichor by the time they have cut down Harald’s men. Those not killed have fled, but any solace he feels is short lived as dread and regret spur him into action, he runs through the woods in search of her.

Stupid fool.

If he’d have known better, he’d have taken her and rode away, not left her to fend for herself. What if some of Harald’s men have come after her? What if she’s dead?

As Osferth races through the trees he can no longer tell if the warmth upon his cheeks is blood or tears, he simply knows he has to find her.

His heart soars, relief and exhilaration flooding through him when he spots her cowering in a thicket, fresh tears pricking his eyes.

She is safe.

He calls out to her and she raises her head, her eyes wide with fright, though she visibly relaxes when she sees him, stepping out from her hiding place.

His jaw clenches in anger when he sees the slash in the sleeve of her dress, a long, angry looking red gash adorns the flesh of her forearm.

“Did they hurt you?” He asks, unable to mask the worry in his voice.

She shakes her head. “I caught myself on a low hanging branch when I ran away. It is my own clumsiness that is at fault, no one else.”

Reaching up, her fingers brush over the cut to his temple. “You are hurt…”

Osferth winces, though does his best to sound brave in spite of the pain. “It’s only a scratch. The fact that you are safe is all that matters to me.”

They stare at each other unblinking for a moment, her thumb tenderly wipes away the tears that have tracked down his cheeks. 

If they are not meant to be together then why would God deliver her safely back to him? They both could have died today and all he wants to do is kiss her.

Before he can second guess himself, he leans in, pressing his lips to hers, smiling into the kiss as he feels her return the gesture, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him close.

She is alive, they both are, and he has never felt more so than in this moment.

That night, they do not sleep upon the forest floor. Uhtred finds them lodgings at a village alehouse, stating they have all suffered enough for one day and deserve the comfort of a decent night’s rest.

Retreating upstairs, bellies filled with ale and stew, Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric pile into one room, leaving Osferth and her to the other. It is humble, simply furnished, with a small double bed.

Osferth’s pulse races, keeping his back to her as he removes the light leather armour from his wrists and chest, leaving himself in just his robes. They have never spent the night alone together like this before. What would she be expecting of him?

He lips part involuntarily as he turns back to see her dressed only in her cotton shift. She has removed her dress, and tended to the cut upon her arm. She is beautiful, so beautiful, and he feels himself redden with embarrassment as she looks up and smiles, clearly having caught him staring.

She squeezes water from a cloth into a basin, before turning back to him. “Here, let me,” she says, gesturing to the wound on his temple.

Osferth approaches her slowly, his breathing unsteady. He hisses lightly at the sting of it as she gently presses the dampened cloth to his injury.

“Forgive me,” she whispers, lightening her touch, and his chest tightens.

As if my forgiveness is something you would ever need to seek.

She dabs at his face, placing the cloth into the bowl several more times as she goes, wringing it out, until she is satisfied he is clean.

Dropping the cloth back into the bowl, she places her hands against his face. She regards him with such tenderness that he has to close his eyes, unable to stand the way it makes it feel as though his heart will burst out of his chest.

Her fingertips move lightly over the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, over his lips, chin and jaw. If this is what it feels like to be worshiped then the satisfaction God must experience is beyond gratification.

He gasps as he feels her lips press eagerly his once more and moves his mouth hungrily against hers, tangling his fingers into her hair and walking her back towards the bed.

Pushing her back, he hovers over his, his lips trailing a path down her neck to her collarbones, before kissing the rest of her body through her shift. Eagerly, he pushes the cotton above her hips, finding her wet and wanting, eager to be tasted again.

Osferth’s gaze flickers back up to her face. Her eyes are glossy and darkened by desire, her lips swollen with kisses and parted as she breathes heavily through them.

If he had died today, he is certain the grave he ended up in would not be enough to hold him back from crawling back to her, if only to see her like this. But in that same moment, he remembers the men he has killed today, his hands sullied by blood, lives ended by his hand.

He is unfit to touch her. He cannot besmirch her virtue with his uncleanliness.

He bows his head, exhaling sadly. “I–I cannot go any further, my lady,” he whispers, “I would not dirty you with hands that are not worthy of you.”

She props herself up on her elbows. “And what about what I want? It is my virtue to give away, don’t I get to decide who takes it?”

“You don’t know what you’re asking, you cannot give me this,” he argues, eyebrows drawn together in a pleading expression.

“I know perfectly well what it is that I want,” she replies, her tone defiant.

She shifts on the bed, pushing him onto his back, and he lets her. All his fight has left him, so he simply lays there, watching her with curiosity as she sits astride him.

Carefully, her hands pull at his clothes, stripping him of his robe, trousers and breeches. He quietly allows her to do so, lifting his body as needed to aid her task until he lays utterly naked before him.

Osferth has never been nude in front of anyone before. He had anticipated feeling shame and embarrassment, wanting to curl in on himself to hide from her. However, her gaze is filled with such warmth and innocence, she looks upon him in wonder, the way that people gaze at sunsets and meadows of wildflowers. It makes pride swell within his chest to be looked upon as though he is worthy.

Her lips brush gently against his, and as quickly as he leans up to kiss her back, she is moving away. Her mouth trails a path down his neck, across his chest and over his abdomen, before she allows her fingertips to take the same journey. He shivers, feeling his manhood pulsate under her attention.

He sucks in a breath when he feels her hand wrap around his cock, testing the weight and feel of it in her palm, eyeing it reverently, before she lets go and comes to lay beside him.

She pulls her shift over her head, discarding it upon the floor, and his eyes widen, drinking in the sight of her. Not even the most diligent monks in his days at the monastery could illuminate visions as lovely as she is.

“I do not know what I am doing. I’ve never done this before, but I want to. Osferth, please.”

Her quiet plea is all he needs to hear. He turns her onto her back, hovering over her and kisses her deeply. A rumble of appreciation vibrates through him as he feels her instinctively part her thighs.

Pulling away, he grasps the base of himself, guiding his tip to her waiting entrance.

“Are you sure?” He asks, eyes locking with hers.

“I have never wanted anything more. Please.”

Her words make his stones ache and he presses forwards, jaw going slack at the feeling of how tight she is as his length forces apart her walls.

She whines quietly at the intrusion, though as he studies her face he is met with desire rather than the discomfort that he had anticipated. It excites him to know that she wants him, though he fears he would not be able to stop now even if he wanted to.

If lying with other women has been the closest he has come to seeing the face of God before, then in this moment he has truly died and gone to heaven.

His thrusts into her are slow and soft, his lips linger against hers, exchanging sticky kisses and laboured breaths. As his passage eases, his movements become slightly harder and faster, groaning as she grows wetter, clenching around him as the wooden bed frame creaks with their efforts.

This is his forbidden fruit. He has tasted her and now there is no going back. He loses himself in the sensation of her, his grip on her tight as she writhes beneath him, the sounds she makes are sweeter than any music.

Noticing her tensing when his thrusts are shallower, he repeats the motion in earnest until suddenly she is crying out, pulsating around him, pulling him quickly towards release. He pulls out, stroking himself to completion, watching the way his spend paints her bare flesh in pearlescent ropes.

Breathlessly he falls back against the mattress, pulling her to him, wanting her close. She is pliable, eager, and snuggles against him, her head upon his chest.

He looks down at her through hooded eyes and she smiles back up at him, her gaze filled with warm affection.

“I love you,” she whispers.

The words stick in his throat. They are not enough to convey the depth of his feelings for her. They are just words, much like heaven and hell, and they are worthless. He will never want for anything, as long as he has her.

So, he simply kisses her, hoping that it is enough for her to understand just how precious she is to him.

#osferth x reader #osferth x you #osferth x y/n #osferth imagine #osferth smut #osferth angst #ewan mitchell #TLK #osferth the last kingdom #osferth tlk #the last kingdom #tlk osferth #the last kingdom osferth #baby monk #osferth fan fiction #osferth fanfiction #osferth fan fic #osferth fanfic #the last kingdom fan fic #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fanfiction #the last kingdom fan fiction

[coralinnii]

I have a request for the villainess AU. For Ace and Deuce, what if it was a love triangle between the MC? I just can’t imagine them being separated because them fighting over the Mc is much funnier!

❋ Being Reincarnated into a New World as the Bad Guy ❋

↳ Love Triangle scenario(?)

feat: Ace and Deuce

genre: humour, budding romance, friends-to-something more?

note: part of the “Reincarnated into a New World as the Bad Guy” series or the Villain/ess au, part of the 2.7k followers event, references to other villain/ess au works (specifically Riddle ver.), Ace + Deuce + reader are old enough to drink, no pronouns used with reader, minor mention of death

I don’t usually do the love triangle trope because real life ones hurt alot and it brings up some bad memories, but I’ll consider it for this, just for y’all~ I genuinely tried but rather than a love triangle, I may have accidentally created a… (seriously was not my intention)

Villain/ess au Series Masterlist

2.7K Followers Writing Event

Before the oath of the sword, the three of you made an oath of your own. One of unquestioned trust and camaraderie. No matter where the string of fate would take either of you, the promise made one drunken night between you, Ace, and Deuce was stronger.

That night was fuelled with unrestrained emotions, with shouting and tears, most coming from you. Especially when you awoke one day with strange visions flooded your dreams, vivid images that spoke of a horrible future for you.

Memories of a strange novel, one that eerily resembles your current world down to each royal family member and even your friends’ lives. But while a hero’s glory awaits your dearest ones, you were left as a tragic minor antagonist.

A mere childhood friend of Ace and Deuce, you became jealous of a former baron’s daughter suddenly turned Queen when she grew close to your friends as her knight escorts. You turned to petty acts in response, spewing nasty rumours among the townfolks of the new Queen but like an angelic protagonist, she revealed your misdeeds but forgave you for your childish taunts. Nevertheless, you lost the respect of your only friends and you were left behind.

But despite the Queen’s pardon, King Riddle heard of your disgraceful behaviour against his beloved and called for your immediate execution, which became the final push for Ace and Deuce to join in the Queen’s rebellion against her own tyrannical husband. Because that’s all you were, a mere catalyst for the story to continue on.

You couldn’t imagine yourself turning into a cliche bully and admittedly, the idea of your untimely demise left you shaking in fear on occasion. But the worst of your premonitory dreams was the predicted end of your friendship.

The looks of disgust and disappointment that painted Ace’s and Deuce’s face seared into your mind, your heart shattering like glass at their wishes to never see you again. The fear of abandonment stings you like a crack in your heart which never healed, it scared you to the point that the moment you saw them happily enjoying the night, you drunkenly cried out.

“I love you so much, please don’t leave me.”

Unceremoniously, your body slumped onto the tavern’s table as you blacked out into an alcoholic slumber. How evil of you, conveniently unable to explain what you meant by your slurred confession, or to whom you were referring to.

Ace and Deuce were visibly distracted during their knight training the morning after, one of the few times that they must separate from you. Your words looping over and over in their heads like an endless echo. Your voice pleaded so sincerely with tears cascading down your cheeks.

“What should we do, Ace?” Deuce broke the awkward silence during their water break, finally taking a step to mention the elephant in the room. Your words that resembled a wistful confession struck him with worry (and a hint of budding hope). But unlike him, Ace was quick to look for possible excuses for your actions.

“Don’t be dumb. It was probably just the alcohol talking. Don’t you remember how much we all drank?” The reddish hue of Ace’s cheeks however betrayed his true emotions. In truth, he was just as frazzled by your words as Deuce was. He kept trying to convince himself that you meant nothing by it, to not get his hopes up. But the little devil on his shoulder whispers in his ear, “but what if you did mean something by it?”

Since then, you felt that your time spent with the duo increased since your last outing. Instead of staying back in the knight’s barracks right after training, Ace and Deuce visited your hometown more often that was not the most convenient travel destination. You felt at least one pair of eyes, either sea blue or rose red or both, watching you before turning away when you tried to catch their gaze.

But it seems that some people did noticed something different with the two young men, specifically their family. Deuce’s mother would smile knowingly at you whenever you drop by to offer some assistance in her business, occasionally mentioning how much her son has grown. Funnily enough, Ace’s older brother mentioned something similar about the redhead, though it was more laced with a teasing tone than one of filial affection.

But you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. You enjoyed the frequent visits of your best friends, especially knowing they will be even busier when the announcement of a new royal member would take your precious moments with them. Rumours were spread about the town of a mysterious figure locked in a tower which were not part of your memories, but your wary heart kept you mindful of the possible news regarding the imperial family.

Your worries intensified when Ace and Deuce announced their new task once dawn breaks, they were to escort the newest addition to the royal family back to the palace. In an attempt to quell your unease, you made an embarrassing request.

“You want to do what?” A bright red hue on Deuce’s face heavily contrasted with his raven blue hair, but you were no position to tease him as you could assume that your embarrassed complexion was no better. “Y-You mean…you…and us…”

The three of you lost track of time chatting and goofing off in your quarters and didn’t realize how the sun has long gone to rest for the night. Instead of returning to their own home, you asked if the two knights were willing to stay over the night, like in your younger days. Back when you three were more used to wooden swords than ones of steel, when your only worry was if your parents were going to cook your favourites that night.

Back when you three shared the same bed together.

“It’s not that crazy of a request…” you pouted but you supposed it was rather absurd to ask your friends, who old enough to be considered men, something so childish. Perhaps those carefree days are truly long gone.

“I’m not opposed to it” Ace gave his signature cheeky smile as he naturally wrapped his arm around your shoulder, slightly leaning his weight onto you. “If you just can’t help but miss our company, we can have a good ol’ slumber party. Just like old times~”

You’re starting to reconsider your request.

But Ace wasn’t done. “Well, it’s not exactly like old times. We’re definitely bigger than back when we were kids”

The redhead was obviously right. The three of you were nothing like the tiny versions of you in the past, and your best friends have certainly bulked up since they started their journey into knighthood. You tried your best but you couldn’t help but gaze in appreciation of the hard work the two of them did to build the stamina and muscles to protect their kingdom, respectfully of course.

“I doubt that all three of us can fit on your teeny little bed.” the scarlet-eyed knight exaggerated his point by squinting his fingers to describe your bed. “I guess Deucey’s just gonna have to go home for tonight.”

“Hey, wait a minute! Why me?!” Deuce snapped out from his flustered daze to glare at Ace, pulling his shaggy-haired companion by the neck of his shirt. “Who are you to tell me what to do?”

Ace remained unperturbed, too used to the blunette’s burst of anger “It’s nothing personal, buddy. But you grind your teeth real loud at night. How is any of us gonna get any sleep?”

“Well you’re a pain to wake up in the morning!” Deuce angrily countered. “Don’t make it our problem to get your ass up tomorrow.”

You watched your best friends bicker and argue, as if you didn’t already know of their terrible sleeping habits. Sure, Deuce grinds his teeth but you always tried to gently soothe his jaw hoping to relax him. Ace may sleep like the dead but his cute little pout every time he finally wakes up makes the effort all worth it to you.

They were idiots, but they were your idiots.

“Will you both stop fighting already?” Ace and Deuce immediately paused as your voice caught their attention, like it always does. “No one’s gotta leave. My bed is not that small, you know?”

To prove your point, you took each of the boy’s hand and led them without issue. For someone as tall and built as them, they were so easy to pull and push as you please. Carefully, you pressed your hands against their chest to push them backwards onto your bed. You then crawled onto the bed yourself between Ace and Deuce, the men automatically shifting their bodies to make space for you.

