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call-sign-shark · 4 months

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Of Bending and Breaking || Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Always being the one who cares for others comes with a price: you break down, but the most unexpected person is here for you: Tommy, the man you were forced to marry.

Words: 2,3k

TW: Hurt/Comfort, very tiny mention of past sexual assault, no proofreading 'cause it comes from clearing my drafts.

Notes: Aunt Isabella's is a tribute to my own aunt Isabelle who, unfortunately, died because of cancer a few years ago.

It all started with Polly shaking Tommy like a tree, her thin hands firmly grabbing his nephew’s broad shoulders: “You can’t keep sabotaging yourself like this, Tom.” These were the words that left her quivering lips as she dragged his staggering frame to the bathroom and pushed his face into the bathtub right under the tap. When the freezing water splashed all over his neck, Tommy opened his blank eyes wide and inhaled sharply, as if he had suddenly come back to life. Since Grace’s awful death, the gangster was the shadow of his former self. When he wasn’t waging a senseless war with Father Hughes and the Italian, or when he wasn’t keeping his buzzing mind busy with work, Tommy usually numbed himself with a deadly combination of whisky and opium until his deep-seated pain became bearable. It was the night he almost overdosed that Polly decided to take charge of his nephew and found him a new wife, in the hope of soothing his nephew’s mind and finding a mother figure for poor little Charlie. The idea had obviously sent Tommy in a fit of anger but Polly Gray couldn’t care less.

Regarding your own situation, it was not the opium nor the loss of a dear lover that had led you to Birmingham’s most dangerous man but rather the bump in your belly. Aunt Isabella had understood what you were suffering from the moment you had stormed out of the vardo to throw up your breakfast in the nearest bush. The tall and lean woman, whose light brown and curly mane danced in the cold autumn wind, had looked at you right in the eyes and raised one of her thin eyebrows. If there was something pleasant with her, it was that words weren’t necessary.

Yet, later she encountered Polly, with whom she had been a great friend since childhood, and explained that a powerful American man had forced his seeds in you during his stay in England. Not willing to go through the traumatic experience of aborting, Isabella only saw one solution to your problem: you needed a husband who could protect you and your future baby from the evil man with his scarred lip. A wedding would be your salvation. At the realization of what Aunt Isabella had planned for you, you tried to run away from the camp in the middle of the night but she knew you too well and soon caught you, her sly hand firmly grabbing your wrist: “Y/N! It’s for your sake! He’s rich, he needs a wife and he is feared! You’ll be safe with him, don’t you understand?” She explained, cupping your face with her long fingers adorned with claws painted in red and far too many rings. “I don’t need a man to protect me! I don’t need anyone. He’s older and he’s a criminal! Who’s going to protect me from him eh? Have you think ‘bout that?” You cried, the soft light of the sunrise turning your tears into liquid gold.

But still, you wedded him and what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life turned out to be a dull event during which you dissociated the whole time. The only memories you had in mind were two piercing and frightening turquoise eyes staring right at your soul and soft whiskey-tasting lips stealing a quick peck from your cherry lips. A kiss devoid of any form of affection. And then, the groom left.

From what Aunt Isabella told you, your husband had spent most of the celebrations with his brothers, drinking and taking bets outside of Arrow House. Months had passed and still, you felt estranged to this place and its staff. The only moments your heart lightened were when Aunt Isabella visited you, or when Charlie spent time with you, otherwise you remained emotionally closed, trapped in your own mind. Overall you could not complain: You had a house far too big for you with plenty of workers willing to exhaust every one of your wishes. Charlie was a sweet boy, who loved you with all his heart even if you were well aware that you’ll never replace his mother. As for the Shelby clan, they were cordial with you without being really friendly either. And there was Tommy…

Cold and distant Tommy, who you only saw late at night when he discretely slipped under the bedsheet and turned his back to you without uttering a single word. Busy Tommy, whose replies remained concise and spoken with a quiet husky voice each time you asked him something — at least he talked to you a little bit. Trapped in a loveless marriage, that was what you were: Tommy was more a stranger, a mere gust of wind in your life, than the love of your life.

Still, the gangster stayed true to his words and he provided for everything, never refusing to give you money when you asked, and protecting you from the man who had taken your innocence. He even gifted you a wonderful stallion because he knew how much you missed riding. In exchange for his protection and riches, all you had to do was take care of Charlie and do your best to be there for your husband when his darkness threatened to swallow him whole.

You found out about the nightmares shortly after your wedding and quickly decided to do something about it. When he woke up screaming and drenched in sweat after tasting the tunnels’ dirt and Grace’s crimson blood in his troubled sleep, you always cradle him, your fingers losing themselves in his wet dark hair to pet his head gently. At first, you feared his reaction, expecting the infamous Tommy Shelby to push you and not-so-kindly ask you to keep your distance but, to your greatest surprise, he never did. Instead, he would bury his face in your cleavage, panting and trembling, and let you reassure him. Just like he let you bring dinner to him each time he drowned himself in paperwork and forgot to eat. He never commented on your cooking skills though, even if he always handed back empty plates.

The blood on his skin? You cleaned it.

The wounds of his flesh? You never failed to patched them up.

The hole in his heart? You tried to seal it off with caresses, soft kisses, and shoulder massages. Maybe one day he would slowly turn his iciness into affection. Little did you know that he needed it. And by it he needed you. Just like the whole family. How many times did you walk the streets of Birmingham at night, seeking for Arthur and then bringing him home to take care of a wasted and high him? Far too many to keep track. Similarly, you had spent countless evenings helping Ada when she felt overwhelmed, either nursing Karl or cleaning her house when, just like her brother, she overworked herself. And finally, Polly could never thank you enough for everything you did to soothe her mind after the gallows, still haunted by the bite of the hanging rope on her throat.

“Thanks Poppy.” Arthur muttered, the gravel in his voice coated with shame now that you were down clearing and disinfecting his split knuckles. The oldest brother had started to affectionately call you so for the sole reason that, according to him, you must probably grow better when blood was considering how much you had seen when patching the Shelby siblings. “Sorry for errr… For the mess.” He went on, his steel blue eyes fleeing yours.

“That’s okay.” You replied in Romani, “You, sweet idiot.” Endeared by how surprisingly soft Arthur’s harsh complexions could turn, you couldn’t help but gently put your hand on one of his cheeks. And during this tender display of affection, Arthur was convinced he had caught sight of a smile — a scarce event barely happening on your beautiful but resigned face. Comforted by the warmth of your palm, he leaned into your touch and looked at you through dark lashes, his lids half-closed.

“Tommy’s one lucky bastard to have ya for himself, eh."

"Let's both flee together then." You teased, the familiar tone of Romani language rendered even more melodious by your siren-like voice.

"Don't tempt me, little one." Arthur replied, softer than intended and probably only half-joking.

The oldest Shelby brother had barely closed the door when your smile disappeared and tears flooded your eyes. Admittedly, spending months of repressing your own anguish didn’t do any good to you despite thinking that focusing on others would have helped. Quite the contrary, all those negative emotions you had left on the back burner turned into a silent and deadly parasite that was eating you up. Dragging your tired frame to the cold and empty marital bedroom, you curled up in a ball in a corner of the room, your bruised knees pressed against your chest, “Positive. You gotta stay positive and push forwards y’see Y/N? Do the right things for the family…” You whispered to yourself as your breath started to quicken for the ball of sorrow in your throat was growing more and more. Yes, you had to smile and say that all was just fine because you knew you were lucky to be here and that you hadn’t any real reason to complain now according to the rest of the world. And yet, the truth was you were tired. So tired and overwhelmed by everything around you. With your wild soul trapped here in the mighty walls of Arrow House, you could not help but drown in an excruciating feeling of worthlessness.

You were lost in a world too difficult for you to understand. Lost and unprepared for a life that asked for too much. When you were living in the vardo with Aunt Isabella life seemed so much easier despite the lack of money and, sometimes, food. Prior to your wedding, she used to tell you that everything would become clear once you’d be a wife and a mother. You’d be an adult adult, you see? But she lied. They all lied. Even with a husband and kids, you still felt like a scared and confused child, who wanted to hide under the blanket of her warm bed and never face the world ever again. These concerns of yours? You never shared because you wanted the Shelby to keep seeing you as a reassuring presence— moreover, God knew how much their broken hearts needed your silent care.

Bringing your trembling fingers to your mouth, you muffled a first sob, convinced it would be enough to keep you from crying. What you didn’t expect was to burst into tears, uncontrollably weeping. After all this time forcing yourself to be strong, your mind had enough. As your heart-wrenching cries echoed in the room they muffled Tommy’s footsteps that were coming closer and closer. When the door flung open, you did not even move, lost in a spiral of pain and psychological exhaustion.

“Y/N?!” Tommy called you, his usual coldness swept away by a surge of panic. He closed the distance between you and him with hastened steps, and put one of his knees on the floor to be at your level, “What’s wrong, ay?” His husky voice asked, worries thickening his Brummie accent even more. You hiccuped and raised your flooded eyes towards him, parting your lips to answer. Yet, as soon as your gaze met his turquoise iris you started weeping again, louder this time. Words were at a loss by dint of never having the chance to express what you felt throughout your life. “Bloody Hell, Y/N! Speak!” Tommy hissed, his heart now drumming in his chest at the sight of his young and always-so-strong wife crumbling in bits in front of him. Never in his life, he had felt so powerless, not even in the tunnels… And, God, he hated it.

“N-nothing. I don’t… I don’t even know it’s just that— I’m so fucking tired, and lost, and confused, and afraid!” You spoke with a very fast pace, spitting years and years of repressed emotions flowing from you all the while feeling deeply ashamed of your mental breakdown. When you were done venting, you simply turned your head and waved off the topic, tears still rolling down your reddened cheeks “Anyway! You’ve got — more important things to do.”

“Stop it, Y/N,” He scolded, low voice rumbling in his chest. His strong and calloused hands, damaged by the war and hard work, cupped your face with a softness you didn’t know he possessed. For the first time in your life, his grip felt utterly reassuring as if you knew these scarred palms were not going to let you fall apart. Never. “You’re what’s important right now.” With that being said, Tommy leaned his forehead against yours and his enchanting eyes soon met yours to force you to focus on nothing else but the vast blue oceans which composed them. “I want you to calm down.”

“I can’t, I can’t—“ You tried to speak but you couldn’t, struggling to breathe under the crushing weight of your panic attack. Your mouth gaped, looking for the oxygen it couldn’t find.

“Oi!” Tommy said louder. So loud that his voice managed to overcome the cacophony of your beating heart and the buzzing sound of your anxiety that filled your head, “I want you to breathe with me, Y/N. Alright? You can do that for me, ay?” He asked, his eyebrows slightly frowned and charming crowfeet appearing at the corner of his eyes — how odd it was to see Tommy’s face veiled with something else than unsettling placidity. Caught off guard by the sudden realization of how close he was, you quieted down a little bit and soon followed the pattern of his breathing.

One long inhale through the nose, one longer exhale through the mouth, and a short pose.

Do it again.

Your shaky hands slowly grabbed his wrists in a desperate attempt to anchor you to reality. This, as well as the focus you had on his mesmerizing complexions.

His long dark lashes — you inhaled slowly.

His cat-like turquoise iris — you exhaled.

His salient cheekbones — You stopped breathing for a very short while.

The myriad of freckles — “Breathe with me, Y/N.”

The soft, hoarse lilt guided you through the dark and thick fog of your own brain, just like a lighthouse. Coming back to clearer waters, your body finally relaxed and fell almost limp in his arms. And once again he caught you, keeping you all safe against his chest. Tommy’s voice, low and steady, resonated one last time in the bedroom with a reassuring warmth as he uttered the simple yet powerful phrase, "I'm here." Each word carefully enunciated, carrying a quiet strength that soothed and reassured, like a comforting anchor in a stormy sea.

Keep your writers motivated: Reblog and/or comment if you liked it, you filthy animal! o/ English is not my first language btw.

Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @red-riding-wood

#Tommy Shelby #Tommy Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby imagine #Peaky blinders imagine #Peaky blinders x reader #Peaky blinders #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #Tommy Shelby smut #Thomas Shelby #Thomas Shelby x reader #Cillian Murphy #peaky blinders x y/n

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hollowwhisperings · 1 year

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Elven Maturity (Tolkien)

an interesting thing about Tolkien's elves is how historical they are: they are the living history of Middle-Earth as they know it (dwarven records & the avari memories likely differ).

the noldo and silvan elves met in LOTR are OLD. so old that Legolas could very plausibly be interpreted as having suffered being treated as "the baby" for, like, four hundred years.

(i assume that Arwen & her brothers are older simply because their parents became a couple before Thranduil became a king)

the age of Tolkien's elves thusly makes it difficult to discern a true "age of maturity": Galadriel was born before Arda had a sun, Elrond's dad is a star, Elrond married Galadriel's daughter and her grandkids look as old/young as she does when the Fellowship meets them. Arwen was an "adult" by mannish standards when Estel came to live at Imladris but her subsequent move & stay with Grandma Galadriel spares readers the awkward thought of Arwen grooming Aragorn for her husband.

This fixation on Arwen is Key because she is of the Peredhel, the half-elven. The first known peredhel is technically Luthien, born of maia and elf, but it is her child with a human who is the first "true" instance of a peredhel in the sense of a "Schrodinger's Immortal".

The age of elves becomes very pertinent to the modern reader when Dior is seemingly orphaned, married to an elven princess(?), has three kids with her, gets abandoned(?) by his maia grandmother due to his grandfather's violent death & left with said grandfather's throne... by the age of 33. not as in "33 years of The Trees" or "33 years in The Lamps"... 33 solar years. Mannish years. THIRTY THREE.

Dior was the first peredhel to be both mortal (human) and immortal (elf): Luthien was the Tolkien equivalent of a demigod but it's unlikely that that changed the expectations for her, in terms of lifestages or maturity.

Dior though? He was raised by isolationist elves during a Politically Tense period of time and no love story is alluded to, between he and Nimloth. The elves Dior was raised amongst did not think highly of humans nor dwarves (nor other elves) and Dior was the first half demi-god, half human elf known. Did they think that his mannish blood made him quicker to mature & doomed to mortality? Did Dior or any of the persons involved with his marriage have enough experience with ELVEN children, nevermind human children to compare against, to discern how "mature" Dior was or wasn't?

I cannot think of any elven romance that did not take at least a decade or three to result in a promise of "forever" or 'til mortality. This makes the prospect of a 30 year old King Dior, newly father to twin peredhels, a disturbing image.

Then we have Dior's daughter, Elwing, meet the only other peredhel not related to her: Earendil, son of Idril Celebrindal and the human Tuor.

Where Elwing was raised by elves & recently orphaned, Earendil had grown up in Gondolin with both an immortal & mortal parent to mind him. Earendil and Elwing were both 23 when they wed: this I find easier to accept, with the extent of their shared experiences of being refugees and not-wholly elven. that Tuor, a human mortal, is also canonically present helps significantly with my comfort zone: no alarms rang in his head when these two 23 year olds got hitched and thus, by mannish standards, they were two consenting adults.

HOWEVER.

we still do not know what ELVES think makes a wholly mature elf - the Noldor elves that these peredhel live amongst are still adapting to the "quickness" of mortal lifespans, of life beyond Valinor. There is, presumably, still a majority amongst the Noldo who predate the first sunrise: whether the silvans hold alternate expectations of maturity, based on living amongst mortals all this time, is unknown. I would safely consider Earendil to be am adult by human standards: he may have also had the mental faculties of an adult elf as well, thus able to recognise and understand an Eternal Committment.

