#he instills such a deep unease in me

[pencildragons]

i started intermezzo and had all my Theories about s5 but absolutely NOTHING couldve prepared me for fucking 13th century england

#it took me OUT #also harlan in the s4 q&a being like oh i didnt want to make kayne cartoony #like sir this is genuinrly maybr the only charactet EVER that ivr been Afraid of #he instills such a deep unease in me #/pos #i was like oh maybe shug niggrath-- oh shes been deleted #then i thought maybe arthur would have w chsnce to meet grown up faroe or something along those lines #potentially but orobabky not #and tjen #i was hit by thr 13th century england bullet train #malevolent #malevolent podcast #words of wyrm

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Lady - 1

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Eddie Horniman x Female Reader

Summary: After fifteen years away, a step-daughter returns for her Duke step-father's funeral, only to inherit a staggering 8 million pound debt and strike a risky deal with a criminal underworld figure.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Chap 1, Chap 2, Chap 3 , Chap 4 , Chap 5 , Chap 6 , -

Your ongoing support means the world to me! Reblogs are a fantastic way to help spread the word about my work. I'll do my best to reply to all your comments. Thank you for your continued encouragement!

In the heart of the military training ground, you, a seasoned Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) technician, stand poised amidst a group of nervous soldiers. Among them is Private Jameson, a newcomer with trembling hands and apprehensive eyes. With unwavering composure, you take charge, your voice steady as you address the group.

"Today, we're covering the basics of bomb disposal," you begin, your tone reassuring yet firm. Turning to Private Jameson, you offer a patient smile.

"You, Private. What's your name?" Despite his nervousness, Private Jameson responds, and you guide him with a calming presence, instilling confidence as you impart your expertise.

"Jameson, take a deep breath," you instruct softly but firmly. "Remember, focus is key. You've got this." Private Jameson nods, his eyes locked on your reassuring gaze.

As he examines the device, you watch attentively, offering guidance with each movement. When he finishes, you nod approvingly. "Well done, Private. Now, let's move on."

As Private Jameson continues under your guidance, the other soldiers watch with admiration. They've seen you in action before, witnessed your dedication to the mission and your willingness to put yourself in harm's way for the greater good.

"Ma'am, what if the situation calls for immediate action?" Private Reynolds interjects, reflecting the group's curiosity.

You acknowledge the gravity of the question. "In a real-world scenario, there may not be time for thorough examination," you explain calmly. "Trust your instincts and make split-second decisions."

Private Jameson glances at you, newfound respect shining in his eyes. "But you always seem so calm under pressure, ma'am," he remarks admiringly.

You smile humbly, reflecting on the countless moments of uncertainty you've faced. "It's not about being fearless, Private," you reply earnestly. "It's about pushing through fear for those counting on you."

Your words hang in the air, a silent reminder of the sacrifices made by soldiers like you every day. With renewed determination, Private Jameson nods, his resolve strengthened by your example.

As the door of the training facility echoed with a sharp knock, you exchanged a puzzled glance with your comrades. The abrupt interruption stirred a sense of unease within you, a foreboding whisper of uncertainty.

"A lawyer wants to see you," the soldier at the door announced, his voice tinged with urgency.

You furrowed your brow in confusion. "Me?" you repeated, your mind racing to grasp the sudden turn of events. "Hmm, he sounds British," you mused aloud, your instincts sharpened by years of training.

With measured steps, you followed your comrade through the maze of corridors until you reached the visitor's area. There, standing before you, was a figure from your past, a familiar face veiled in the somber cloak of time.

"Miss," the lawyer greeted you with a solemn nod, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken truths.

Your heart skipped a beat as you recognized him, the memories flooding back like an unstoppable tide. It had been fifteen years since you last saw him, a lifetime of distance and estrangement separating you.

"I assumed something bad happened?" you ventured cautiously, your tone laced with concern and apprehension.

The lawyer, Cedric, nodded gravely, his expression betraying the gravity of the news he bore.

You and Cedric found a quiet place to talk. "Something's wrong?" you inquired, noting the somber expression on Cedric's face as he adjusted his glasses.

Cedric remained silent momentarily, his gaze fixed on the ground before meeting your eyes. "Duke Rupert died two days ago," he finally uttered, his voice laden with gravity.

Your heart clenched at the news. Duke Rupert was your stepfather, and the thought of his passing filled you with a mix of sorrow and apprehension.

Cedric continued, his words weighed down by the weight of the news. "On his will, he wrote that he wants all the family to gather. I came here as soon as I could. And you could attend the funeral too. He probably wants it too."

You nodded, absorbing the information with a heavy heart. The sudden loss of Duke Rupert had thrown your world into disarray, and the prospect of gathering with the family only added to the uncertainty swirling within you.

Taking a deep breath, you steadied yourself, determined to face whatever lay ahead with strength

You nodded in response to Cedric's words, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. "I'll gather my things," you said quietly, steeling yourself for the task ahead.

As you packed your belongings into your bag, Private Jameson approached you, his curiosity evident in his voice. "So, it turns out you're a noble," he remarked, his tone tinged with surprise.

You chuckled lightly, shaking your head in response. "I'm not. It was my step-dad. There's no noble blood in me," you explained, a hint of self-deprecation in your voice.

Jameson furrowed his brow, his curiosity piqued. "We've been working together for years, but you never mentioned anything about this," he observed, his tone filled with genuine interest.

You zipped up your bag, pausing momentarily before meeting Jameson's gaze. "It's just family stuff. Nothing interesting," you replied cryptically, a hint of sadness flickering in your eyes before you turned away, ready to face the uncertain future that lay ahead.

After a grueling 12-hour flight, you finally arrived back in the UK. As the car pulled up to Evergreen Abbey, your childhood home, a rush of nostalgia washed over you. The manor stood proudly, its historical façade unchanged by the passing years.

Stepping out of the car, you took a moment to absorb the familiar sight before you. The memories of your upbringing flooded back, filling you with a sense of belonging despite the years of absence.

As you entered the manor, you were greeted by the sight of a middle-aged woman wearing a classic black dress adorned with a string of pearls. Her youthful aura belied the years that had passed since you last saw her. It was your mother, Susan.

"You're back," she exclaimed, opening her arms wide to envelop you in a warm embrace. The familiar scent of her perfume brought tears to your eyes as you returned her hug, feeling a sense of comfort and homecoming wash over you.

You nodded as Susan spoke, absorbing the news of Duke Rupert's accident with a heavy heart. The realization that your stepfather had passed away hit you like a wave, stirring emotions you had long buried.

"I'm so sorry. What happened?" you asked, your voice filled with genuine concern as you reached out to grasp Susan's hand for support.

Susan sighed her expression a mixture of sadness and frustration. "That silly old man's, I told him not to ride a horse, but he insisted and he fell," she explained, her tone tinged with regret. "Rupert always well-prepared, but I don't know why he really insisted on riding a horse that day."

Before you could respond, the sound of another voice broke through the somber atmosphere. "Thank God you're here," the voice exclaimed, drawing your attention. You turned to see your stepbrother, Charles, standing before you.

But your breath caught in your throat when you saw him wearing priestly attire. "Charles?" you uttered in disbelief, your eyes widening in surprise.

Charles opened his arms and enveloped you in a warm hug, his presence comforting despite the unexpected change in his appearance. "I'm glad you're here," he said, his handshake firm and sincere as he greeted you.

You were speechless, your mind struggling to process the transformation before you. There was a warmth in Charles's eyes, a genuine kindness that seemed to radiate from within him. He was different from the last time you saw him, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the sight of him in his new role.

"Are you wearing a cassock?" you finally managed to ask, your voice filled with curiosity as you glanced at Charles's attire.

Susan gently pinched your arm, her expression amused yet reproachful. "Silly girl, this is why you should reply to my letters, phone calls, and emails," she chided gently. "Charles has become a priest."

"I know you will find it hard to believe. But I went through a miracle that made me fully believed in God." As Charles spoke of his newfound faith, you struggled to reconcile this revelation with the memory of Charlie, who once hurled harsh words at you.

Then you heard a familiar voice, cutting through the tension like a knife. "You're here."

It was Charlotte, Charles's twin sister. Her gaze bore into you with the same disdain it always had, unchanged after all these years.

Charlotte was never one to hide her feelings about you. From the moment your mother brought you into their lives, she had seen you as nothing more than an unwanted burden.

Your mother's marriage to the Duke had brought you into a world of privilege and resentment. While your stepfather had become a father figure you'd never had, it came at the cost of your relationship with your own mother. Susan was desperate to fit into her new role as Duchess, and you were often left feeling like an outsider in your own home.

The Duke's children, Charles and Charlotte, had quickly formed a bond with your mother, leaving you feeling like an intruder in your own family. They resented you for stealing their father's attention, and the tension between you had only grown over the years.

Living at Evergreen Abbey had always felt like walking on eggshells. That's why, as soon as you came of age, you left for the United States and joined the army, seeking refuge from the suffocating atmosphere of the manor.

Charlotte's cold gaze was a painful reminder of the resentment that had always simmered beneath the surface. "Let's get this over with, please," she said, her words dripping with disdain.

"What does it mean?" you asked, scanning the room for answers but finding only silence and the weight of years of unresolved conflict hanging heavy in the air.

You couldn't believe your eyes as Charles stood before you, now a priest leading your stepfather's funeral. Rupert's passing seemed surreal, and as they closed the casket, you had a chance to see his face one last time.

His face looked different, smiling unnaturally due to the glue used to preserve it. It starkly contrasted the smile you remembered, and you regretted not seeing Rupert one last time before this moment. Placing a red rose near his casket, you whispered, "I'm going to miss you."

During the burial, your gaze wandered, and you noticed a little boy standing near your mother.

But someone standing alone amidst the gathering of family and guests caught your attention. Who is he?

After the burial concluded, the house filled with guests offering condolences. The strange man also disappeared. Susan and Charles gracefully accepted their sympathies, while Charlotte's whereabouts only God knows.

Amidst the crowd, you heard a gentle voice call your name. "Y/N?"

Turning around, you saw Eddie standing there. "Eddie? How are you?" You greeted him with a side hug, grateful for the familiarity in the midst of the somber occasion.

Eddie hugged you back, offering his condolences as you shared a moment of solace amid the chaos of the gathering.

Eddie's inquiry about your military service brought back memories, including a long-kept secret: you used to have a crush on him. It was partly why you joined the army, sharing a dream of serving alongside him. "Yeah," you answered, still groggy from the day's emotions.

"What about you? Did you join the army too?"

Eddie chuckled. "I did, but I left to pursue a business."

You nodded, finding it fitting for him. "You're looking more like a duke these days."

Taking a sip of water, Eddie revealed a surprising truth. "I am. I became a duke after my father passed."

Your shock was evident. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

Eddie's chuckle held a hint of understanding. "Yeah, after you left, you sort of cut contacts with everyone."

You hesitated, recalling the mention of a will by Cedric. "What about your family tradition? Isn't your older brother supposed to be the duke?"

Eddie's expression shifted slightly. "It changed after my father's will."

Your unease grew as thoughts of Rupert's will resurfaced. Eddie noticed your worry and reached out, touching your hand. "Hey, if you need me, just call me."

Grateful for his support, you managed a small smile. "Thanks, Eddie."

########

As everyone sat waiting for the lawyer, a new presence entered the room. A little boy, perhaps around 10 years old, joined the gathering, taking a seat beside Charlotte. He stole occasional glances in your direction, his curiosity evident in his wide-eyed gaze.

Unable to contain your surprise, you turned to Charlotte and asked, "You have a child?"

Charlotte rolled her eyes in response, her annoyance palpable, while Charles chuckled softly at the exchange.

Feeling a familiar pinch on your arm, you turned to see Susan giving you a reproachful look. "This is why you should've answered my calls. He's your brother," she scolded gently.

Your eyes widened in disbelief. "Huh?!" you exclaimed, your mind struggling to comprehend the revelation as you glanced back at the little boy sitting beside Charlotte, a newfound sense of connection dawning within you. Now his face and future look similar to yours.

You found yourself at a loss for words, grappling with the sudden revelation of a long-lost sibling. The realization that you had cut off all contact when you joined the army weighed heavily on your conscience, leaving you with a profound sense of regret for the years of missed connections and lost opportunities.