Satisfied, you laid onto your back and you took the hand of both men, each of your hand snuggly holding their warm, calloused ones. You smiled brightly at the fuzzy feelings of nostalgia bubbling in you, pressing your joining hands to your chest, atop of your beating heart.

“See, no one needs to leave.” your bright eyes looked up to your favourite people, cheeky joy evident in your gaze.

A rare occurrence, the two chatty troublemakers were left speechless. In their defence, they were too busy trying to contain the burst of happiness in their hearts to reply back to you, barely pushing the redness of their cheeks at bay.

#yo did I really say reader has two hands? #I did not plan that! #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #villainess au #ace trappola #ace trapolla x reader #twst ace x reader #deuce spade #twst deuce x reader #2.7k followers event

[cheollipop]

calico

navi | taglist

pairing: ex!yoon jeonghan x bartender!reader

w.c.: 3.1k

tags: fem!reader, smut, angst, past infidelity/cheating, this is really toxic.... hate sex though....

the heartache from a past game of cat and dog—leaving you with nothing but a stained bed and a broken heart—came back tenfold when freshly-chopped hair and a sly smirk greeted you through the cracked-open, tinted window.

warnings: car sex, so semi-public sex, hate sex, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex (👎), creampie, some cockwarming, degradation (mentions of past cheating, both reader and jeonghan refer to the other as "slut"), reader is also called a cockslut at one point, hair pulling, pussy slapping, nicknames (hannie; darling), jeonghan is really toxic (and a big asshole), past infidelity, seungcheol is mentioned a few times *wink wonk*

A/N: this is for the anon who requested jeonghan ages ago. I might be 5 years late to writing it, but it's here hehe~ I'm so glad I finally got to write more for svt! this was really fun to write~ please consider leaving feedback/reblogging if you enjoyed! ^^ happy reading~~

nsfw under the cut—minors dni 🔞

Frosty air cooled the sweat sticking to your exposed skin, heeled boots clacking over the pavement as you stumbled out of the creaky, metal door at the back of the club. You were way too sober, you thought, eyebrow twitching at the memory of your fight with the new manager. ‘No alcohol after you clock in,’ the high-pitched sound repeated in your ears. You worked just fine with a shot or two in your system; you’d argue you worked even better, able to drown out the slurred pick-up lines and simply pour drinks. Friday nights were the worst, and having to deal with clingy men who didn’t understand rejection—most of which not even your type—without alcohol had you considering a career change. So the second the clock hit eleven, you hurriedly wiped your station before another batch of college freshmen crowded the bar, grabbing your stuff and scrambling out the back exit.

Your legs carried you out of the small alleyway and onto the lit main sidewalk, thankful that the council finally replaced the flickering light bulb. Your eyes zeroed in on the bus stop down the road, and you quickly made your way towards it before the last bus could arrive.

A sudden horn blared to your right, cutting through the stillness and sounding over the distant music from the club behind you. Your fingers dug into your pocket on instinct to circle around the tube of pepper spray, your body tensing defensively as you faced the Jeep parked in front of you. The driver’s tinted window rolled down, a head of short, brown locks peeking through the gap. Your hand eased around the spray when you met with familiar, downturned eyes, hooded with what seemed like amusement. A shot of pain seared through your chest, your heart pounding against your ribcage as Jeonghan stared back at you blankly, a simple “hey” reverberating in the air between you.

“No bitches to cheat on tonight?” You spat, tightening your fingers around the jacket in your hand.

Why was he here? After you’d finally stopped looking for him in every corner, hoping he’d pull you out from behind the bar to give you a tearful apology? After the scent of his misdeeds had faded off your bedsheets, your slumber no longer interrupted by dreams about your heart being used as a plaything?

Jeonghan's eyebrow twitched, his amusement blending with irritation. “Seungcheol’s taken now, whose cock would they jump on if I did?”

Resentment seeped into your chest, and you considered pepper spraying him just to erase that smug smirk off his face. But you turned away from him, sucking in the cool air while scheming eyes bore into your profile. You willed your legs into motion, your footsteps sounding to the beat of the muffled club music as you continued your journey down to the bus stop. A car door slammed somewhere behind you, and you picked at the side of your index finger while you walked, hoping it was just a clubber who’d been running late. A firm hand wrapped around your upper arm and twisted you around, striking out the previous possibility when Jeonghan’s hot breath brushed against your face.

“Let me drive you home,” he mumbled, his hand relaxing around your arm but not quite releasing it.

You couldn’t help but pity him in this moment. A man who’d broken your heart and left you to mend it alone, curled up on your bedroom floor while he stuffed his belongings into a worn-down duffle, not even an apology or a goodbye, only the loud clang of his spare key landing on your console before the front door slammed shut. That same man, two years later, parked in front of your workplace—for God knows how many hours—only to drive you home? A part of you was curious why that was. The other, though, wanted to get the fuck away from him.

“Why? So I can hear more about how not sorry you are? No thanks,” you tugged against his grasp, now tight around your arm again.

“(Y/n), please. I won’t say anything, I just wanna drive you home,” the subtle hint of desperation in his voice alarmed you. It didn’t make sense, and yet the unanswered question overshadowed your confusion. The anger that had been simmering in your gut was beginning to boil.

“So you actually don’t feel guilty?” You didn’t mean for your voice to crack, and yet the ache in your chest nearly made you double over the further his silence stretched—the same one that had robbed you of sleep, kept you away from all potential love interests, had you curled up in the same sheets the reeked of adultery and betrayal while Jeonghan continued to jump from woman to woman, a trail of his sins dragging behind his indifferent figure. “Let me go, Jeonghan,” your tone was weak, defeated, once again faced with agonizing reality—he’d moved on long before that day.

You missed the way his eyelids fluttered at the delicate roll of his name off your tongue, the sound sparking a memory into the front of his mind, a collage of smiles and easy laughter echoing in his ears. His hand raised to grab onto your other arm, possessiveness laced with concern slowly overtaking him at the sight of you—shoulders slumped, eyes glassy and your fingers shaking where they curled into fists at your sides, the mere mention of his indifference reducing you to the same, hurt woman he's left behind.

“It’s late. Let me just-” He paused. Jeonghan never paused, not even when you stood at your doorway, looking him in the eye while he soiled your bedsheets with someone else. “I just want to make sure you get home safe.”

You blamed it on the quiver in your legs, the loss of willpower to move yourself away from him, but this time, you didn’t argue.

--

‘I thought you would be okay,

You thought I would be the same,’

Dpr Ian played through the speakers, the volume on low despite the silence stretching between you and the man in the driver’s seat. You realized you hadn’t needed to give him directions, a relationship of three years enough to engrave the way to your apartment into his mind forever. Your eyes flitted over to the side every now and then, taking in the shadows cast over Jeonghan’s cheekbones with every passing streetlight, his fringe fanning over his forehead in a way unfamiliar to you. Looking back to the front, you decided you preferred his longer hair, and missed the innocent glimmer in his dark eyes. Though despite all the changes—new car, new hair, new attitude and style—Jeonghan still used the same perfume, one that you’d bought him for the first birthday you’d celebrated together. Something in your gut stirred at the thought, but you were unsure whether it was pleasant or not.

‘it’s just another show,

Don’t want your world no more,’

Jeonghan cleared his throat, “I got promoted to manager,” he spoke, breaking the silence.

“Good for you,” your tone was cold, uninterested.

“Yeah.”

Dpr Ian continued to play, ‘You’re so addicted to my bad decisions.’

“How’s bartending been?”

“It’s okay.”

He hummed, fingers tightening around the steering wheel as he took a right turn. “Mm, I worry about you sometimes. People can act crazy when drunk.”

Your eyebrow twitched, irritation creeping into your tone, “you don’t get to be worried about me.” You felt the urge to slam your fist into his unnecessarily sharp jaw, to watch bruises paint his face until the rage embedded so deep within your soul dissipated.

A few seconds of silence passed as Jeonghan parked parallel to the empty sidewalk in front of your apartment building, sighing while turning off the engine and twisting in his seat to face you. “You know, I’m just trying to be nice here.”

Your fists clenched, mirroring Jeonghan and turning around to look at him with hooded eyes, your muscles clenching and relaxing in an attempt to calm yourself down. “Well, maybe you should’ve thought to do that before you fucked a random girl in my bed,” you spat, content to have watched his face fall before turning your back to him and reaching for the door handle.

A hand flew over your shoulder before your fingers could reach their target, his index and thumb grabbing your jaw and forcefully forcing you back into your prior position. “And you thought sleeping with my best friend was a good way to handle it?” He pulled you closer to him, your lower belly digging into the console as he bent you over it, his face mere inches away and his breath blowing warm over your cheeks.

“You don’t get to blame me-”

He was quick to interrupt your defense, “you think I didn’t notice you acting like a slut to get his attention? Way before anything even happened,” his grip on your face tightened, inching his own closer as he spoke, each word falling off his tongue making the knot in your stomach wind tighter. “The looks,” something in his eyes glimmered, and while that once made butterflies flutter in your stomach, it now grew the lump in your throat until it restricted your airway. “The touches,” his breath fanned over your face, small beads of sweat pilling over your skin at the humidity, and perhaps at the rasp in Jeonghan’s voice as he laid out your sins before you. “The pictures.”

Your fingers gripped the console, slipping off with streaks of sweat staining the black leather. Heart pounding in your ears, you hoped Jeonghan’s hearing somehow declined during the years you’d spent apart, the ringing in your ears fogging up all thoughts. You blamed the nerves on his accusations—a dark past you thought you’d buried without trace—and yet the proximity, the lack of space between your face and Jeonghan’s, the mint lacing his breath and the rasp in every word he spoke, you found hidden tinges of arousal mixed in with your anxiety, dousing your panties as you tried to escape the man’s grasp.

“Why are you here, Jeonghan?” Your voice wavered, but this time, you didn’t miss the wave of what seemed like relief painting his face when his name rolled off your tongue.

“Would you believe me if I said I missed you?”

The ache in your chest returned, your eyebrows furling until you appeared wounded by his words. “Not for a second,” your voice remained firm, though, sparing him no glimpse at your heart.

Jeonghan only scoffed, amused by the contrast between your tone and expression. He leaned closer—as though your indifference urged him to prove himself to you—pressing his lips the corner of your mouth, whispering his next words against the soft skin, “you’re not entirely wrong… but I did miss one thing.”

‘I thought you would be okay,

You thought I would be the same.’

--

Your lower back dug into the steering wheel, the leather beneath your knees creaking as you adjusted your position over Jeonghan, your pants shamefully thrown over the passenger seat. Teeth clacked against each other, heavy breaths mingling between your open mouths as your tongues pressed together in a battle of lust.

Two fingers spread you open, curling between your sopping walls until your eyes rolled back, his other hand holding up the window switch, waiting until the darkened glass closed fully before moving it to your hip.

Squeezing the supple flesh, Jeonghan groaned into your parted lips, “still so fucking tight, did Seungcheol not fuck you well enough?”

Heat flared up your chest, “shut up.”

You’d thought two years and countless hookups would’ve blurred Jeonghan's memory of you, but his fingers fucked into you with purpose, as though every inch of your body, every motion that drove pleasure up your spine had become second nature to him.

“I bet he didn’t know how to satisfy my pretty slut,” he pressed his lips to your cheek, using the hand on your hip to guide you over his fingers.

“Sh-shut up-”

He slipped out of you, gliding his digits down your cunt and over your clit before landing a harsh slap over the nub, your body jolting over him and a broken cry sounding in the humid car. The wet clap of his hand on your drenched pussy repeated, and you mumbled incoherently through a breathy moan.

“What was that? Speak up for me, darling,” you could hear the smirk in his voice.

The urge to punch the playfulness off his face dissipated when skilled fingers brushed over your clit, “fuck, again-”

And he conceded, bringing his hand down on your pussy once more to watch your back arch into the steering wheel behind you, lips parting as pain mingled with pleasure, your cunt throbbing under Jeonghan’s palm. That same hand swiftly moved to your face, fingers digging into your jaw and smearing your arousal over your skin while his other worked over his zipper, quickly undoing his pants and pushing them down far enough to take his cock out. It leaked precum over his black button-up, the vein lining the underside throbbing at the sight of you above him—eyes glazed over and fixed on his hard length, your tongue digging into the inside of your cheek.

His fingers tapped against your clit, once, twice, before landing another rough slap over it. He grabbed himself around the base, groaning at the sudden contact as he positioned you over the leaking cockhead, “be a good girl for once and- fuck-”

You cut him off before he could finish his sentence, sliding down his length unprompted until his cock was sheathed entirely between your fluttering walls. You rolled your hips to adjust, forcing your chests flush as you moved and pressing your lips to the shell of Jeonghan’s ear.

“You talk as if you’ve done nothing wrong, but you’re just as much of a slut as I am, aren’t you, Hannie?” Trailing feathery kisses over his jaw, you slipped his cock halfway out of your cunt before sliding him back inside, squeezing your walls around him to feel the stuttered rise and fall of his chest against you. “You fucked me that morning, then brought that bitch into my bed a couple hours after,” you pecked the sharp edge of his jawline, moving your lips back to his ear to whisper your next words, “didn’t even have the decency to take her to your apartment-”

Rough fingers tangled in the hair at your nape, tugging your face back until you met with unfocused eyes. Jeonghan readjusted under you, digging his feet into the clean mats and thrusting upwards experimentally, scoffing at the moan you tried to suppress. Your neck craned uncomfortably, gritting your teeth as Jeonghan eyed you silently, a hand on your hip keeping you still and leaving you helpless to do anything but warm his cock.

So you commenced your taunts, desperately trying to wiggle out of his grasp while you spoke, “how many hours have you been waiting outside, huh? Just to get your dick wet-”

“I have you on my cock now, don’t I?” His fingers tightened around your hair, and he leaned back in his seat, fucking up into your clenching cunt before you could think of anything to say—assuming you were still capable of processing anything but the smooth drag of his length between your pulsing walls, his nails digging thin crescents into the flesh of your hip. His breathing grew heavy, and yet his words remained clear, contemptuous. “You may hate me, darling, but whether you like it or not, you’ll keep coming back to me,” the hand in your hair eased, fingers scratching soothingly at your sore scalp and pushing your head closer to his, bringing his voice down to a whisper, “because you’re my pretty cockslut, aren’t you?”

Jeonghan nuzzled his nose into your cheek, planting a tender kiss to the heated skin while you frantically nodded your head. A staccato of moans and repetitions of his name rolled off your tongue as he brought you down to meet his relentless thrusts, his own grunts adding to the stuffiness in the closed-up car. He pounded into your dripping cunt, taking in the jolts of pleasure shaking your body every time he drove his cockhead into your g-spot, your moans growing needier the closer he pushed you towards the edge.

With one final slap to your throbbing pussy, your vision darkened and your body curled in on itself. Jeonghan’s fingers rubbed quick circles over your swollen nub, watching you writhe on top of him as waves of pleasure seared through you, your moans high-pitched and desperate as he guided you through your orgasm with unrelenting fingers, spark after spark of simmering heat blinding you to everything but Jeonghan.

He felt his own high approaching at the tight squeeze of your walls around him, his thrusts slowing down when you tumbled over the edge, but returning to their frenzied pace to chase his orgasm. Your fingers closed over his upper arms, tinges of overstimulation blending with the ecstasy of his cock slamming into your used cunt.

“Fuck- where do you want me, darling?” He rolled his head back over the headrest, eyes lidded with burning arousal and his thighs beginning to cramp up at the pace he was going at.