...Elwing probably doesn't. She was raised amongst elves and likely expected to be exactly like Dior and he like Luthien: part-divine and thus, potentially, mature by default. Her actions upon meeting her childhood nightmares - the Sons of Feanor - seem more in-line with a traumatised youth than a traditionally "wise" elf (or human): she jumped out of a window with a [very definitely cursed] holy lightbulb without much thought to the two small children she left behind.

which... her childhood nightmare was "The Sons Of Feanor Stole My Parents And Brothers": Elwing yeeting herself from a tower does Exactly That, all to keep her "rightful inheritance" (i.e. Luthien's winning a silmaril off Morgoth by sing-off/right of conquest & Elwing being Luthien' direct descendant).

the only way i can read Elwing's actions - did SHE know she could turn into a bird when she yeeted herself? did she ever plan on, y'know, coming back after her understandable panic response? no? straight off to alleged elf heaven? kidnap fam it is then - is as Elwing, young adult of several species and never truly able to be any bar one, being out of her depth and going full maia (as her great-grandmother melian before her).

Elrond taking a few centuries to get together with Celebrian, Arwen then taking a few decades to figure things out with Estel... the difference between these later love stories in contrast to Dior and Elwing (& to elf/elf romances) is Very Striking.

Tolkien's elves can get very, very old. Their societies developed with the core concept of their getting old & living eternally. Elves cannot simply marry on a whim - they had better be certain on their spouse or they're in for a very, very taxing eternity (the Avari have different customs but any cross-cultural exchanging of notes seems to have failed miserably in the face of The Maeglin Situation).

The first [mortal&immortal] peredhel died before the weight of immortality could be felt; the second peredhels all left the realms of mortals very abruptly; the third generation of peredhels had entirely unique circumstances that resulted in Elrond being Elrond, Father Figure to generations of Mortal Men and Designated Sane Voice in every crisis.

I wonder what Elrond would think of his grandfather Dior if he were to ever meet him: Elrond has spent several immortal lifetimes learning all things peredhel. I struggle to think of Dior leaving the halls of Mandos, of Dior adapting easily to life amongst the truly immortal.

And if I consider 33 to be "too young" for a Peredhel to swear eternity to an immortal elf... what does that mean for the wholly elven Maeglin, whose orphaning at 80 solar years lead to his being RAISED in the utterly alien Gondolin? Maeglin, whose tween crush on his cousin (who is, if not "older than the sun" very certainly "old as heck" at this time) became blown entirely out of proportion due to his very existence being a Scandalous Tragedy to the Noldo.

Maeglin dying at 190 is considered "very young for an elf". What humans was Doriath in the habit of noticing for them to consider 30 year old Dior an eligible bachelor?

#in which i wildly and egregiously go ham at probably unintentional implications of king thingol being genuinely monstrous #the peredhel #tolkien meta #tolkien elves #silm #dior of doriath #luthien #elwing #eldritch peredhel #earendil #mundane peredhel #logistics of immortality #maeglin was a baby #dior was even more baby #thingol is sus

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sufiiiiiiii · 7 months

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Following is a post i came across on facebook and i thought i should share it here please read it...

TRIGGER WARNING: ABUSE, SEXUAL GROOMING

It has been a strange couple of days. A professor from an esteemed University in Calcutta was called out for sexual abuse and within 72 hours, another professor died by suicide. It is like just when the discourse of power being dangerous, and blind reverence toxic was taking the centerstage, it was hijacked by a sea of obits, outlining all the ways a man has changed the lives of countless students.

I must put this out as a disclaimer that I was not taught by him neither was I a student at xx. I’d like to believe he was every bit as good a teacher as so many people are professing. I was in xxxx University though and xxxx did teach me. So did a lot of professors who are still part of the present Xxxxxx University English department faculty. To say that the last couple of days have been triggering would be to put it too mildly. It has been a nightmare that has punctured my work, disrupted my sleep and peace of mind. Because, suddenly, what me and my friends would talk about in close quarters are out in the open.

I belong to the 2011-2014 batch of xxxx University. I also did my MA in English from there. Back when I studied, there was a professor who was every bit as cool and student-friendly we read about in book and watch in awe in movies. He would chat with us after class hours, have lunch and endless cups of cha with us, drop all filters and share stories of his personal life with us. He was a friend.

Over the course of my time at xxxxxx my friend and I became close to this professor. We would chat all the time, spend every weekend at his house. To us, he represented what we did not find in our parents and peers. He was liberal, eloquent, and possessed a morality which he himself had defined. He flamboyantly told us how he could - and had - sleep with any woman he wanted to. And we, in our early 20s, took it as a trademark of charm. For three years, he was one of the closest friends I had on campus. No topic was off-limits.

We remained friends till much later. I completed my post graduation from xxxx and relocated to Delhi. Later, in 2016 he met me in Delhi. At xxx, specifically. I was alone with him in a room and following a heartfelt conversation, he forcibly kissed me. At 24 then, my only defence was, “I have to leave.”

By then our association had run too deep. I knew he was ‘this’ person…”wicked, charming, flirtatious”. I convinced myself that he was just being himself and pushed it at the back of my head. He pretended it never happened, so did I.

Two years later, my friend and I recollected our time in college. We spoke about everything that had happened to us while we both changed cities. This was close on the heels of the #MeToo movement. By now we had a vocabulary for abuse, some recognition. We realised the professor had actually spent years grooming us, a terminology Indian educational sites neither talk about nor are familiar with. If you check online, the definition reads: “when someone builds a relationship, trust and emotional connection with a child or young person so they can manipulate, exploit and abuse them.” This is precisely what he had done.

I understand that whatever happened with me did when I was technically no longer his student. And, for argument’s sake, I was an adult. But abuse hits in retrospect and age is hardly a signifier of age. Imagine, an older, more powerful man slowly alienating you from others in your class, spending years convincing you that you are special enough to be his friend. That this lifestyle is conventional, rational. It is not. It took me many more years to admit to myself and the courage of someone else speaking up to write all this. I expect to achieve nothing out of this. I just want to sleep better knowing that I did my bit in sharing my experience and that those who are in the universities will be less naive than me and my friend was. Also, let me assure you he has done worse both on and off campus. But that is not my story to tell.

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dogpelts-art · 9 months

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trigger warning: sexual assault (child sexual assault, animal child rape, grooming), mass harassment, zoophilia mention, beastiality mention, sexual nudity mention, self destructive behaviours

thank you everyone who sincerely wished for me to get help! fortunately i am already engaged with several therapists. i am thankful to the select few people who reached out & let me talk through everything with them, and helped me realize what was going on. this all led to me being able to speak about it with my support system and start working through my years of online exposure, break out of the cycle of harmful sexual behavior towards myself, learn to unpack why i felt the need to continue that unhealthy cycle and work on understanding the long term effects of animal on child rape, CSA, grooming, etc had on my hypersexuality, online presence and relationships.

turns out being dehumanized through years of sexual abuse and portraying those feelings by drawing yourself as a dog being sexually tortured is not normal behavior! crazy

trying to explore these very complex feelings through art ended with me, once again, exposing myself, my past trauma and my body to others. this is a vicious cycle and i now know just how dangerous, common, yet unspoken about the victimization cycle is for survivors of csa. this is why i won’t be apologizing for fleeing. it was the safest thing for me to do, not just because of some angry people on twitter, but from actual predators i was engaged with. i was in no state to speak up about everything considering all this entails.

in regards to the one zoophile i followed, they had ΘΔζ in their display name. from my understanding the first two are therian symbols (?) and i assumed the third was too. i assure you i shared the shock everyone else had when i realized what it actually meant. taking the time to actually look through shit & when i saw that person fantasizing about committing beastiality in their tweets, the realization hit that i was interacting with people who might’ve been harming real animals, it made me sick to my fucking stomach and thankfully changed my entire view on the situation. you are of course free to believe what you want, but i personally think it’s fucking insane that because of this mistake i am being made out to be someone who “actively endorses animal cruelty and rape”. i can promise you i’d have offed myself long ago if that was the case. i am horrified enough at myself for engaging in feral art at any point in my life but please know i do not align at all with people who wish harm or sexual acts on animals.

as much as i believe i was influenced during all this, i certainly did make decisions to make situations worse, including an attempt to make money, and i take full responsibility for that. i am sincerely sorry for any harm caused. none of this should have happened in the first place and it shouldn't have spiraled so far.

to reiterate and make clear: my art was not real and was not intended to represent reality. it was not meant to represent any harm or sexual acts being done to actual animals. it was not made to encourage zoophilia or acts of beastiality, nor did it represent my personal feelings towards animals. everything depicted was a character meant to represent parts of myself and used as a way to express feelings of dehumanization and to reclaim traumatic experiences. i am now of the understanding it was entirely wrong, and was unintentionally used by zoophiles. i am extremely sorry.

i promise you i have heard quite literally every variation of threat or disparage you could possibly make towards me. i wish to say that you are valid in your anger, however, all i ask is no other people get harassed. i have never and will never encourage hate speech of any kind, no matter what side you’re on.

the original callout itself inherently caused further harm to myself and others. i beg you to stop sending minors explicit porn and directing them to nsfw accounts. no drama is worth endangering more people.

i am putting hard limits on my future online presence and i simply won’t be further engaging with the furry community. however, art is something i am still passionate about and is my main source of income, so i am working on making that a safe activity for myself. my social media will be monitored with help from my disability support workers to help me with my muted fear response and lack of perception concerning safety & danger. i will not be personally interacting or messaging anyone, simply just using my platform to post illustrations. i am focusing on recovery, and you can choose to respect that or not. i know the harassment is something i will just have to live with, but know i will try not to be engaging with it for my own safety.

—

if you’ve experienced any form of sexual assault as a child, please know you have a higher risk of revictimization. protect yourself. learn from my mistakes. access resources, speak to trusted adults. follow your gut. being led to seeing yourself as an inhuman animal and object can be incredibly dangerous. you don’t deserve to feel that way. don’t let people treat you as such.

for those of you who are genuinely trying to do the right thing and need an outlet for your anger — rather than doxxing, threatening and sending mass harrassment to already at risk individuals, i encourage you to utilize your time, skill sets and donations to support your local animal welfare officers. consider joining animal protection forces. report evidence of occurring animal abuse to authorities.

thanks for reading.

#dogpelts

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hellfireconfessions · 4 months

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To anyone whom might be reading this, my name is Cobalt. I was a staff member on Hellfire sometime in 2022. I’ve seen a post or two about me and though I replied to one in the comments, I want to officially post an apology to anyone who was hurt by my actions, offended by the things I said or did, or was negatively affected by me in any way. I was 14-15 years old when I was a staff member, and I was socially inept as a result of distance learning and the online school I attended due to COVID paranoia. I spent two years at home, really only talking to my family and people online. My moral compass and general understanding of social cues/norms were not in great shape. Everything I knew came from online spaces, some more toxic than others (a great example being ark survival evolved communities on xbox). Admittedly, those communities were not a good influence. Of course, the environment young people were exposed to in Hellfire was nothing short of disgusting and toxic, too. I believe even while I was staff, myself and countless friends were subject to grooming and manipulation by a trusted adult on the server simply because we didn’t know any better.

At the root of it all, I really did just want to help the server and be included, because to an extent I did look up to staff. Much of what I did was with good intentions but poorly executed (for a lack of knowledge/experience), and some wasn’t, some was just a child acting out because I didn’t know how to manage tough situations or even my own emotions.Nonetheless, I am not looking to excuse my actions at the time, nor do I expect forgiveness or acceptance from those who have or had negative opinions of me. I sincerely apologize to anyone who was subject to poor treatment from me or the staff team in general. As exclusionary as it felt to have an age limit for staff, I can see now why it should’ve been enforced with no exceptions or leniency. Nobody under 16 should hold a position of power over others, while they don’t have the life experience or maturity to do so, and that only comes with time.

I learned a lot from my time on Hellfire- and even my demotion from their staff team; I am not the same person I was two years ago.I thank anyone who took the time to read, and I wish everyone the best of luck in finding new, healthy servers/communities to enjoy themselves in.

#cobaltiics

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thatringboy · 2 years

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Thinking about how you wrote Douma for your role swap au

he had a horrific childhood that would have broken/killed any normal child

his “family” basically said “if you don’t kill these people, you’re gonna die a slow and painful death” after spending years grooming him to be a killing machine

he effortlessly worms his way into the household of his targets and waits for the moment to kill them

they are so kind to him that he literally doesn’t have any words to describe how he feels, nor does he know what to do when it comes time to kill them

But he doesn’t kill them and they save his life

BUT THE STORY DOESN’T END THERE

because of course no one trusts him, but he’s not bothered. he expects it, welcomes it, embraces it

but then his new family had a child and suddenly the world is changing again

so he dedicates himself once again to this family and to protecting their daughter as his niece

she has a curse like her father and Douma do, but hers has a specific time limit

Douma does not smother her with attention nor does he lock her away for safety. He puts her into a very dangerous mission and trusts her with its outcome, showing incredible despair when her life is even remotely threatened

if she dies, he would have carried through his original mission of destroying the bloodline of his new family

Douma cannot love, but he chooses to every day

I think that’s a trope in your writing, choices

Zenitsu chose to pursue the Moons in a blind rage before choosing to heal from his grief

Sabito chose to attack Upper Two alone and died because of it, ruining lives in doing so

Shinobu chose to protect Tanjiro despite knowing she would face execution

Katsu chose to take on Senjuro as a student despite his age

Obanai chooses to live his truth and love himself in spite of the cruel hand the world dealt him (which I’m sure we’ll see more of in LM&D)

And Douma chooses to love his family every day. He cannot do it unconsciously, it has to be a deliberate choice to love them. His entire existence until meeting Muzan was dedicated to survival. Now he gladly throws his body onto Kiriena as Yoshiwara gets flattened

He’s such a complex character who admits to making mistakes but stops at nothing to protect those he decides to care about and that’s why the bastard is my favorite of your characters

Holy crap you basically summed him up

Douma isn’t my most complex character in this AU, but he’s a close second. He has personal motivations, flaws, strengths and you’re absolutely right: he does have to make the conscious choice to love his family. It doesn’t come easily to him, if at all, to experience many emotions. He doesn’t even have words for all of his emotions even now at 29 years old, but he knows how to protect that which he deemed irreplaceable

It’s a shame his current arc is over, I can’t wait to write him again, but if you like these complexities, keep an eye out for Obanai and Katsu in the coming arc 😉

#flowers sounds & stones #sun wind & ice #asks #love mist & demons

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thotferatu · 2 months

Text

Maybe..

perhaps now that I'm nearing 30 and have all but accepted my status as a woman who will surround themselves with lively friends and their children, inserting myself as the auntie that comes and goes as my friendships with those people wane and wax -- I can accept that maybe the reason I simply cannot see myself as someones second half is that I was simply never desirable.

I was late to bloom, not finding much success "dating" until late in highschool. I was always too plain, to odd, to loud, to awkward. There were nicer girls with better clothes and narrower smiles who didn't seem weighed down by the anxiety of a puberty ridden teen.

Except it wasnt all that, was it?