Running a hand through your face, you let out a weary sigh, the weight of the past 15 years bearing down on you like a heavy burden. "Will there be another surprise?" you wondered aloud, the question hanging in the air as you braced yourself for whatever other unexpected twists fate had in store for you.

A few minutes later, Cedric, the lawyer, strode into the room with purpose, placing his briefcase on the table before retrieving the file. With a solemn expression, he began to read aloud the contents of Duke Rupert's will.

"Everyone will get a share of his insurance and investments," Cedric announced, his voice measured and professional. "Except Y/N."

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of resignation at the news, having expected as much given the strained dynamics within the family. Glancing around the room, you noted the acceptance in your mother's and the twins' expressions, as if they had anticipated this outcome.

But then, Cedric's next words shattered the calm facade that had settled over the room. "For the Evergreen Abbey Manor and the title, I hereby give it to Y/N L/N," he continued, his voice resolute.

Your shock was palpable, the expletive escaping your lips before you could stop it.

'HUH?!'

"What the fuck?" you exclaimed, unable to comprehend the sudden turn of events as the weight of Duke Rupert's decision settled heavily upon you.

As Charles let out a disbelieving "Hoo," and Charlotte expressed her relief with a curt "Great, not my problem anymore," the tension in the room seemed to escalate.

'Wait. The twins aren't angry?'

Your mother reached out, gently squeezing your hand and offering a reassuring look, her silent support a comforting anchor amidst the chaos unfolding around you.

"Why do I feel like I'm carrying a bomb in my hand?" you muttered, the weight of Duke Rupert's legacy pressing down on you like a heavy burden.

Cedric adjusted his glasses, his expression grave as he spoke. "When you became the Lady of this house... Your grace, pardon me that I have to tell you this," he began carefully. "The former Duke had debts, and he was involved in what we might call 'creative' work."

"You mean drugs, gambling, and the like?" you interjected, your voice laced with disbelief.

Susan shot you a warning glance, her lips forming a silent reprimand. "You shouldn't say that word in front of your brother," she whispered, her tone urgent.

Turning to her younger son, she leaned in closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's not drugs, but weed," she clarified softly.

"Oh, wow. Now I feel relieved," you replied sarcastically, the absurdity of the situation not lost on you as you struggled to come to terms with the unexpected revelations about Duke Rupert's illicit activities.

You ran a hand through your hair in frustration, the enormity of the situation sinking in. "How much is the debt?" you asked, your voice tinged with apprehension.

"8 million pounds," Cedricbreplied solemnly, his tone grave.

Charles made the sign of the cross a gesture of disbelief. "Oh Lord," he murmured under his breath.

"And he wants me to repay the debt when I never took a single cent?" you exclaimed, incredulity coloring your words as you struggled to comprehend the injustice of it all.

"Was he high when he wrote the will? Why me?!!"

Sighing heavily, you turned your gaze towards the imposing manor, its grandeur now overshadowed by the weight of Duke Rupert's debts. "Can I just sell this manor?" you wondered aloud, desperation creeping into your voice.

"It will take months or years, Your Grace. And the debt has to be paid by the end of this month," Cedric explained, punctuated by a sense of urgency.

But before you could act on your impulse, Susan's voice cut through the air, her tone laced with urgency and apprehension. "You can't sell the manor," she interjected, her gaze pleading with you to reconsider.

Confusion flickered in your eyes as you turned to face her, a mix of frustration and resignation bubbling up inside you. "Why not?" you demanded, your voice tinged with exasperation.

Susan's response was swift, her words carrying the weight of years of pent-up frustration and resentment. "If you sell the manor, I would lose my title as a duchess," she explained, her voice quavering with emotion.

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut, stirring up memories of the strained relationship that had defined your interactions with Susan over the years. Her obsession with upholding the image of a perfect duchess had driven a wedge between you, leaving your relationship fraught with tension and resentment.

As you stood there, grappling with the weight of Duke Rupert's debts and the expectations thrust upon you by your title, you couldn't help but feel a sense of bitterness creeping in.

You let out another sigh, resigned to the reality of the situation. "I need a drink," you muttered, the thought of seeking solace in the most potent alcohol near the lake seeming like the only reprieve from the turmoil raging inside you.

As you sat by the lake's tranquil waters, the weight of the situation bearing down on you, regret began to seep into your thoughts like a creeping mist.

Coming back here had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but now, faced with the reality of Duke Rupert's debts and the burden they placed upon you, you couldn't help but wonder if it had been a mistake.

Taking a sip of your whiskey, you allowed the warmth of the liquid to wash over you, momentarily easing the turmoil in your mind. But even the soothing embrace of alcohol couldn't dispel the unease gnawing at your insides.

Lost in your thoughts, you were startled when a small figure approached, breaking the silence that had settled over the lakeside. You glanced up to see your little stepbrother, Hugo, standing before you with a tentative expression on his face.

"Uh, hi. Hello. I'm your older sister," you greeted awkwardly, the words feeling foreign on your tongue.

Hugo returned your greeting with a shy smile. "Hi, step-bro. Hugo. Ten years old," he introduced himself, his voice soft and uncertain.

An awkward silence hung between you, the gap between your worlds feeling vast and insurmountable. Sensing the tension, you made an effort to bridge the divide.

"You want to walk?" you offered, gesturing towards the path that wound its way around the edge of the lake.

Hugo hesitated for a moment before nodding hesitantly. "Hmm...," he murmured, his eyes brightening with a hint of curiosity as he took a tentative step forward, ready to embark on this uncertain journey with you.

As you and Hugo began to playfully throw stones into the lake, the tension between you gradually dissipated, replaced by a sense of camaraderie born from the simple joy of shared activity.

"So, Hugo, do you know what's happening at the household?" you asked, choosing your words carefully. You had learned in the military that children often possessed an innate honesty that could shed light on complex situations.

Hugo paused in his stone-throwing, considering your question for a moment before responding. "Walls have ears, and the workers always gossip," he replied cryptically, his voice tinged with wisdom beyond his years.

Impressed by his insight, you couldn't help but smile. "Wow," you remarked, genuinely impressed by Hugo's observation. "Do you want to share?" you prompted, curious to hear his perspective on the goings-on within the household.

As Hugo shared his insights, you listened intently, surprised by the depth of understanding hidden behind his youthful facade.

"Charlie doesn't want to take the house because of the debt, and he wants to become a pope," Hugo explained matter-of-factly, his words carrying a weight of resignation.

You responded with a puzzled "Huh?"

"And Charlotte doesn't care since she's going to marry a prince. She doesn't want anything related to Dad's 'creative work.' It will ruin her image."

"Her image? She's marrying a prince?" you interjected, your incredulity evident in your tone.

Hugo regarded you with a knowing look. "You're really ignorant, huh?" he remarked bluntly, his words stinging with a hint of playful teasing.

Feeling a pang of embarrassment at being corrected by a child, you cleared your throat awkwardly. "Hey..." you started, but Hugo continued without missing a beat.

"Sis Charlotte has quite millions of followers on social media," he elaborated, his voice tinged with a hint of admiration. "If her name is connected to weed and family debt—"

"It will ruin her image, and she'll have to pay the penalty," you finished, the implications sinking in as you processed Hugo's words. "Wait, how old are you again?" you asked, feeling a mix of surprise and amusement at the maturity of his observations.

Hugo raised both hands, a playful grin spreading across his face. "Ten," he replied, the innocence of his youth juxtaposed against the weight of the knowledge he carried.

You chuckled softly, taking another sip of your whiskey as you observed Hugo with newfound respect. Children were indeed frighteningly perceptive these days, and you made a mental note to tread carefully around him in the future.

You looked at the lake and sighed again. No wonder Charlie felt relieved upon seeing you. He wouldn't have to worry about these things. If his past caught up with him while pursuing his path to becoming a pope, it would ruin everything for him.

As for Charlotte, nothing ever seems to be enough for her. If her future in-laws from the royal family were to find out about this business, they would likely cancel her marriage.

So it's obvious they were relieved when Rupert chose you as the heir.

As both of you made your way back home, your senses went on high alert as you spotted a black Range Rover parked near the entrance. The sight of the familiar car sent a chill down your spine, and you felt a sense of unease settle in the pit of your stomach.

He's the man who watched Rupert's funeral from afar.

"Hugo, go inside," you instructed quietly, your voice tinged with urgency as you gestured for him to retreat to the safety of the house.

The man who emerged from the car was none other than the same individual you had seen at the funeral. James Barnes, or "Bucky" as he preferred to be called, approached you with a confident stride, his demeanor exuding an air of authority.

"Sorry to disturb your afternoon walk," Bucky began, his voice smooth and polite. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm James Barnes, but you could call me Bucky."

You nodded in acknowledgment, your guard instinctively rising as you braced yourself for whatever news he had come to deliver. "How can I help you, Mr. Barnes?" you inquired, your tone guarded yet polite.

"It's difficult for me to say while you're still grieving," Bucky admitted, his expression sympathetic. "But the former duke owed money to us."

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. "You see, Mr. Barnes, I just got here two days ago after 15 years," you explained wearily, the weight of Duke Rupert's legacy pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at your revelation, his interest piqued. "Yeah, Rupert mentioned it a couple of times," he remarked casually.

"Did he?" you muttered under your breath, feeling a surge of annoyance at Duke Rupert's apparent penchant for gossip.

"Let's continue this at the office," you suggested tersely, eager to put some distance between yourself and the unsettling presence of James Barnes.

As you stepped into Rupert's office for the first time, a wave of nostalgia washed over you, mingling with the lingering scent of his cigar and the familiar musk that seemed to permeate the room. It was a scent you had grown accustomed to over the years, a reminder of the man who had once occupied this space.

Pouring another whiskey for yourself and a glass for Bucky, you couldn't help but feel a pang of melancholy as you reflected on the memories associated with this room. Duke Rupert's presence seemed to linger in every corner, his larger-than-life persona casting a shadow over the space.

Bucky took a moment to savor the whiskey, his expression one of appreciation. "Your step-dad always did have a good collection of alcohol," he remarked, a hint of nostalgia coloring his words as he raised his glass in a silent toast.

You nodded in agreement, acknowledging the truth in his words. Despite the complexities of his character, Duke Rupert had always taken pride in his impressive selection of drinks, a testament to his refined taste and penchant for the finer things in life.

Taking a sip of your drink, you cleared your throat, breaking the heavy silence in the air. "Do you have business with my step-dad?" you asked, your tone cautious as you eyed Bucky across the desk.

Bucky's admission hung heavy in the air as he spoke, his words carrying a weight of responsibility and obligation.

"I lent him my money and I protected him," he explained, his tone tinged with a sense of duty.

"Why? His weed business didn't work out?" you asked, curiosity piqued by the revelation.

Bucky shook his head, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. "It was successful. But he had a change of heart and wanted out. And his boss didn't like it. That's where I came in," he elaborated, his expression grave.

"Eight million pounds. Is all because of you?" you queried, the enormity of the debt now beginning to make sense.

Bucky tilted his head, his gaze meeting yours with a solemn intensity. "The price of the damage I got for protecting your step-dad. I gained more enemies," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret.

Setting down your whiskey glass, you felt a sense of relief wash over you. Despite the tangled web of intrigue and deceit surrounding Duke Rupert, at least his involvement in the weed business was not the cause of his debts.

You let out a heavy sigh, the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. Options seemed limited, and each path forward appeared fraught with challenges and uncertainties.

Glancing at the bank statements and stock reports spread out on the desk before you, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of your stomach. Duke Rupert's financial situation was far from ideal, and the prospect of producing eight million pounds seemed increasingly daunting.

Your mother's reluctance to sell the manor only added to the complexity of the situation. Despite the financial burden it represented, the estate held sentimental value for her, serving as a tangible connection to Duke Rupert and the life they had built together.

The twins' indifference to the predicament only further highlighted the sense of isolation you felt in confronting this dilemma alone. But then your thoughts turned to Hugo, the youngest member of the family, and the realization dawned on you that the manor held a special significance for him as well.

Selling off the artwork and alcohol collection was a possibility, but the process would take time, and the prospect of navigating the complexities of the open market and taxation only added to the uncertainty.

With few options left to consider, you knew that your best course of action was to confront the man himself. Despite your reservations, you couldn't ignore the fact that Bucky held the key to unraveling the mystery of Duke Rupert's debts.