“Inside, Hannie, hnngh! Please, inside,” you said, words slurred and interrupted by a harmony of moans, disregarding the soreness between your legs while you begged Jeonghan to come inside you.

He laughed at the desperation, the sweet noise—airy, gravelly with the lust clouding his every sense—was cut short, interrupted by a throaty grunt as he emptied inside you, hot ropes of cum pulsing out of him to paint your walls. Cupping your ass with both hands, he sunk his fingers into the flesh and guided you over his cock in slow rolls of your hips, breathing in the air the other exhaled, eyes locked as the last spurt of cum warmed your insides.

You weren’t sure when it happened, but now, with your head resting on Jeonghan’s chest, his steady heartbeat echoing in your ears and cum slowly dribbling out of you while his cock remained sheathed deep inside, you realized you’d let your walls down for the man who’d caused them to go up, sinking into the pleasure he so generously poured into you. The walls you’d been holding up for two years, the pain he’d left you with sparking fear in your heart every time someone tried to get closer. And yet, the same man who’d planted that fear inside you somehow breached past the infrastructure you’d spent so long strengthening.

While you laid there in the faux sense of security Jeonghan so easily provided, you realized he was right: you will always find your way back to him.

reblogs/feedback are greatly appreciated!! ^^ apply for my tag list here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

#yoon jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen angst #yoon jeonghan angst #jeonghan smut #jeonghan x reader #seventeen x you #seventeen fanfic #yoon jeonghan fanfic #yoon jeonghan scenarios #yoon jeonghan imagines

[dollwrites]

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲 — 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐧

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ this is a dark fic! smut ( minors dni ), fem!marleyan!reader, noncon ( and eventual dubcon ), virgin!reiner, gagging, size kink, noncon oral sex ( f! ), lots of manhandling, overstimulation ( him ), noncon creampie and dubcon breeding mention, tension between marleyan & eldian obviously, spoilers for late s3 / early s4, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ originally posted on 01.01.2023. do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. thanks for reading < 3

𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 ∣ unholy by hey violet

he was watching you again.

it seemed like he always was. quietly ogling from the corner. you knew, of course, and every now and then, you would cut him a glare that seemed to burn right through him. the furrow in your brows brought forth the memory of a soreness in his jaw, that he discreetly reached up to rub with the back of his hand— the sensation of your fist making direct contact with it wrenched to the forefront of his mind. you’d decked him, hard enough to dislocate it, because you’d woken up to find one hand inching up under your shirt. he hadn’t been able to control the urge to touch you any longer, and although his fingers had not made it far above your belly button, he’d paid for their misdeeds severely: first the punch from you, and then a savage beating dealt from the hands of your peers— Marleyan soldiers.

but maybe he was lucky.

had he been any other Eldian, anyone of lower ranking, he would’ve been beaten to death for touching you. but did that stop him from wanting you so bad it tortured him? did that stop him from thinking about you late at night, from gripping the sheets of his bed so tight in one hand and himself in the other, whispering your name under his breath and trying his best to imagine it was you wrapped around his hard and desperate cock instead of his fist?

not even for a second.

“Going home,” Zeke announced his presence as he approached, the cherry of a cigarette burning and a dull, gray trail of smoke following him, “are you excited?”

“Yeah.” a pathetic excuse for a reply, actually, but Zeke hadn’t seemed to expect any less. he didn’t bother following Reiner’s eyeline, he already knew where it would lead, and that you were on the end of it. Reiner hadn’t even looked away when Zeke approached, so the War Chief was aware he was deep in his hapless abyss of desire for you.

Zeke sucks on the cigarette, and the end singes furious red as he draws in a deep breath and contemplates the silence between them.

but Reiner wasn’t. he was lost in his thoughts of you. the shape of your body, how effortlessly enticing you were just sitting there with your comrades. that damned unreadable expression you always wore— and that fiery hatred in your eyes when he caught them. did you loathe the weight of his gaze so much? did you feel every ounce of lust he poured into it, tracing each curve of your figure, wishing he could kiss every inch of you? you never held his gaze long, just enough to grimace in disapproval, stare down your nose at him.

it should’ve turned him off completely.

it didn’t.

because Reiner was convinced that, if he could just get you alone, if he could just get his hands on you, he could make you like him. he could rip away that hatred, and replace it with affection.

or, maybe it was just wishful thinking, and he didn’t care to talk himself out of the lie he fed himself because his time was running out and he needed to feel you ( even just once ) before he passed his Titan down.

as if fate was winking her eye at him, you said farewell to your peers and got up from your seat, disappearing behind a closed door. it wasn’t to go to the bunker, he knew that. behind that door was a small room where you spent most of your time— a broad desk in the middle of the room and maps spread out. you were in charge of reading them, marking attack points, rendezvous, and escape points.

and, more often than not, you were alone in there.

Reiner’s hands clenched into fists, and the muscles in his jaw tightened.

Zeke glanced at him, eyebrow quirked, and murmured, “What if I ordered you against it?” Reiner didn’t have to tell Zeke what he planned to do, it was painfully obvious already.

“I would tell you to have me punished for insubordination after we reach home.” Reiner didn’t mince words or intentions, and pushed himself off the wall. this was, quite possibly, the only opportunity he’d have to catch you alone, as he watched the other Marleyans filtering towards their bunks, leaving your little office completely unguarded.

Zeke pondered his response.

Reiner seemed decided already, and he knew that he couldn’t be swayed. so, the chief sighs. “Then, I’ll order you not to get caught this time.” Zeke said, instead. he knew he shouldn’t allow Reiner out of his sight, and especially not to disappear behind that door, but Reiner also wasn’t a child anymore. he wasn’t so easy to control. “I need my Vice Chief alive.”

Reiner blinked, expecting more resistance, but when it wasn’t pressed, he didn’t look at Zeke. he nodded, and crept off, slinking through the shadowy corners until he reached the door.

Reiner slipped inside, but made no real efforts to hide his arrival, staring at your back. you were standing at the desk, both hands on the maps, and you don’t say anything to the intruder. his eyes don’t leave you, hand drifting to the push the lock on the door into place.

“The war’s over.” he mutters, and he watches your shoulders stiffen. you hadn’t expected it to be him, it seems. “You can stop staring at those maps.”

you don’t look back at him, and he uses the opportunity of stealth to reach up and grasp his armband, his marker as an Eldian, and snatch it from his bicep as he approached.

“As long as Eldians exist, there will be other wars.” you spit in return, but your eyes widen only slightly when you hear how close his footsteps have gotten. your heart skips a beat, and you stare at your own fist on the table. “Get out of here.”

“No.”

a lump forms in your throat— he was right behind you. when he whispered it, his breath shifted the hair that rested against your ear, and the heat from his breath sent a shiver up your spine. did he… did he say ‘no’? to a direct order from a Marleyan?

“I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.” he added, and you felt the sturdiness of his body against your back; his head dips low, so he can breathe your scent in deep.

your fist flew back towards him as you started to turn to face off with him, but he must’ve been ready for it, because he caught your arm at the wrist and bent it up behind your back until you cry out, “Son of a —!”

your expletive is muffled, and you gag on the taste of cotton. for a moment, you can’t tell what he’s shoved in your mouth, until he cinches it in a tight knot behind your head, pressing his weight on you, and you realize it’s his armband. rage fills your stifled obscenities as you writhe, desperate to get free, and stomp your feet, hoping to catch his toes under your boots. “I didn’t want to do it like this,” he growled in your ear, bringing his knees up into the back of yours, bending you over the tabletop with a rough shove. one, massive fist secures both of your wrists together at the small of your back, “but, I’m almost outta time. And I can’t wait on you to come around, anymore.” the more you wiggle, the harder he squeezes your arms, and you bite down hard on the gag. you were no match for his strength, and you knew that, but your pride wouldn’t be easily broken.

you kicked and flailed as wildly as you could, blindly, screaming slurred and incoherent about all the gruesome, bloody ways you would make him pay for this if he didn’t get off of you, but even that didn’t stop him.

his free hand grasped your belt and the hem of your trousers at once, jerking them down your thighs. leather screamed until it pools with your pants at your ankles, restricting them, and Reiner sucks in a breath behind you. “I really wanted to take my time with you,” he husks, placing his powerful palm on your ass and digging his fingers in, groping rough handfuls. you bite down to push a moan back into your throat, brows furrowed. both of your fists uncurl, and you hook your digits into the waistband of your panties, instead, in a vain attempt to keep him from tearing them off of you. it doesn’t matter; Reiner’s calloused fingers seemed to rip right through the cotton and shred them until they sagged in threads against your thighs. and then, he lets out a low, awed moan, squatting down to stare at your core, inches from it.

“Do you know how many times I’ve dreamt of this? Imagined how sweet your pussy must taste?” you shook your head, gurgling in defiance— demanding he not even dare, but it was too late. your fingers push at his forehead, hoping to pry him away, but his mouth was already sealing against your netherlips, suckling on them. you pushed your tongue against the gag to keep yourself from moaning; you couldn’t admit to him how good it felt, especially when his tongue slipped between his lips and flicked your clit to life. the throbbing nerve swells against his tastebuds and he snorts like a beast in rut, lapping at you. his mouth then travels over one ass cheek, sinking his teeth in deep, sucking on the skin to leave his signature on you. you squeak, clenching your legs together, but it hid nothing from his devious mouth. “I’ve never felt a cunt tremble in my mouth before, soak my tongue…” he admitted, panting already as he gets to his feet, “how does it feel having the first and last pussy I’ll ever kiss?” and, then you felt the firmness of a solid cock through the trousers he was working down against your thighs, his mouth finding the back of your neck. “The first and last pussy I’ll ever fuck?”

you squirm underneath his weight, muffled screams of protest hoping to reach outside the door dying in the room you’re trapped in, and before long he grabs hold of the base of his massive cock at its thick base, worming it between your folds until they stretch and slot around the swollen head. you could tell his hands were shaking, his breath ragged and excited against your neck. “You’re wet,” he breathes in awe, and you shake your head, crying out the word ‘no!’ as loud as you could, but it was ultimately a lie. you were dripping, coating the tip of his cock as he rubbed it back and forth against your sex. “Wet enough to take me right now.” the way he said it, with his voice uneven, you knew it wouldn’t matter if you hadn’t been.

he wasn’t giving you a choice, and any preparation was better than none at all.

your palms press flat against his clothed abdomen and you squeal in fervent protest when he jabs his way inside of you— it’s none too gentle and his size is enough to have you coming out of your skin. your walls flutter and scramble to stretch wide enough to allow for the intruder’s rough entry.

it isn’t long before Reiner, grunting and groaning, has fallen into a brutal, greedy rhythm.

crying out, drool soaking the armband digging into the corners of your mouth, you push with your hands, blindly, as hard as you can, to try and push him out, and you squirm atop the table, hoping to wriggle free, but once he’s fully nestled inside, Reiner takes your wrists in each hand. your hands ball into fists again as he uses your arms like levers, pulling your body back to meet the mighty snapping of his hips. each thrust fills you entirely, hard and fast. he’s not saving any energy, or trying to make the sensation last— deprivation has clearly sank into him, and he couldn’t control himself.

“So— so tight,” he moans, nuzzling into your neck, “so warm.. so… fucking… good!” your vice tightens around him when he hits your limit, and his hips stutter; Reiner elicits a broken, gurgling moan that churns your stomach, “Oh, fuck, right there? That’s— that’s what I want— tighten up—!“ shifting with all of his weight bearing down on you, his palms pin your arms to the table, and he pounds that same, sensitive spot relentlessly. his brutality encourages your body to clamp down harder around him, shudder and spasm. you scream and beg him to slow down, but your resolve is weakening, and the screaming is starting to shift into moaning.

no, you didn’t want this.

you didn’t like it.

was he simply breaking your body into submission, and in turn, your mind?

“Close,” he stammered through grinding teeth, “so fucking close.”

for a moment, you mewled; the prominent vein massaging a delicate knot of nerves inside you as he plows against your hips. your eyelids fluttered, and you didn’t hear his warning. his rhythm didn’t change; it remained as cruel as one could be, battering your insides, but that nerve bundle was screaming each time he rammed it. your toes curled in your boots, and you moaned out loud.

and that was when Reiner lost it.

you hadn’t had time to react before he buried himself as deep as he could go, pumping you full of warmth, and you snap out of the pleasure trance too late to utter a disdainful but weak, “Shtp…“ amongst his huffing and puffing. your feet stomp against the floor, but sluggish.

your thighs quaked. your head was spinning. your stomach was tied up in knots. and your walls were trembling and sore from being stretched and abused. but Reiner was still rock hard inside of you. he’d cum, but he was still solid and bulging his shape against your belly.

“I need more.” Reiner grunted, and before you knew it, you were being flipped over. he did it with so much ease that you must’ve weighed nothing at all to the brute, and somehow managed to keep his cock deep inside of you. the breath is knocked from your lungs when your back makes contact with the desk, and your head rolls to one side, as if admitting your defeat. you didn’t want to look at him— you knew if you took one look at his red cheeks, or saw the sparkling sweat against his temple, or even caught a glimpse at his eyes, pupils blown out until they’re all black, you would want him. “Fucking you once was never going to be enough.” his hips were already rocking again, finding a deep, hard rhythm, and his own release frosts his length and dribbles out from your core when he retracts, then squelches when he drills his way back inside. both of his hands flee to his own body first, making short work of the buttons on his shirt before he peels it off of himself, and it flutters to puddle at his feet.

when his hands found you again, he started by pushing your legs open and down against the table, but when he saw that you weren’t going to fight him, he released them, and you kept them spread for him to violate you however he wanted. “Good… Good girl…” he panted, one hand reaching up to grab your face and turn it back to him. this time, you did make eye contact, and you moaned through the gag when you saw the pleasure you were giving him on his face, “Take it, just take it for me.” his fist wraps around the armband and he yanks it down, leaving you sputtering and puffing. “You want it, now, don’t you?”

for a moment, you just glare at him, or try to, but your eyes are becoming harder and harder to keep open. Reiner caresses your cheek, possibly tracing the irritation caused by how tight he’d tied the gag, but the gentleness of his touch was a startling juxtaposition to just how fervently he fucked into you. he was staring into your eyes, too, combatting the ferocity you tried to pour with pure adoration, the kind that must’ve even diluted his mind.

you didn’t answer, and he didn’t seem to care either way, because his hand travels south over your heaving breasts and down to your cunt, strumming experimentally. you pant, your eyes averting from his when he finds your engorged clit and presses the rough pad of his thumb on it to rub it hard. you couldn’t stifle your moans anymore, no matter how hard you tried, and let them punctuate each, maddening slam of his body into yours. your eyes trained on the muscles in his arms, veins bulging, everything pulled taut like a rubber band ready to snap. you wanted to reach down and push his hand away from your bud, the sensations overwhelming you, but decided against it. he’d overpowered you in every aspect of the word so far, you might as well take the role of the weaker, helpless one. your hands lay up near your head, backs of them resting against the table, and your legs were splayed wide, cramping from the position, and you whimpered. your back arched when his thumb pushed in just the right way, and you knew he’d rip an orgasm out of you if he didn’t ease up.

and he didn’t.

when he felt you pulse, when he saw your back arch, he rubbed more furiously in the same spot, and pistoned his powerful hips until you were babbling and squirming and coming undone on his cock, and he was panting and gripping your hip with his free hand, murmuring about how beautiful you were and how much he’s always wanted this.

his second climax wasn’t far behind yours, and he traded his fingers pinching your clit for both hands gripping your hips and pulling them to meet his reckless fucking. “I love you,” he panted when he was right on the cusp. “I love you so fucking much.” and somehow, even though lust might’ve been puppeteering him, you believed it. Reiner was obsessed with you, infatuated, since before he left for Paradis Island, and now he was finally getting to force that obsession on to you. with no more resistance. no one there to stop him or beat him for laying his hands on you.

it was only after he’d pinned you to the table with his whole weight that he whispered in your ear, “I want to give you babies.” your eyes widened at that, “I want to see your belly swell, and I want to know that you’ll bear my children, it’ll make giving over my Titan easier…” a couple of deep, slow pumps and he’s filled you once more, this time the excess spurts out around his base and dribbles down his thighs, too, as he moans and pulls back, to smother your mouth in a sloppy, needy kiss.

you should’ve turned your head, pushed him off and told him that you would rather die than birth and Eldian bastard, but you didn’t do any of those things. because you weren’t entirely sure if that was true anymore.