In highschool I dropped a fair amount of weight, though looking back I was never truly fat. Just a but untoned, a little chubby, but hardly fat. Not the weight I am now by any margin.

and yet that was when boys flocked to me -- when men flocked to me. I was groomed by a man almost 7 years my senior though now I understand his only attraction to me was that I was young and stupid, then I dated within my own age range, but as soon as they discovered I was not the "happy to be here" girlfriend they were expecting .. Well, lets just say I never got invited to dances.

A few short relationships happened after I came of age. Only a few months, here or there, and I found myself lacking in the intimacy department. They moved too quickly, too harshly, and I was cold to the idea.

But I still tried to be a good girlfriend.

One person said kissing me was like kissing their sister. Another saw me in my expensive nightgown I'd bought, covered in frills and lace and a beautiful baby pink, and simply went back to watching youtube. He never bothered complimenting me either, even as I tried my hardest to appear beautiful in the weeks that followed. Another would scold me for seconds, reminding me that I was "getting heavier".

We broke up a week later.

I was an easy out of his last relationship, I realized, and he cheated on me with someone he had said was his cousin.

I simply wasnt desirable.

To awkward, to demanding, to set in my ways -- especially as I continued to age.

Now I find myself still largely untouched, unable to imagine myself in a happy and healthy romantic relationship. I cannot imagine myself as equal to another in that setting; I'm not pretty enough, nor interesting enough, and Ive no experience physically being a "loving" partner.

I know being in a relationship, getting married, is not lifes goal. It was something I actively dreaded as a small fundamentalist child -- but I cannot help but wonder now if something inside of me is deeply broken.

If I truly am simply that undesirable, if there is an essence to me that drives people away. Forever a member of a found family, but never anything more.

Perhaps I should be thankful of that, of how people grow to see me as kin so quickly.

It means I'll never truly be alone.

#personal #venting

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darthmaulification · 3 years

Text

savage opress NSFW alphabet

A/N: finally! i got this finished!!

*pounds chest* me love big zabrak man!!! and i am in 100% support for soft!savage so y’all are gonna see a ton of that here. 💀

also, i had to do so much mental math with this one because savage is so darn tootin’ tall (7ft 1in, from what i’ve read) that relating his you-know-what’s size relative to him was ✨challenging✨ but also 😳🥴🥵💦 if ya know what i mean.

and i mention the maul nsfw alphabet i wrote a couple of times in here, so go check that one out for more clarification on a few points if you feel so inclined. 😊💕

nfsw below the cut! 😘

A = aftercare (what are they like after sex?)

Savage is always a bit unsure of himself in how he cares for others, but his aftercare is immaculate. Every time, there’s this brief window of Post Coital Cuddles where he just holds you in his arms and purrs like there’s no tomorrow, and I mean like near full body vibrations, he’s purring so damn hard and loud. More often than not, this is usually the part where Savage passes out, usually he’s too darn sleepy to finish the rest of the aftercare. However, if he does manage to keep his eyes moment for a few minutes longer, Savage kisses you all over, asks you what you need, and will get the job done in the most tender and sweet way possible.

B = body part (what’s their favorite body part of their partner? what about themselves?)

Savage is a sap and would say that all of you is his favorite, and honestly mean it. He thinks that you and your body are nothing but perfect, all of it. He’ll compliment you with the utmost sincerity, telling you just how beautiful you are whenever and wherever. Savage loves to look at you, to feel you, to worship you. He enjoys all of the squishier parts of you especially, whether that be your thighs, tummy, ass, breasts, etc etc. He loves that you’re so soft compared to him.

However, for as much as he’s able to see the beauty in others, Savage has trouble seeing the beauty in himself. He feels like a monster most of the time, feels like he’s been deformed by his enhancements. It’s not easy for him to choose a favorite part of his body, because he honestly doesn’t like his body. So, you’ll have to coax him into learning to love himself, which isn’t and won’t be easy, but Savage needs to learn that he is allowed and has earned the right to treat himself with love. This will lead to whatever your favorite part of him to be his favorite, whatever that may be.

C = cum (basically anything to do with cum)

Savage cums buckets. Like... an ungodly amount of nut. It’s thick, white, and Maker, it is virile. His sperm count is off the fucking charts, and he knows it. Savage makes sure to cum inside you every time, unless you specifically ask him not to. He pushes balls deep, up to the hilt, and lets loose inside you, absolutely coating your walls in sticky, creamy white. It’s usually so much that the moment he pulls out, it literally spills out of you, and something about that sight has Savage genuinely horny all over again. If it’s okay with you, because he always asks before he does anything, Savage will push it back in with a couple fingers.

D = dirty secret (what’s their dirty secret?)

... Okay, so be nice to him... Savage has a Mommy kink. It’s nothing too crazy, but it’s definitely there. He wants to call you to Mommy, listen to everything you say and tell him to do, be your “Good boy”. Honestly, it’s enough if you just call him the name, if you’re not comfortable with the title, and if you’re his gentle femdom (he would literally worship you).

Thing is, he might never tell you this because it embarrasses him beyond belief, like cripplingly embarrassing, and he doesn’t know how you’ll react if he told you.

E = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

To be honest, Savage has had no experience. Mostly, it’s because he was raised in an environment where he was taught that his purpose in life was only fighting, so he was never given/had the opportunity of sex. He never had the chance to explore that avenue with another person, because there was no one to explore it with and he was being trained half to death most of the time. Of course, he’s picked up things throughout his life from others, so he’s not clueless and has a semi-idea of how to please someone. So when you and him do the do for the first time, Savage is unsure of himself, a bit clumsy, and kinda self-deprecating. You’ll need to talk to him, tell him that he’s welcome to your body and that you want him, and walk him through some of the actions. So while your first time with Savage may be a bit... disorganized to put it gently, it is also so full of mutual love and respect and care that it is perfect.

And, fortunately for you and him, Savage is a very quick learner.

F = favorite position (what’s their favorite position?)

Savage is a big guy and he knows this, so most of the positions you and him have to take is honestly a lot more for your safety than anything else. Especially at the beginning, Savage will want to be as safe as possible, so it’s most likely going to involve you on top of him, but as he gets more confident in his abilities, he’ll be more open to topping you. When it gets to that point of mutual trust, his favorite positions include:

Missionary. This position is just super personal and intimate for him. It allows Savage to see your every reaction, every gasp and moan you let out. He likes being face-to-face with you, being able to kiss you all over the whole time is especially important to him. Savage also likes missionary for being able to indulge on his size kink a bit, seeing you small and beneath him with his dick bulging inside you makes him so horny.

Cowgirl. Savage loves it when you ride him! He loves being able to watch you bounce on his dick, watching your breasts and anywhere else soft jiggle, being able to feel you up. Savage also likes when you top, being under you is just as nice as being above you (though he will admit the view from below is something real special).

G = goofy (are they the more serious type, or more humorous?)

Savage isn’t goofy, but he also isn’t serious. He doesn’t do a whole lot of teasing, preferring to give you exactly what you ask of him, but he isn’t so stoic as to be overly focused. He is in that warm middleground where he’s just an utter sap, just making sure he’s doing the best job he can just for you.

Sometimes though, if Savage is in a particularly playful mood, and especially if you both are, he’ll have you smiling and giggling from silly antics that he’ll do to please you. One of his go-to’s is flirtatiously flexing his muscles for you, which is a very nice sight.

H = hair (how well-groomed are they?)

Like I mentioned in my Maul NSFW alphabet, male Zabrak don’t have hair anywhere on their bodies. So Savage is completely smooth below the belt. He also doesn’t have a preference towards the hair you do or don’t have, Savage believes it isn’t his place to tell you what to do with your body.

I = intimacy ( how intimate are they during sex?)

Very. Savage has never been as close to someone as he is with you, so he wears his heart on his sleeve. Sex with Savage is overwhelming in its kindness, he indulges on the closeness that he’s never really had before with another person in this way. Savage practically melts into your arms, wanting so badly to show you how much he adores you, he opens his very soul to you. Intimacy, despite his cold upbringing, comes naturally to him, if not a bit surprising, but Savage wouldn’t have it any other way.

J = jack off (do they masturbate?)

Mm... not really, to be honest. He did “more” in his youth, when he could, but even then it was very secretive and few and far between. So yeah, Savage has indulged in the pleasures of the flesh, but he really doesn’t find the time nor motivation to yank it. Especially with you in his life, Savage is set.

K = kinks (any kinks?)

Savage does indeed have quite a few kinks, but he’s also a bit sheepish about them. He’ll tell you if you ask, but he’ll get all fidgety and awkward, so please be nice to him. Here’s his main ones:

Size kink. Savage is often self-conscious about his daunting height and bulk, but if there’s one area where he’s not, it’d be when he’s balls deep inside you, watching your pussy stretch to accommodate his length and the bulge that appears under your tummy. Something about it drives him near feral and makes him weak in the knees. He also loves how big his hands look as the travel your body, engulfing your skin with his palms and splayed fingers.

Breeding/pregnancy kink. He’s always liked kids, he would like kids with you, so Savage has a near crippling breeding kink. There isn’t a day where he doesn’t think about fucking you full of his seed and starting a family with you. He wants it so badly, to see you pregnant with his child, but he isn’t sure how to raise it to you. So, it’ll be a lot of very specific dirty talk and passing comments until he finally gathers the courage to tell you that he really really wants kids (and seeing you swollen with his baby and milk is just a bonus).

Praise kink. Savage loves to give praise and he loves to receive it! He’ll be complimenting and encouraging you the whole time, telling you how sexy your body is, how pretty you are to look at, how soft you are, how much he loves you, etc etc. His mouth gives only the most sincere, loving praise that’ll have you holding back tears with how kind it is. And if you say nice things back??? Savage is putty in your hands. Words cannot describe how much it means to him if you tell him how good he’s making you feel, how he’s doing so well, that he’s also sexy and that you love his body... or if you call him a “Good boy”.

Predator/prey. Despite his overall kind decorum, Savage really has a predator/prey kink, like more so than Maul, which is saying something. He really likes a good chase before doing the do, gets the blood pumping to all the right places. And while he never wants you scared of him, he does toy around and give you a good spook during the hunt to catch you off guard. Savage enjoys the startled shrieks that he’s able to smother with kisses until he has you panting and giggling.

Scent kink. Honestly, this is his Monkey Brain Zabrak mind rearing it’s head. Savage really just likes sniffing you all over, taking in your scent and committing it to memory. He especially loves smelling your hair and, more vulgarly, your pussy. To him, the aroma that is you is something he gets drunk on.

L = location (favorite place to “do the do”?)

Savage is most comfortable and secure in the bedroom, but that doesn’t mean it’s his favorite. He finds (after a while, of course, and gaining more experience) that he really really likes to fuck in the precarious spot that is the fucking throne room. It’s scandalous and dirty and bold, especially for Savage, but Maker, if he doesn’t love dragging you there in the dead of night and rawing you behind the throne.

M = motivation (what gets them turned on?)

There are two sure fire ways to get Savage hard in his pants that are completely opposite. One, Savage has a thing for you playing all cute with him. If you give him puppy dog eyes and act coy and helpless and needy, he’s on you as soon as he can be. Two, you act bold. Savage will get hot around the collar if you get get firm with him in public and whisper to him exactly what you want. He finds it very hard to say no to you if you give him such a compelling order.

N = NO (what’s their turn offs?)

Sadism. Savage just can’t do it. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you. He ties pain to the bouts of frustrated rage he’s prone to, pain that he inflicts on others that really hurt, or even kill them. Savage gets nightmares about laying his hands on you like that.

Also, Savage would not like being physically restrained in any way. That is a huge turn off for him, because it makes a lot of bad memories bubble to the surface.

O = oral (do they have a preference in giving/receiving?)

Savage wants nothing more than to eat you out. From the first time he ever tasted you, he was hooked. He’s addicted to your unique taste, sweet and perfect on his tongue, your warm, velvety pussy, that cute clit. Savage would spend hours with his head between your legs, mindful of his horns, if he could. He’ll lap at you like a dog, licking and kissing like he’s savoring a fine wine. Savage will have you cumming over and over again until your sobbing for him to stop.

His love for giving head honestly impedes his love for receiving head. He likes it when you do, mostly because it amuses and arouses him to see you struggle to take as much of him as you can, but it just doesn’t compare to eating you like a dessert. But if you do wish to go down on him, feel free to. Savage loves to see your tiny mouth work on his massive cock.

P = pace & PDA (are they soft, sensual, rough, or feral? are they open to displaying the relationship?)

SOFTIE ALERT SOFTIE ALERT!! Savage is so fucking sweet when he fucks because he puts so much thought and energy into it, he is the definition of making love. Savage fucks you hard and intensely, but it’s so careful and generous, because he doesn’t want to hurt you and just wants to treat you right. Savage literally could be blowing out your back, but it still feels like he’s worshipping your body like he’s at a temple.

Now PDA... Savage blushes if you hold his hand. He’s fairly alright with displaying the relationship, but if you do he’s a flustered, lovesick mess. He likes having a hand on you, especially holding yours, but if he has one on your lower back, he’s so awkward and sweet about it, but deep down it makes him feel really proud. Like, no one else gets to say that your his, and that has him so happy! PDA with Savage may be small, but it’s very cute.

Though if you kiss him in public, his brain shuts down and he swoons.

Q = quickies (what’s their opinion on quickies?)

Yes. Once you two have been at it for a while, Savage grows more and more fond of the appeal of quickies. He likes a good, quick release, though it doesn’t compare to having hours alone with you, but it’s fun nonetheless. Savage will most likely seek a quickie from you if there’s a lull in the day, when his and your schedules slow down enough to run back to your bedroom all giggly and flirty just to go a quick round or two.

R = risks (are they okay with experimenting? do they take risks?)

Savage is so-so on experimenting. He’s very nervous about trying stuff that’s a bit more... drastic, so it’ll really depend on what you’re asking him to try. Though, if you coax him just enough and assure him that your with him on this, Savage will be a bit more sure of the situation and more likely to try stuff out.

As for taking risks though, like genuine risks, the only one he kinda allows himself is that rare throne room fuck that happens once in a blue moon when the climate’s right for it. Other than that, Savage doesn’t like doing too much risky stuff in the bedroom.

S = stamina (how many rounds can they last?)

A damn long time. Maybe it’s because he’s Zabrak, or maybe it’s because of his enhancements, but Savage has stamina for days. He’s easily able to last 4-5 rounds before his cock starts to protest, but even then he’ll push himself if you ask him to (though you probably will be too far gone by that point). Savage makes you cockdumb nearly every time you have sex, simply because he can just keep fucking. Like his dick stays hard even through the refractory period, and he stays just horny from when it all started. Savage, though he is embarrassed to admit this, is insatiable.

T = toys (do they own/use any toys?)

Savage has literally never even seen a toy in person. He has no idea how they work, what they’re used for, why people use them, what’s the appeal... He is painfully clueless. So if you want to bring toys into the mix, you’ll have to thoroughly run them down to Savage or he might get put off. Depending on the toy, he might get a little iffy around it and unsure.

The only toy that’s blacklisted for sure is any type of restraint. He does not like those.

U = unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

Savage is... kinda bad at teasing. He’s just too darn sweet to tease!! He can’t find it in his heart to have you begging... for too long, that is. He may be a softie, but that doesn’t mean he’s a pushover. Savage with lightly tease throughout, toying with you a little bit before he gives in to both yours and his desires, and ravishes you.