As the desire to return to the U.S. gnawed at you, a sense of urgency washed over you, driving you to seek resolution as quickly as possible. But with time ticking away and the weight of responsibility bearing on your shoulders, you knew the road ahead would be fraught with challenges and sacrifices.

You sighed heavily, the weight of the situation settling upon your shoulders. "What options do I have?

Bucky's smile was almost too slick, his finger pointing at you like a loaded gun. "I really like your attitude, Your Grace. Straight to the point," he remarked, his voice smooth as silk.

As he unbuttoned his suit and slid his hands into his pocket pants, a sense of foreboding settled over you like a dark cloud. "I'm also intrigued by your career as an expert in bombs," he continued, his words sending a chill down your spine.

A knot of unease tightened in your stomach as you braced yourself for what was to come. "Go on," you replied tersely, the tension crackling in the air between you.

With a calculated gesture, Bucky brought his hands together, the glint of gold rings catching the light and adding an air of menace to his demeanor. "I will make the debt of 8 million pounds disappear. If you help me," he declared, his tone dripping with promise.

Your heart skipped a beat at the audacity of his offer, the implications of his words sinking in like a lead weight. "What do you want?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on your shoulders.

Bucky hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering with uncertainty before he finally spoke. "I've got more competition after I helped Rupert. Thinking about it gives me headaches. That's where you come in," he explained cryptically, his words laden with hidden meaning.

Raising an eyebrow, you regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. The silence stretched between you, thick with tension, until Bucky finally broke it with a chilling revelation. "I want you to create an explosion. To get rid of them," he stated bluntly, his eyes boring into yours with unwavering intensity.

"Fuck!"

Cursing under your breath, you cast a wary glance at the painting of Rupert hanging on the wall. His eyes seemed to bore into you, judging your every move. As an army EOD technician, the thought of making a bomb for a criminal to pay off a debt filled you with a sense of dread.

Regret gnawed at you like a festering wound as you grappled with the weight of the decision before you. Coming back home had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but now, faced with the reality of the situation, you couldn't help but wish you had never returned.

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#theo james #the gentlemen #edward horniman #eddie the gentleman #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #buckybarnes #james bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #winter soldier #james buchanan barnes #the gentleman 2024 #bucky x female!reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x female reader #mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky

[soc-x-tcoa]

The 'Six Of Crows' Duology: Analysis

In Leigh Bardugo’s ‘Six of Crows’ duology, contextual influences shape the thematic portrayal of revenge and vengeance, freedom and justice, and remorse. Set in Ketterdam, a corrupt and unequal city, characters’ motivations and actions are deeply influenced by their environment. The desire for revenge arises from a society where power abuse and elusive justice prevail, compelling the protagonists, known as the Crows, to seek retribution against their oppressors. Their pursuit of freedom is driven by a yearning to escape societal constraints and an oppressive system. Themes of justice and remorse emerge as characters confront the consequences of their choices, questioning their morality in an ambiguous world.

Revenge & Vengeance

In ‘Six of Crows’ revenge is portrayed as a creature which can consume someone and transform them into someone essentially inhumane and temporarily insane in a situation where they are consumed by vengeance. This concept is strongly depicted in a scene early on in the first book, where Inej has just been stabbed and Kaz is consumed by anger, anxiety and a craving for revenge, due to his intense care for Inej (who, in his words, is an ‘investment’ and, in Inej’s, ‘a very valuable investment’) and fear for her possible impending death at Oomen, a rival gang member’s, hand. In

“‘Listen to me,’ he hissed, his face inches from Oomen’s. ‘You have two choices. You tell me what I want to know, and we drop you at our next port with your pockets full of enough coin to get you sewn up and buy you passage back to Kerch. Or I take the other eye, and I repeat this conversation with a blind man.’”

Bardugo employs vivid visual imagery, enhancing the intensity of the moment. Kaz’s intimidation tactics highlight his calculating nature, showcasing his reputation as a strongly feared character. Furthermore, the power dynamics between Kaz and Oomen are emphasized, with Kaz holding control and Oomen's fear accentuating his vulnerability. This concept is continued in this scene with

“‘Don’t make me ask again, Oomen,’ Kaz said quietly. ‘Whoever it was can’t protect you now.’ ‘He’ll kill me.’ ‘And I’ll make you wish for death, so you have to weigh those options.’ ‘Pekka Rollins,” Oomen sobbed. “It was Pekka Rollins!’”

employing tone as a literary technique. The hissing tone of Kaz’s voice adds an element of intimidation and threat, emphasizing his determination to get the information he wants. This showcases Kaz's coercive nature, presenting Oomen with an ultimatum and demonstrating Kaz's ruthlessness, as well as underscoring Kaz's determination, the desperation of Oomen, and the high stakes involved, ultimately heightening tension and propelling the plot. Kaz is further portrayed as a highly vengeful character in

“Pekka Rollins couldn't count the threats he'd heard, the men he'd killed, or the men he'd seen die, but the look in Brekker's eye still sent a chill slithering up his spine. Some wrathful thing in this boy was beginning to get loose, and Rollin's didn't want to be around when it slipped its leash.”

Bardugo employs visual imagery in the phrase “sent a chill slithering up his spine” creating a vivid image of the fear and unease Pekka Rollins experiences when he sees the intensity in Kaz’s eyes, consequently emphasising the power and menacing presence Kaz holds. Furthermore, the quote characterizes Kaz Brekker as a formidable and dangerous individual, capable of instilling fear in his enemies. It portrays him as someone driven by a deep desire for retribution, highlighting his determination to seek revenge and the potential consequences for those who stand in his way. This portrays the fear and apprehension felt by Pekka towards Kaz, suggesting that Kaz’s wrath and desire for revenge is growing stronger. The mention of the “wrathful thing” within Kaz implies his intent to seek vengeance and suggests that he poses a significant threat to Rollins, unlike anyone else Pekka has faced in the past. This reflects the theme of revenge and the impending retribution that Kaz seeks against his enemies, conveying that Kaz’s vengeance, though once hidden, was something becoming more visible and essentially consuming as his resolve to achieve vengeance hardened and strengthened, becoming visible to Pekka as his target. Throughout the duology, Kaz is portrayed as someone who is consumed by revenge and vengeance, both in thoughts and in action. The duology thematically portrays revenge and vengeance as a living concept which has the inherent ability to twist the minds of those it enthralls and devours.

Freedom & Justice

The duology delves into the themes of freedom and justice, exploring how retribution and revenge can be perceived as a form of justice, and how striving towards these can foster intense strength, motivation and determination within someone, as well as how one’s sense of freedom and justice is shaped by their personal experiences. The notion of justice as retribution is explored through Kaz in

“Brick by brick,” he muttered to himself. They were the only words that kept his rage in check, […] Brick by brick. It was the promise that let him sleep at night, that drove him every day, that kept Jordie’s ghost at bay. Because a quick death was too good for Pekka Rollins.”

Bardugo employs foreshadowing, symbolising Kaz’s determination for The repetition of this phrase “brick by brick” hints at Kaz’s long-term strategy of dismantling his enemy's empire, piece by piece. It suggests that he is willing to invest time and effort to ensure a thorough and satisfying revenge, rather than seeking a quick and easy resolution, foreshadowing the intense and methodical approach Kaz intends to take in seeking and delivering justice, consequently avenging his brother, Jordie’s, death at the hand of Pekka Rollins. Ultimately, it expresses how this became a fuel and motivation for Kaz, and a goal for him to strive towards, as he wanted Pekka to suffer, similarly to how he caused Jordie and Kaz to suffer greatly as children. It encapsulates Kaz’s sheer determination for achieving vengeance, and underscores his deep resentment towards Pekka and alludes to how Kaz intends to destroy Pekka’s life and unravel it at the seams before finally killing him. This motivation is supported in

“The heart is an arrow. It demands aim to land true.”

By metaphorically delving into the nature of the heart and emphasizing the need for purpose and direction in order to achieve desired outcomes, this suggests that one must have a clear aim or objective to make the heart's desires a reality. This, in consequence, supports Kaz’s intent on avenging Jordie and destroying Pekka, as he has a defined purpose, and because of that, he will achieve what he strives towards. Bardugo’s ‘Six of Crows’ duology also delves into the notion of how one’s past experiences can shape their motivations for the future, and their personal interpretation of freedom and justice as a loose concept. This is explored through Inej, as seen in

“‘I want to use my money to hire a crew and outfit a ship.’ Saying the words wrapped her breath up in an anxious spool. Her dream still felt fragile. She didn’t want to care what Kaz thought, but she did. ‘I’m going to hunt slavers.’”

Inej’s statement of wanting to use her money to hire a crew and hunt slavers reveals her proactive nature and her willingness to take action in pursuit of justice, showcasing her determination and moral convictions. This is a significant moment as Inej has been pondering this dream and plan for her future for a while yet, and the main reason she wants to do this is her own past experiences with slavery, as she herself had been enslaved for 2 years prior to Kaz paying off her indenture with Heleen, the brothel owner. Furthermore, this is significant as Kaz is the first person she is sharing this with, and her internal thoughts show that she does value his opinion, despite not wanting to. This conveys how she herself suffered at the hands of slavers for years, and how in her freedom she wants to now, as a consequence, fight for the freedom of others to avoid them enduring what she did herself. Furthermore, through Kaz, Bardugo explores how when people hold importance in one’s life, they can alter one’s plans for the future and transform how they view their life. In

“‘What do you want then?’ The old answers came easily to mind. Money. Vengeance. Jordie's voice in my head silenced forever. But a different reply roared to life inside him, loud, insistent, and unwelcome. You, Inej. You.”

Kaz’s internal monologue provides insight into his thoughts and conflicting desires, allowing the reader to understand the internal struggle and conflict that has risen within him due to his complex feelings for Inej clashing with his long standing desire to destroy Pekka’s life. This expresses that although Kaz has wanted revenge for a lengthened amount of time, and he still intends to get his revenge on Pekka, he now does not only see revenge in his future, but has other things he cares about and wants. The mention of this being ‘loud, insistent [and] unwelcome’ implies that he does not want for his focus to change from his vengeance for Jordie on Pekka, as he wants more than anything to be able to achieve that, however he now also wants love and freedom, and he sees Inej as that. By saying he wants a future with Inej, he essentially alludes to the fact that he wants for his life to have some other meaning than the constraining one of him getting revenge for what Pekka did to Jordie and himself as children. Overall, the 'Six Of Crows' duology delves into the thematic exploration of freedom and justice from various differing angles and perspectives.

Remorse

‘Six of Crows’ also delves into themes of remorse, and how though one may not immediately feel remorse, the feeling may later sneak up on them unexpectedly. This concept is conveyed in

“Bright flashes of memory sparked through Kaz’s mind. […] The first time he’d seen Inej at the Menagerie, in purple silk, her eyes lined with kohl. The bone-handled knife he’d given her. The sobs that had come from behind the door of her room at the Slat the night she’d made her first kill. The sobs he’d ignored.”

The bright flashes of memory that spark through Kaz's mind evoke the technique of flashbacks, with Kaz reminiscing about past events and experiences, providing insight into Kaz’s previous and current perception of events in his life. The quote itself alludes to Kaz feeling at least some form of remorse for ignoring Inej’s crying the night she had first killed someone, despite him knowing how hard it had been for her at the time due to her faith. It expresses that though at the time he did not consciously care for her as much, he has developed a deep sense of care and love for her over the course of their relationship, and now feels remorseful and regretful of things he had done long in the past. Furthermore, it shows that though Kaz usually asserts himself to be emotionless and confident in his choices, he does indeed have feelings and regrets towards decisions he had made in the past, implying the same for the present.

Summary

In Leigh Bardugo's duology, 'Six of Crows,' the thematic portrayal of revenge, freedom, justice, and remorse is intricately shaped by the corrupt and unequal city of Ketterdam. The characters' motivations and actions are profoundly influenced by their desire for revenge against their oppressors and their yearning for freedom from societal constraints. As the story unfolds, the themes of justice and remorse come to the forefront, challenging the characters' moral compass in a morally ambiguous world. Through powerful imagery and intense moments, Bardugo vividly depicts the all-consuming nature of revenge and the unwavering determination of the characters in their pursuit of justice. Additionally, personal experiences, such as Inej's history as a slave, deeply impact their motivations and convictions. The duology also delves into how relationships and evolving desires can reshape one's path of revenge and redefine their understanding of freedom. Overall, Bardugo masterfully explores complex human motivations and the profound consequences of actions within a richly developed and morally intricate narrative.