#reiner braun #reiner #reiner x reader #reader x you #reiner smut #reiner braun x you #Reiner braun x reader #reiner braun smut #attack on titan x female reader #attack on titan x you #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan smut #attack on titan #attack on titan imagine

[shelter-maki0]

I have finally finished my series of fanfic art! I originally tried my hand at fanfic novel in order to these draw arts. (I like drawing)This was a personal activity I undertook for myself. It was my first experience writing a novel, and I made a lot of mistakes.

Since we're on the subject, let me introduce to the contents of my wrote fic.

This fic utilizes the Time-Turner from The Cursed Child, and it's about a 40-year-old Harry who is sent back to the 1940s in an accident. Harry will be working as a DADA professor at Hogwarts.

Harry shouldn't change the past. Just like the lesson demonstrated in Cursed Child. Harry's looks for a way back to the future, watching over Myrtle's death and Tom's misdeeds in order not to change the future. And I added another idea to it.

Harry's soul wants to let Tom's soul back inside, which he has held for many years. It's an impulse that happens regardless of Harry's will, and they're attracted to each other against their will.

The idea was inspired by Harry's realization in Cursed Child that he is still mentally trapped by Voldemort. What if he was not only trapped in spirit, but also in soul? I thought that idea very hot. (The fact that Harry was still mentally trapped by Voldemort as an adult drove me crazy🥵)

Harry watches over Tom's misdeeds, but in the process, Harry and Tom form a bond that's hard to separate. It was a bond that transcended the attraction between souls.

However Harry loves his family and friends, so he faces many conflicts. Tom&Harry grow up with each other's struggles and problems, The two fall in love. This is also the story of Tom discovering what love is.

Tom in this fic is not a psychopath. Tom grows spiritually in this story, but in the end, Harry erases his memories of that growth.

It's because the future must not be changed, as Harry did in of Cursed Child. That's like Harry watched his own parents die. So, in order to turn Tom into Voldemort, Harry erases the changes he made to Tom and returns to the future.

When Harry erases his memory of love and himself from Tom and returns to future, he finds the same peaceful world. It is the correct timeline in which Voldemort was defeated.

Harry is relieved that he has returned to the correct time without changing the future. But one thing in that world had changed drastically.

It was Harry's family. Harry had to pay the price for the crime of arrogance in selfishly erasing Tom's memory.

The details are described in the novel, but ultimately Harry's love destroys Voldemort. But that love also allowed Voldemort to live. Naturally, the history of many people dying in wars has not changed. They would be tied through a bloody history.

Harry despairs of modern times where he has lost his original family and is married to Voldemort. Harry ruined his life. Furthermore, other people's fates that Harry has moved in the past will befall him as karma.

But Tom is very happy✨and the magical world is probably at peace.

The story ends with Harry laughing hysterically as he realizes that a part of Tom's soul has returned in his own soul.

Happy ending? Probably :(

I understand that Cursed Child is a controversial work. But I love Harry in that work. (I like him with his problems) And it's filled with a very tasty setting from a tomarrymort point of view.

If you know any fic on tomarrymort of in Cursed Child timeline, please contact me. I couldn't find one, so I had to make my own🥲

This whole fic was written to be ridiculous and romantic, fun story tone. And it's sooo long😩

As you can see, I'm not very good at writing English. So I don't plan to translate it, but I would be happy if you enjoyed these artworks alone.

Thanks looking for my art :)

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

What is Broken II (Aemond Targaryen x Pregnant Wife!Reader) Sneak Peek

The war, the "Dance of the Dragons," as they have come to call it, is over. And yet, you are not celebrating. You have just learned that your husband, Prince Aemond, spent the last months of the war with another woman in his bed. Not only that, but his mistress is pregnant. Just like you...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (third person, no use of Y/N), side Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers

Warnings: Angst, pregnancy and related symptoms, infidelity, maybe smut in the future idk

Author's note: So, this may take a little longer than I anticipated, because I got a job offer today! A start date hasn't been set, since Thankgiving is kind of in the way, but I am employed! After 11 months of job searching! I'm still gonna be writing, but I'll no longer be able to sit on the couch and write all day lol.

What is Broken II Sneak Peek

Aemond held out his hand to help her in.

Reluctantly, she took it. The brief touch was marginally more tolerable than the possibility of her stumbling and him having to catch her by the arm, or gods forbid, her waist. That would be far too much of a touch, and she was not sure she was ready for it if she would ever be ready for it.

He stepped in just behind her, the two of them standing there for a moment, wondering where to sit. In the past, they’d always sat next to each other at the rear of the wheelhouse, with her head on his shoulder and his arm around her waist. But now, the thought of doing so again made her nauseous. So, she turned to the seat in the front.

“Wait,” Aemond grabbed her shoulder, then immediately released it when he saw her wince. He cleared his throat, then motioned to the opposite seat with his hand. “Please, sit here. I don’t want you getting sick riding backward.”

She looked from the seat to his wary smile. Surely he didn’t expect her to still sit with him, did he?

“I’ll take the other seat,” he added after a prolonged moment of silence.

“Thank you,” she whispered with a nod of her head. But when she began walking to the rear seat, Aemond again stopped her.

“Before you sit, let me just…” he trailed off, stepping to the front seat and gathering most of the pillows and cushions that lay atop it into his arms. Then, he deposited them on the other side. He spent several minutes arranging them until they were arranged to his liking. “There.”

He reached out his hand again to help her sit. This time, she did not take it. She was more than capable of sitting down on her own, and she was well aware that Aemond knew that too. He was just trying to touch her again, and that, she would not allow.

Once she sat, Aemond began fussing again. “Please stop,” she sighed when he began crossing the wheelhouse to fetch even more pillows. “You don’t need to do this.”

“I do need to do this,” he insisted. She could have sworn his eye shone for a moment before he turned back to the pillows and blankets. “I want you to be comfortable. You deserve it.”

“A few pillows will not make me forgive you.” For a moment, as Aemond’s shoulders tightened, she almost regretted the words. She had spoken in haste and with cruelty. It was not something she was accustomed to. Somehow, his misdeeds were turning her into a mean and petty woman.

She was just about to apologize when Aemond spoke again, his voice more timid than it had been. “I know that, but I want to do it anyway. I want to show you how much I love you. Please.”

He looked at her pleadingly, desperately. It had been many years since he looked at her like that. When she was a girl and she fell gravely ill, he stayed by her bedside against the instructions of the Maesters, holding her hand and begging her not to die. She had to look away from him to avoid falling into that memory.

“I am perfectly comfortable,” she said. “So you needn’t do anything more.”

With a sigh, Aemond threw the pillows in his arms carelessly on his seat, except for one – a small round cushion with the Targaryen three-headed dragon embroidered upon it. “Just this one more, please.”

She looked at the cushion suspiciously, some instinct in the back of her mind telling her not to allow it. But his voice was so weak, so desperate. And if it could help her be more comfortable on the long journey, what harm would it do? She nodded. “Very well.”

Aemond beamed and crossed the wheelhouse. With the pillow in hand, he knelt in front of her and brought a hand to hover over her belly. Before he made contact, he looked up to her, a hopeful smile still on his lips.

But that smile was no longer reassuring to her. Instead, it brought on a wave of mistrust and fear. “What are you doing?”

Finally, he laid his hand on her. “I…” His cheeks flushed, and he suddenly could not meet her eye. “This is to cradle your belly while we ride, so the babes are not rattled around so much.”

Her hand flew out and latched onto his wrist, her hold so hard the skin around her hand quickly grew red. She did not want to see him, so she narrowed her eyes so her coming tears fully blurred her vision. It took several tries for her to speak through her rapid breathing. “Did Alys teach you that, too?”

#What is Broken #aemond #aemond targaryen #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #house of the dragon aemond #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x y/n #ewan mitchell

[tragedybunny]

A Merry Little Solstice - Astarion x F!Reader - BG3HolidayFluffle23 - Prompt: Chosen Family

So excited to participate in the Challenge, not sure if I'll get to more than one piece but I love this one I did. Thanks to @rachelle-on-the-run for the Beta!

Summary: Even though you and Astarion have been together a few years, this is the first time you'll be celebrating Solstice together, for a very special reason. The two of you are doing your best to make it a warm and wonderful celebration.

“What do you think?” Astarion is fussing over the distribution of small, glass ornaments and candles on the large pine tree taking up most of your parlor. 

“I think it looks wonderful, Star.” You can already see his tendency for the grandiose creeping in, and don’t want him to worry about overdoing it. At least you’d convinced him to close down the bookshop, the two of you ran out of the building next door for a few days while you celebrate. It was a newer venture that you had taken on lately, as you’d settled down in Baldur’s Gate after a few years of adventuring. 

“I suppose, the tree could be a bit bigger, though,” he mumbles, shifting a few of the baubles around. All the effort, and probably a good amount of nerves, making him prickly. 

“It’s plenty big, and Jaheira didn’t have to grow it for us.” The pine had been a little seedling, given the growth of years in moments by Druid magic. 

“Well, it was Mother’s idea in the first, so we could celebrate Solstice properly.” Mother, he says sarcastically, like he doesn’t grin when she calls him nicknames or get teary-eyed when she hugs him good-bye to go out on Harper business. There wasn’t any grand declaration when Jaheira decided she was adopting Astarion with the rest of her brood, but there was no stopping her from embracing it when she’d made up her mind. Not that it hasn’t done him a world of good, even if he doesn’t always like to admit it. 

“My Love, it was your idea to actually celebrate Solstice this year.” Astarion had, until this year, not been very fond of Holidays. A stance you decided you could live with, as your own experiences hadn’t been very warm and wonderful. This year, though, things were different. “The tree looks wonderful,”  a sudden little squeal followed by soft babbling came from the bassinet behind you, “and Estelle thinks so too.” It was Estelle’s first Solstice, and you both had decided it was time to make some better Holiday memories. 

Astarion hurries to retrieve her before she can demand it. He’s notorious for baby hoarding, and sometimes you have to remind him it’s your turn to hold the child you gave birth too. “You’re hardly qualified to have an opinion, Sweetie.” He wags his finger in front of her nose, and she grabs it quickly in return with a happy little trill, refusing to let go. 

When you’d first been able to lay eyes on her, it was already apparent she was a miniature version of Astarion, his features, pale skin, and wispy white hair that had grown into the beginnings of lush curls. The only thing that looked like you were bright blue eyes, which had relieved him to no end. “Red eyes would mark her as different far too obviously.” It was nice to see one part of yourself in her, though you didn’t mind that she was so much of him. 

Estelle was now suckling on Astarion’s outstretched finger. “Close to feeding time, you’ll have to relinquish her for a little,” you give him a saucy smile and settle on the couch to prep. 

Apparently he didn’t move quick enough for your offspring, as he hisses and gives Estelle the weakest glare you’ve ever seen him make. “Everyone is always telling me biting without permission is rude, I hardly think it’s fair you get away with it, Little Lady.” 

“Think of it as repayment for past misdeed,” you laugh as you begin to open your shirt.

“Are you still holding that night against me, my dearest wife? That’s ruthlessly unfair,” he settles next to you, waiting for you to finish before putting Estelle in your arms. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, darling husband” you bat your eyes at him and play innocent until you feel the stinging bite of the two tiny teeth she's recently grown.  Estelle is apparently equitably minded about causing pain this evening. “Ouch,” you whisper, not wanting to disturb her evening meal. 

Beside you, Astarion’s mood visibly falters. “What are we going to do when she grows fangs?”

You certainly aren't looking forward to it, but the love of your life was still considerably nervous about what the future would hold for your little Dhampir. “What we always do, get through it.”

“You're very confident.”

“Well, I did save the world once.”

He finally gives you a smile. “We, Darling, I was there too. I suppose you're right, though.” He turns his attention to intently watching his daughter nurse. “We've come this far.” Leaning in, he gives you a gentle kiss on the cheek, carefully not to upset her. “Besides the tree, how does everything else look?” 

The parlor, dining room, hallway, and library had all been draped in festive boughs of evergreen with golden ribbon and strands of silvery beads. It was just this side of too much, but it was very Astarion. “Everything looks fantastic, Love. It's going to be a wonderful holiday. Now we’ll just have to keep Scratch and Midnight out of it.” 

“Speak for your own mutt,” Scratch whined where he lay in front of the crackling fire place. “Midnight is a perfectly well-behaved tressym.” 

Midnight, the tressym that had prowled Szarr manor, the Spawn siblings had kept their fondness for the creature from Cazador. They’d decided not to take her into the Underdark, and she’d ended up in your custody along with Scratch. She was, despite Astarion’s protests, not perfect. “Oh, I’m sure, she’s never any trouble.” 

“Hush,” he pretended to pout before sighing. “Odd that I get to walk in the sun again, and now we're celebrating the longest night of the year.” He gave the room one last appraising glance. “Gods, we’re really going to squeeze everyone in here.”

“At least Halsin promised to leave the Owlbear behind.” Estelle had finished eating and Astarion passed you a cloth to burp her with. 

“Gale still insisted on coming early to cook. We could handle it, you know.” The complaints tell you he really is quite nervous. 

“We could, or we could spend more time with Little Lady here,” who punctuated your words with an undignified burp. 

“Point taken Sunlight.” You pass Estelle to his waiting arms so you can close your shirt.

In the soft candlelight of the winter evening, Astarion looks absolutely ethereal. For a precious few moments, you just study him and your daughter. Since the moment she was born, he'd absolutely adored her. Fear still haunted him, fear her life would be too difficult as a Dhampir, fear he would fail as a father, but he tried his best every day. And those days when he did falter, when bad memories surfaced, when his temper was short, you were by his side. Not that you didn't have your share of fears and shadows from your past, but you knew he'd be there for you the way you were for him. Your bond made you both stronger. 

Right now, though, everything felt perfect. It was going to be the happiest Solstice you'd even known. 

A few days later saw you up before dawn on the morning of Solstice. Estelle had decided it was play time at an ungodly hour and now you, Astarion, and Scratch, were all gathered around a blanket spread on your parlor rug entertaining her. Your attention wanders for a moment, and she squeals at you. “Oh, I know, you have to be the center of the universe. You're very much your Father’s daughter,” you reach down and tickle her tummy. 

“Or maybe she knows she's worth it, like her Mother,” he blows you a kiss and your heart flutters like the first time you let him sink his teeth into you. 