V = volume (how loud or quiet are they during sex?)

Loud. Savage, when he isn’t very sweetly teasing you, he will be grunting and groaning and moaning your name like there’s no tomorrow. He sounds like a wild animal, all growls and snarls, rumbling deep in his throat like thunder on the horizon. It’s near constant too, and very very sexy. And, if it’s during his heat or your squeezing his cock just right, Savage won’t even be able to talk, and he’ll be reduced to a moaning, panting mess until he’s able to gather himself again.

W = wildcard (what’s a random headcanon?)

I follow the headcanon that Zabrak go through heat/rut cycles, but I expand more on it here in Maul’s NSFW alphabet. Basically, it’s about the same for Savage; he had an upbringing where his sexuality was suppressed, which severely jacked up his heat cycle’s circadian rhythm, that led to years of feelings of inadequacy and shame, which then eventually led to Savage having a mini sexual resurgence once he was free from his main oppressors and oppression.

That being said, Savage’s heat cycle doesn’t come often, as it and he is still healing, but when it does he gets a bit more riled up and snippy. He’s just generally more grumpy and gets hypersensitive to smells/sounds which will make him snap at people. But he’s still Savage, so he’s still a sweetheart in his soul, if not a gruff one.

But Savage still suffers a bit from the whole shame surrounding his biology, so at first he won’t want you around when he goes into heat. It is shame, he doesn’t want you to see him like that. But you’re smart enough to catch on eventually, and you’ll really have to wriggle yourself in and pull him out of his comfort zone at the same time. Savage needs to be let known that his physiology is normal and fine, and that he shouldn’t be ashamed of it. You’ll meet a bit of push back at first, because you are trying to undo years of abuse, but eventually Savage comes around.

He still gives you the option if you want to stay with him or not, because he’s thoughtful like that. If you decide to stay with him and “help him out” so to say... expect long, fun nights.

X = x-ray & x-tra (what’s underneath those clothes? any more random headcanons?”)

Savage is literally just 7 feet of pure muscle. He already towers over most others, but his burly figure also has the tendency to intimidate. Savage is positively stacked, with the physique of an Olympic bodybuilder. He’s got shoulders wide enough to sit a person on either side of his head, strong arms to match, and an absolutely exquisite pair of brawny chest muscles. Savage doesn’t have washboard abs like Maul, but he isn’t exactly dad bod either, he sits in the middleground of some definition of his muscles and a light brushing of pudge. His long, beefy legs are also particularly fun to enjoy, especially those thighs of his... and his nice ass.

And of course, Savage’s inky black tattoos paint him delectably everywhere else on his body, engraving sharp patterns all over his canary yellow skin. He also has scars scattered over his body, mostly on his hands and arms, but there are a few long ones on his back from, ones that have silvered in age, that bring about very bad memories. Savage doesn’t like talking about them.

Now his schlong... Maker you are in for it. Savage has a really, really big cock between his legs that you can thank to the enhancements his body received. Savage’s penis is 11 inches (27.94 cm) when fully erect and is just under 3.5 inches (8.89 cm) in diameter, so he is positively hung. Like all Zabrak penises, it’s ridged down the shaft and he is uncut. His balls are also fairly big, due to his size, and they sit lower from their weight.

Y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Before Savage met you, his sex drive was relatively low. He was focused entirely on other things, most of which he didn’t really have a say in the matter, that drew a lot of his time and energy. Often, he was so exhausted that sex, and even sexual urges, literally never crossed his mind. Now after he’s met you, and has caught feelings nearly instantly, Savage finds himself thinking about fucking you a lot. Before you officially started a relationship, he spent many nights indulging himself with the thought of you and his hand. And when you both started dating, Savage damn near gets horny every time he looks at you. He realizes that he really likes sex, specifically he really likes it with you.

Z = zzzz (how fast do they fall asleep after?)

Savage already has the tendency to sleep like a log after strenuous activities, so after you and him have done the Devil’s dance a couple times, he passes out almost instantly. Albeit, you’ll probably pass out just as fast too, so you both tend to fall asleep all sticky and messy and stupid happy. He does try though, to remain awake to give you solid aftercare, but listen, this mans is tired and he was wants to fall asleep with you in his arms. Though, he does sometimes stay aware enough to clean you up, just in case you don’t wanna go to bed sticky.

#star wars #star wars savage opress #savage opress #savage opress x reader #savage opress x you

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hyukmoon · 3 years

Text

moon. | l.sy x gn!reader

lee sangyeon x gn!reader

word count: about 4.01k

to put it short: congrats! Something you should actually say, right? Your best friend and crush is getting married in two days and you feel,... well, not very good about it. So, wait... he's returning the feelings? Damn.

content warning: ANGST in capital letters, I would add lots of exclamation points but im lazy. So yeah, hella angsty. Some good old making out, it's kind of heavy at some point but no smut at this point lol. I don't condone any of the done actions, so yeah, I would've personally handled everything differently, but you know, y/n is kinda wild. Very awkward sometimes, but that's more the situation in itself. ALSO, NOT PROOFREAD

taglist: @loki-in-hogwarts

note: the second thing i wrote and im somewhat excited!!! Yes! Exclamation points. So,... thanks for reading :)

It was a great day. Well, at least seemingly for everyone but you. Your best friend in this world Sangyeon was about to get married to the love of his life, who is notyou and now you just stand in the hotel lobby waiting for it to happen. Funnily enough, the crushing feeling of desperation and fear didn’t seem to set in yet.

The hotel lobby was filled to the brim with acquaintances and other guests possibly confused by the uproar of the wedding guests. So, who were you specifically waiting for? The rest of your friend group, the ones who will most likely clean up after the wedding whatever will be left of you.

A nervous smile swept up to your lips, casually just avoiding every sort of tension that could come across you. Just with the luck of this entire occurrence an older woman started to approach you, demon alike features spreading around her face almost like she knew you were apparently the only single person here. An aunty, that wasn’t even related to you but had all the business to judge.

“Are you here for the bride or the groom?”, her sweet voice rang a familiar feeling in your stomach. Almost too sweet, making you suspicious of her intent. “I’m here for my best friend, Sangyeon. So, yeah, for the groom.”, you hesitated a second, “What about you though? Do you know the bride?”

“She’s my youngest niece, the only one that still visits, her sisters don’t even care anymore…” You nodded politely, not wanting to anger her now and stepped towards a different direction.

“So, my dear, are you here with anybody?” You already feared that question, the same as always. The eyes of yours started with a panicked expression searching through the room a familiar pair. “No, I am here on my own. I kinda wanted to focus on getting Sangyeon through with it, being there for him.” As a friend.

Possibly this was the first part of feeling despair and fear. People at this wedding were really waiting for them to get married. They weren’t joking, this would change everything.

“Ah, I see. You know, get over him. Well, it is time for you at least, you’re not getting younger. There are quite few handsome men here. I remember the names Juyeon and ah yes! Kevin, get over here!” As far as you were concerned, your facial expression couldn’t possibly look more stunned than a moment ago, yet another one of your good friends appeared, seemingly just as confused.

This only held on for a good second, Kevin knew exactly what to do. “Oh hi, I’m so sorry to steal [Y/N] away from you, but I actually need to talk to them on my own over a gift we both prepared for the couple!”, he grinned at the lady, who was obviously smitten with him. “Yes, of course, hun. Take your time.” She finally hushed into a separate direction.

“So, how are we doing? You seem kinda… stressed.”

“You don’t say”, you sighed, “if I have to go through a conversation like this again today, believe me I’ll-. “

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I get the sentiment. Even though I meant more the other situation. Like in, Sangyeon getting married and you sitting here all grumpy because of it.”, Kevin was already aware of your “small” infatuation with your best friend, a man too far out of your reach also funnily enough, the man’s wedding you’re attending. However, your friend in front of you didn’t seem to mind talking about it out loud in a place like the hotel lobby. Your lips tightened up into a fine line.

“I’m not grumpy! I just…I don’t really know what to do. I mean, I know I’m going to be there for him but yeah, okay, I might feel a bit grumpy.” The lobby did clear up a lot now.

“Okay, oof. There’s this dinner with everyone in the evening today, do you think you can get through that?”, Kevin asked hesitantly just as stressed with this additional complication.

“I mean, I probably have to, don’t I? This makes me so sick, ugh. Not gonna lie, my stomach feels like a laundry machine.” You laughed quietly and drifted off again into a place where you didn’t need to think about this.

“What did you really expect though? You know I love you, respectfully, but like, this feels like an incredibly bad move to do.”

“Don’t you think it would be worse if I didn’t show up at all? I’ll just need to go through this weekend and I’m outta here. No one will know anything.” It might feel like a nightmare but at least a nightmare you can actually run away from and not actually have to face at some point.

“Well, I hope you’ll keep your confidence. Because imagine I saw the person, I love getting married to someone else. Oh my, believe me, you wouldn’t find me for the next three weeks.”

“Not very helpful, a good three out of ten. I guess, I’ll just stick to sulking around then.” A dead smile crept up your lips following a stern look from your side at your opposite.

“Seems like a good plan, just stick to me, maybe we will find someone to take your attention away from this, huh?” A sly grin was visible on Kev’s face.

“Ughhh, of course. Let’s do this. It can’t get much worse than that”, you cleared your throat, “thanks, though. You actually make this here somewhat bearable.”

“Awww, come on. We should pack out our suitcases.”

No one can really prepare someone for a moment like this. Most older folk turned into their hotel rooms which left you in a party like situation seeing your closest friends turning it up in a huge pavilion while the future groom sits comfortably on a velvety sofa hand in hand with his fiancée.

The air was quite warm even at this time of the evening, not humid, just warm enough for everyone to taste the end of this era with nostalgia and a slight feeling of energy to experience what’s to come afterwards.

You as well sat down, continuously processing your environment. With a cup of your favorite drink, you felt invincible, nothing able to shake you down.

Now while this wasn’t a preferred environment, this was manageable; you could look your best friend into his eyes and proudly congratulate him on his wedding. You would be able to get over this and continue to be a great friend. Black hair with an intense facial expression made its way into your viewpoint along with a somewhat tipsy Kevin. Simultaneously the lighter hair of your best friend fought his way through the crowd.

Lee Sangyeon, the man lighting up your mood with simple touch of his fingertips was now signalizing for you to head outside towards the veranda of the pavilion. He exuded patience, yet clearly waiting for a response of you. You nodded and brushed cautiously over your evening attire.

“Hii, [Y/N]! Can I introduce this someone to you? This is Juyeon, he might look a bit intense, but he’s really nice to talk to! So, I’m gone for a sec then!” Kevin started drifting off into a different direction where you stopped him in his tracks.

“Could this wait? Sangyeon needs to talk to me. I think it’s important, I’ll come back though in a bit!” You gifted both of them an apologetic face and made your way around the men towards the going to be groom.

Surely it wasn’t exactly clear why he wanted to speak to you, especially on his own. He was still waiting for you after all.

“[Y/N]! What has it been? Like three? Four months? I missed you so much.”, Sangyeon pulled you into his chest abruptly and sighed softly into your shoulder. Engulfed entirely in his figure you never wanted to wake up from this again. Was it now 10 seconds? 15 seconds? Neither he nor you really seemed to let go, taking in all the scents of his that were formerly familiar to you.

“Yeah, I think so. You were probably busy planning this all and I just had to work, I guess.” Trying to keep it short was your main goal, appearing distant maybe. He didn’t mind at all though. Not discouraged from continuing this conversation Sangyeon pointed at the veranda, showing the only speck of space with little to no crowd.

The veranda was close to closed off to the party. Non distinguishable palm trees in the far distance were playing right into your cards for not having to look into his eyes. Magnetically glowing, that’s how he appeared. All happy and smiley about the obvious luck he was experiencing. Now again, he sat down with you in the beach chairs without loosing a word.

“The palm trees are so pretty. You remember me wanting to buy some new plants?”, you tried to invite him to the conversation.

“You always want to buy new plants, which time do you mean?” Sangyeon grinned to himself. “You know what? It’s so weird. Everything feels still so unreal. This wedding, also you at my wedding… So weird.”

“I am literally your best friend, where else should I be? Your funeral? At home? Who else is going to charm the hotel staff for some free capri suns and new towels?” Your mouth crinkled up and you let out a soft laugh.

“[Y/N] … You know exactly what I mean!”

“Noo, not at all. I’m so confused right now, not gonna lie.” Your face finally moved towards his direction, seeing his gentle gaze resting on you.

“Do you remember when we were still in school, and we promised each other we would marry each other if we didn’t find anybody else?” His gaze got more intense with each sentence.

“Yeahh, kind of. I was probably tired and it’s like ten years ago. I’m not really sure what you’re trying to tell me.”

“I really thought I was going to marry you. For several years, actually.”, he laughed. “I had such a crush on you and then you met your s/o and all that. Ughh, it seemed so complicated back then. Kind of weird to think about what could have happened if I did ask you out or something.”

“True.”, you turned away again standing up and resting against the wooden railing of the pavilion. “But you didn’t so, let’s just drop it there.” The weather as well started rebelling a bit, the wind hugging your figure slightly too tight for your taste.

“Why are you so cold all of a sudden?”, he whispered closely behind you.

“Well, you’re getting married tomorrow. And you’re telling me about a crush you had on me?”, you croaked.

“I was just being nostalgic, I thought this would be fine with you.” Sangyeon appeared now next to you on the railing, waiting for you to face his concerned dark eyes.

“It isn’t for me. It just feels wrong.”

“What feels so wrong about it? It was a long time ago.”

It is here, the bitterness. Bitterness shouldn’t even be the correct term, the pain of your heart going into a slump didn’t feel like a fitting word. Being reminded again that you will never have a chance again.

“Wait or is it not a long time ago for you?”, The voice of his tried to word his next sentence very carefully.

“I went out with them because I thought you were joking. Then when I thought about you, it was always different. It was too late though, you met her.” Only the close ocean along with the wind were hearable, neither you nor he were able to form another thought put into a sentence.

“You could’ve told me. I would’ve-.”

“Broken up with her?”

“No, I-.”

“Then what could you have done?”, you interrupted Sangyeon’s rambling, trembling while speaking. Terribly spiteful with a bite that wasn’t too often dripping down your lips.

“This.” Sangyeon pressed a fluttery kiss against your lips. Slender fingers tapped onto the skin right under your chin, signalizing you to look at him.

The now much calmer atmosphere made you snake your arms around his torso. Heat rose towards your head, longing after a second out in the cold again just to see his lovely facial expression. Your lips broke off and touched once more in an almost hypnotic fashion.

His hot breath started sliding downwards your cheek to your neck, physically making you unable to resist his entrancing presence. Also his hands broached over from your face down to your waist, holding you with the lightest touch.

Sangyeon’s lips darted away from yours, catching you staring deeply into his eyes. The silence felt warm now as well, filled with the slow and recovering breath of the participants.

“[Y/N], I think I still feel that way.”, a rosy blush swept over the man’s face you wanted to hear say these things so many times and so long ago.

“No. No. No. You shouldn’t! I shouldn’t either! I have to go.” The reality of the situation caught up to you. This was bad. Incredibly bad. Still the disgusting feeling of hope within this made its way up to your head. Stinging alongside the feeling of remorse, you didn’t think clearly, especially now, next to him.