#english extension assignment #six of crows #crooked kingdom #soc #ck #sox of crows duology #soc duology #socck #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #kaz #inej #pekka rollins #etc etc #analysis

[aajjks]

in case you guys need some context: https://www.tumblr.com/aajjks/734286381102333952/why-is-ayra-trying-to-tcdadjk-look-at-the

TC!dad!JK

“you probably forgot, but remember that girl nami? i know he still talks to her but i’m not sure what he’ll ask us about” you say with a hint of unease as you squeeze jungkook’s hand. your little boy, now a grown man, could be in love and you aren’t ready to let your firstborn go. you’ll never forget the pain and happiness you felt when you went into labor. what was an accident became the greatest thing in your life and now here you are, a mother of seven children when you were determined to only birth a boy and a girl, if only you knew.

see, raising your eldest son luckily wasn’t hard as you made sure to instill the same morals your mother instilled in you when your were a child:

be respectful.

use kind words.

never talk to strangers.

and be prepared to face stormy weather.

somehow, you’re finding it hard to face the storm because neither one of you have no idea what your son is going to ask you and after giving jaehan to one of the maids, he knocks before entering his parents chamber where they patiently wait for what their son has to say.

“mom, dad” he begins nodding his head at the both of you which you and jungkook smile and allow jinseoul to continue.

the 18 year old takes a deep breath and without anymore second guessing or doubt, he says what’s been on his mind for the past month now…

“i..i want to ask nami for her hand in marriage” he says shyly and your eyes immediately widen. you remember the maids bringing you information about this ‘choi nami’ that stole your son’s heart after a few exchanges of art pieces. she was born in japan to a japanese father and korean mother and was of noble blood due to her mother being a duchess. to keep the information hidden, her mother hired someone to kill her father and thus nami was raised in goryeo and only speaks hangul never learning about her true heritage.

you’ve met nami in person once or twice but it was only to pick your children up and from appearance, she seemed formal and very sweet. jungkook, however, isn’t too familiar with nami but is aware of the choi lineage and remembers his father not being fond of the duchess.

“son…uh…marriage? are you sure?” you say in shock yet your son seems certain.

“i-i know she’s not a princess but you weren’t a princess when you and father wedded. i love her, mom. we love each other and i think i’m ready to marry her”

“jinseoul, we’ve never met the girl”

“you have, mother!”

“well, your father hasn’t. son, you’re only 18. marriage is a big stepping stone”

“you and father got married at 22 years old. why is being 18 any different?”

“because there wasn’t a ‘teen’ at the end of our age. son, please understand. i know you love her but give it some time”

“i’m not a little boy, mom. what i have for nami isn’t puppy love. i actually love her and she loves me too. i’ve known her since i was twelve, that’s seven years”

“why are you so eager to marry her, son? don’t you want to wait before putting your eggs in one basket?”

jinseoul bites his lip. well, he made it this far…

“b-because…nami…nami is p-pregnant”

~🫧

Jungkook laughs, out loud, hard enough to actually snort. He doesn’t believe what he just heard.

Jinseoul… he cannot do this. Suddenly his brain has shut off, and he feels his legs and arms shaking from anger as his son’s words settle in his brain. Jinseoul… Jeon Jinseoul… his heir to the throne… his baby who just turned 18… has got a girl pregnant.

“ WHAT THE FUCK IS HE TALKING ABOUT YN?!?” Jungkook turns his head towards you, he tilts his head so fast that his neck almost breaks, but he feels so angry right now. “YN H-HE GOT A GIRL PREGNANT!” Jungkook stands up abruptly, he is literally screaming off his lungs, he is not sure about what to think right now because this is a huge deal.

“OH MY GOD HE GOT A GIRL PREGNANT! YN ARE YOU HEARING YOUR SON RIGHT NOW?” This is beyond disappointing. This was not he had planned for his oldest son.

And Jungkook is literally turning into his father right now. He doesn’t want to become a grandfather at the age of 42.

“Y-Yn oh my God I’m going to kill him! STOP ME BEFORE I FUCKING KILL HIM!” Jungkook and you are quite young right now, and he is still capable of having children with you.

He was supposed to have another child with you, HE DID NOT WANT TO BECOME A GRANDFATHER. “Y-Yn you and I are about to become grandparents! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!” Jungkook picks up a vase and throws it to the nearest wall

How could jinseoul be so careless? “I-I don’t know what to do- AT 18 I WAS LITERALLY FIGHTING ON THE BATTLEFIELD!” That is true, because at 17 years old, he was crowned king.

Jinseoul… his perfect son…. He’s so disappointed right now.

“Y-Yn GET HIM AWAY FROM ME!”

#ask: tc!jungkook #YOOO WTF JINSEOUL

[rejectedbad]

Rejected Bad: Stain

The following is a rejected script from an early season of Breaking Bad.

Walter White sits at a table in his living room. Before him are several stacks of cash, meticulously organised. He wears gloves as he counts the enormous piles, a small smirk on his face.

Walter notices a $20 bill with a distinct pizza sauce stain. He quickly becomes enraged and lets out a frustrated burst.

WALTER:  (furious)  Jesse!

Walter clenches his fists, his face becoming flushed with anger. He stands up, leaving the money on the table, and storms out of the house.

EXT. WHITE RESIDENCE - FRONT YARD - DAY

Walter paces back and forth in the front yard, muttering to himself. His frustration grows with every passing second. He looks in the direction of Jesse's house, determined to confront him for ruining the quality of his hard-earned cash.

WALTER:  (angry)  Damn it, Jesse! You can't even keep a pizza stain off my money?!

Walter marches towards his car, his breathing heavy and his mind set on finding Jesse. He throws open the car door and slams it shut, making the car shake.

INT. JESSE'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - DAY

Jesse Pinkman lounges on his couch, watching an action movie. Blissfully unaware of Walter's rage, he takes a swig from a bottle of beer.

Suddenly, there's a loud bang against the front door accompanied by Walter's thundering voice.

WALTER (O.S.):  (shouting)  Jesse, you idiot! Get out here!

Jesse jolts up, spilling his beer. He freezes for a moment, recognizing the urgency in Walter's voice. He hesitates but quickly regains his composure.

JESSE:  (nervously)  Aw, man. What's he doing here?

Jesse grabs a nearby empty pizza box, causing a few crumbs to sprinkle onto his couch. He nervously attempts to clean up the mess while simultaneously preparing himself mentally for Walter's arrival.

INT. JESSE'S APARTMENT - HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS

Walter forcefully kicks open Jesse's front door, revealing his furious face. He clutches a crowbar tightly in his hand.

Walter's eyes lock onto Jesse, who stands there, visibly apprehensive.

WALTER:  (enraged)  You think it's funny to stain my money with pizza sauce, huh? Do you have any idea how much time I spend perfecting these stacks?!

Jesse stammers, struggling to find the right words.

JESSE:  (defensive)  Mr. White, I swear it was an accident, man! I didn't mean to ruin your cash.

Walter clenches his teeth, his rage as potent as ever. With every word, his grip on the crowbar tightens.

WALTER:  (fuming) Accident or not, Jesse, I will not tolerate carelessness. That money represents our hard work and dedication. You owe me more respect than that!

Jesse's face pales as the gravity of the situation sinks in. He takes a step back, fear evident in his eyes.

JESSE:  (pleadingly)  Mr. White, I promise I'll be more careful. Please don't hurt me.

Walter's anger begins to abate as he realises the fear he has instilled in Jesse. He takes a deep breath, his hand relaxing on the crowbar.

WALTER:  (calmly, but sternly)  Consider this a warning, Jesse. If I catch you jeopardising our operation again, there will be consequences. You got that?

Jesse nods vigorously, visibly relieved but still shaken.

JESSE:  (sincerely)  Yeah, Walt. I got it. I'll be more careful, I swear.

Walter turns, his back facing Jesse, and exits the apartment, leaving Jesse in a state of unease.

FADE OUT.

#breaking bad #rejected bad #walter white #jesse pinkman #crowbar #pizza #stain

[crownedmercy]

━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━

"𝑨 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒎𝒆, 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒍𝒊𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒍𝒍, 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕’𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉, 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 200+ 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑽𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒇𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚. 𝑾𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒂 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒇𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅, 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝑽𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒐 𝒊𝒏 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒐𝒘𝒏.."

━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━

Vought International is an American multi-billion-dollar superhero-entertainment corporation out of Manhattan, that manages the global population of licensed superheroes. Many American’s today know that the company was founded by Fredrick Vought, but what they don't know is that Mr. Vought was a Nazi scientist that worked side by side with Adolf Hitler in 1939.

The two madmen would perform unethical experiments on human test subjects in the Dachau concentration camp, eventually creating the first dose of 𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝑽 and therefore cultivating the rise of super enhanced beings.

𝑺𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒔, as they now call them.

However, 𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝑽 is shrouded from the general public, most people beliving that supes are chosen by God. Even most of the supes themselves have yet to find out that their parents or guardians allowed them to be used as test subjects when they were only young children.

━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━

"𝑻𝒐𝒅𝒂𝒚'𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒘'𝒔 𝒇𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆.."

━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━

Just another bullshit broadcast from the Vought CEO, Madelyn Stillwell, who profits off soliciting the supes and also instilling the notion that it's possible to live a life without crime. Even the supes have their downfalls and flaws. Many of them irresponsible or just unaware of how to handle their powers, often leading to more trouble such as destruction of property, the killings of innocents, and an unfair balance in the legal system. Who would’ve thought..

Protests had become something frequent outside the headquarters of the Vought Tower. The people were livid with how the main 7 Supes handled themselves and crime. Some had lost family members and friends because of how careless some of the supes could be, others were religious and thought the supes were an abomnation on nature and straight from hell.

People held all sorts of signs in protest -

Whose history does Vought honor?

Homelander is NOT above the law.

FUCK SUPES!

SUPE SILENCE IS VIOLENCE.

There was justified rage here with the public and Madelyn Stillwell understood that /well./ It's why she gathered the main 7 supes (Homelander, Black Noir, Queen Maeve, A-Train, Starlight, Translucent, and The Deep) on floor 99 to conduct an emergency meeting straight away.

All 7 of the supes sat around the circular table near the wall of windows that overlooked the iconic entertainment capital that was Manhattan. Madelyn stood directly in front of them all with confidental files on some of the less main-stream supes from around the country.

"Now I know this isn't what we previously discussed, but with the amount of outrage outside right now, and the negative hashtags pouring in on nearly all socials, we have to act quick.”

She says matter factly.

"We're bringing in some new faces. I've got 10 files on me right here that I’ll discuss as I introduce you to a potiental new face here at Vought. We need someone that can really connect with the public, in ways... well, we haven't been able to.."

She knew critisism never sat well with Homelander, the captain of the 7, so it came to no surprise (to anyone) that he stood up from his seat and cackled menacingly as he spewed out his response.

"We don't need shit. There's no connecting with a bunch of entitled fucks that really believe we aren’t above the law... that believe we aren't fucking GODS."

There was a sense of unease in the air, and boy was it thicker than a snickers until a simple fleeting look from Madelyn made Homelander switch up his usual narrative.

"But, you know what, I've got some free time. Let's start this shit show. Bring them out."

Homelander says, and so that's exactly what happened.

Each supe escorted up to the meeting room on the 99th floor where they'd show their powers off and try to win over the panal of The 7 and Madelyn Stillwell.

━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━

NOW INTRODUCING . .

━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━

𝑳𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝑹𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝑹𝒂𝒈𝒆

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." A fiery supe that spits fire when the rage arises. Often kills her romantic partners, for obvious reasons.

𝑯𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝑩𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒚 𝑺𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒘

Insane flexibility and resilence. Odd obsession with bendy straws.

𝑫𝒐𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒓 𝑪𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒓

Speaks the language of bones, whatever that means. Snaps backs, literally.

𝑾𝒐𝒐𝒅-𝑴𝒂𝒏

Magical wood shield and suit. Can speak to trees. Tree hugger/lover.. Think of The Deep with his sea buddies.

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝑷𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒚𝒑𝒖𝒔

Sticky venom that only activates during mating season. #PimpTailStrong.

𝑹𝒆𝒅 𝑻𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒖𝒍𝒂

Red hypnotic venom. Creepy crawler. Sticks to ceilings and stuff.