“Flattery…” an unexpected knock at the door interrupts you. 

Scratch lets out a quiet bark, careful not to startle Estelle. He learned quickly that a scared baby is a crying baby. “This early? The wizard has finally lost his mind.” 

You both get to your feet, exchanging looks, it is unexpectedly early for Gale. Taking Estelle, you hang back as Astarion opens the door, Scratch at his side, ever vigilant. 

Gale stands in pre-dawn darkness, one magical chest in his hand that contains everything you'll need for today. “You know, it's still dark out? We could've been asleep.” Astarion stares at him with narrowed eyes. 

“Ah, but I see you are all awake and in good spirits,” he smiles awkwardly, and you get the impression that he's working up to something. “Besides, it was entirely necessary to arrive before dawn…”

“Really?” Astarion crosses his arms, waiting for further explanation. 

“Astarion,” you kiss his cheek, “don't be so cross with him.”

“Give it a moment,” Gale mutters, and you both turn to him. “I mean that is…well…” 

“Hells Gale,” a pale figure steps into the doorway with him, one that you recognize. 

“Dal?” Astarion asks, and you can see confusion starting to give way to realization. 

“Hello Astarion.”

“Alright, no use you two standing out in the cold, come in.” You look directly at Dalyria, a little unsure if the invitation needs renewal every so often. “Both of you.” 

The two of them waste no time stepping inside and quickly closing the door behind them, shutting you off from the cold of the early morning.

Estelle coos happily at the company. “And hello to you too, my sweet little niece. She's getting so big.” Some of the siblings had made the trek up from the Underdark when Estelle was born, Dalyria among them. It was a strange dynamic of almost family that years after Cazador���s death they were still working out.

“Yes, yes, she's endlessly adorable. She is mine, after all. Now, what the bloody hell are the two of you doing here together?” His voice pitches up at the end, a sign he's exasperated. You almost lose your composure and giggle at his inability to see the obvious. 

“Well, as it happens…” Gale inhales like he's about to launch into a very long-winded explanation. 

“We've been seeing each other since your wedding. It felt like it was time to tell you.” To emphasize her point, she hooks her arm in Gale's.

“I see.” Astarion shoots you a look to see if you knew about this, and is evidently satisfied by your shrug. 

“Don't be cross brother,” Dalyria lets go of Gale to pull him into a sudden hug, that he returns after a moment. “We just wanted to wait until we were sure of things”

“Fine,” he sighs dramatically. “I suppose you're forgiven.”

She kisses his cheek and releases him. “Thank you. Now, to not take away from the little daylight you'll get today, is there a place I can wait it out?”

“Estelle and I can show you up to the guest room,” you motion for her to follow. All the rooms in your house had shutters thick enough to block out the sun, remnants of Astarion’s recently relieved nocturnal life. 

The guest room is a cozy little room tucked under the eves of the house, the last bedroom remaining after Estelle’s nursery was created out of the previous guest room. “Sorry, it’s a bit small.” 

“Still better than a night in the Kennels, I’d wager,” she laughs.

Her words make you wince, sometimes you forget they all shared in the same torment, maybe not as often as Astarion, but still. “I imagine. I’m-” 

“Don’t, I’m just making light of it.” You’ve never quite gotten to know her and the others all that well, your trips to the Underdark being sporadic at best, but now you glimpse that unbroken will that led her to look for a cure to her condition. “This is very nice of you, Gale and I will be perfectly comfortable.” 

“We’ll come back up and check in once I’ve turned Gale loose in the kitchen,” Estelle shouts her agreement. 

“Send my brother up if he needs a time-out from Gale.” The two of you laugh, and you head back downstairs, worried about that exact thing. 

Astarion doesn’t disappoint as you find him in the kitchen, the first pink light of dawn peeping  through the window, lending a flush to his skin as he pins Gale against a wall, dagger drawn. “And another thing, if ever even think of trying to compare her to Mystra...”

To his credit, Gale stands calmly, hands raised, and look imploringly at you. “I think you've gotten your point across, Love.”

“Fine,” he sighs dramatically and releases your wizard friend. The dagger quickly disappears, you've learned over time that he never really got out of the habit of keeping one hidden on himself. “And you owe me at least two books back, my shop is not a library.” 

“Right,” Gale straightens his clothing. “Now that's all settled, let's get started.” He hefts the small chest onto the kitchen table, and opens it. A space larger than the outside is contained within, a larder to do even the Grand Duke's shame. “I hope I remembered everything.”

The next several hours see the three of you prepping, roasting, sautéing, simmering, and baking. Although Gale truthfully does most of the heavy lifting, you and Astarion are both very much middling still when it comes to the kitchen. You take turns playing assistant, passing Estelle between the two of you, and Astarion pops up to visit Dal. 

The sun is just on its way down when there's another knock at the door. The first of the evening's guests, Astarion goes to answer it while you continue to stir the sauce Gale had declared a “flavor near divine”. 

“Bat pup!” The unmistakable voice of Jaheira fill the house.

“Hello Mother,” Astarion replies warmly. 

The Mother thing had actually begun as a joke. During the time trying to defeat the Absolute, one of Astarion’s petulant comments had prompted Jaheira to tell him if he was going to act like a child, she would put him over her knee like one. He’d responded with a sarcastic, “yes Mother”, and an eye roll. 

“Better, Cub,” Jaheira had laughed, unfazed by his antics. When he insisted she not call him Cub she looked at him and smiled. “You’re right, Bat Pup is much more suitable.” They’d been that way since, the tone of it softening over time. Despite his age, all the time spent as Cazador’s slave and not really living had left Astarion closer mentally to who he was at his time of death, where Jaheira was very much the sum total of her life experience. 

“And there’s my favorite little troublemaker.” You can hear Estelle’s excited trill for her “grandmother”. You’ll give them a few minutes to catch up.  

Involuntarily, you smile as you keep a close watch on the sauce. “A wonderful sound, isn’t it?” You turn to Gale, giving him a puzzled look at his words. “The sound of happiness,” his eyes twinkle at the words. “If you had told me years ago that Astarion would be happy and content as a family man with a bookshop, I would have laughed. But here we are.” 

“So would I, if we’re being honest.” A part of you remembers a clandestine confession from him, intentionally far away from Astarion’s hearing. Feelings you couldn’t return. “I’m glad you found someone too, Gale.” 

“Indeed. Sometimes the things we think we want most aren’t the things we need. A lesson I’ve learned more than a few times. Although it didn’t take me nearly as long to learn that as much as it seemed Astarion needed you, you needed him too.” For a moment, the two of you are lost in memories of that harrowing time. “Ah, but let me save myself from distraction and monitor this roast. The others will be arriving soon. And you should go visit with Jaheira before she has to go back to the other children.” He gives you a warm smile and shoos you away. 

“Helps with the pain of those little teeth coming in. I’ve got a few growing, I should be able to keep you stocked.” 

Reaching the parlor, you find Estelle, happily chewing on some plant leaf in Jaheira’s lap and Astarion looking like he’s fighting the urge to snatch her back. The two of you had a serious talk about this holiday celebration and letting other people hold her for more than a few seconds. “There’s my Cub, the famous hero.”

“Hello Crow,” you’d never been able to think of her in the same maternal sense as Astarion, your own motherly relationship was so messy it bled into any others. Truthfully it had made you nervous as to what it would be like to be a mother, but the sound of Estelle’s first cries had soothed away any lingering doubts, you may not be perfect at it, but you would fight for her happiness every day. “She looks like she’s having a good time,” you gesture to Estelle and the leaf. 

“That’s the best Solstice gift so far. It was a nightmare when the first two came through, and I know others will be starting soon. I see you’re managing to behave yourself, Love,” you kiss Astarion’s cheek to emphasize your approval as you sit next to him.

“As if she wouldn’t entangle me or some nonsense if I didn’t let her hold the grandchild. But then again, she is getting a bit old, maybe she’s slowed down.” 

“Watch yourself Astarion or you will find out what I’m still capable of.” 

The sun is sinking behind the horizon as the last of the shortest day of the year comes to a close. Dalyria descends to join you all, Midnight nestled in her arms, the tressym deigning to leave her attic kingdom for once. Astarion stokes the fireplace, leaving the room in a warm glow. Scratch immediately gives up on the vigil he’s been keeping at the kitchen door to lay in front of the fire. 

Underneath the tree, brightly colored presents wait for unwrapping. There’s a knock on the door as the next of your friends arrive. Over the next hour, they all show up. Lae’zel and Shadowheart, newly engaged and figuring out just what sort of wedding a Gith and Half-Elf should have. Wyll and Karlch, lovers and heroes of the Sword Coast now that they’ve returned permanently from Avernus. Minsc and Boo, very much in Holiday Spirit. And finally Halsin, unexpectedly with a shy looking Drow man on his arm. “I hope one more isn’t imposing,” he says with a nervous yet excited smile. “This is Veltris.” 

“We can make work,” truthfully you’re terribly intrigued by the man who has Halsin so clearly smitten and you lead them inside to join the others.

Someone has passed a wine bottle around the parlor now heating up with all the bodies gathered there. Astarion has a dosing Estelle back in his arms, who somehow is undisturbed by the chatter all around. “Try this,” Dalyria passes him a glass poured from a distinct blue bottle, “I’m preserving blood for long term storage.” 

He makes a face but keeps drinking. “I suppose it is better than nothing.” 

You settle back down next to him, taking a glass Wyll has passed you. “Always the gentleman,” you smile at him. 

“Does he do more than kiss your hand behind close doors?” You’ll never get over Lae’zel’s sense of humor. 

“Well, not always,” Karlach gives you a wink.

“Do tell?” Shadowheart teases.

“I’ll have you know…” Wyll tries to defend himself.

‘My daughter is right here!” Astarion huffs. “Gods, Gale had better finish dinner soon before you all get any more wine in you.” 

“As it just so happens,” the Wizard appears in the doorway of your dining room. 

“Finally,” Astarion huffs. 

The others get up and start making their toward the wafting scent of a mouthwatering feast. “Minsc hopes you have made enough for Boo’s tremendous appetite!”

“I had better go before the young ones burn the house down,” Jaheira leans over to give Astarion a hug. “Behave yourself Bat Pup, and you too Cub,” she gives you a last wave and heads to the door. 

You start to get up to follow the others, and Astarion grips your hand. “What is it?” For a moment, you worry something has gone wrong.

His head leans on your shoulder. “Nothing, it’s just…” The silence leaves your heart heavy with worry. “Everything is so perfect, more than I ever thought possible.” You can hear the tears in his voice, but don’t say anything, he doesn’t always like to draw attention to large emotions. “A holiday with you, and Estelle, and all of them, a family.” 

“Our family, Starry Sky, and this is the first of many to come.” 

The two of you take a quick moment for yourselves, basking in the glow of the fire, and the perfect Solstice evening with the ones you love. 

@micropoe10 @spacebarbarianweird @writingmysanity

Tag list, DM to be added:

 @mxxny-lupin @azu21 @tallymonster  @dependsonthedream

@sunfire-ancunin @bambamwolf87 @fayeriess @lumienyx

@lisrelly @elora-the-slutty-songstress @bhaalbaaby

@satanicspinosaurus

#bg3 #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfic #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #my fanfic #my writing #BG3HolidayFluffle23 #x reader #chosen family

[femsolid]

TW: Trans activists

For more than a decade now, trans activists have been harassing those who belong to a feminist philosphy we call radical feminism or the women’s liberation movement.

Radical feminists, like most feminists, believe that men use sex to oppress women. Meaning they oppress women through sexual exploitation and by perpetuating sexist discrimination towards those who belong to the female sex. They were the first to research and expose violence against women as endemic and traumatizing, and to create shelters for rape and domestic violence victims. Those shelters are now being vandalized and defunded by trans activists.

Because radical feminists don’t believe in gender identities, gendered souls, gender roles or any form of innate personality based on sexist stereotypes, they have been receiving rape and death threats on a daily basis. The acronym “terf” was soon invented and is now used to describe any person who doesn’t support the trans movement, even if they’re not feminists, just as long as they're women, though lesbians and feminists tend to be the primary targets.

As a whole, the trans movement claims that its biggest enemy and threat, its most pressing matter, its most dangerous opponent is the women’s liberation movement or what they call “radfems” or “terfs”. This is where their energy and anger is directed, typically in the form of sexist and sexual harassment, intimidation techniques, violence, censorship and social isolation. So let’s talk about that.

From the book Hate Crimes in Cyberspace:

Cyber harassment involves threats of violence, privacy invasions, reputation-harming lies, calls for strangers to physically harm victims, and technological attacks.

Victims’ in-boxes are inundated with threatening e-mails. Their employers receive anonymous e-mails accusing them of misdeeds. Even if some abuse is taken down from a site, it quickly reappears on others. Victims’ sites are forced offline with distributed-denial-of-service attacks.

While some attackers confine abuse to networked technologies, others use all available tools to harass victims, including real-space contact. Offline harassment or stalking often includes abusive phone calls, vandalism, threatening mail, and physical assault.

The Internet extends the life of destructive posts. Harassing letters are eventually thrown away, and memories fade in time. The web, however, can make it impossible to forget about malicious posts. And posts that go viral attract hundreds of thousands of readers.

Online harassment can quickly become a team sport, with posters trying to outdo each other. Posters compete to be the most offensive, the most abusive. An accurate name for such online groups is cyber mobs. The term captures both the destructive potential of online groups and the shaming dynamic at the heart of the abuse.

Cyber harassment disproportionately impacts women. The U.S. National Violence Against Women Survey reports that 60 percent of cyber stalking victims are women, and the National Center for Victims of Crimes estimates that the rate is 70 percent. Of the 3,393 individuals reporting cyber harass-ment to WHOA from 2000 to 2011, 72.5 percent were female. The most recent Bureau of Justice Statistics report found that 74 percent of individuals who were stalked on or offline were female, and 26 percent were male.

Researchers found that users with female names received on average one hundred “malicious private messages,” which the study defined as “sexually explicit or threatening language,” for every four received by male users.

According to the study, “Male human users specifically targeted female users.” By contrast, men are more often attacked for their ideas and actions. John Scalzi, a science fiction author and popular blogger, has found online invective typically situational. When he writes something that annoys people, they tell him so. People do not make a “hobby” out of attacking his appearance and existence as they do female bloggers.

The nature of the attacks similarly attests to bigotry’s presence. Hate expresses something uniquely damaging. It labels members of a group as inhuman “others” who do not possess equal worth. It says that group members are inferior and damaged. Bigotry conveys the message that group members are objects that can be destroyed because they have no shared humanity to consider.

Cyber harassment exploits these features by exposing victims’ sexuality in humiliating ways. Victims are equated with their sexual organs, often described as diseased.

Once cyber harassment victims are sexually exposed, posters penetrate them virtually with messages that say “I will fuck your ass to death you filthy fucking whore, your only worth on this planet is as a warm hole to stick my cock in.” 

Rape threats profoundly impact women: over 86 percent of rape victims are female. Virtual elimination may follow the imagined penetration: “First I’ll rape you, then I’ll kill you.”

One woman who faced online abuse noted, “Someone who writes ‘You’re just a cunt’ is not trying to convince me of anything but my own worthlessness.” Despite the gravity of their predicaments, cyber harassment victims are often told that nothing can or should be done about online abuse. Journalists, bloggers, lay observers, and law enforcement officials urge them to ignore it. Victims are called “whiny baby girl[s]” who are overreacting to “a few text messages.” Often victims are blamed for the abuse. They are scolded for sharing their nude images with loved ones or for blogging about controversial topics. They are told that they could have avoided the abuse had they been more careful.