You darted in the fastest way possible from the pavilion up to the hotel to your room, leaving him there.

Today should be the final day. The hopes that already should have been buried a long time ago, crawled up again and clawed its way into your mind. What if he leaves her for you today? Like in those unrealistic rom coms. Yes, again, it was unrealistic.

Leaving her at the altar and running after you. While all those thoughts of hope and wishes came together you found yourself with a stomachache. His fiancée was an incredibly nice person, sweet and kind along with being a beauty. You shouldn’t even dare to think about Sangyeon that way anymore, she deserved a lot more. Quite honestly, you felt pathetic. Who were you to run into their possible future?

Just because of a simple brush over the lips, his eyes staring into yours like no one else existed but you and his soft hands delicately touching your waist. A tap on your shoulder put you out of your trance, “[Y/N]? Can you go up to Sangyeon’s room? He asked for you.” Kevin’s eyes glanced at you with uncertainty. Neither you nor he knew why he wanted to see you.

Even more importantly, why did he need to see you alone? This seemed like dangerous territory after, basically yesterday. Agony rose again, what if he really was going to leave her?

“Sure, I don’t know why he wants to see me again though.”, you said and left to see the groom’s room. You stumbled more and more over every step closer to the door of the man who’s going to rip your heart and air out of your lungs. The normally soft laid out carpet felt in this moment like you were stepping barefoot over glass. There was the door, brightly painted in eggshell paired with the digits of the hotel room.

Before you could reach the door to knock on it, light brown waves greeted your overtly surprised face.

“You clean up well.”, Sangyeon’s rang in your ears clearer than freshly hung-up laundry in your nose. His previously concerned face curled up into a faint smile.

“Same goes for you”, you tried your best to hide the very apparent frog in your throat, “So, why do you need me?”

“Just needed to see you before going out there, I guess.”, his voice got a lot quieter. It got silent.

Not sure if a said word was necessary, you plopped down on a small, velvety stool. Every whisper was to be heard. An otherness surrounded Sangyeon, like he wasn’t there anymore, and his thoughts took over his being. You scooted closer towards him, just wanting to see him up close for the last time like this, smelling his earthy cologne from this distance.

“Why are you doing this to me?”, your voice went close to hoarse after the question. He was just as silent as before. No sound, nothing. This torment of a weekend was supposed to end with no gratification, not feeling free from this feeling on your chest? Your hand slid over his, the most desperate attempt to get his attention while also experiencing his touch again. Sangyeon jerked his hand back and returned to his absent posture.

“Why do you want to hurt me like this? I am your best friend, and you use me like I’m nothing.” The lack of power you had now made you sink down to the beige teddy carpet. Small tears started swelling up in your nearly dry eyes, kind of contradictory, yet the more tear drops rolled down your cheeks the rottener and hollow you felt.

“You were my best friend until you-.”, he stopped midsentence, “made me feel things again I didn’t need, I didn’t want.” Also his face was wet, ridden with tears making his usually calm and cheerful persona look like a painful insult.

“You asked me here. It hurts, Sangyeon. I can’t make it stop hurting, I don’t know what to do”, you reached for him again, “Could I ever be enough for you?” He returned your former attempts to stroke your face. Cornering both of you, the air trapped you in the toxins of heartbreak and hopelessness.

Once again, Sangyeon’s hand glid over your soft skin and halted on your face. Glaringly staring into each other’s eyes, you were there again. The day before, yesterday. Close to baring the soul of each person present.

“[Y/N], it’s not about being enough. It never has been. I have made a commitment I already broke, I…I can’t do this”, he sighed, “you know I love her.”

“I thought you loved me as well.” Overwhelming nothingness overruled you, almost scaring you about this reaction. You weren’t crying, yelling nor having any physical reaction at all. It was convincingly numb; the resting hurt would come later. Sangyeon’s head dropped in the dip of your shoulder and neck.

This sort of closeness would never happen again. You feeling him breathing into you while having his comforting heartbeat close to yours.

“I do, but I can’t do this to her. I would never do this to her.”, he whispered into your shoulder. A sigh came from his side.

“Then, please. Kiss me, for the last time.” The last part of the sentence left a disgustingly bitter taste in your mouth. This was over, right? His head, which was formerly resting on your shoulder, drifted up and towards yours. Also his expression blank and hollow, like he didn’t know anything.

For the last time, his hands cupped your face in a comfortable manner. As always, he felt homely, but he surely wasn’t yours ever. Not even waiting a good second or two, the light brunette’s face came closer to yours. With no hesitation both of your lips touched tenderly, releasing every sort of affection that could be expressed at that second. You inhaled again his intoxicating scent, in the hopes of having him all over you. His now reddened lips moved closer towards your jawline making you gasp for air.

Also, you weren’t completely still, constantly shifting your hands up and down over his torso upwards his neck, desperately feeling everything, you can for the last time. Sangyeon’s locks tickled you softly while he suddenly latched his mouth onto your neck right below your ear.

“No. Please, I just want a kiss on my lips.”, you said lowly, closely resembling a whine afterwards. He complied pretty quickly, leaving you with no thought but him tickling your bottom lip with his warm tongue. With him being this fast, you didn’t want to keep him on his toes. Entirely engaged in this moment, hands surprised you again on your waist, wandering closer and closer under the blouse you were wearing. You moaned into the kiss, making him take the opportunity to maneuver his tongue into your mouth.

Similarly to you, he was also stunned for a short moment when you grabbed up onto some strands of hair. A sigh left his now plump lips, a need of fresh air arrived onto both of you. Yet this was short lived, his hands captured your chin and attached his lips again onto yours in a matter of mere seconds. A bell rang, close footsteps to be heard across the floor reminding you of the situation you were in.

“Why am doing this? I am so sorry.”, you broke off his lips and took a step backwards at the door.

“[Y/N], we both did this, and it won’t happen again. We just need some time without each other. I think it would be for the best if we don’t spend time together alone anymore.”

“Are you doing what I think you’re doing? I don’t know what to say. I-.”, His lips captured yours again fast with a lot more force behind his kiss.

A strong arm shut the about to be opened door again and hovered over your head. The other one caught grabbed your chin with an almost contradictory feeling to it, the lightest touch just to shove you into his direction. You sighed into his lips, waiting for him to commit with his tongue one more time. Buttery lips pressed against yours and clang inside your mouth. Fiercely did your tongues meet, ending with him sucking on yours. Wet cheeks batting against each other with no intent of separating, your movement still came to a halt.

“You know what? I hate this. I want you to be happy, then if it is with her, I will just y’know…go or uhm mind my business.”, you slurred the last part. It wasn’t really one of your most prideful moments. Still flushed with tears and embarrassment you dropped again against the room door.

“I ask for one condition though,” incredibly hearse was your voice after the crying and even more so because of your follow up, “I do not not want to see you for some time, I don’t want to have to see your face ever again.” Tears weren’t anymore swelling up in your eyes, they never seemed to stop running down with no chance of leaving this conversation with an ounce of self-respect and pride.

It wasn’t even really much of a problem to leave him behind for a bit, it most likely would be for the best anyway, yet while his words should only leave a small mark and feel like a ripped off band aid, you felt alone. A sense of loneliness crept stealthily into you leaving you with nothing but a severe feeling of dread.

“If that is what you want, I’ll respect that.” The room got quieter till you heard the last of his words: “Of course, I still want you in on my wedding though, you’re still my best friend.” Sangyeon’s usual soft and kind smile appeared on his face, seemingly reaching you an olive branch. The former assertiveness and confidence drained through the conversation; you were nothing but a wreck.

“Alright, I’ll be there.”

The ceremony was beautiful. Fairy like flowers were hung all across the beach space, making the place more surreal than it was to begin with. Everything light with a hint of light green and an even lighter lavender tone. The air seemed to have evaporated all the tension and sadness from your face. All across the seats were relatives and friends sitting with a nervously happy face. Ironically, he really thought it was going to be you someday.

“You’re [Y/N], right? Everyone always tried to introduce me to you. Now we’re sitting next to each other at Sangyeon’s wedding together! I’m Juyeon by the way.”

#lee sangyeon x reader #sangyeon x reader #lee sangyeon #sangyeon #tbz #tbz fic #tbz angst #the boyz fic #the boyz #the boyz au #the boyz scenarios #sangyeon x you #sangyeon x y/n #the boyz x reader #sangyeon tbz #the boyz kevin #the boyz juyeon #moon kevin #lee juyeon

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ao719 · 3 years

Text

Walked Through Hell

Characters belong to Pixelberry

A/N: This was a request from @emkay512 to see Liam and Charlotte’s year apart from Liam’s POV. Thank you to @dccbw, @the-soot-sprite, and @burnsoslow for reading in part and whole. This is part of my Full Disclosure series.

Title Inspiration: Walked Through Hell - Anson Seabra

Warnings: Lots of angst, language, alcohol use.

•One Month•

When his bedroom curtains are ripped open, bright sunlight fills the King’s usually dark chambers; it startles him awake, causing him to let out a growl of disapproval. “What the hell are you doing? Close the goddamn curtains!” Liam barks as he turns onto his stomach and pulls the covers over his head. He’s unsure who he’s even speaking to; if it’s staff, they can kiss their job goodbye.

“Get up,” a familiar voice says firmly.

Liam squints his eyes as he slowly peels the blanket away from his face; blinded by the bright light, he can only make out a silhouette standing in front of the window. “Seriously, Leo, what the hell?”

“I know you want to sleep off that hangover for a few more hours, especially since it’s your day off, but you need to get up. You’re having breakfast with me.”

“I do not want to get up, nor do I want to have breakfast. Get out.” Liam curls his arms around his pillow and buries his face into it. Leo grabs the blanket and gives it a hard yank, tearing it off his brother. “Leo!”

“I said, get up,” Leo says calmly. “I’ll give you five minutes to meet me on the terrace. Otherwise, I’ll come back in here and drag your ass out there myself.”

Liam rolls to his back and tenses his jaw; he presses his thumb and forefinger into his eyes as he listens to Leo’s footsteps fade from his room. His arms then flop onto the mattress, and he lets out a slow breath, struggling to keep his eyes open. He begrudgingly sits up on the edge of the bed, feeling the effects of the bottle he had consumed the night before.

Liam staggers his way from his bedroom to the terrace; Leo glances at the King, taking in his brother’s appearance. Liam’s hair is tousled, he has bags under his slightly bloodshot eyes, and seeing him shirtless in a pair of sweatpants, Leo can tell that he’s lost a bit of weight.

“You smell like a distillery,” Leo scoffs as he hands Liam a cup of coffee. Liam doesn’t respond but accepts the mug as he sits down. There’s a breakfast platter on the table with eggs, bacon, fruit, and bread with apple butter.

Liam pushes the empty plate in front of him out of his way as he stares at the palace grounds. “So what do I owe the pleasure of this unwelcome wake-up call?”

“I wanted to check in on you, see how you were doing … but I can see just fine. Clearly, not well,” Leo responds as he looks him up and down.

“I’m fine.” Liam takes a sip of the hot coffee, hoping it will diminish the pounding in his head. He knows why Leo came. “Let me guess, Regina called you.”

“She’s worried about you, Liam. And so is father.”

“Again, I’m fine.”

“They said you haven’t been the same since you returned from New York last month.”

“Don’t talk to me about New York,” Liam spits out. “And their worry stems from there not being a wedding yet. Nothing more.”

“I don’t think lack of a wedding has everything to do with it. I mean, look at you,” Leo says, flinging his arm out towards him. “You look like hell, Liam. The press will start asking questions about why you haven’t been seen in public in a month and why you haven’t set a date for the wedding since your return from the Engagement Tour. You’re slacking in the duty and responsibility department.”

Liam’s already heard enough; he pushes his chair back from the table and stands. “You’re the last person I should hear anything about duty and responsibility from, big brother. The whole reason I’m even in this position is because of you and your own slacking. I don’t need anyone to check up on me. I’m fine. You can see yourself out.” Without another word, Liam turns and walks back inside.

It’s been a month since Liam said goodbye to Charlotte. He left New York to fly home the morning after she walked away from him, leaving her and the future they had once planned behind.

Liam was able to push back setting a wedding date with Madeleine once he returned to Cordonia due to Constantine’s treatments; they started to get the better of him and appeared to be doing more harm than good. For the last month, the King Father was in and out of the hospital. Liam used his father’s diagnosis to his advantage to halt any wedding plans and to stay out of the public spotlight.

Last week, however, to everyone’s surprise, including his doctors, Constantine began responding positively to the treatments. Liam felt another wave of guilt when his first thought was that he wouldn’t be able to stall setting a wedding date much longer. Although Constantine was the entire reason Liam was in this predicament in the first place, he was still his father.

Over the past month, Liam has found comfort in being alone. He’s avoided seeing anyone and everyone, including his closest friends: Drake, Maxwell, and Olivia. The only person he saw daily was Bastien until he dismissed him from his detail two weeks ago. Liam found it hard to see him and not think about Charlotte and the role he played in setting her up. He found it hard not to question the what-ifs, feeling as though all of this could have been avoided had Bastien just told him the truth. Now Bastien was stuck on paperwork duty until further notice.

In the last month, Liam has also found comfort in the bottle; it has been the only thing that numbs the pain. It doesn’t help take his mind off of Charlotte, though; she’s all he thinks about, all of the time. He constantly wonders what she’s doing. He wonders how she is and hopes like hell that she’s nowhere near as miserable as he is, because he wants her to be happy.

He needs her to be happy, because if she’s not, then their goodbye was for nothing. He thinks about calling her; every night for the past month he’s had to talk himself out of it. He keeps telling himself that it won’t help matters for either of them.

Liam spends his day off hidden in his quarters, assuring that he’s left alone. And that night, a bottle of scotch sits on his coffee table; he holds a half-finished glass in one hand as he stares at his phone, contemplating making that call.

———————

•Two Months•

“I don’t understand why you think Regina needs company on this duchy tour,” Madeleine spits out. She’s staring at Liam, who stands on the balcony off of the main dining hall; he’s on his fourth glass of scotch since dinner.

“Do you not think you need the experience touring the duchies with the Queen Mother, Madeleine? Is that somehow beneath you?” he scoffs.

“I think we both know I don’t need the experience, Liam! I’ve been groomed my whole life for this goddamn role. Hell, I was engaged to your brother for three months before the abdication. I’ve done all of this already!”

“I don’t care how much you’ve been groomed. I think you should go.” Liam doesn’t even look at her when he responds; he stares into his glass as he drains the last of the amber liquid, and the only thing on his mind is a refill.

“It’s a month-long tour, Liam!” He knows this. “We have other things we could be doing in that time, like, I don’t know, finally setting our wedding date!” And that’s why he’s sending her: to buy himself more time. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is for me when the press asks about a date, and I have absolutely nothing to give them for an answer?”

“Your King is telling you to go on the tour, Madeleine.” With that, Liam turns and walks back inside, ignoring Madeleine’s huff; he refills his glass at the bar cart before heading up to his quarters.

Liam walks down the corridors, finishing glass number five before he reaches his quarters. Now that he’s alone with his thoughts, his mind is on two things: another refill and Charlotte. Once inside his quarters, he gets another drink before heading to his bedroom.

Three weeks ago, Liam made his first public appearance since arriving back from the Engagement Tour; he attended the opening ceremony of a new school with Regina. His appearance was brief; he gave a statement and answered none of the questions, most of which swirled around the wedding date.