𝑻𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒉 𝑫𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍

Walking Tourette’s. Enough said.

𝑳𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝑩𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒔

Luck is always on his side, except in the bedroom. Uncontrollable ejactulation. Call that, Always Getting Lucky.. Barnes.

𝑴𝒓𝒔. 𝑻𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒖𝒔

Tremendously curvy ass that inflates and ensnares. New take on ass eating.

𝑺𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝑵𝒐𝒗𝒂

Can alter the emotions and manipulate pain receptors in the brain with her purple electric fingertips, that she often conceals like Elsa. Performer girl with vocals for days, the next bright star. Brighter than Starlight.

━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━

"That's the one. That's her."

Approval from Homelander was a rarity, but Super Nova had won him over instantly. Could we chalk that up to her ability to alter emotions, or did Homelander see true potential in the tall curvy bruntette with Barney purple fingertips, and a voice that sounded as if it were out of this world?

Super Nova..

━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━

𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍:

𝖳𝖮𝖯 𝖲𝖤𝖢𝖱𝖤𝖳 𝖵𝖮𝖴𝖦𝖧𝖳 𝖲𝖴𝖯𝖤 𝖥𝖨𝖫𝖤:

Name: Quinn, Nova

Aliases: Super Nova

Gender: Female.

DOB: 03 - 06 - 1995

Born and raised in Seattle, WA. Now living near Vought headquarters.

Compound V administered to Nova at her time of birth due to the passing of her mother in a tragic car accident. Compound V kept the infant subject alive after her father begged and pleaded for Vought's help.

Powers: Novacaine fingertips that shoot purple blasts of electric shocks straight to the brain's receptors, able to alter what someone feels or doesn't feel. Healing abilities.

Known weaknesses: Bouts of hysteria, due to feeling what everyone else feels when she uses her abilites. . and because hello, female rage.

Family: Father who still lives back in Seattle. Jason Quinn.

Other important notes:

Subject is unaware of Compound V and thinks she was born with her powers, inherited by her deceased mother, who was in-fact, not a fuckin’ supe.

━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━

#Spotify

[declanowo]

31 Days of Horror - Day 27 - The Wicker Man

27/10/23

Roughly a week ago, I stumbled across a physical copy of The Wickerman - its iconic crisp poster is bared across the front, and inside are packed three DVDs. Despite finding a few others I wanted while out with my friend - notably Candyman: Day of the Dead - I only picked this one up, and ever since I’ve been waiting for the right day to watch it! I had heard that thematically, it was similar to Midsommar, which has become one of my favourite films, in part because of the way I watched it! Because of this, I saved watching The Wickerman for a daytime I was free, ideally it would be warm, but then again, it’s autumn, so finding a day like this was improbable. Yet, as I sat down to watch the film, sun peered through my window, gleaming off the screen. Yet, the poster misled me, the film I watched was not bright and overexposed, but washed out and mostly gloomy. To match, halfway through the film, rain began pouring against my window.

The Wickerman follows Sergeant Neil Howie, a policeman, as he travels to an island village in search of a missing girl. I love a lot about this film: its peculiar cast of characters, how scary it is scary, it’s filled to the brim with fun themes and packed with gorgeous cinematography - so much of this was a joy to watch. 

I guess I’ll start with my biggest negative before divulging into the good of this film, that being our protagonist. Despite him being played perfectly by Edward Woodward, I couldn’t help but find him grating at times. While his disregard for the pagan religion that those who live on the island follow is deeply intentional, at times he grew too much for me. It was rare, and in retrospect, I do not mind this so much, but it is the biggest factor holding me back from loving it! It becomes so difficult to root for a character like him - I find myself having the same trouble with Deep Red, another film I adore, but the protagonist puts me in a shaky position about jumping to watch it again! However, this film has such a fun cast of characters, that it is rare that Neil can turn me off what is happening entirely! Really, this feels so minor as I write this, but while watching it was a bigger problem, and once again, I think that comes down to this film's perfect ending. 

While I’m talking about characters, I want to say that I loved every single other one. Each is played to be so interesting and unique, no two characters feel the same, and they all feel somewhat off, of course, by the end we know why, but watching the film unfold with the mystery of the missing person, the unease the characters instil is a perfect compliment to its tone and atmosphere. The three main characters that stick in my mind are Willow, Lord Summerisle and the Librarian, played by Britt Ekland, Christopher Lee and Ingrid Pitt respectively. All of these characters I am still thinking about, their charismatic and offbeat performances add to the eerie and unsettlingness of the film. Willow was my favourite I think, her song is amazing, and to begin with, the purpose of the scene had me deeply confused - her later appearances are amazing too! 

While at face value, this isn’t the scariest film, especially to a modern audience, I feel like the atmosphere it builds, and the eventual ending (which is where many find it to be terrifying) are haunting. Maybe it feels less scary as a result of our protagonist, who appears fearless throughout, although his final fear does create a terrifying image. Yet, the horror of being trapped in a new place itself is a terrifying thought, although this only develops further when the intent of those living here is revealed. Of course, the ending is terrifying, as we watch Neil cry out for God, praying as he burns inside the titular Wicker Man, all while we watch the islanders dance and sing for their festival. 

Thematically, I enjoy the contrast between Christianity and Paganism, the former is presented as pure and correct, meanwhile Neil shuns the pagans for their beliefs, which in his eyes go against everything he believes in and stands for. Yet, I can never side with him, he is abrash and downright cruel to these people, which provides a catharsis by the end. In a sense, he arrives in someone else's home, tells them he hates their decor and every person who lives there, and is shocked when they throw him out. Through it all, he is the oppressor, he others this community in his conquest, which is a just cause, but it highlights his desire for power, his need to be more than these people who don’t follow the divine path in life he has. The conflict of culture is shown excellently through this film's use of music, which many consider to make this film a musical. Every song is great, yet, Neil is always against them, he pointedly hates when they sing, and is afraid of the nudity that flourishes on the island. At no point do we see anyone getting hurt, in fact, the whole missing person case is a ruse, and while it makes sense for him to suspect something is off, much of his investigation is steeped in a prejudice he collects from witnessing a life different from his. 

The cinematography at the end of this film is especially amazing! Several long shots are used to demonstrate how many people are attending the festival, and we feel a sense that as the audience, we are trapped inside of it, unable to find a place to escape. My favourite of these is at the end, when Neil looks up the hill to see everyone awaiting him. 

Finally, I want to mention how much I love the costuming! Especially during the festival - the animal masks and white gowns are beautiful, and I got incredibly excited when they appeared. Everyone feels at home here. 

Ever since finishing it, The Wicker Man has been stuck in my mind. This is one I will think about for a while I think, and I’m so very excited to watch the director's cut that came with my DVD. Maybe the scariest part of this film is how easily I have been influenced to visit Scotland - it just looked so pretty! Maybe I’ll wait until May though.

9/10

#halloween #horror #horror movies #creative writing #literature #reviews #review #horror film #horror movie #wicker man #folk horror

[fallenstar193]

Writing Examples

Micheal Myers-

With every passing moment, Michael’s anticipation grows, his dark desires fueling his relentless pursuit. He’s a phantom in the night, blending seamlessly with the ominous surroundings. Shadows cling to him like a second skin, as if the very essence of evil itself were taking form. He moves closer, a predator closing in on its unsuspecting prey.

Inside the house, the victim’s unease intensifies, a subtle sense that something is terribly wrong. The faint creaking of the floorboards under Michael’s calculated steps goes unnoticed by the oblivious residents. His malevolent presence casts an ever-lengthening shadow over their lives, a harbinger of the impending horror.

The cold, lifeless eyes behind the mask remain fixed on the victim, studying her every move. Michael’s emotions, if he has any left, are a twisted puzzle, a murky abyss of darkness. He thrives on the fear he instills, reveling in the helplessness of his victims as they realize the depths of their impending doom.

As the tension in the house mounts, Michael Myers inches closer to his target. His grip on the knife tightens, and he readies himself to strike. It’s a macabre dance of death, a sinister waltz played out in the dark corners of Haddonfield. The victim’s fate is sealed, and all that remains is the gruesome crescendo of violence that Michael will unleash upon her, leaving a trail of terror in his wake.

Billy Loomis-

Amid the bustling halls of Woodsboro High School, Billy Loomis weaves through a sea of students, his facade of a concerned, grieving boyfriend in place. He hears the hushed whispers and excited chatter that ripple through the crowd like a sinister undercurrent. “Did you hear about the Ghostface murder last night?” one student exclaims, while another adds, “They say the killer’s still out there, targeting teenagers.” Billy’s heart races, a turbulent storm of joy and satisfaction swirling within him.

With practiced finesse, he joins a group of his peers, feigning shock and disbelief as they recount the gruesome details of the latest murder. His acting skills are impeccable; he wears the mask of innocence as convincingly as he wears the Ghostface mask itself. Inside, he revels in the twisted game he’s playing with the town, enjoying the thrill of being so close to the investigation.

As the conversation continues, Billy can’t help but smirk inwardly. He’s the puppeteer, pulling the strings from behind the scenes, manipulating their fear and paranoia. He thinks to himself, “They have no idea it’s me, the very person they’re talking about. I’m the one responsible for these horrors.” His dual existence as both the concerned boyfriend and the sadistic killer fills him with a chilling sense of power.

Deep down, Billy knows he’s playing a dangerous game, one that could unravel at any moment. But the adrenaline rush of deception and the satisfaction of terrorizing the town keep him entangled in this deadly dance. He listens to his classmates, their voices growing more anxious, and silently vows to continue his reign of terror, all while masquerading as an innocent victim in a world he’s turned upside down.

Megan Pax (OC)-

Megan had been having a pleasant evening at the local bar, enjoying her friends’ company and the lively atmosphere. It was there that she first spotted Johnny Sawyer, a charming stranger with a smile that could melt hearts. His wit and charisma were magnetic, drawing Megan into an engaging conversation that made her forget about the world outside.

As the night wore on, Johnny’s charm only seemed to grow stronger, and he suggested they continue their conversation outside. Megan, feeling adventurous and intrigued, agreed. Little did she know that this encounter was about to take a dark turn.

Once outside, Megan began to sense that something was off. Johnny’s demeanor had shifted, his smile replaced by an unsettling intensity. Fear began to creep into Megan’s thoughts as she realized she might have made a grave mistake. When Johnny suddenly grabbed her arm and tried to force her into the back of his truck, Megan’s instincts kicked in.

With a burst of adrenaline, Megan delivered a powerful punch to Johnny’s lip, the sound of the impact echoing in the dimly lit alley. She could taste victory in that brief moment, but she knew she had to run. With every ounce of strength she could muster, Megan sprinted away from Johnny, her heart pounding in her chest. However, her escape was cut short as Johnny, seething with anger, quickly caught up to her.

In that heart-stopping moment, Megan realized the depth of the danger she was in. Her decision to confront Johnny had bought her some time, but her fate now rested in the hands of this man who had gone from charming to menacing.

Jack Wolford (OC)-

Jack had always been the kind of guy who’d do anything for his friends, so when Sonny came to him with the desperate plea to help find Maria, one of their close friend’s missing sister, he didn’t hesitate. They piled into Leland’s old van and set off on a road trip from their small town to the heart of Texas, determined to unravel the mystery surrounding Maria’s disappearance.

Their journey brought them to a remote gas station in the middle of nowhere. Inside, they met the grizzled owner, known simply as Cook, who eyed them suspiciously as they inquired about Maria’s last known whereabouts. The more questions they asked, the less friendly Cook became. His patience wore thin, and he finally snapped, unleashing a torrent of rage at the group of curious kids.

In the blink of an eye, the situation escalated from tense to terrifying. Cook’s aggression took them by surprise, and before they could react, Jack and his friends found themselves beaten and bound, their pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears. Panic set in as they realized they were at the mercy of a family who seemed to be hiding something sinister.

In a desperate bid for freedom, Jack managed to break free from his restraints, his heart pounding as he fled through the back. But his escape was cut short when, in the darkness, he stepped right into a concealed bone trap. Agony shot through him, and he couldn’t suppress a guttural howl of pain.

Before he could fully comprehend what had happened, a hulking figure emerged from the shadows. This man, known as Leatherface, loomed over Jack, his grotesque mask concealing any trace of humanity. The night had taken a nightmarish turn, and Jack’s pursuit of answers had led him straight into the clutches of a relentless and merciless force that would test his will to survive like never before.