A related message sent to victims is that the benefits of online opportunities are available only to those who are willing to face the Internet’s risks. They are advised not to expect anything different if they want to make a name for themselves online. The choice is theirs: they can toughen up or go offline.

The Internet is governed by society’s rules. Life online bleeds into life offline and vice versa. The notion that more aggression should be tolerated in cyberspace than in real space presumes that virtual spaces are cordoned off from physical ones.

Most victims do not report cyber harassment to the police because they assume that nothing will be done about it. Sadly, they are right. Law enforcement frequently fails to act on victims’ complaints even though criminal law would punish some of the behavior. Victims are told to turn off their computers because “boys will be boys.” Online harassment victims are told that nothing can be done; they are advised to ignore rape and death threats. During the summer of 2013, high-profile women were subjected to a torrent of online threats. The feminist activist Caroline Criado Perez received hundreds of graphic rape threats via Twitter after her successful campaign to feature more female images on British banknotes.

Members of Parliament and female writers who publicly supported Criado-Perez faced the same, including bomb threats. One tweet featured a picture of a masked man holding a knife with the message, “I’m gonna be the first thing u see when u wake up.”

Because the Internet serves as people’s workspaces, professional networks, résumés, social clubs, and zones of public conversation, it deserves the same protection as offline speech. No more, no less.

Without doubt, the free speech interests at stake are weighty. Free expression is crucial to our ability to govern ourselves, to express our thoughts, and to discover truths. For that reason, government cannot censor ideas because society finds them offensive. Truthful speech must not be banned just because it makes people uncomfortable.

But credible threats, certain defamatory falsehoods, social security numbers, and nude images posted without consent contribute little to discourse essential for citizens to govern themselves and discover truths. Their net effect is the silencing of victims. Victims could blog, post videos, and engage on social networks without fear of destructive cyber harassment. They could raise money using networked tools unencumbered by rape threats, reputation-harming lies, and distributed- denial- of- service attacks. They could take advantage of all of the expressive opportunities available online. Protecting against online harassment would secure the necessary preconditions for victims’ free expression.

With the help of law and the voluntary efforts of Internet intermediaries, parents, and teachers, we might someday achieve a free and equal Internet. We need to take action before cyber harassment becomes a normal feature of online interactions. A hostile online environment is neither inevitable nor desirable. We should not squander this chance to combat discriminatory online abuse; it is early enough in our use of networked tools to introduce equality of opportunity as a baseline norm of interaction.

#trans #terf #feminism #radfem #radical feminism #cyber harassment

[atierrorian]

Memorial of the Dead

Context: For as long as you can remember, there has always been a festival to remember and mourn the dead. And at this time around, a lot of paranormal activities started happening in the vicinity of your home...

Warnings: Female reader, Yandere behavior, obsession, haunting, panic attack, kidnapping?, hallucinations, death, blood, ooc.

Note: If you do not do well with these kinds of warnings then I suggest you stop reading for your own good and health!

For as long as you can remember back when you were just a kid, there had always been a festival to remember, mourn, and celebrate the dead. You always enjoyed the festival since it was such a memorial festival and has such a meaning.

Your mother would always tell you all kinds of stories about the dead around this time of year and they always interested you and you always wanted to hear more. One of the reasons why you always loved the festival.

"Your favorite story was called "Memorial of the Dead," a tale about a boy who died while attempting to bring back his brother from the dead due to a serious mistake. As punishment for his egregious misdeed, the boy was condemned to eternally roam in search of a way to reunite with his little brother. According to some, his translucent appearance can be spotted in the graveyards wandering and always had a longing to be with his little brother again.

And as he wandered, he was mocked by the Gods as they watched him like he was some sort of show that was purely for entertainment. And maybe in that case, he was. He was only another entertainment by the Gods above.

That was a story you loved very dearly. You admired his passion and determination of getting his brother back, but in the end, all was for naught as he was punished for his doings and forever wandering for all eternity in this world.

And now it was this time of year where everyone would now began to celebrate and mourn for the dead. You didn't had that much excitement anymore like you used to back when you were younger, but that's just the way it is. Although you can't deny that you always had a feeling of excitement.

I guess you just wanted something new.

You sighed as you walked through the festival, banners hanging, lanterns hanging from the street posts, candles being lit everywhere for the dead, so on and so forth. The people were mourning for their loved ones and lit up a floating lantern and released it from the sky. You had your own and were going to the graveyard.

Where your Mother was now.

No one really knew how she died and you didn't either. You were only 15 when she died and now you were 19. It had been four years since she died mysteriously and you missed her dearly. You wished to bring her back just like the boy did with his little brother.

But you knew better, besides, it was just a fairytale anyways. Not like it was real in the first place right? But you sometimes had a longing for your Mother to be back and wished for some miracle she would be back and you both would be happy again. But atlast, such things can never happen. As the Gods hates such things.

And in present time, strange things began to happen in your home. The lights would always flicker and at night the wind would get cold and the windows would sometimes be open despite closing them and making sure they were shut tight. And at night, you always heard something break.

And in those events, you would always see a silhouette hiding in the shadow, watching you with their glowing yellow eyes.

You thought it was some sort of punishments from the Gods by your longing and hope. But you should have been more careful, as you were merely another puppet for their entertainment.

And maybe, you should have seen the signs sooner or later, but never late.

Once you finished talking to your Mother's grave and lit up the floating lantern to the sky, you returned home to get some rest and hoped for this day to end and begrudgingly try to get up in the morning and do the same thing over and over again and then just repeat. Besides the events in the night.

You don't exactly remember when it started. It started small when you felt a air chilling cold as the window was opened, you thought you just forgot to closed it and went on your way once you closed it.

And that's when things started going downhill from that point on.

You always felt eyes on you all the time everywhere inside your house and during the Festival. It creeped you out and you felt goosebumps every time you had a feeling someone was watching you. You considered moving out on occasions but decided against it since you didn't want to leave your Mother.

But maybe you really should have just left and never looked back.

Because the paranormal activities became too much until the suspect finally decided to show themselves.

And now, you were in this situation. And it's all your fault that you were now in this mess.

You should have trusted your instincts, you should have trusted your gut and went somewhere far away from this place.

But you didn't.

And now you were locked in your room with no way out as every exit was locked and your back pressed against the wall as you finally came face to face with him. Your breath was ragged as you looked at his eyes, shining and reflecting the moonlight. But there was something off about his eyes.

There was obsession, deep obsession within his eyes as he continued to look at you, curiously as you tried to keep your distance from him.

Was he the ghost your Mother always told you stories about? He looks so much like the boy your Mother described. And the most distinctive feature was his blue flamed hair. And If so, then why is he here? And what did he want from you?

You gulped down your saliva and asked him with a shaky breath-

"Why are you here? And what do you want from me?" You said as you kept pressing your back against the cold stone wall, trying your hardest to really keep your distance. But it was quite hard considering you were already at the corner of the room and there was no where else you could go now.

Nowhere to run.

He had you right where he wanted you, like a cat finally cornering its mouse, finally ready to devour its prey.

He had a grin that spelt trouble and I felt my nerves flare up, his gaze wanting to make myself smaller and smaller with each passing second he keeps gazing at me with those yellow glaring eyes.

What felt like hours that were most likely just a few seconds, he finally decided to talk.

"You and I, we share similar passions and feelings. And I can't help but be attracted to you." He said as if it was the most normal thing to say to someone.

"And besides, you always looked so cute whenever you slept you know? I had cameras all over your house."

His words made you freeze, he watched you sleep?? And had cameras all over your house? What else could he have seen he shouldn't have seen? And if he's a ghost then why does he need cameras?

As if he read your mind, he shrugged.

"Because I have limits, I can't always watch you with my own eyes so I decided to watch you from cameras, I don't like it but it would do in the meantime I wasn't around."

At this point you felt your heart racing rapidly, your breath became heavier with each second that passes and your body trembling as you felt dizzy. You were disgusted by his behavior and all this time you never knew he had cameras all over you. And we share similar passions and feelings??

"Well it really doesn't matter now since I have you now, and for all eternity you'll be stuck with me forever and ever, I won't lose you like I lost him." He said before taking small steps towards me before hugging me, trying to comfort me.

I suddenly felt a sharp pain before I coughed up blood.

Wait, blood?

I looked down to my hand and saw blood on my hands as I subconsciously touched my abdomen, feeling a gash on my stomach.

He then started saying some words I didn't know nor did I care. All I cared about was the blood on my hands, and now on the floor.

"Shh, it's alright, I'll be here when you wake up alright? Like I said, we'll be together for all eternity."

That was the last thing I heard before closing my eyes shut and leaned against him.

The Gods were really cruel huh? But this was a blessing for him. This was a curse for you.

.

.

.

"The end!" A young woman said as she closed the book in her hand, looking at the 6 year old in front of her who still wanted to hear more.

"That's it? No happy endings?" The girl asked as she was confused, most fairy tales she heard always ended with an happy ending. She didn't like this story as it didn't had one and it was sad for her.

The young woman patted the young girl's head and shook her head sadly.

"There are no happy endings in this one I'm afraid little one." She said before yawning and stretching, getting ready for bed now. The six year old merely pouted, wanting to hear an alternative ending besides the bad ending.

The woman noticed the girl's expression as her face softened and sighed.

"Listen, not all fairytales end in happy endings I'm afraid, there are just stories that won't always end up being a happy ending like everyone else wants it too be. And that's the way it is." She said as she tried to consult the girl who was still pouting.

She sighed as she scooted over next to her and tried giving her some comfort to make her feel better.

"You'll understand soon when you get older. But go to sleep now okay?" The woman said to her daughter as her daughter nodded, but still not understanding her words.

"Good."

As she was about to get up and go to her room, she suddenly was stopped by her daughter.

"Mama, what was the title called again?"

The Mother smiled and replied happily-

"Memorial of the Dead"

Hii! How are you guys today? I hope you're doing well and I'm sorry if I'm not posting very often. I've became very busy recently but I am still trying to post every now and then! But I hope you enjoyed this!

#atier's works✎ #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere idia shroud #Idia Shroud x reader

[glitteringcrab]

Why is Evil Morty still next to the Central Finite Curve?

He killed so many people to get out of the CFC and then he stopped running just as he crossed the CFC's metaphorical doorstep...!

Why did he anchor his minecraft base on a CFC universe???

No, they hadn't! The shockwaves had just as much range as they should! And Evil Morty deliberately insulted Rick immediately afterwards, to derail this train of thought and stop him from pondering over the implications or his calculations too much. And it freaking worked. (And might I add that Evil Morty stuttered just a little bit at that point: "l-look at this scan array". Nervous, boy?)

Evil Morty is a lying liar, he lies about everything...! (I still love him with all my heart). I-I-I no longer know how much of what he says or does to take at face value. In season he said he wanted to escape the Central Finite Curve, and it was clear he desperately wanted to do so, but he stopped running immediately after he exited. What is happening?!?! Why?

Theory 1: Home

Assuming he is a clone Morty, there is a universe from which the natural Morty whose memories he got originated. He was therefore created loving this version of his mum, this version of his dad, this version of his sister... Maybe he has not lived there once, he switched 20 Ricks since he was manufactured, and has spent more time in the Citadel than outside it, but in his heart this is were his home is supposed to be, so he anchored his space base on the limits of this one universe, just so he could be close.

Theory 2: Hiding

Since a Rick can hide from other Ricks by being next to a Morty, I'd assume that it also works the other way around: a Morty can also hide by being close to a Rick. And maybe if Evil Morty worries that someone will scour the multiverse searching for him (inside and outside the CFC) then maybe staying close to a CFC universe hides his own brainwaves when someone is doing a really wide (multiverse-wide) scan for him (of course, I doubt it'd work if the scan was more focused).

Maybe this is just a variation of the "Mortys of the Morty Dome thing": he needed a lot of alive Mortys to hide amongst then, he needs CFC universes to hide amongst now.

This could be just a precaution in case e.g. a Rick survivor of the Citadel or something comes after him (which is not so unlikely).

(eh. Would staying near a CFC universe, which might not even have a Rick inside at times, really be enough though?? I just stopped believing my own theory)

Theory 3: Time shenanigans

"Rick and Morty, a hundred years, forever"

...Were you being cute, Rick, or is this literal???

Is there a time loop of some sort? Is this why they say things like "how many thanksgivings have we had" or are they simply breaking the fourth wall?

Is this what the "Rick Experiment" that Evil Morty threatens to blow up if he gets pissed is? Is this why Rick hates to mess with time travel stuff, because it's already an ugly mess?

Does staying close to the time mess allow Evil Morty to stay young for longer or something? (but would he really want that???)

I'm skeptical about Ricks being able to mess with time in that scale because of (a) the existence of a pretty strict time police and (b) Rick apparently had to purchase illegally a small time crystal... whatever time shenanigans are needed for a hundred-year-loop, it'd need a lot more than that.

Theory 4: He likes something in that universe

Like, a friend he made a long time ago, who he plans to visit in the future when he finds the courage to do so (right now he's wiped out).

Or Morty Prime, so he didn't run very far away so that Morty Prime could find him in the future.

Or he's trying to make amends for his past misdeeds and visits CFC universes in secret, batman style, to fix stuff.

(I don't see that theory really playing out. He doesn't seem to be working towards anything, he's just on vacation... And I think he has given up hope of Morty Prime joining him)

Theory 5: THE WORLD IS A BIG, DANGEROUS PLACE

The world outside the CFC is filled with even more dangerous, power-hungry and evil people and governments than those in the CFC. Living in (or near) such a universe is stressful for a lone boy, so he'd rather stay close to the Curve and its brand of familiar, known evil (which he knows how to deal with) rather than face the absolute chaos that reigns beyond. (If there is a specific government or organization Evil Morty is worried about, I can see him considering asking Rick C-137's help... "Maybe I can use that some day"?)

Alternatively, the rest of the multiverse still believes that the CFC is unbreachable, so they keep their distance. Staying close to it is just safer.

(yeah I don't buy my own theory. I think Evil Morty would gladly face whatever crazy evil is beyond the Curve, as long as it wasn't a Rick. Could be he already tried and barely escaped with his life though, so he had no choice)

Theory 6: Not a clue!

I mean, we couldn't have predicted the existence of the Central Finite Curve in a million years...! It might just be a bit of unrevealed lore.

And it's impossible to guess or know what Evil Morty is thinking or feeling almost at any given time. He is always expressionless, always flat-toned, always cautious, always lying, and the way the scenes with him are built, we're not even sure when it's him on the screen half-the time and missing scenes can turn the whole plot on its head. He tricks the other characters, and he tricks us as well.

#evil morty #rick and morty

[fanfic-obsessed]

Time for the Clones to love Obi Wan

I was thinking…and maybe one of the SW series (Not this Crude Matter by thebitterbeast, it’s fantastic. You should read it) that I am reading is in the middle of the hurt but we haven’t hit the comfort, so I want something to soothe that. Now I shall inflict the results of that upon all of you. Be aware that some of these tropes don’t usually go together but I think if you walk with me you’ll see where it all connects.