The Cordonian people are anxious for a royal wedding, but their King is in a downward spiral. And he knows he is. He simply doesn’t care; he has neither the energy nor the heart to.

Even two months after their goodbye, Charlotte is still on Liam’s mind, more so now than she was before. He thought time was going to make it easier, but it’s only gotten worse. When he tries to work, she’s there. When he’s alone, she’s there.

Even when he sleeps, she’s there.

In his depression, Liam began dreaming about her. He found that the few nights he went to sleep with nothing to drink, the dream didn’t occur. So now he makes sure to drink just so he can see her. And it’s the same dream every night.

Liam sits in the dark of his chambers. After staring at his phone for 30 minutes and once again talking himself out of calling her, he empties his glass and sets it on the nightstand before he slips beneath the covers. It doesn’t take him long to fade off into an alcohol-induced sleep, and he can see her.

Liam stands on the empty private beach as a soft breeze washes over him; a midnight velvet sky littered with bright stars reflects off the water.

“Liam,” her soft voice echos.

Liam turns, and his eyes find her bare feet and travel up the flowing pale pink chiffon gown; his breath hitches when he sees her face. She’s smiling at him, and her eyes sparkle in the moonlight. “Charlotte?” he breathes, and his face twists with relief as he takes a step toward her.

Charlotte laughs, and then she turns and disappears between the trees down the pathway that leads to the Forgotten Falls; without hesitation, Liam runs after her.

When Liam makes it into the pathway, it’s illuminated by the moon. He sees the swish of her gown rounding a bend. “Charlotte, wait!”

Her laughter echoes as Liam whips past the trees after her; his chest is aching, and he doesn’t know if it’s the burning in his lungs from running or his heart fracturing with each beat as he tries to get to her. Panic courses through him as he pushes himself to catch her, and he can feel the sting in his eyes from the tears that start to form from his desperation.

As he rounds another bend on the dirt path, Liam skids to a stop when he sees Charlotte standing at the other end, smiling at him. “Liam … you have to let me go.”

Liam attempts to blink away the tears that start to blur his vision, but they fall anyway as he shakes his head. “I don’t want to let you go.” He starts to walk towards her; she turns and continues down the path. “Wait!” he shouts as he takes off after her once more.

Liam starts to gain on her as they near the clearing of the falls; he keeps hearing her repeat the same heartbreaking mantra: “Let me go, Liam.” And the closer he comes to reaching her, somehow, her whisper of a voice fades more and more with each word.

Liam reaches for her as he barrels into the clearing just behind her; he stops at the edge of the plunge pool that sits at the bottom of the falls and looks around.

It’s silent, and he’s alone. Charlotte’s gone.

———————

•Three Months•

Liam sits in his study; his brows knit as he reads over the papers in front of him. He shakes his head as he pushes them back and looks up to meet Constantine’s gaze. “This is absurd! I’m not agreeing to this.”

“What are they asking for?”

“Both Auvernal and Monterisso want a betrothal agreement. One of their heirs with my nonexistent one.”

“When you were young, Auvernal wanted to make an alliance with us. They believed we would do it without hesitation simply because your mother was from there. I refused,” Constantine explains. “But Monterisso might be worth looking into more.”

“I’m not arranging the marriage of any future children I may have! They both are asking for that. It’s not happening.”

“See what else Queen Amalas is willing to offer,” Constantine suggests. “They both want the financial stability our country can give them. So negotiations will be in your favor.”

“I’m just going to hold off on doing anything for now. If they want an alliance that badly, they’ll wait until I’m ready to make a decision.”

“Liam-”

“It’s late. You can go.”

Liam walks his father to the door, shutting it behind him. He grabs his empty glass off his desk and goes to the bar cart and pours himself another scotch; he stares out of the window as he takes a large sip. He has no intentions of agreeing to an alliance, even if they took the betrothal off the table.

Liam managed to find another way to stall wedding planning when neighboring Kingdoms began pressing him for an alliance. He is biding his time, using the negotiations that are being tossed around as a way to hold off on setting a date. When they first came to him, he jumped at the opportunity to use it as an excuse. He said with the terms they were trying to negotiate, there should be no reason to rush into the marriage if it was going to be for Auvernal or Monterisso’s benefit. To his surprise, Madeleine agreed.

Liam stares at his already-empty glass before pouring another; he takes his refill and leaves his study for the night. As he walks the corridors with his drink in hand, Charlotte is at the forefront of his mind, where she always is.

Once inside his quarters, he sits on his terrace with yet another drink as he stares at his phone on the table. With the liquid courage coursing through his veins every night, talking himself out of calling Charlotte has become more difficult over the last month, but he still manages to refrain from doing it. But god, how he wishes he could hear her voice.

And over the last month, he’s found that his patience with everyone is wearing thin. He feels angry all of the time. Drake, Maxwell, and Olivia have all tried to talk to him; they came to him and expressed their worry for the way he’s been lately. He dismissed their concerns and told them he was fine. Leo also returned, stating his worries as well; Liam told him to mind his own damn business.

After draining the rest of his glass, Liam goes to his bedroom, changes, and slips into bed. He’s fast asleep before long, and like clockwork, the dream comes.

Liam stands on the empty private beach as a soft breeze washes over him; a midnight velvet sky littered with bright stars reflects off the water.

“Liam,” her soft voice echos.

———————

•Four Months•

Liam glances down at Drake, and a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “So who made you dress up as a noble for the costume gala?”

“Fucking Maxwell,” Drake scoffs. “We were playing cards, and he upped the ante and said whoever won got to pick the other’s costume for tonight. I swear, he cheated.” Drake looks at Liam appraisingly. “And who are you supposed to be?”

“King Fabian,” Liam answers.

“The naked guy down in the square?”

“That’s the one.”

Drake sees Bastien across the ballroom, talking with Leo. “I see Bas is back on your detail.”

“He is.”

“Have you talked to him about everything?”

“I told him it would take some time for him to gain my trust back completely …”

Drake watches Liam grab another drink from a passing waiter’s tray; he knows it’s at least his fourth since the gala started. He hesitates for a moment before asking his next question. “So, how have you been doing? You feeling ok?”

“I’m fine,” Liam replies, raising the glass to his lips.

“Li, you know if you need to talk or just vent … I’m here.”

“I don’t need to talk or vent. I’m fine.”

“Well, as your friend, I’m going to be real honest with you … you’re full of shit. It’s been four months, and you are far from fine.”

Liam’s jaw tenses, and he turns to look at Drake. “I appreciate the concern, but I don’t need a lecture. I told you, I am fi-”

Liam’s words are cut off by a loud explosion and the instant panic that ensues inside the ballroom. Bastien and a few other guards are at his side within moments, attempting to usher the King from the pandemonium, but Liam shoves them away when he sees Leo and Regina crouched on the floor across the room. He rushes towards them, and the color drains from his face when he sees his father lying lifeless under a pile of rubble.

****

In the early morning hours after the attack, Liam arrives back from the hospital once the palace is cleared. Having just lost his father mere hours ago, the longing to call Charlotte is stronger than ever. He sits on the terrace of his quarters in the dark with a bottle of scotch in one hand and his phone in the other.

For months now he’s been able to convince himself that reaching out to her wouldn’t do either of them any good, and each time he wanted to call, he had talked himself out of it. But at that moment, the stress of everything he’s been dealing with now paired with his father’s death brings it all to a head. He needs someone to talk to. He needs someone to open up to. He needs someone who knows him -- the real him. He needs someone who understands him.

He needs her.

Liam takes a deep breath, taps his finger to the screen, and puts the phone to his ear. He’s met with not a ring and her voice but a tone followed by an automated intercept message. “We're sorry; the number you have reached has been disconnected or is no longer in service.”

Liam’s vision blurs from the stinging tears in his eyes. He stares straight ahead as he lowers the phone from his ear and raises the bottle to his lips.

Later, Liam slips into a coma-like sleep, and he sees her.

As he rounds another bend on the dirt path, Liam skids to a stop when he sees Charlotte standing at the other end, smiling at him. “Liam … you have to let me go.”

*******

A week after the attack, Liam sits in a plush booth inside of a club located in the Capitol’s downtown area. He is in the VIP section and sips a scotch as his eyes scan the room. Constantine’s funeral was the day before, and Leo convinced Liam to come out with him that night instead of being in his quarters alone. Drake, Maxwell, and Rashad are with them, and Leo uses his repertoire with women to bring some to their corner of the club.

Liam feels numb, but it’s not only from the alcohol and the loss of his father. Ever since making that phone call to Charlotte, he feels like she is truly gone, never to return. But the loud music drowns out his thoughts as he finishes off another drink and motions for more. He watches the others, who are all deep in conversation with the women gathered around them. When the waitress brings the King another drink, he nods in thanks as he takes it.

Just as he raises the glass to his lips, he feels the sofa shift as someone sits next to him. “Hi,” a soft voice says.

Liam slowly looks over; he blinks to rid his slight double vision, bringing a blonde woman into focus. She smiles, and he can’t help but see something familiar in it. “Hi, yourself.”

****

Liam squeezes his eyes shut as he moves in the bed and groans; by the way his head is spinning before he even opens his eyes, he’s sure that he’s still drunk. He feels movement next to him, and it causes his eyes to fly open; he’s momentarily blinded by early morning light coming in through the window. He turns his head and sees a woman’s bare back and her blonde hair splayed on the pillow; a sheet covers her lower half.

Liam abruptly sits up and too fast. A wave of nausea hits him, but he’s too focused on what’s going on, so he ignores it. He looks around; he’s not in his room but a guest room of the palace. Then his eyes land on the scattered clothes on the floor. He looks back at the sleeping form next to him before looking down at himself; he’s naked, covered by the white sheet. He closes his eyes, cursing himself senseless before he quietly slips out of bed.

As he pulls on his boxer briefs and pants, he tries to piece together the events of the night before. He remembers the club and the woman sitting next to him. They talked. They kissed. And then he left with her. He remembers Drake stopping him on his way out the door, asking him what he’s doing. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Li?” And before he could answer, the woman took his hand and pulled him towards the waiting SUV. He remembers getting back to the palace, the two of them stumbling up the stairs and leading her to the guest wing. He remembers entering a room and her pushing him up against the door once it’s closed. His lips on her, her hands on him.

“Fuck!” he grumbles through a clenched jaw, then snaps his gaze up when his voice causes the woman to stir. But she doesn’t wake.

Liam grabs his shirt from the floor, not even bothering to put it on before he turns towards the door; he opens it and slips out of the room, closing it quietly. When he turns, he sees Bastien, who’s standing just down the hall. Embarrassment and shame twist Liam’s features as the two men stare at one another.

“Sir …” Bastien says quietly. He has that look on his face, silently asking the King what he wants him to do. Liam’s not sure. This is a first for him.

“Can you, uh …” Liam’s voice trembles before he trails off. He knows he fucked up. Sure, plenty of people do things like this all the time, but he’s not just anybody. And he’s not this type of person either; he’s not someone who has random one-night stands and then sneaks out in the morning. It was the alcohol and grief, but he knows there is no excuse. “Can you handle that situation … discreetly?”

Liam knows the process, having seen Leo do this plenty of times. “Of course, sir. I’ll find you to give an update once she’s signed the NDA.”

“Thank you.” With that, Liam walks away down the guest wing corridor.

Back in his quarters, Liam stands in the shower; his palms are pressed against the tile as he leans forward, letting the hot water run over his body. He’s trying to wash away the night before, and the shame and guilt he feels as the downward spiral he’s been in finally catches up with him. He doesn’t even recognize who he is anymore. Everything in that moment seems to crash down on him at once: his heartache over Charlotte, how he’s been behaving, the heavy drinking, the stress of doing anything and everything to stall the wedding, his father’s death. He turns, leans back against the tile, and slides to the ground; his knees are bent with his elbows resting on top of them as he hangs his head and laces his fingers behind his neck.

As the water continues to run over him, Liam completely breaks down.

———————

•Five Months•

Liam sits in his study one evening with Rashad, looking over paperwork as they prepare for the upcoming summit in Italy. “You actually seem to be looking forward to the summit,” Rashad teases.

“Honestly … I am. I’m looking forward to getting away for a bit.”

“Away from the incessant nagging over the wedding?”

Liam glances up from the papers in front of him, meeting his old friend’s gaze. “Yes, that’s part of it.”

“As one of your most trusted advisors, I should be telling you to stop pushing the date back and get on with it.”

“Yes, you should be.” Liam stares at him expectantly but chuckles with a shake of his head when Rashad offers a smirk and shrugs his shoulders.

Since the attack at the Costume Gala, Liam has actually had a plausible reason for pushing back the wedding while they worked to find the people behind it. They knew the ones taking responsibility were members of a faction known as Sons of Earth, but they had yet to bring anyone into custody. Neither Madeleine nor the press gave him a hard time about halting the nuptials when it came to the group responsible for killing his father. They didn’t dare question him about it.

Rashad rises from his seat and walks to the bar cart, pouring himself a drink. “Can I get you one?” he asks Liam.

Liam glances over his shoulder to see him holding up a bottle of scotch in question. “Uh … no, I’m alright. Thank you, though.”

In the time since Liam’s private breakdown after his one-night stand, he’s stopped drinking for the time being. He threw himself into work while attempting to get his life back in order. Luckily for him, the woman he woke up next to that morning didn’t remember a damn thing. She had asked Bastien who she even ended up at the palace with; it was a question Bastien didn’t answer. She signed the NDA, and that was the last Liam had heard of the incident.

The temptation to down a few drinks is hard to ignore, however. Since he stopped drinking, Liam hasn’t had the dream of Charlotte. It’s the only way he can see her, and he’s tempted only for that reason, but he manages to overcome the urges. He doesn’t want to end up back in that hole he just crawled out of.

———————

•Six Months•

Liam, Drake, and Maxwell sit in the great room of the Beaumont Estate after playing cards that evening. “I can’t believe tomorrow is the start of the Social Season already,” Maxwell says. “It doesn’t feel like it’s been a year.”

“It doesn’t,” Liam agrees. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about that very same thing all week, and how a year ago, his life completely changed. The Social Season’s arrival comes as a reprieve for Liam, however; it’s bought him three uninterrupted months of not having to worry about the wedding. He feels a slight weight lifted off his shoulders because of it.

“Nothing will top last year’s Social Season,” Maxwell chuckles.

Liam knows exactly what Maxwell is referring to. It had been a year since Charlotte first came into his life and showed up in Cordonia for his Social Season, taking it by storm. And to his own surprise, Liam can’t help but smile, thinking back on it; it was the most fun he can ever remember having.

A memory causes Liam to start laughing, and Drake and Maxwell both give him a questioning look. “Last year at the Masquerade Ball … I took Charlotte down to the garden maze that night. I had told her earlier about maze-tag, and she gets this idea to play, right? So we’re running through the maze, and we near the center, and instead of going around the bushes to get to the tree, she attempts to hurdle them.” As he says it through a laugh, both Drake and Maxwell begin to laugh as well, knowing Charlotte and how this more than likely ended for her. “She flipped over the bush and landed upside down on the other side,” Liam chuckles.

“Remember when she told you at the derby that it was an American tradition not to watch horse races while wearing shoes because it’s bad luck, but really, she flung her shoes out of the tent because she stepped in horse shit?” Drake snorts, and Liam starts to laugh even harder as he nods his head.