Betty (OC)-

Betty, known as the Doll Face Killer, was an enigmatic and elusive figure in the quiet suburban town. She lived in an unassuming house, a facade that masked the chilling secrets that lurked within. Next door to Betty resided her neighbor, Black Nancy, a woman of deep mystery herself, and her son, Johnny Sawyer.

The relationship between Betty and her neighbors was a peculiar one. Betty maintained an icy distance from Nancy and Johnny, seldom exchanging more than a curt nod in passing. Yet, rumors about her peculiar habits and eerie doll collection spread like wildfire among the residents. Some claimed to have glimpsed life-sized dolls in her windows, their so called lifeless eyes seemingly following the curious onlookers. Only rumors much.

Black Nancy, on the other hand, was known for her stoic demeanor and the air of solitude that surrounded her. She rarely socialized with the other neighbors, keeping to herself and focusing on her son Johnny, who was equally enigmatic. Johnny, a tall and brooding young man, carried an aura of quiet intensity that intrigued and unnerved those who crossed his path.

The neighbors often speculated about the strange trio living side by side, but no one dared to pry too deeply into their affairs. Betty, the Doll Face Killer, kept her secrets well-guarded, and the neighborhood remained in a state of uneasy tranquility, blissfully unaware of the darkness that simmered just beneath the surface.

Maria Flores (Muse):

As Maria continued her exploration of the picturesque sunflower field, she couldn’t help but be captivated by the sight of some delicate, vibrant flowers that had caught her eye. Their petals glistened like drops of morning dew in the fading sunlight, casting a mesmerizing spell over her. These were no ordinary flowers; they were a variety she had never encountered before, their colors a stunning blend of deep purples and soft pinks, reminiscent of an artist’s palette.

Maria’s heart swelled with a deep appreciation for the natural beauty that surrounded her. These flowers, in particular, seemed like a rare gem tucked away in the sunflower sea. She knew, in that moment, that she had stumbled upon something truly special. Her fingers tingled with anticipation as she carefully retrieved her camera, feeling the familiar weight of it in her hands.

She adjusted the lens, ensuring every detail of the blossoms was captured flawlessly. With a soft click, she immortalized the flowers in a single frame, preserving their ethereal beauty for eternity. In her mind, she already imagined how these images would fit seamlessly into her scrapbook, each photograph telling a story of discovery and awe. Maria understood that some moments in life were too beautiful not to be captured, and these flowers were the embodiment of that belief.

With the freshly taken photo of the exquisite flowers in her hand, Maria couldn’t help but admire the intricate details that her camera had beautifully captured. She marveled at the interplay of colors and the delicate veins that adorned each petal. The soft, golden sunlight that bathed the blossoms in a warm glow seemed to dance within the frame. As her eyes lingered on the image, a smile spread across her face, reflecting the joy she felt in this moment of artistic appreciation.

Cheerfully, Maria whispered to herself, “These will fit perfectly in my scrapbook.” She could already envision them nestled among her other cherished memories, a testament to the beauty she encountered on her adventures. Her heart swelled with excitement at the thought of sharing this discovery with her sister Ana. “Ana would love to see this,” she mused, making a mental note to send her sister a photo of the enchanting flowers as a delightful surprise from her journey through the sunflower field.

[tommyspeakycap]

could u maybe do fic where it’s john and poppy again. maybe this time, the guy who didn’t stick around wants to take her away because it’s “his” daughter, and he’s like a really crappy human being. then like at her 5th or 6th birthday party, he shows up and like the england squad is there because they love poppy as well. then y/n gets nervous and the boys and john just go full on protective mode?

yessss!!!! i love this idea :)

piece by piece

inspired by piece by piece by kelly clarkson bc i felt it fits this request nicely :) enjoy x

You knew somewhere deep down that something wasn’t going to be right this week. You hadn’t been able to put your finger on it, really. At first thinking it was maybe just your emotions because your baby was turning five somehow, then you thought maybe it was the stress of unpacking into a brand new house so close to that birthday. But neither of those things seemed to really make you stressed out enough to cause such unease in your physical and mental being.

“Mummy do you know what uncle Jackie said?” Poppy asks, breaking you out of your trance with her sweet little voice as she sits on the kitchen counter next to you. She’s watching you wash her strawberries as she sits cross legged on that shining marble surface, literally brand new like the rest of the entire interior of the house that you and John picked out together. He hadn’t let you know a single solitary price tag on anything, ensuring that you didn’t hold back on a single choice because you worried about the cost. Years of being a single mother instilled that in you, but he was very slowly attempting to eradicate it. He had more money than he could ever spend, and thus absolutely adored spending it on you and his little Poppet. “What did he say, baby?” You encourage, her eyes lightening up at the opportunity to talk about her favourite uncle. Jack was such a big kid at heart and so he had got on so well with your daughter from the second John introduced them.

“He said he got me a birthday surprise!” She chimes happily, making you turn to smile at her. “Really?” You gasp, “Are you excited then?”

She nods her little head vigorously, pleats bouncing as she does so with a gap toothed grin, missing some of her baby teeth in waiting for her adult ones to start making an appearance. “Yes mummy.” She beams, “And thank you.” She adds as you hand her the hey duggee bowl full of fruit. “You’re welcome lovely, remember to put your star on your chart later for being fantastic while we’ve been moving.”

She nods her head again, that big proud smile on her face after you scoop her up and place her down on the floor so she can walk through to the living room to eat her fruit. “When’s daddy home?” She asks sweetly, making your heart ache in your chest with pure joy. You had been fully prepared to never have this, for it to be just you and her after her father walked out on you both. He just never cared. He was manipulative and nasty and he never actually loved either of you. He was the opposite of John in every way. He used to complain when she would cry in the night and then insult your capability as a mother.

John stays up late to read her stories with you if she won’t sleep and he’ll make room in the bed if she’s had a nightmare. He makes sure you know how much of an amazing mother you are and how much of a fantastic job you do every single day. He just loves you both and he’ll spend the rest of his life making sure you both grasp just how much that is. He’s perfect.

You chance a look down at your watch, “Not long now baby. Wanna jump out and scare him?”

Her giggles of glee and abundantly happy smile as she leaps off the couch towards you with enthusiastic nodding give you the answer that her words do not.

John is so happy to see her even when she leaps out at him shrieking like a wounded animal, making him jump a foot into the air in fright. He’s happy to see her after long day, good day, hard days, bad days, winning days, painful losing days and every other day in between. She’s happy to see her and happy to see you. John is always loving, always kind and when his patience wears thinner than he can manage with, an apology and an explanation is hot on his heels to follow. He’s helping you raise a little girl who knows that people make mistakes. Sometimes people get angry and snap, sometimes people get sad or slip up and do things they ordinarily wouldn’t and it’s important to know that mistakes are an incredible learning curve. An apology and usually a snack can clear things up as long as behaviour actually changes. It’s one of the million reasons that John is the best dad you’ve ever known, certainly he’s miles clear of the man who is biologically your daughters father.

Just the thought of him puts a sour taste in your mouth.

“You know she’s gonna wake us up at like, five thirty at the latest, right?” You note, craning your neck to look up at John as you lay in bed that night preceding your daughters fifth birthday. “Oh of course.” John replies, his slight laugh reverberating through his chest and thus through your head that rests against it. “Then why you still up?” You press, fingers gently tracing the lines that are created in his chest by the definition of his tight muscles. “Why are you still up?” He switches playfully. You force a giggle instead of a sigh.

“Weird gut feeling,” you admit, “Can’t tell if it’s just ‘cause our baby’s growing up or…well i actually don’t know what else it could be.” You shrug tiredly, sighing against his bare chest. John immediately starts rubbing soothing circles on your back, and whether consciously or subconsciously it very much begins to relax you as he intends.

“I feel the same about her growing up, i hear it’s normal.” He says softly, hugging you tighter to him as he does while pressing a soft kid on the top of your head. “Isn’t she just perfect?” He adds, making you giggle softly. “Well she’s our kid, course she’s perfect.”

John laughs with a nod of agreement and another silence settles between you both.

“Night, John.” You mumble sleepily against his chest. “Love you.”