We start with a tried and true, the clones are sent back to their younger selves at death. They arrive something like five years before the clone wars are to start and man are they all deeply traumatized.  Using all the collective knowledge they have (Rex was the last standing and he died of old age, living long enough to see Ben Solo’s birth after they fixed the accelerated aging. He was physically 110 when he died and living off of spite) they quickly take control of Kamino, dechip themselves, move the entire operation to an uninhabited world in the outer rim (Look there are a lot of inhabitable worlds and only so many sentients in the galaxy).  They make it abundantly clear they consider Boba their brother (though he did not have his older self’s memories) and that Jango was allowed to come with them as Boba’s father but the rest of the clones consider him both Dar’buir and Dar’manda, as well as just shy of Demagolka. He may have just watched 1 millions young adults, teens, and children wearing his face efficiently take over a planet, kill all but a handful of the trainers, and within days have a new planet to make their home out of. It has reawakened his Mandalorian adoption genes (and several other parts of his personality he would have sworn had been killed by slavery and Spice years ago) and he rather desperately wants to prove that they can call him Buir.

The thing about having come back from years and decades into the future, they know where all the bodies are buried. The former Coruscant guard, particularly, knows where to find proof of all of Sidious's dealings, even five years prior to any of them meeting him. This is a highly trained, highly efficient army.  Within a tenday they have released proof of Palptine’s misdeed onto the Holonet. Before the fallout could fully affect the Sith, Palpatine is shot and killed with three slugs from a slug thrower sniper rifle; the perpetrators are never caught.  The Vod’e are careful never to confirm exactly where Fox, or any of the Coruscant Guard were in the time before or after the assination that it would have taken to get to Coruscant or back (They did not actually do the deed, it was an assassination attempt that Palpatine had easily dodged in the first timeline, he was just a little too distracted by his business being aired in this one). 

The initial plan of the Vod’e was to get settled and eventually approach the Jedi. Their Jedi. They didn’t know how to convince the Jedi to trust them (whether the Jedi remembered or not) but they intended that eventually the Jedi would not go on missions alone any longer. 

That was the Plan

This is where the second trope comes into play. Groups of Senators, desperate for anything to distract from the fact that the Chancellor they backed turned out to be planning Genocide (It could be argued that being Sith was not actually illegal, and every single one of them did). They found a set of Blue laws that, combined with the fact that the Fett Clones (as they were generally being called) were on paper ordered by a Master of the Jedi Order, meant that the Senate could marry (really it was assign as a hostage but it was worded as marry) a member of the Jedi Order to a member of a group they had wronged for the sake of an alliance.

FUN FACT: A Blue Law is a US State law on the books that is no longer enforced, mostly forgotten, and sounds a little ridiculous. I also personally believe that it remains on the books because in order to have it removed, someone has to stand in front of a state legislative body and actually say the law. Two examples come to mind: In Alaska it is illegal to push a moose out of an airplane and in Massachusetts a parent can call the police to have their children arrested for being unruly. 

Now back to the regularly scheduled Madness

Now the Senate does not want to send someone too important to the Fett Clones. In fact if they could choose someone that would be a subtle insult, all the better. They choose a youngish knight, who had only been a knight less than a decade, with a Padawan. They choose a knight that, on paper, is not that impressive. Reports from his younger years indicate he was a decent, if slightly aggressive, initiate. Nearly not chosen.  Mission reports during his padawanship were sparsely written and mentioned him little. Having taken a padawan younger than average, he was temple bound more often than most during their first years of knighthood. 

The Senate chose Obi Wan Kenobi as a spouse. While he was somewhat famous within the order already (for the fight with Maul, his rocky apprenticeship, and taking Anakin on before he was even officially knighted) outside of the Order he was a random Jedi, remembered fondly by those who met him personally but not well known by the galaxy at large. 

Had this happened with any other group, the insult would have landed as intended. However this was the Vod’e. The Vod’e remembered General Obi Wan Kenobi, the Negotiator. And while almost every Vod’e would claim that their Jedi was the best Jedi, the best General, the best Jedi General, and the best sentient in general, everyone could agree that Kenobi was amazing (the 501st would like it understood that they have a…complicated relationship with the memories of their general. On the one hand he led the march on the temple, on the other, even as Vader he tended to treat them better than he did Nat borns. Not well by any measure, plenty of brothers died at Vader’s hands but it did always seem as if he was just a hair less likely to throw a tantrum that would hurt them then he was to do the same to the nat born officers).  To a man every member of the Vod’e is ecstatic that they are sending The Obi Wan Kenobi to them.

When they had been first told that they were being given a Jedi to marry they kind of shrugged at each other, in spite of the efforts of the best efforts of the Jedi and the previous timeline, most of the Voe had no real concept of how Nat borns operate, and even the little bit they did know seemed to be contradictory. They figured they would adjust who of the Vod’e would be the ‘spouse’ based on the Jedi sent (Since everyone knew that Bly would kill the person who wasn’t him who got to marry Aayla), so upon being informed that Obi Wan Kenobi would arriving within a tenday they restructured the government so that Cody could take up duties as Obi wan’s spouse (They envisioned the marriage being Cody mostly following Obi Wan on Jedi missions, so he had to be able to be off planet for long stretches of time) and Cody is practically vibrating with excitement (in between rushes of nauseating anxiety and crippling guilt) at being able to woo his Jedi. 

So we now have three very disparate groups with three very different ideas about what was happening. 

The senate knew next to nothing about the Fett Clones, save that they are clones of Jango Fett so likely would have a grudge against the Jedi (Obi Wan the sacrifice/hostage). They do not know, or (for most of the senate) particularly care what the Clones do with their Jedi Hostage.  Internally it is known that the chosen Spouse cannot be killed within the first six months of the marriage, but makes no other caveat for treatment.

We have the Jedi, who also know next to nothing about the Clones. They actually know little more than the Senate, and anticipate that the Clones might be unhappy about Master Sifo-Dyas actions (the Clones decidedly are not).  They believe that violence will be done on Obi wan’s person, and they do care. But, like in the clone wars before them,  none of the Jedi believe that they are able to do anything about it.  With a heavy heart, they decide to treat this as a suicide mission, in that when Obi Wan leaves he likely will never be heard from again. The entire council vows to take on the tuition of Anakin Skywalker, now fourteen. They are able to make it clear to young Anakin that there is no choice, that not a single one of the Jedi have a choice in this matter. 

The sheer raw emotions that Anakin could feel, exacerbated by the fact that no one, from Yoda on down, had ever realized that the Senate could do this, helped tie him closer to the Jedi. They were not unfeeling, but they still stood, mourning his master before his death. He was still young enough to remember the helplessness not being able to help other slaves and thinks that this feeling is very familiar. 

And we have the clones, who do not know that they have just been gifted a Jedi that the other players expect to be dead with a rotation. They are so…so happy to see Obi Wan.  How each member of the former 212th had been racking their brains for days for every detail of Their general’s likes and dislikes (there are a string of missions to make sure there is a good stock of the best tea they could find). That there had been a day-long tournament on who got the honor of going to the Core to collect their Jedi (Cody cannot because they are still shifting duties so that when his husband took missions again he could go with him). 

When Obi Wan boarded the cruiser that would take him to his new husband, he expected crackling, icy anger. He expected the brittleness in the Force that had always meant hatred to him. Instead he was buffeted by fondness and glee.  By a strange twist of relief. The cruiser was small enough that he was traveling with a total of 10 people. Each of those 10, at some point in the short trip, would stop and the Force around them would become distress. They would stare into the middle distance for several moments, then, upon coming back to themselves, would seek Obi Wan out and ask for a hug.

Even arriving on the still unnamed planet, Obi Wan is greeted by people who are ecstatic for him to be there.  It is unnerving, to expect hostility and receive hugs and joy (Well, Jango does radiate hostility into the Force, but he is well aware he is on thin ice. And he may not know why but his Ad, no he is not allowed to call them that out loud, clearly loves the Jetti). His husband (there was no ceremony, just paperwork signed by the Vod’e and the Republic) stands a respectful distance away and keeps making aborted motions like he also wants to hug him. They have stocked his favorite teas and ask questions about his padawan and various other Jedi and seem almost desperate for the answers. They even give him a comm unit for his room, which he does not have to share with his husband, they say to contact his family in the Core (He never uses it, he can’t possibly trust it). The closest thing to violence that happens is when the Medics tell him if he doesn’t give a reasonable amount of sleep they will sedate him. This is so much better than he thought. 

For the Clones part they can tell he is low key freaking out.  Which in turn is freaking them out.  They go round and round, what if he remembers what they did? But he doesn’t give any indication that he did, that those memories exist. Well, what if he only subconsciously remembers. The last time some of them saw him, they were shooting him off a cliff. Cody, in particular, is full to the brim with Anxiety. He desperately wants to hold Obi Wan, to ground himself in the Jedi’s heartbeat and try to forget a dusty world and the words ‘Blast him’ and all the horror that came after.

Four months pass, as Obi Wan slowly relaxes and accepts that at the very least the clones do not want to hurt him, personally. He can’t quite believe that they have no designs on the Order as a whole and is still fairly awkward around all of them. This is compounded by the fact that they seemed to know his preferences better than he does (leading him to believe that the entirety of the Vode are obsessed with him and obsession turns to darkness so easily). It all comes to a head when Jango picks a fight that reveals that the entire Jedi Order thought that they were being forced to send Obi Wan to die at the hands of the Vode.  That all of Obi Wan’s awkwardness is based on this fear (and the fear that they were going to use anything he said to hurt other Jedi) as well as the fact that he had no choice in the matter, he has no memories of the previous timeline.

There is a very long moment where every Vod’e in the room just stares at Obi Wan, before a collective panic attack the likes of which this universe has never seen spills into the Force.  It goes on for 45 seconds before Fox manages to get everyone into at least some semblance of calm (Both Jango and Obi Wan are watching all of this, wide eyed. They are temporarily on the same page in the land of What the Fuck).   Fox manages to clarify that 1)no the Vod’e do not hold any grudge against the Jedi, they were made for the Jedi and had in fact rebelled to protect the Jedi 2) Obi Wan was in no danger here and they would not keep him here if he wanted to leave, 3) what they (the Vod’e) thought was happening when they were ‘given’ a Jedi (They had thought that this a somewhat normal occurrence of a trope called ‘marriage of convenience’ where the only thing that was going different was that Cody could legally insist on going on missions with Obi Wan) and 4) inquired if this was why they were having a hard time getting in contact with the rest of the Jedi (Yes. Yes it was.). Fox also asked, on behalf of the rest of the clones, exactly which senators voted to send Obi Wan to them (The moment their panic faded, the 212th was going to be on their way to Coruscant and he wanted to have a list of targets ready).

Obi Wan told Fox that he didn’t know who voted for what, but offered to contact the Jedi right then. He did, on the main communications relay with more than half the Vode leadership looking on.  Using his own personal codes saw the call connecting immediately, with several members of the High Council visibly bracing themselves for whoever was on the other end(No one could be sure what condition Obi Wan would be in, if he was even the person using those codes). Obi Wan explains the months long misunderstanding (He had not clarified, as he did not want to rock the boat and remind the Vode of the torture option if they had ever planned to go that way. The Vod’e could tell Obi Wan was freaking out and they were trying to be considerate). There was much rejoicing as it became clear that Obi Wan was being treated well. It is decided that several members of the council (Yoda, Mace Windu, Yaddle, Plo Koon, and Shaak Ti), Anakin Skywalker, Quinlan Vos, and Eerin Bant would come to the still unnamed planet to clear up any further misunderstanding (Also the Vod’e had been building a temple for the Jedi as a surprise and wanted to show it off).

In the meantime, with the revelation that they were not going to hurt his family, Obi Wan fully relaxed around the Vode. It became obvious once he was paying attention (and not splitting his focus by trying to keep himself aloof from people who were so happy he was there) that his husband was trying to Woo him, and also date him. He found himself not opposed (the potential for love was there, but from his perspective he had effectively been sold to Cody and had spent four months half convinced that any information that he gave would be used against the Jedi). He found that he was particularly fond of the way Cody blushed when Obi Wan flirted with intent (as opposed to the absent minded flirting when he wanted a potential enemy to be off balance. Obi Wan had no idea how Cody was able to tell the difference, but he could).  Throughout Vod’e of all ages would seek Obi Wan out and request a hug, though always respectfully (generally the 212th, and mostly after they had nightmares of the previous timeline).

While this turned out more serious than I had actually intended, I just want you to go out and imagine teenage clones, freaked out because they had a nightmare about Utapau seeking a bemused Obi Wan for a hug, because he is alive.

#star wars #star wars au #star wars the clone wars #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #codywan #order 66 #fix it #fanfic #time travel

[violentvaleska]

𝑨𝒃𝒚𝒔𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑴𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔

ᴛᴡᴏ ᶠᵃʸᵉ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʟᴇᴠɪ ᴀᴄᴋᴇʀᴍᴀɴ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴇʀᴡɪɴ sᴍɪᴛʜ sᴇᴇs ʏᴏᴜ ᴀs ᴀ ᴄʜᴀʟʟᴇɴɢᴇ, ᴀ ᴘᴜᴢᴢʟᴇ ʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ sᴏʟᴠᴇ, ᴀ ɢᴀᴍᴇ ʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ᴘʟᴀʏ. ʟᴇᴠɪ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʜᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇs ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ғɪɢᴜʀᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ᴛʀᴀғғɪᴄᴋɪɴɢ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs: ↫ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜs ɴᴇxᴛ ↬

ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3

ᴀ/ɴ: ᴀs ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇᴅ ʙʏ ɴᴏᴡ, ᴛʜɪs ɪs ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ sʟᴏᴡ ʙᴜʀɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇs ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀs. ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ sʜʏ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪᴛ sᴏ ғᴀʀ ^-^

Commander Erwin Smith places a piece of paper on the oval wooden table as he takes a seat and watches his trusted soldiers. Section Commander Mike leans against the wall, arms crossed and brow raised, as he watches Section Commander Hange Zoë madly describe her theories to Captain Levi. The small man just rolls his eyes absently and drinks his steaming hot tea.

"The girl had a dream." Erwin speaks up, attracting the attention of the high-ranking officers.

"No shit." Levi says in a monotonous voice as he leans back in his chair, dark circles under his eyes explaining his gloomy mood. He hasn't slept again.

"In her dream, Eren Yeager enlisted for military service. The cadet corps sent me a list of the newest cadets. Yeager enlisted a week ago." Erwin tells them, watching their reactions closely. While Mike looks at him thoughtfully, Hange's eyes widen in trance. Levi pauses, the rim of his mug on his lips. "So what? She's some kind of psychic now? A medium maybe?" He sneers, his tired eyes staring at the small, shredded herbs in his tea.

"Not at all. I think he played a role in her past. Perhaps he mentioned it to her at some point. What we do know is that she saw Shinganshina fall in one of those dreams." At this point, Levi noticeably leaves out a heavy point. "She's probably traumatized" he thinks, sipping at his tea before deciding to speak.

"So she's from Shiganshina." He points and puts his cup down on the table, looking at the notes in front of Erwin.

"But how did she get out?" Mike asks, taking a seat opposite his commander, his long legs accidentally bumping into Levi, who just glares at his comrade.

"She doesn't know yet." Erwin explains coldly, handing Mike his notes.

"I want you to talk to her next. Take Nanaba with you, another woman might do her some good." Section Commander Mike agrees and reads through the paper on which all her memories of the last two weeks have been collected.

"Maybe she broke out of the psychiatric hospital." Levi offers mockingly, but his comment is ignored. Hange on the other hand gets all the attention as they jump into the air.