“She set fire to the hot tub in Lythikos,” Liam’s voice shakes.

“Nothing beats her falling off the boat at the regatta,” Maxwell grins.

“Yeah, and then she tells your dad she decided to become one with the boat,” Drake laughs, and Maxwell doubles forward as Liam throws his head back, his face red and his body shaking.

A few moments later, after composing himself, Maxwell glances at Liam to see him staring off; he clears his throat to get Drake’s attention, but he’s already noticed it too. “Ah, hell, sorry, Li.”

“No … it’s ok,” Liam shakes his head. “I needed that. I guess … I’m finally starting to come to terms with it. It’s still not easy …” A silence falls between the three of them as Liam chews the inside of his cheek; this is the first time Drake and Maxwell have heard him talk about Charlotte since returning from New York six months ago. “I just miss her,” he whispers.

“I know you do, Li, but you can’t dwell on the past,” Drake says.

“She said she wanted me to be happy.”

“What?” Maxwell questions.

“In New York, the night she told me she was staying … she told me she wanted me to be happy. And I … I don’t know if I can be … not without her.”

“You have to try, Li.”

Liam looked at Drake. He could try. It’s what any normal, sane person would do: accept what is, take the loss, and attempt to move on. But the thing is … he doesn’t want to.

———————

•Nine Months•

“Other things have taken precedence, Madeleine!” Liam’s voice is raised inside his study; he’s locked in a heated discussion with Madeleine. “There are more important things going on than making sure you secure your precious crown!”

“It’s been NINE MONTHS! And you continue to find every damn excuse you can to keep pushing it back!” Madeleine shouts. “And now THIS is starting!” She tosses down the latest issue of the Cordonia Tribune. On the cover is a photograph of Liam and Madeleine. The text beneath their photo: Cordonia Still Waiting For Royal Wedding.

The article lists every time Liam has stalled the nuptials and his reasoning for doing so. It goes on to point out that no details have even been given regarding the wedding and questions whether or not Cordonia will even see it take place that year or if he’ll continue to push back the date.

“So what?” Liam scoffs. “They’ve taken notice that there hasn’t been a wedding yet. Stop acting as though it’s the worst thing in the world!”

“This is just the start of it, Liam! You and I both know that these articles are only going to get worse from here forward! We need to set a date and announce it!”

“What? You’re afraid they might catch on that this is the last thing that I want? You want to marry me as much as I want to marry you, which isn’t at all! The only reason you’re pushing for it is because you actually get something out of it!”

A knock on the door interrupts them; Liam calls for them to enter, and Rashad opens the door. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“You’re not interrupting anything,” Liam says, and his tone makes it clear that he’s thankful for the intrusion. He grabs a stack of papers from his desk and looks at Madeleine. “I have a summit planning meeting to get to. You can see yourself out.”

———————

•10 Months•

Countess Madeleine Says Wedding Is In The Works: The queen-to-be was every bit of a blushing bride when finally speaking about the royal wedding Cordonia is waiting for.

“Why are you lying to them?” Liam growls, throwing the latest issue of Trend magazine onto the table in the great room. “There are no plans in the works! The summit is coming up, and nothing has been planned at all!”

“I have to tell them something, Liam! It’s been 10 months of SILENCE!”

Liam tenses his jaw and turns to the bar cart; he pours himself a finger of scotch. He’s been able to control it, having only a glass here and there; it’s generally during moments like this when he and Madeleine argue. And in the past month, the arguments have escalated.

“You don’t need to tell them anything! It’s simple! You say NO COMMENT!”

“And give them more ammunition for further speculation?”

“Yes! I don’t give a damn about their assumptions!”

“Well, I do! I know you don’t give a damn about my reputation, but I do!”

“Like your reputation will be tarnished over lack of wedding details. Give me a fucking break!”

“10 months, Liam! 10. Months! We could have produced an heir already!”

Liam lets out a wry laugh. “Believe me, the last thing on my mind is heirs. Especially with you.” He shakes his head as he turns towards the fireplace and takes a sip of his drink.

“Your disrespect is completely uncalled for!”

“Maybe, but it’s the truth.”

“How the hell would you know what the truth is? You’ve spent the last 10 months avoiding it!”

At her words, Liam turns, and his eyes narrow. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re holding onto this flicker of hope that she’s suddenly going to come back for you, and she’s not!”

“What did you just say?”

“Charlotte!” Madeleine hisses. “That’s what all of this stalling is about! She stayed behind in New York -- where she belongs -- and she’s not coming back, Liam! And it’s time you come to terms with that and face fucking reality so that we can move forward!”

“Get out.”

“I’m not leave-”

“GET. OUT!” Liam’s deep booming voice reverberates around the room. Madeleine calmly stands, seemingly unfazed by his tone; she smoothes down the front of her dress before she turns and exits the room.

Liam turns, and with a growl, he chucks his glass into the fire; the alcohol causes the flames to rise. He leans against the mantle and closes his eyes, trying to calm himself down. The thing is … he knows Madeleine is right. He has been avoiding the truth, and he has to come to terms with reality.

Charlotte is gone, no longer a part of his life.

———————

•11 Months•

Drake weaves his way through the crowd on the grounds of the Valtoria estate; he watches as people light their lanterns and lift them into the sky.

The court arrived in Valtoria earlier that day for the annual Lantern Festival, and Drake noticed that Liam seemed to be off from the moment they got there. It started when they first exited the SUV, and Liam stared at the outside of the estate, clearly a million miles away. He’s been relatively scarce ever since.

As Drake nears the lake next to the estate, he spots Liam standing at the edge, alone, holding his lantern still. He makes his way down the embankment towards him. “What are you doing down here?”

“Oh, hey … uh, nothing really. About to light this.” He motions to the lantern he’s holding.

Drake stuffs his hands into his pockets as he looks across the lake that the moon reflects off of. “You seemed to have something on your mind today …”

Liam nods with a wry laugh; Drake can read him like a book. “I, uh … I was going to give Charlotte this place after we cleared her name …”

Drake’s brows furrow. “What?”

“There’s an old Cordonian law that states a Queen must hold her own lands prior to ascending the throne. Valtoria is an unclaimed duchy. And it was the one I chose to give to her once we cleared her name … when I proposed …”

Liam’s behavior that day suddenly makes perfect sense. “I see …” Drake has kept quiet over the past 11 months when it came to Liam and his personal business. He knows his best friend has a responsibility, and the man is nothing if not dutiful. But tonight, Drake can’t seem to bite his tongue. “Look, Li … I know you have a responsibility as King to marry … and I know I’m just a commoner, and most would say that I have no business throwing my opinion about courtly matters out there, but … do you really want a lifelong commitment to misery?” Liam looks at Drake; he doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t have to. “Maybe you should think about calling it off. Because no one deserves to be this unhappy. You always put everyone else first, but maybe you need to think of yourself for once.”

It’s nothing Liam hasn’t already thought about. The idea of saying to hell with it and calling of his engagement crosses his mind more times than he can count. But he’s a King with responsibilities, expectations, and a duty to fulfill.

———————

•12 Months•

Inside the palace ballroom, guests dance and mingle during a charity gala hosted by the Queen Mother.

Outside the palace, Liam stands in the center of the garden maze, having stepped out to get some much needed fresh air. Some press members are in attendance, and instead of focusing on the reason they’re all gathered there that evening, they instead chose to ask Liam questions about the wedding and the articles that continue to come out week after week about his choice to keep pushing it back. He doesn’t answer them.

Liam’s been thinking more and more about calling the whole thing off, but there’s something that’s holding him back, and he can’t quite figure out exactly what it is.

As he stands in the center of the maze with his hands in his pockets, he looks around the dimly lit area. He feels his mother’s presence as he always did when he would come there; it was her place, after all.

Liam lets out a soft breath as he looks up at the night sky. “I don’t know what to do, Mother,” he whispers. He finds talking to her cathartic, even though there’s no response. “I know I have a duty … ” Liam looks down to the ground, speaking over the lump in his throat. “I want to be a good King … but I want to be happy too. I want to be as happy as I was when I was with her … but I don’t think I ever will be.” Liam lets out another breath. “I feel like if you were here, you would tell me that duty wasn’t everything. That I should follow what my heart is telling me. But then again … that could just be what I hope you would say.” As he looks back up at the night sky, he chews the inside of his cheek for a moment before asking for something he knows isn’t possible. “I just need a sign … can you give me that? Something. Anything.”

****

That night Liam falls asleep, and without a drop of alcohol, his thought to be forgotten dream comes.

Liam stands on the empty private beach as a soft breeze washes over him; a midnight velvet sky littered with bright stars reflects off the water.

“Liam,” her soft voice echos.

Charlotte laughs, and then she turns and disappears between the trees down the pathway that leads to the Forgotten Falls; without hesitation, Liam runs after her.

When Liam makes it into the pathway, it’s illuminated by the moon. He sees the swish of her gown rounding a bend. “Charlotte, wait!”

Liam starts to gain on her as they near the clearing of the falls. He reaches for her as he barrels into the clearing just behind her … and his arm wraps around her waist. She twists in his embrace to face him, and her eyes meet his as she smiles. “Hi.”

Liam’s eyes don’t leave her, afraid if he even blinks, she’ll be gone. “Hi …”

“Liam, you can’t give up.”

Liam searches her eyes. “Give up on what?”

“On me.”

Liam’s eyes snap open as he shoots straight up in bed; he turns his head towards the sounding alarm on his nightstand and reaches over to shut it off. He slumps back against the pillows and lets out a heavy breath as he rubs his tired eyes and remembers the dream. It just happened on its own, not brought on by anything like the times before. But it was different this time; Liam caught her in the end, and she told him not to give up. And he’s not sure what to make of it or what it’s supposed to mean.

Liam’s brows furrow as he thinks about it. Is this the sign I asked for? But he quickly shakes the thought. It’s absurd and ridiculous, and frankly, it’s impossible; he’s not sure what even made him bring that up the night before. Signs don’t really exist.

****

Later that afternoon, Liam sits in his study, going over a proposal from the council. He glances over at yesterday morning’s issue of the Cordonia Tribune; his picture is on the cover next to large lettering. Trouble In Almost Paradise? King Liam continues to push back royal wedding to Countess Madeleine.

Liam rolls his eyes. It’s far from paradise.

There’s a knock on his door, and before he can call for them to enter, it swings open; Bastien and Rashad barrel inside. “Good afternoon,” he says tentatively as he stares at them.

“Sir … we may have a problem …” Bastien says.

“What is it?”

Rashad gives him a nervous glance. “I have an informant at the Tribune who gives me a heads up with certain matters. He gave me a copy of tomorrow’s issue …”

“What now? More trouble in hell?” Liam scoffs.

“No … it’s … it might be worse …” Rashad outstretches his hand and gives the copy of the issue to Liam.

Liam takes it, and his eyes widen. There on the cover is a picture of Charlotte; next to her image is a headline: The Truth Exposed?

As he reads the article, he relives every single moment of the past year and a half: meeting Charlotte in New York, the Social Season, the Engagement Tour, their goodbye, his spiral … all of it.

When Liam finishes reading, he’s irritated, and a little pissed about how this came out, but he feels a small spark of something that he hasn’t in a year: hope. “Prepare the jet. Now.”

“Of course, sir. Where exactly are we headed?”

“New York.”

**********************************

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jawabear · 3 years

Text

Din Djarin NSFW Alphabet

Not my GIF

A/N: Thank you for all the support on my last fic! it really didn’t deserve all those notes though.. But nonetheless, here is my NSFW alphabet for everyone's favourite Mandalorian (okay, maybe not everyone, but certainly mine). As with my other ones, my ideas and opinions may differ to yours and others so please be respectful of mine and others’ views of different characters. Enjoy. Sorry for any mistakes. Stay safe.

Genre: smut

Warnings: fem!reader, mentions of sexual activities, no actual sex though, Pedro Pascal comes with his own warning

Summary: An A-Z of Din Djarin’s bedroom antics...

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Din is a little awkward to begin with. He doesn’t really know what to do after sex. It’s usually you who ends up taking care of him after sex. But as time goes on and you end up having sex more often, he gets a little more comfortable.

And from this he will make sure you’re okay, not hurt or anything. He will ask if you need anything, if you’re thirsty or hungry. And then he will hold you until you fall asleep because he’s cute like that.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On him, he’s not really bothered. He hadn’t every really thought about himself in that regard. And plus being covered in armour doesn’t really aid him in his decision making. But if he had to choose, he’d probably say his hands. They’re useful for many things. Fighting, shooting, fixing, flying and fingering...

On you, because he’s a soft little boy, he’d go with your eyes. He is a strong believer in the concept of the eyes being the window to the soul. And with you that is very much the case. He loves to look into your eyes, he’ll get lost in them in seconds. But more sexual the loves your legs. Especially your thighs. He loves to stroke them and squeeze them. And he loves when they press against his head as he eats you out....

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

When he does come it’s quite an overwhelming amount to be honest. He doesn’t really like to come inside you (unless you specifically say) because there is a lot and always the chance of pregnancy and neither he nor you feel ready for that. Plus he feels like he’s dirtying you and he doesn’t want to ruin your perfect body.

But, he will do what you say. So, if you want him to come inside you, over you, whatever, he will.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Saying that though ^^ It’s fair to say that Din has a slight breeding kink. Slight being huge. It more to do with the fact that he does what to have a child with you. But also he would find it hot to fill you up completely.

He obviously hasn’t said anything but it’s hard to keep his thoughts at bay when you’re begging him to come inside you and you’re wrapping you legs around his waist to pull him closer to you...

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Din isn’t all that experience. He’s never really cared much about sex before he met you. He had done it once or twice in his life but he didn’t really care much for it, he didn’t really have the time. He was far to preoccupied with his bounty hunting work to find a suitable partner. So it was kind of down to you to teach him. But you didn’t really mind.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

He loves the classic missionary position. It’s easy and enjoyable.

But he is also a huge fan of you being on top, riding him. He loves to have you take control. And it gives him a better opportunity to feel your body.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Certainly more serious. I don’t think Din is a very jokey person in or out of the bedroom. Sometimes you will try and make it a bit lighter but it doesn’t really work. Not that that’s a problem...

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Being covered head to toe in armour means that Din doesn’t really need to bother with his appearance both upstairs and down. So he’s not particularly tidy. But as you haven’t voice any complaints (quite the opposite actually) he hasn’t bothered to tidy himself up down there.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Din goes full romantic in bed. He will touch and feel every part of your body. He will caress and kiss every inch of your skin. He will make love to you. Because he has someone who loves him.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Personally, I don’t think he gets the same satisfaction from touching himself then he would from fucking you.

There are a few occasions in which he has got himself off to the thought of you. But I think he would only do it as a last resort.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He had a hidden (but massive) breeding kink as mentioned.

I don’t know if the blindfold thing really counts as one because he does it so you can’t see his face while he fucks you but if it counts then this is a big one.

Also biting. Din is quite possessive and wants to mark you as much as he possibly can so that everyone know you belong to the Mandalorian. Plus it helps in muffling his moans, one) so he can hear yours better, and 2) he gets a little shy and embarrassed at hearing his own...

Does dry-humping count? Because that too. A big one. Just something about it really gets him going, plus it saves him having to faff with getting all his armour off.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Inside somewhere he knows and trusts. So mainly his ship, in his bed.