“I love you too,” he replies softly, words coated in love. “So, so much. More than you’ll ever know.”

~~~

5:45am Poppy burst in, knocking the wind out your stomach and landing a painful knee in John’s crotch that meant there was virtually no way for him to end up falling back asleep. She ended up falling asleep again, draped over you in a way that looked hugely uncomfortable but if it is, no one would’ve known by the way you fall asleep with her again. John snaps a picture of the three of you for his story, writing over it; “That 5th birthday feeling.” with the photo of Poppy drooling slightly as she lays sprawled over your front while you’re still tucked under John’s arm.

John just spent that hour watching you both, thinking about having another really. Thinking about giving Poppy a little brother or a little sister - getting to relive all those baby girl days he’d have the honour of loving Poppy through. He thought a lot about how you had given him so much happiness. You had given him trust with your child. It doesn’t get much bigger than that.

John doesn’t really stop thinking about it all day as he enjoys everything, takes everything in and savours every moment just like his mother always told him he should. “You’ll blink and she’ll be leaving home, John.” She always said. So he was hanging onto every single little moment.

Watching her bounce up and down on the bouncy castle, laughing down the slide of the soft play that had been installed in the huge garden of the house that John moved you all into as a surprise two weeks ago. The ridiculously large garden had made a perfect place to have the soft play hired for her birthday after it was recommended to him by Harry Maguire, who’s daughters were running around in there somewhere also with Poppy’s school friends. The laughter around the entire place lights up John’s heart and he realised suddenly that the life he has right now is everything that he has ever dreamt off.

It’s almost on cue that something must go wrong.

“Daddy! Daddy! Come bounce with us!” Poppy shrieks in glee, grabbing his large hand in her little one. John smiles immediately without thought, setting down his drink and bidding a quick wave to Kyle and Raz who he had been standing with. You giggle loudly, jumping off the large princess themed bouncy castle to give John a gentle peck on the lips as he passes. “I need to pee, be back in five for a bounce off?” You challenge, making his chuckle loudly. “It’s on!”

You laugh as you jog off, shaking your head.

“He’s not her dad.”

You yelp, eyes wide in shock as you throw your hand over your chest. Your eyes dart up the garden where everybody stand, hoping nobody had spotted you standing down here by the bifold doors into the house because everybody else was at the other end of the garden where the party was set up. “What the fuck are you doing here.”

He scoffs, “You know why i’m here,” he retorts snarling, “She’s my daughter.”

You force out a harsh, fake laughter as you shake your head in complete disbelief. “No. No, you gave up that right when you left us.” You snap immediately, hand held up to silence him. His face reddens in anger. It’s a look you had once been so familiar with.

“You don’t get to take that away from me, you’re nothing without me.”

“And you don’t get to speak to her like that.”

The snarling voice doesn’t belong to John as you might've expected, and you don’t want to turn your head to see who it is and break eye contact with your ex. The voice belongs to Harry Maguire. He is one of very few people who know the shaky situation with your ex because he cornered John in the changing room after he had an off game to get him to confide what it was that was on his mind and John had given him a basic rundown. “It’s alright.” You mutter, but the centre-back who you’ve come to know very very well is having none of that. He shakes his head firmly. “No it isn’t.” He growls. It’s clear from the moment Harry appeared he had the height advantage. The 6”4 defender immediately squares his shoulders, glaring at your ex. “Leave now.” Harry pushes him back, easily moving him towards the side gate of the garden where he has clearly entered.

Your ex scoffs, shaking his head. “It’s my daughters party. I have more right to be here than he does.” He nods his head in the direction of the fluffy haired brunette standing by the bouncy castle, catching Poppy under her arms as she leaps off so he can hold her above his head while making airplane noises for her to giggle contagiously.

“Excuse me?” You snap, weaving your way out from behind Harry. He holds out an arm to keep you from storming towards your ex. “John right?” He asks, “Hey John! Hello! Hi! That’s my daughter you’re playing happy families with every day.”

Harry takes one stride forward, silencing him with the ferocity of the fire behind his eyes. He is very very protective of his family and he very much counts you, John and Poppy as part of his family. He and John are like brothers.

John’s head snapped around at the shout of his name, immediately recognising the face that he’s wanted to punch since he’d first seen in in a picture, and long before where all you had done was drop hints about how horrible he was to you. Now that John knows the full depth of the story, every intricate detail, his mind is set on getting that vile man away from his family as quickly as possible. Kevin stands close to John, reaching out his arms to take the now 5 year old girl from him. “I’ve got here.” He assures, Jack standing behind him nodding. The former Aston Villa playmaker juts an elbow out into Mason’s ribcage, tugging his attention away from where Ruben Dias was already jogging towards. “Yeah, course. We’ll keep them all occupied.” He smiles, reaching out to tickle Poppy’s cheek. John nods, immediately turning on his heel to go to you.

“He’s not in it because he loves you, you know. He’s got a rich saviour complex and you fell right into it didn’t you? He’ll leave you soon enough and you’ll come crawling back to me just like you always did.”

You know his words aren’t true, but they still sit heavy in the pit of your stomach. Before you even get a chance to open your mouth a tall flurry of brown hair whizzes past you and for a moment, you do think it’s John before the aftershave you know not to be his hits your nose. Ruben moves your ex back multiple passes until his back hits the wooden fence John still had yet to paint. “You disgust me,” he snarls just as John reaches you both.

“Are you okay?” He asks hurriedly, “Is everything alright?” He wraps an arm around you, searching your face for the words you can’t seem to speak. Harry has opened the gate, allowing Ruben to just about throw him out onto the drive. It’s all so close to being over when he opens his mouth again.

“You have no right to parade around playing dad to my daughter! He will never be her dad!”

John steps in front of you to speak, but you find all your strength to shove him out of your way and storm past the other two huge defenders.

“He will always be her dad.” You spit, “Because the only reason you are interested in her right now is because of who he is and what he does and what he has. It is nothing to do with her, just like you. I used to sit up and wish on everything i had you would walk back into our lives because i needed you, but you never cared. You left us with nothing.”

“(y/n) you don’t have to.” John says softly, resting his hand on your shoulder and reminding you of every reason why he’s different in just one touch.

“You ruined me. You really made me think i was nothing not just to you, but to everyone. I thought i was completely worthless because of you and there is nothing in the world that would ever make me take you back because unlike you, i care about more than just me.” You shake your head with tears streaming over your cheeks. “I care about my daughter. I will never leave her like you left me, and she will never have to wonder her worth because unlike you, i put her first. And so does he. You left us on the floor and piece by piece he picked us up. Little by little he showed us that he will never walk away, that he will never break her heart. He’ll take care of her and he will love her forever. You destroyed everything and he restored it all. That man that you have been so ready to tear down is a million times the man that you will ever be. He showed me that good men care about their kids. He will always be her dad and you never will. Now get out of my garden before i phone the police.”

Your chest is having, breath lost as tears stream ferociously down your cheeks. But you can walk away knowing you did what you should have done years ago. You did what she deserves from you. You stood up for her, fought her corner when she’s too little to do so. He doesn’t want to be in life because he loves her or when loves you like John loves you both. He wants to be in her life because John had money, status and power that the disgusting man who unfortunately shares your daughters DNA can mooch off of. There is never a world where you will allow her to be hurt by him the same way you were. John has spent nearly three years reminding you of and helping you re-learn your worth and how to love yourself and trust yourself a mother. This was what he deserved to hear too. John needed to know just how appreciated and loved he is as a partner and a father. He’s gone above and beyond for you both, more than could ever have been asked or expected and he does it for no reason other than because he wants to, because he loves you both.

“You’re alright,” John mumbles soothingly into your hair as he wraps his arms around you. Over the top of your head, he can clearly see your ex being pushed up the driveway by the two huge centre-backs who have come to your defence. When he left you with a little baby all those years ago, he left you alone and defenceless. Now there’s two different families, those of the England team and those from City, who will readily come to your aid at any given moment. He left you with nothing, no one and somehow it was the best thing anyone had ever done to you. It gave you everything you have now.

Your story contained a lot of hurt, but there isn’t a thing in it that you would change. Because even through all that hurt and the heartbreaking loneliness, you had Poppy. Your beautifully little daughter with the kindest soul, most beautiful heart and her adorable little face. She’s perfect, your whole world in one tiny five year old person. And then through the aching and the agony, you found John. You found a man who loves you and loves your daughter more than anything in the world, who would go to the ends of the earth, fight tooth and nail to the death for both of you and doesn’t let either of you go a single second without knowing it.

What you lost was painful, inevitably so. And it did break you down. But what you found? Well what you found is perfect. You were broken and John Stones brought everything back together; piece by piece.

#john stones x reader #john stones imagine #john stones imagines #footie fics #football fics #footballer fics

[godoflobsters]

Hand in Unlovable Hand Pt. 1

It is said that history is written by the victors, and the tales of the Great Celestial War are no different. But sometimes, there are things that even those on the losing side would never dare to utter again. These memories that shatter one like glass, best suited only for the lonely nights in the bottom of bottles of Ambrosia and Demonus, hide deep within the hearts of the two angels that started it all.

Author’s Note: So when I was rereading some of the later chapters I came across a really tiny detail that made me think up a whole new theory on just how the Celestial War started so, like any sane person, I started writing a whole ass multi chapter fic for it! Enjoy!

Lucifer’s head ached as he poured over the piles of paperwork littering his desk, shining with a kaleidoscope of colors as the Celestial sunlight poured in from the stained glass above him. It had been a week since his last meeting with the young Devildom Prince and as he skimmed over the newest proposition that had been excitedly shoved into his hands moments before he had taken flight back to his home, he was starting to feel as if he was finally in over his head.

If he had known just what he was getting himself into when he was invited to his first meeting with the Prince, he would have pushed the responsibility off on Simeon...he was always better at this whole diplomacy thing. Lucifer was created to revel in his Father’s glory and to smite all of those who would seek to taint such glory with their darkness. And yet...he had broken bread with the future king of the darkness. Wretched creatures that he had been told were capable of only evil spoke of only peace and diplomacy. The prince of lies had taken a vow of honesty. They had treated him with kindness and respect despite his combatant attitude.

There was no way that these demons were doing this for peace, prosperity, or whatever they liked to go on about, they had to have some sort of angle. For centuries he hyper-analyzed every interaction that he had with the Prince, keeping a carefully guarded wall of pride slammed down between them all the while, and yet...he found nothing but sincere love for his people and his realm. And yearning to make his father proud of him. Maybe that was why Lucifer had started to let his walls down around him.

It started small, finally accepting the cups of tea that Diavolo’s butler insisted on providing every single time that he came down to Hell. Diavolo taught him the delicacy that was a princess’s poisoned apple, almost better than anything he’d eaten in the celestial realm. Eventually they would swap bottles of ambrosia for bottles of demonus, drinking together deep into the night to where Lucifer would complete his duties the next morning with a pounding in his head. Sometimes, when even his favorite little siblings were set on getting on his very last nerve, he would make the trip down to the Devildom unprompted just to sit in the privacy of the Demon Lord’s Castle, nursing a cup of his new favorite blend of tea and listening to Diavolo chatter about the newest goings on of his realm. Now, he sat cooped up in his office on his day off, sifting through Diavolo’s proposed plans for making his dreams of peace into a reality.

His plans started at home, restrictions on travel to the Human Realm and improvements to infrastructure. Then he moved on to the creation of a school (or perhaps a reeducation center of sorts would be a better term for it?) that would teach the demons about the culture and history of the other realms in addition to their own, with an emphasis on magic, arts, and cultures, rather than the battle strategies and war tactics that his father had always favored instilling in his subjects. He proposed allowing his people a few centuries of learning and growing accustomed to their new way of life before moving to the next step in his plan...an exchange program.

Lucifer was so engrossed in studying Diavolo’s plans, that the soft sound of footsteps on the marble floor behind him went completely unnoticed until warm hands cupped his chin, tipping his head back just far enough for soft lips to place a chaste kiss to his forehead.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working right now?” The corner of his mouth quirked upwards into a soft smirk when his eyes met the soft gold of Michael’s gaze.

“Yes, I am,” he leaned forward and pressed another chaste kiss to his lips, his long braids spilling over Lucifer’s shoulders and pooling onto the papers before them, “aren’t you supposed to not be working right now?”

“Touché,” he muttered, bringing his hand to the back of Michael’s head to bring him back down to his mouth.

Michael’s laugh rang out warm and sweet as honey as he put a finger up to Lucifer’s lips, “What are you working on Starlight?” He opted to lean over his shoulder, skimming over the papers before him. “...the Devildom?” He snatched the paper off of the table, spinning out of Lucifer’s grasp and pouring over the sheet in his hands. “Once a satisfactory level of education and understanding has been reached among Devildom citizens, afew chosen citizens of each of the realms will be brought to live together for a year as a part of the cultural exchange program…” He turns back around, brows pinching together in confusion. “Lucifer… what is this?”

“The Demon Prince has devised a plan of action for his interrealm peace initiative,” he calmly snatched the paper out of Michael’s hands, shuffling it back into the pile of paperwork on his desk, “during our last meeting he sent me back with the first drafts for his plans so I've been looking through them since I have time to do so today.” He turned, arms crossed over his chest and an eyebrow cocked up at the Seraph. “Don't act so shocked, Michael. I know that I've discussed this with you before.”

“Yes, I know,” he brought his hands up to rest on his upper arms, drawing small circles into Lucifer’s pale skin with his thumbs, “you told all of us about the demons’ plans. Father explicitly stated that he wants us to take no part in that foolish plan.” His grip tightened, face hardening into a stern glare as his golden eyes met the depths of Lucifer’s ruby gaze. “Why do you continue to pursue this?”

“You are the one who pushed this off on me in the first place and yet now you berate me for following through with the tasks that I've been given,” his jaw clenches as a familiar anger began to smoulder under his skin. “I take pride in my work.”