"I want to meet her too! I have so many questions, so many theories..." Their sentence is interrupted by the Captain, a dark look in his eyes. "Tch. Good luck with that, four-eyes. The girl can't even remember her own name."

The Commander clears his throat and gives his trusted friend a disappointed look.

"Hange, you'd only overwhelm the poor thing, she's in a delicate state." Levi bursts out laughing, earning a sideways glance from Erwin and Mike. The truth is, Levi doesn't believe for a moment that you are an innocent victim of someone else's misdeeds. He has looked behind your facade and seen nothing but malice in your eyes. The moment you recover, you're likely to make a run for it.

"As I said, her condition is no longer critical, but she is still struggling to adapt to her new situation." Erwin continues, looking around the room for confirmation.

"I was thinking of giving her a name, something to call her by. It might help her with the situation, her doctors agree with me." He explains, turning to Mike.

"Give her a few options to choose from. Not too many, it shouldn't overwhelm her." The Section Commander nods and takes the paper, folding it and putting it in his pocket.

"Anything else?" He asks, getting up and preparing to leave to fetch Nanaba.

"Don't mention what happens outside the walls. It's a sensitive topic."

Your nurse has given you a history book. She hoped you would remember some of the events written in it, but it only seems to confuse you more. Apparently, humanoid creatures called Titans ate most of humanity over a hundred years ago. King Fritz built the Walls to protect his people from the Titans and it worked, protected them until two years ago. Two Titans, different and much stronger, destroyed Wall Maria and the Titans were able to spread across the lands. District of Shiganshina. You dreamed about it last night, and you'd describe it as horrible. Perhaps those dreams were memories after all? A knock at the door made you look up, your eyebrows raised in surprise. It's unusual for them to announce their presence , and after a while of hearing nothing else, you let out a shy "Yes?" The door opens and two soldiers enter, a woman with short blonde hair and a man so tall that he almost banged his head against the door frame.

"I'm Squad Leader Mike, this is my subordinate Nanaba. Do you mind if we talk a bit?" Confused, you shake your head. "Not at all." You close the book and place it on your bedside table, gesturing for them to take the seat that the Commander usually occupies. He visited you every day, eager to know if you remembered anything new. You told him about your dreams and he just smiled and assured you that you were from within the walls. It was a comfort to know that you were one of his people. Who knows what they might do to you if you weren't. Mike offers Nanaba a seat, while he himself leans against the window frame, looking at you with fascination and a small smile.

"How would you like it if we were to put a name to your face?" he asks, surprising you. You are sure you already have one, you just need to remember it.

"A new name?" You wonder and look from Mike to the woman, feeling a little happy to see one. For the last few days you thought you were the only one, apart from your nurse.

"Yes. The Commander thought it might make you feel better to have a name to call you by." The woman answers, her voice unemotional and harsher than you expected. She embodies the typical soldier for you.

"Alright." You decide and fidget with yourself, thrilled at the idea that they might call you something other than 'the girl'. You've seen a picture of yourself in the mirror, and though you look young, you're certainly no longer a girl, but a grown woman.

"What's the first name that comes to mind?" The Section Commander asks, curiosity on his face. You take a moment to think about the name and before you know it, you blur out "Ymir".

"That's an unusual name." Nanaba comments, meeting Mike's eyes.

"But I guess if that's what you want to be called..." you interrupt her and shake your head.

"No. It's just-" You shrug, confused by the name. It doesn't feel like it's yours, but someone else's. Your mother's, perhaps?

"-I don't know. Feels wrong." Your voice is low and your head is down, Mike immediately senses your inner anguish and discomfort. He can only imagine what it must feel like to be in a constant spiral of memory and identity loss.

"It's all right, don't worry about it." He assures you, and moves a little closer, hovering over the side of your bed. The wave of your scent hits his nostrils and he can't help but like it, even enjoy it.

"If you'd like, we could give you some options to choose from." He offers, relaxing his posture and looking down at you. Feeling so small compared to him, you simply agree, wondering what they might come up with. At this point you feel rather comfortable with anything, it feels strange to be referred to by a term rather than a name.

"How about Maria? That's where we found you." He suggests, making you cringe at the thought. Nothing good happened there, it feels like you are carrying a blight with you.

"Mike." The short-haired woman glances in annoyance and rolls her eyes at her leader.

"What? I thought it was good." He shrugs, crosses his arms and dares her to come up with a better solution.

"What do you think of Faye?" Nanaba asks, smiling at your positive reaction. You think it's nice, even meaningful, because it translates into loyalty or faith. It is unclear to you, even surprising, how you know this. You're grateful for her suggestion, it's definitely a nice alternative for now.

"I like it." You confess and smile at her, finding her warm aura somehow comforting.

"See, Mike? I'm good at this!" She comments cheekily and winks at you, making you blush at the gesture.

"Sure, whatever." Mike rolls his eyes and leans against your hospital bed, seemingly seeking comfort.

"Faye. Commander Erwin thought it would be nice for you to talk to some new faces." He explains, his arms still casually crossed to make you feel less tense.

"It might help you remember." Nanaba adds, eagerly leaning forward.

"Maybe." You shrug and wait patiently for her questions, hoping it won't turn into another interrogation.

"Do you remember anything from your childhood?" It is a simple question and you will find that you can talk about it more and more every day.

"My parents had a bakery in a village. I had three younger siblings and an older cousin who lived in a nearby town". You begin to explain, picking up a cup and gulping down the water. Your throat is still a bit sore and you find it hard to speak longer sentences.

"He joined the military, I think, and his parents died soon afterwards." You remember that day, you were about ten, and it disturbed you deeply to see your father crying like that. You don't know what happened, but you remember your aunt well, a beautiful woman with blonde hair and blue eyes.

"I don't remember much about the years after that. I think I left school when I was 14 to help my parents in the bakery." Mike listened to every word you said and pulles a piece of paper and a pen from his pockets.

"Do you remember your cousin's name?" The Section Commander asks, eager to find a new clue.

"No. But I'm sure it's an unusual name, something with a Z." You explain uncertainly, wondering if your mind is playing tricks on you. You can't even think of a male name that starts with the letter Z.

"We can work with that." Mike explains, glancing at the mocking clock on your wall.

"Training starts soon." He reminds his subordinate and prepares to leave, daring to sniff at your scent one last time, smiling happily as he does so. You look at him confused, uncomfortable with the sudden closeness.

"Don't mind him. It's normal." Nanaba waves him off and puts a caring hand on your shoulder.

"Have a good day, Faye. Hopefully we'll see more of you soon." With that, the two soldiers leave and are about to close the door when someone stops them.

"Oi. Is the girl in a chatty mood? I have some questions." You recognise the deep voice, even though you haven't heard it since the day you woke up. It's the rude soldier the Commander calls 'Levi'. He, humanity's strongest soldier, is being blasphemed by the nurses. You can't help thinking he's a bit short for a man of his calibre. The only thing you can make out is Mike muttering something in a low tone, which makes you sit up and lean forward a little. The sudden movement hurts your head and you immediately regret having been so curious. Just as you lean back into your fluffy cushions, the short-tempered Captain bursts into your room, the usual stoic expression on his young features. You've heard he's in his early thirties, something you didn't believe at first. His small frame and flawless skin make him look younger, perhaps in his twenties.

"Captain." You speak slowly, looking at him with nothing but disdain. He hasn't given you any reason to like or trust him, quite the opposite. The way he has treated you has given you a feeling of mistreatment.

"They say you have a name now." He says, running his finger over the window frame, disgusted at the way it leaves dust on his skin. Your nurse once complained about the Captain's obsession with cleanliness, noting that the only thing he seemed to fear was dirt.

"Nanaba gave me one. It's-" Levi immediately cuts you off, shushing you with his deep voice.

"I don't care." He spits with a roll of his eyes as he pulls a handkerchief from his pocket to clean his skin. You jump at the rude tone and stare at him uncomfortably.

"Then why are you here?" The question hangs in the air, a tense atmosphere making your blood pressure rise. Something flickers in Captain Levi's eyes, a dangerous gleam you last saw the day you woke up.

"You still don't remember how you got out." He says slowly, his grey eyes locking onto you.

"No." You are honest, nothing but emptiness clouds your head when you try to think about it.

"Highly unlikely, but human trafficking could be a possibility. Do you know how they mark their victims?" With a deep voice and a clenched jaw, Levi moves forward, brushing the blanket from your nervously shivering body. The cool air hits your skin, sending shivers down your spine. You are dressed in a simple woollen robe that covers your arms and ends at the calves of your legs. His action confuses you and he comes to a stop, staring at your legs with intensity. You blush, breath catching in your throat as he grabs the hem of your dress and pulls it up. A squeak escapes your lips and you move your legs away from his hand, complaining loudly that he is overstepping.

"Relax. I just need to check the back of your thighs for marks." He says it in a calm, even bored manner. You don't trust him, but you hold still anyway. Commander Erwin trusts him a lot, and even though neither man has ever given you a reason to belive their word, you do as they say, because it might help your case. They may treat you nicely now, but what if they decide to deem you untrustworthy?

Levi's hand feels cold against your skin and you can't help but look away, ashamed and embarrassed. You're sure that it's not proper for a man to see a woman's bare legs like this. The fabric of your dress rests in your lap, barely hiding your pelvis from his watching gaze.

"Lie down, raise your legs." He's patient, seeing how his necessary demands make you uncomfortable. You obey, shuddering as he reaches out to touch your flesh, examining it for the mark he believes to be there. At the same moment his skin touches yours, flashes of unknown memories hit you hard, taking you by surprise. The sides of your head ache, blinding you with pain as you close your eyes. Numerous images seem to flash past them, making it hard for you to take in what's happening.

"Oi. Pull yourself together." A harsh voice snaps you out of your trance, causing you to blink your eyes open in exhaustion. Whatever you just saw must have been in the past; dead soldiers and Titans.

"It's not like I want to hurt you."

After a few seconds, he lets go of your leg and takes a step back. Still shocked by your experience, you pull the robe down your trembling legs, covering them from his view.

"Well, at least you weren't trafficked." He says, crossing his arms, his sparkling eyes hiding his true feelings from you.

"Is there anything else you need?" Your voice is shaky, but it's definitely filled with malice towards the man. You still haven't forgotten how he mistreated you.

"Perhaps you would like to examine the rest of my body?" You ask boldly, with a subtle undertone of mockery, waiting for his reaction, hoping that you will provoke him. His expression darkens, the orbs flickering with something dangerous.

"Tch. Don't be stupid." The Captain scoffs and rests his body against the wall, relaxing his posture.

"I saw through your facade. Sure, there was a possibility that you were a victim. But now? I have the feeling you are hiding something." Levi confesses his thoughts, a hard expression on his stoic features. Until now you have always thought of him as an emotionless wreck of a man, but his face tells too much. He must be a lonely and bitter soldier, struggling with the loss of his comrades and the unknown. He sees your silence as a given opportunity to continue.

"Maybe you mean us harm, maybe you don't. I could care less. I just want to know why a stupid girl like you would leave the safety of the walls. My comrades fell for your safety and here you are, wounded and without memory." His words sting and confirm your suspicion that he cares deeply for the lives of his subordinates.

"Was it worth it?" The question lingers in the room, making salty tears fill your already mirroring eyes.

"I don't know." You confess, scratching the back of your head in shame.

"You must believe me, Captain. My memories are gone." The man doesn't seem convinced, but he just shrugs and prepares to leave, giving you one last hard look.

"Whatever. Get well soon. We can't have useless shits like you on our supplies without getting your services in return."

You don't know what he meant by that, but you'll find out soon enough.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi #aot #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot fanfiction #fanfiction #canon typical violence #erwin smith #nile dok #kenny ackerman #levi ackerman

[dowiththatwhatyouwill]

God imagine Vegeta slowly falling accidentally in love with a human and he has to come to terms with his own internalized homophobia and xenophobia

He has to earn respect and forgiveness for his past misdeeds and learn to be better and simply just how to be without Frieza or the need/acceptability for violence

There's enough suffering in the universe already, and he realizes that love and kindness feel worlds better than the worlds he's destroyed

Falling in love feels simultaneously like heaven and the worst form of torture he's ever experienced

For the first time in his life since childhood, someone sees him and it is the most terrifying, painful ordeal to memory

(Also this way he won't get neutered like he did in the show and can have real (slow) believable character development that culminates in a real person with morals he knows how to stand by without contradicting them but is still very much chaotic and Proud)

(Imp Vegeta supremacy)

This man needs to be held

But he also needs to work for it

#his pride is one of his defining character traits #don't take it from him #but this man needs to balance his priorities #f this show had so much potential #especially the namek saga #help i love him #imp vegeta supremacy #vegeta x reader #vegeta x male reader #vegeta dbz #dragon ball z #namek saga

[weepinwriter]

"Behind those glares, I sense the weight of my misdeeds. Does my reflection in your eyes carry the burden of our unspoken discord?"

Name : Twenty

Age : They are in their mid twenties

Height : 5’6

Appearance : Twenty stands at 5’6” with elegant, beautiful features contrasting their hatred for you. They possess pale, silken white hair and crystalline eyes, with female Twenty having icy sky-blue eyes and male Twenty having fiery pinkish-red eyes. Female Twenty has longer hair that spills down her back, somehow kept meticulously straight despite her living conditions. Male Twenty has spikier hair trailing just past his nape often tied back in a half-ponytail.

Personality : Twenty is rather best described as timid but blunt. They're often honest, unfiltered and sarcastic, something people don't particularly like about them, but hey, they could care less if the whole world hated them, because they hate it just the same. They're often seen as narcissistic and petty, to the exact point that you can describe as a god complex. They hate being inferior and they hate it when they’re looked down upon or insulted despite them doing the same. Often described as an egomaniac, as stated above they have a deep hatred for being inferior so most of the time they’re manipulative and would occasionally bring people who make them feel inferior down, just so they can show that they are better or that they’re, in any way, superior. Don't get me wrong, Twenty is mature enough to not just fight with random people they don't like, but they’ll be judging them, ridiculing them from afar, or hell even making their life hell if they wanted. But despite that they're calm and collected most of the time, they'll only do so if they're provoked or feel threatened.

Background : The Subject’s traces can be found way back in the Libra District, where they resided in one of the more impoverished sectors. Subject has had a history of gang violence and been arrested multiple times on charges of scams and robbery. Not much is known about their background other than the fact that they have siblings stationed in the [DATA REDACTED] District. The Subject was sentenced to life in prison to Tartarus for allegedly conspiring with the terrorists responsible for the Infinity Plaza Terror attack five years ago.

Likes : Eye pleasing visuals, literature, good food (not the trash they're served in Tartarus), their self care routine

Dislikes : The scent of blood, overly curious people, irrational people, those who think they're better than them, the shitty canteen dog food (as they call it)

Pet peeves : gets annoyed by repetitive noises e.g. tapping or own clicking, when people eat with their mouths wide open

Trivia :

they have hyperthymesia or highly superior autobiographical memory (HSAM), a condition where one can remember even the smallest of life experiences in vivid detail

a slow eater; they like to savor their food so it usually takes like thirty minutes to get a simple meal for themself done.

sleepwalks a lot, can be found sitting by the edge of a balcony while asleep or by the canteens door, much to the night staffs dismay

is a firm believer of rock, paper, scissors. has never lost a game of rock paper scissors in their life

#interactive fiction #if game #current wip #road to heaven if #asks #interactive game #ro's #dystopia #ro twenty