Although, there is the rare occasion he will take you in the cockpit. He will sit in the pilots chair and you will ride him. That’s about the only other exception to his bed.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

To be honest, I think it would take quite a lot to get Din going. Being a little sexually naive, I think you’d have to really go out of your way to turn him on. Meaning therefore that it is mostly you who initiates sex.

But there is the odd occasion that he will suddenly be in the mood for it. And then he doesn’t really hold back...

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

I don’t think there’s a lot that he would do. At least in the early stages. He very much stuck to the basics because he found it enjoyable and he didn’t really need anything else. But when you started...let’s just say you were getting a little bored, you tried to coax him into branching out in his sexual preferences.

He would never hurt you. That was for certain. He doesn’t find tying you up to be all that appealing either, but if you really wanted him to do it he wouldn’t say no, he just perhaps wouldn’t enjoy it as much. He relates it too much to bounty hunting and he doesn’t think that’s a good mix, but you disagree.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He definitely prefers giving. Out of everything he’s done to you sexual, eating you out and fingering you has to be what he’s best at. Especially oral.

But he wouldn’t ever say no if you wanted to suck him off...in his pilots chair... because no one in their right mind would turn it down.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

It really depends on his mood. Although, saying that, he doesn’t often take his bad mood out on you. It’s on those days (where a bounty has been particularly hard or frustrating) that he will be the one to initiate sex. And you certainly don’t complain. And it is also on those days where he is a little more rough and fast.

But most of the time he likes to take it slow. It is something he enjoys and something he wants to take his time in doing.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He isn’t a fan. He doesn’t find them enjoyable as much as he would taking his time.

They have happens a few times, but by accident. As in you were taking it slow but something would come up, beeping and blaring of alarms would start and he would have to go quick to finish because he didn’t want to just stop.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He probably would be once you both started to get a bit more comfortable and adventurous. It’s still a learning process for Din so it’s a gradual thing but he’s all about making you happy and fulfilled so he will try most things you suggest whether they be risky or not.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Din is a tiered man. Let him rest. Chances are he can really only go one round, but he knows this and makes it the best damn round you’ve ever had.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He certainly does not use them. (He probably doesn’t even know about a lot of them).

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He kind of is a tease but he kind of isn’t. It depends on the mood. It’s he is going fast then he’s more likely to tease to rile you up more, but more often then not he just lets things happen in the bedroom.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Din isn’t much of a talker. He’s very much the silent but deadly type and he’s mostly the same in bed too. He isn’t partially loud, but he’s also not particularly quiet either. He isn’t a constant moaner, but lets just say it’s very easy for you to know when you’re doing something right and making him feel good. Then he will be a bit louder.

But he gets a bit embarrassed at the noises and buries his head in your neck to silence himself despite you telling him you want to hear him.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He really really really wants to watch you get off. He’s heard you do it (not that you know that) and you sounded to be really enjoying yourself so he wants to watch you. And maybe learn a thing or two about how to properly touch you.

But yes, he really desperately wants to watch you touch yourself, maybe he’d touch himself too...

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

I don’t think it’s a secret that he packing. He tries to act all cool about it saying things like “I’m not that big, am I?” But we all know he’s full of shit. He knows he’s that big. But to be fair, he hasn’t ever seen any other one so he doesn’t really have anything to compare it too.

But we all know that man is huge...

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It’s surprisingly low. Again, it depends on his mood or the day. He isn’t constantly in the mood for sex. Which he guessed made it more enjoyable.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Din finds it difficult to sleep for many reasons. But sex always seems to relax him enough he falls asleep almost instantly. Of course, after making sure you’re okay.

Which is why you will often fuck him after a long day just so he will sleep.

13/12/20

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #star wars #smut #pedro pascal #fanfic

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ginazmemeoir · 3 years

Text

for @gopikanyari - i couldn't draw them but i did write this fic.

tagging @taareginn @momo-all-the-way @dragonfairy1231 @aadyeah @weird-u @holding-infinity-and-a-book @aloomu @carmen-riddle @mango-pickle

Everything slows down. All I feel is my breath, the sweat trickling down my face, and the tension in my hand dissipating as I release the knife and let it fly. It strikes the dummy with a ‘thwack’, and I keep staring at it. Miss. Again.

My father didn’t consider educating his youngest child, a girl, in the art of warfare. So after getting married to five men, all brothers, in a strange twist of fate, having near death experiences in the forest and at my husbands’ home in Hastinapur, I decided to instruct myself. Swords made me feel confident, bows and arrows made me feel like a hero in an epic, but knives? They made me feel like a toddler playing pretend. And yet, Drona, my husbands’ mentor and father’s sworn enemy, insisted on teaching me in “the art of the blade”.

I lean against the wall, wiping the sweat off using a cloth, and head for a bath. As I exit, my maid Malti approaches me, her face writ with worry. “Um… uh… Your Majesty…” she stutters. I place my hand on her shoulder and calm her down, “What happened Malti? Something in your family?” I ask. Instead, Malti hands me a card. I take it from her, beaming at the seal – a dolphin encircled by a peacock feather – Krishna’s emblem. I greedily tear the elaborate wrapping, desperate for the kind of raucous and “unladylike” interaction that I only got with Krishna. My eyes skim over the letter’s contents, and my heart sinks. “Impossible,” I mutter, clutching the letter in my hand, “my husbands promised me complete fidelity. They cannot remarry again.” Malti, her voice trembling, then uttered the words which my feeble brain couldn’t read, “Your Highness, the invite was delivered by a member of the Dwaraka council. Prince Arjuna is getting married to Subhadra, Lord Govinda’s sister.”

The streets of Hastinapur are jubilant with celebrations, as their prince returns with his new bride. All over the city, repairs were done, and frivolous, expensive structures were erected, all in an effort to show the audacious wealth of the Kuru empire. The cheerful, flower and gold bedecked exterior hid the internal deformities. Suyodhana’s maternal uncle, Shakuni, or as everybody called him in the land – the snake – fumed at what had transpired (from what I gathered Suyodhana was to be wed to Subhadra, who had eloped with my husband); King Dhritarashtra boiled in silent anger, while Queen Gandhari taunted and cried out her distress every now and then.

Arjuna arrived on the gates of the palace, his new bride at his side, followed by my other husbands (his brothers) and Krishna. Both bride and groom were bedecked in the finest of clothes and jewels, looking like overstuffed dummies. Even from here in my balcony, I could clearly see the bride’s discomfort in wearing the heavy jewellery and silks preferred by the Hastinapur royalty even in the scorching summer. All the ceremonies and rituals were performed with due tradition, thus amounting to an hour or two, and then only did the entourage enter the palace. I hurry down to meet the party, when I see the newlyweds walking towards me. Anger floods every pore of my body. Had I had my way, I would have scorched the palace with the same fire from which I was born. What kind of man is this cruel, taking his second wife to meet his first? Disgusted I slam the door on their stricken faces, and bury myself in my misery. Was I never destined to be happy?

The years pass by, and an unlikely bond forms between Subhadra and I – the kind of bond shared by mothers. It took six pregnancies to break the barrier between us, and she had approached first. That would always be a guilt I would carry – that I hadn’t extended my hand earlier, blinded by pride and anger. Soon, awkwardness gives place to an unlikely friendship, with her teaching me the various wonders of the world she had seen on her various trips; Greece, China, the Golden Isand of Lanka, she had seen it all. Meanwhile I taught her how to wield a sword , and helped her navigate the tricky waters of politics and party throwing. It was a rare, pure friendship – one spent wearing a cotton sari under a scorching sun, eating mangoes with sticky hands and giggling, one I had never experienced before.

I walk towards my palace. Or, not my palace, since Duryodhana owns it now. Nothing is left, not even my pride and dignity. My dishevelled appearance, torn sari, entangled hair and bruises make for a frightening appearance apparently, stunning everybody into silence. I don’t feel human anymore, just a husk slowly inching its way before it collapses, for my soul was stripped along with my clothes in that den of gamblers and cowards. I seethe with a burning hatred against my husbands, pretentious motherfuckers cowering behind their false dharma and “code of chivalry”, which conveniently vanished when they took multiple wives and yet made me marry all five of them against my will. I want to rage and burn and destroy and drink the blood of Dushasana and use Duryodhana’s skull as the cup. I thought my city, this magnificent city of Indraprastha, loved me the same way I loved it. And yet, in my darkest hours, none came to stop what followed, except perhaps Vikarna, a brother of the man whom I didn’t consider human. Subhadra was in the guava orchards with Abhimanyu, when she saw me. She quickly put him down, and rushed towards me, trying to cover me with a scarf, as if I cared anymore. She took me inside, and drew a bath for me. That day, I scrubbed my skin raw till it turned red and almost tore my hair from my scalp, trying to rid myself of Dushasana’s filthy touch. She then gives me some khus, which I drink gingerly, my tears mixing with the sweet green concoction. At first, she looks stricken, unable to believe what had transpired. Disbelief gave way to pity, which gave way to anger. “It’s useless Subhadra. Nothing is left. And I will make sure, that nothing will be.” I console her. I see the fear in her eyes then. Good. People had forgotten who I was, but I’d make sure I’d remind them in the years to follow. They blamed me for what had happened right, that I was too weak or too proud? Well then I’d like to prove them right. I am Draupadi. Paanchali. Yajnaseni. Born from fire, born to wreak havoc, born to change the fate of this cursed land of Jambudweep, where the roll of a dice values more than a person.

The 13 years that follow are spent in agony. Twelve years of wandering in the forest, facing arrogant saints and malevolent creatures. I keep wondering of Subhadra and my kids. When she had heard the news, she had slapped an unsuspecting Arjuna, and taken Abhimanyu and my kids with her to Dwarka, safe and secure, forbidding him to show her his face until he proved himself worthy. Arjuna soon parted ways with us in the forest, going off on some adventure, finding new beauties to marry and accumulating more powers for the war to follow. I meet Hidimba in the forest as well, Bhima’s first wife. I envy her freedom and her life. And then comes the dreaded year of agyaatvasa – living in the shadows, for fear of recognition. Yudhishthira becomes advisor to King Virata of Matsya, Bhima a cook, Nakula the master of stables, Sahadev a shepherd and I, the mighty Draupadi? A hairdresser. How cruel life was, making the woman who kept her hair unkempt and open as a reminder of her revenge, a hairdresser to a queen. Arjuna also returned, but as the eunuch dancer Brihannala. Even here, peace eluded me as the queen’s brother Keechaka turned his perverted gaze towards me. But this time, I had enough. And so I invite him to a secluded spot and then have his skull crushed by Bhima.

It’s the time of war. Vultures and hyenas gather in the fields of Kurukshetra in anticipation of the feast to follow. I reside in the camp with the other ladies and children of the house. I am unable to recognize my own kids at first, how quickly they’ve grown and how much they have changed. They greet me with the same love and respect, but something has changed fundamentally in our relationship, a cherished bond that would never be the same. Subhadra is there by my side, making me live their childhood through their mischievous stories and their life at Dwarka, and yet my mind wanders to our six sons – wearing their armour and lifting their weapons, barely on the cusp of manhood and yet already thrust into a war that isn’t their own. I stopped believing in gods long since, and yet I pray to any that might exist with a shred of mercy in their heart towards me – let my children live.

Abhimanyu’s mutilated corpse greets us on the thirteenth day of war. His body looked so gruesome, even Yamraj would have shuddered. Subhadra’s wails pierce through the sky, reverberating more than the clang of metal and steel. She reaches for Abhimanyu’s body, hugging him close, with his head on her lap, embracing her son for a final time before the fires engulfed him. I am too shocked, and Subhadra too bereaved, to either comfort or be comforted. There is no sermon, no balm, no magic for this loss. His loss permeates into every single cell of our being, and stays there. Subhadra cries the entire night, her eyes red from crying, consuming neither food nor water. I stay by her side all along. The other ladies comfort his wife Uttara, in the final month of her pregnancy, devastated by the destruction of her own small world before it could begin. Finally, when dawn breaks, and her body is devoid of tears, does Subhadra arise, but she’s not the same. She goes with the Pandavas to cremate her only child, and returns back. She utters not a single word, conveys not a single emotion. She doesn’t rage like fire – she is instead like the oceans near her home. A turbulent storm rages within, which the calm face doesn’t give away.

I come back to my tent having exacted my revenge. The sound of Dushasana’s arms being ripped off, his skull cracking open echo in my ears. My hair drip with his blood, my face smeared with sweat. I thought I would feel victorious, at peace now that I had avenged myself, avenged Abhimanyu’s death. But then Subhadra gazes at me, and a single gaze is enough to communicate everything in my heart. Is this who I am now? What more atrocities would be committed in this war?

The war has come at an end, as Duryodhana lies dying in agony, his thighs shattered. I go with everybody to cremate the fallen and pay my respects to Grandsire Bhishma, as he too draws his last breath upon his bed of arrows and leaves this world. All the bodies are collected in a massive mountain of rotting half eaten flesh, and cremated. The fire blazes high, an inferno reaching for the skies, taking the souls of everybody within it towards Indra’s court, which receives anybody who dies fighting. The flame reminds me of my own birth, which seems like a lifetime away. I return back to camp, weary from all the death that surrounded me, and am instead greeted by a fresh nightmare. My brother Dhrishtadyumna’s head hangs at the gate, his decapitated body beneath him, hands closed around his sword even in death. I rush in to find everybody dead – physicians, maids, cooks, attendants, charioteers, guards, everybody. I enter my sons’ tent, fearing the worst and that is when I see their corpses. They were still in bed. Sleeping. They were supposed to ride out tomorrow to Indraprastha, their true home. They were supposed to grow up and live their life far away from court or war. They were planning to finally visit the fabled Palace of Illusions, swimming in the Mirror Lake, plucking fresh fruits from the orchards. Sutasoma intended to devour all the books he could lay his hands on. Prativindhya wanted to try wine. Srutakarma wanted to learn pottery and sculpting. Shatanika wanted to try make up, while Shrutasena wanted to learn music and painting. My children were robbed of their lives and their futures in their sleep. Now I truly knew the meaning of loss. I would rather die a thousand times over just so I could bring them back. I collapse, the last thing I hear is Subhadra shouting my name. I don’t feel the ground as I fall.

It is in this hell on earth does Subhadra’s daughter in law Uttara give birth. She screams in pain as she tries to push her child out of her womb, the last child of a massacred dynasty, when the room suddenly fills with a scorching white light. It disappears as suddenly as it arrived, and everybody immediately figures out what happened. The Brahmastra, the strongest weapon in the universe. Aimed directly at Uttara’s womb and her unborn child. It is an unspeakable crime. The death of his grandnephew makes Krishna goes insane, and for the first time in my life, I see him become the angel of death. He picks up the babe, and proclaims, “If I have been a truly righteous human, let this child come to life.” The child, a boy, gasps and cries, strong and powerful. I have stopped believing in miracles, but this is one I admit. Subhadra reached for her grandson, and cradles him in her arms. Her tears drop on his forehead, as she smiles at him. As she hands the baby to me, there’s an understanding in our eyes. An agreement. A promise. Never shall this child know suffering. Never shall this child know pain. He will have what we could not. He will have a childhood, a future, a life.

We make this oath to ourselves. Sisters, united by pain, suffering and hope.

#draupadi #subhadra #paanchali #panchali #mahabharat #mahabharata #india #hindu mythology #mythology #story time #vasu

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