“Pride is a sin Lucifer!” He pulled back, massaging his temples as he paced around the room. “You, of all people, have to see that he is just using you. You have seen what the Demon King is capable of, there is no way that his spawn is truly aspiring for peace of all things. Father has been telling you this for centuries and you keep going back at that demon’s every beck and call!”

“Father has hardly told us anything in millenia,” he snapped, grabbing Michael by the arm and yanking him to stand before him, looking him in the eyes. Lucifer’s head ached, like someone was standing behind his eyes, beating and screaming, in a voice that wasn't his own, to get out.

“I've never noticed it before,” he pulled back, trying to wrench himself from the grip that Lucifer kept on his arm, “but your eyes look almost exactly like Father’s when you're angry.”

Michael’s words were quiet, but the effect they had on Lucifer was powerful. As the image of their father’s cold green eyes flashed through his mind, Lucifer’s grip on his arm eased and he took a long deep breath to settle himself.

“Almost everything that we know about the demons isn't true Michael. I don't want to say that Father has been lying to us, but after everything that I’ve seen…” He trailed off, unable to meet Michael’s eyes. “I just think that this program that Diavolo is planning could be a good thing for all of the realms.”

“Lucifer,” he paused before letting out a long sigh. He took his hand into his own before pulling off his Ring of Wisdom and slipping it onto his finger. “Now, more than ever, you need the wisdom to make these difficult decisions,” he leans in and presses a kiss to Lucifer’s temple, “I know that you will choose what is best for us, my Morningstar. I love you.”

“I…” trying desperately to push down the rising unease in his gut, he pulls off his own Ring of light and slides it into Michael’s finger, “I love you too.”

But nowadays, he wasn't so sure anymore.

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me michael #lucifer x michael #the celestial war #obey me theory

[alottanothing]

Left to Ruin: Chapter Sixteen

Summary: The pharaoh Ahkmenrah takes his new queen with ample celebration. Nouke learns of the struggles laid out in her new path.  

Previous Chapters

Word Count: 9684

Warnings: 5K PLUS WORDS OF WEDDING NIGHT SMUT. You younglings stay away, (18+ only)!! Why am I so thirsty? Seriously this chapter is the longest one in the whole story because I’m a thirsty hoe.

Tag List:  @xmxisxforxmaybe​, @r-ahh-mi​, @theultraviolencefan​, @hah0106​, @rami-malek-trash​, @diasimar​, @sherlollydramoine​, @flipper-kisses​, @ivy-miranda-2390​, @txmel​, @sunkissedmikky​, @concentratedsassandcandy​, @babyalienfairy​, @edteche2​ (Let me know if I missed you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list)

A/N:  I-uh-sorta went feral with this one. I got my feet wet writing smut a few chapters ago and with this one I straight up jumped into the deep end. Hopefully you all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always, thank you so much for your comments and reactions! I adore you all! Once again as a disclaimer, I am not an ancient Egyptian expert and google only knows so much. So yeah, I took so historical liberties while writing this to make my life easier, but tried to keep it as “authentic” as possible

When Nouke stepped out into the hall with Setshepsut at her side, dripping from head to toe in finery, she did so with a new wave of confidence, using every perfect step as a moment to reflect. Her childhood was spent roaming the very halls in which she strode, wearing shoddy garb, ignored, and expected to serve men and women greater than herself. She’d come so far from the life of servitude she was born into. Now, Nouke walked freely, poised on a higher tier than a princess. Her rags were replaced with riches: adorned in fine linen and gold—she was someone no one could ignore.

Servants and nobles alike bowed to her as they passed, the crown on her head a sign of the status she would soon carry—its weight a reminder as well. Every piece of her history and the shimmering future laid before her was difficult to wrap her head around, but it thrilled her nonetheless.

Before another surge of hesitance could claw into the pit of her stomach, Nouke cast a studying glance to Setshepsut, watching the elegant way she carried herself. Her inherent grace was much like her brothers, especially when he turned on his pharaoh act. Every line in her body was straight but not rigid. Her posture was precise but comfortable; with her shoulders squared and her chin held just high enough to resonate a calm authority, she was regal without seeming arrogant.

Every step was weightless and fluid like a leaf on a breeze; Nouke walked as though she had rocks tethered to her feet. It took effort to stifle her frown, suddenly overcome with the desire to replicate the casual sophistication.

The chance she could master a paralleled radiance before they reached the council chamber was nil. Too straight of a posture would come across as stringent, and if she angled her chin even a fraction too high, she would surely come off as snobbish: two factors Nouke was keen to avoid.

With some luck and a large amount of diligence, Nouke knew she would be able to find that middle ground on par with the likes of Setshepsut and the rest of her family. Until then, Nouke made a vow to herself to stay calm and mimic Set’s gentle smile, hoping she did not look as foolish as she felt. 

When they reached the set of double doors, Setshepsut took the liberty of opening them herself. The council room was longer than it was wide and decorated with statues of the most important gods. Shelving ran along the wall to her right, housing scrolls of papyrus and other idols. At the rooms center was a long wooden table, which was already filled with a sea of unfamiliar faces.

A sense of panic consumed Nouke when each of the foreign faces turned to appraise her with varying expressions she had trouble reading. To a degree, she expected to be met with a cold welcome. To them, she was a filthy servant—a witch—who seduced their noble pharaoh into giving her a seat in the monarchy. Most of them probably wouldn’t believe her if she confessed to not wanting the crown; she just wanted Ahk.

In spite of the scrutiny, Nouke held her resolve, unwilling to let them upset her. Ahkmenrah chose her to be his queen. She had nothing to prove to them except, possibly, how much love she possessed for the pharaoh: that she would most willingly prove for the rest of her life.

Uninterested in catering to so many probing expressions, Nouke scanned the faces until she found Shepseheret at the furthest end, happily seated next to Maketaten. A grin broke through her protective mask of indifference as she found her mother dressed in finery befitting a noble. She looked so young and healthy the vision was almost enough to fill Nouke’s eyes with joyous tears, but she fought them, not wanting to ruin her makeup.

Beyond them, Merenkahre stood looking calm and pensive, harboring the same confident air Nouke needed to master.

Without a word, Setshepsut ambled prettily around the table to take the empty seat next to a handsome young soldier, leaving Nouke alone in the open space between the head of the table and the wall of shelves. The loss of her closeness triggered more panic to manifest, causing the rhythm of her heart to increase and a lump to build in her throat.

Instantly her mind and her eyes searched the room for a way to remedy the sudden wave of anxiety, wondering if she should join them at the table or wait for instruction. 

Just as she was starting to feel faint from holding her breath, everyone who was seated stood.

The abruptness startled Nouke with a gasp, and before she could follow their gaze to find an answer, Ahkmenrah twined his fingers with hers, throwing her a blinding, toothy smile. 

“Hello, my love,” he said proudly.

His presence easily allayed her unease and suddenly, Nouke felt weightless.

“Hi,” she replied with a dreamy exhale, her awe prompting his lips to curl into a grin until laughter lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes.

“If we now may proceed, my king?” Merenkahre cleared his throat to gain their attention.

There was the slightest hint of an adoring smile playing on the former pharaoh’s lips. No more was his face a mask of dutiful indifference; there was sincerity in his tone and eyes that was a welcomed sight. Perhaps she wouldn’t have to win his approval after all.

“Yes, father,” Ahkmenrah said with a respectful nod.

Merenkahre returned the gesture and took a single step to place himself between his wife and Maketaten.

“In following tradition, marriage contracts are usually written by the fathers of the young man and young woman. However, we must offer our condolences to our soon to be queen and her mother. Ramentukah was a loyal soldier under my reign and a good man.”

The room collectively bowed their heads in a show of respect—a moment of silence that was bittersweet.

“Thusly,” Meren began again. “I thought it more appropriate, that in this circumstance, the mothers scribe this agreement.”

Merenkahre stepped back into his previous place as Shepseheret and Maketaten stood, both smiling.

“Ahkmenrah. Anuksamun. I speak for both of us when I say it warms my heart to see the both of you reunited,” Shep began.

Maketaten brandished a roll of papyrus and laid it on the table as Ahk’s mother continued, “The terms of this marriage are simple. It states that in the unlikely want of a break to this union, any children of royal blood will remain heirs to the throne of Egypt. The homestead of Maketaten, Ramentuka, and Anuksamun will remain their property. Until such a time, the farm's upkeep will be the responsibility of the crown to ensure its longevity.”

“Are these terms agreeable to you both?” Maketaten added.

It was absurd to even speak about the notion of their union breaking; Nouke would never surrender Ahkmenrah, and she knew beyond a doubt he would never surrender her.

“Yes,” they said in unison, causing them both to crack a smile.

A pridefully pleased grin spread over Shepseheret's face as she gathered the marriage document and brought it to their end of the table.

“Then, if you please. Make your marks, your majesties."

Nouke’s heart was hammering as she watched Ahkmenrah scribe his name; the rush of excitement made her feel faint again, and she gripped Ahk’s hand a little tighter to keep from falling. He passed her the quill with another blinding smile, and her hand was shaking so badly it took all of her focus to will it steady as she wrote her name next to her husband's.

And then, it was done. He was hers, and she was his—forever.

Merenkahre spoke then, his smile wide and sparkling, a hint of his son’s expression peeking through.

“Our honored guests, and respected councilmen. It is my pleasure to present to you the pharaoh Ahkmenrah and his Queen, Anuksamun!” 

***

While Nouke found the ceremony to officially mark her union to the pharaoh to be—in a word—underwhelming, the celebration that followed made up for the boring political fuss of signing a document in the confines of the council chamber. The moment she stepped into the great halls of the palace with her husband, the commotion of the festivities echoed through the stone walls in such a way it was difficult to pinpoint their true origin.

Sounds almost alien, bounced around in a muffled and obscured clamor that instilled Nouke with curiosity. The corridors were nearly vacant as they strode; everyone, it seemed, having been coaxed with intrigue to the cause of the sounds pulsing through the palace.

Step after fluid step, the din of celebratory excitement grew louder until the halls of the palace gave way to a large courtyard oasis. Nouke’s breath caught with thrill as she took in the unbelievable sight, the crowd gathered below the stairs she and Ahk stood atop.

Shouts of praise for their king and queen burst from the guests below, in a thunderous roar that triggered a wave of shock to freeze Nouke's movements. Were it not for the proud smile on Ahkmenrah’s lips, the number of eyes suddenly cast upon her would have been even more staggering. His heartened expression was enough to combat the fluttering of butterflies in her belly, and she smiled too.

His sparkling eyes met her with a silent question—to ask if she was ready to keep going—and she nodded. Confidence thrummed from him and into her where their hands were joined, lending her the posture she thought she would need to work at to master. With Ahk at her side, the air of casual dignity came to her with ease.

She felt a true queen at that moment as a hush fell over the crowd when they began descending the stairs. Every person fell in a wave to their knees, parting like a river through sand for them as they slowly tread past.

Ahkmenrah was the paragon of regal as he moved throughout the crowd, his crown gleaming in the burning of torchlight, his golden robes catching the breeze, and sweeping elegantly behind him. Like all those before her, Nouke too was in awe of his presence: so calm and utterly beautiful. And all hers.

When they reached their destination at the center of the grand courtyard—a raised platform of identical twin thrones—Nouke was unsure if her heart was pounding from the thrill, the nerves or simply by the way Ahkmenrah glowed at her side.

There was so much to focus on from their stage and Nouke’s eyes scanned over it all feeling breathless. It wasn’t until Ahk stole a quick kiss that her nerves settled. He proudly drew her into the warmth of his orbit, and out from the tepid eyes surrounding them. The glean in his eyes moved through her entire body, snaking and rooting into her core.

Ahk’s puckish grin spread wider, recognizing her look of want all too easily, and gave her one last peck before turning to address his still kneeling guests. 

“Rise, my loyal, most cherished friends.” Ahkmenrah’s voice bellowed with a robust, prideful vigor that immediately settled between Nouke’s thighs despite the mundane nature of his words.

With a small bereft sigh, Nouke bit her lip and steered her focus to the crowd hoping to allay the heat Ahk’s deep bravado stirred.

“Tonight, I am the happiest man in all Egypt. Fore on this night, I have the supreme honor to introduce to you, my wife.” Ahkmenrah’s glittering eyes turned to drink in her sight, holding her gaze as he spoke again, “Whose beauty could have only come from the gods themselves. She is my greatest love, and your new queen…”

He sounded breathless, completely in awe, and almost in tears when he continued, “I present, Anuksamun!”

Instantaneously a chorus resonated throughout the air, “My Queen!”

Everyone bowed before her, even Ahkmenrah bowed, murmuring a gentle, “My queen,” that curled tendrils of warmth through her body.

Nouke’s mouth hung agape as her eyes flitted over each bowed head, her heart bursting and pounding all at once, overcome with a hundred different emotions, but mostly she stood with disbelief and profound gratefulness.

With a deep breath, Nouke poised herself with all the grace and confidence she could derive from those turbulent feelings inside and prayed her voice would not crack under the onslaught of pressure.

“My lords, my ladies, my new friends. I am humbled by your praise. It is my honor to share this night with each of you.” She paused to take in another slow breath, letting her sight catch Ahkmenrah to gauge how her first official address was faring.

His eyes were wide with admiration; his lips parted and quirked into a three-point smile. The look of reverence instilled a fresh wave of courage, and Nouke continued.

“Thank you all for making the journey to celebrate with us—”

“Let the festivities commence!” Ahkmenrah declared, ceremoniously flailing his arms to the heavens with a toothy smile that put the moons silvery light to shame.

All at once, the large garden erupted with life as every manner of entertainment broke out. Music and laughter sprung up on every side, filling the air with an ample joy that mirrored the sensation buzzing in Nouke’s chest.

With the spotlight no longer on her, a grin unfurled on her face, both proud and glad their guests were suddenly too caught up in the merrymaking to pay her and the pharaoh much attention.

“That was terrifying,” she half-joked with a shaky giggle.

In a fluid movement, Ahk’s arms were around her waist, guiding her against him until nothing remained to part them.

“You, my love, are a natural,” he purred with a smirk before claiming her mouth with his.

The delicate sweep of his tongue over her lip, begging for entrance, cajoled a pleased hum from Nouke’s throat. She was only too willing to open for him--starving for his intimacy after days without it.

His kiss was all greedy tongue and skillful lips, dancing desperately against one another, tasting and worshiping, until it stole the air from their lungs, leaving them panting with desire. Warmth coiled for each of them, low in their abdomen, spurring more quiet and indecent laments to pass—muffled—between them.

It took all of Nouke’s diminishing will power not to ravish her pharaoh then and there for everyone to see. His lips curled into a devious smirk, and his eyes trailed down the deep V of her neckline with a hunger no feast could fill, gnawing his bottom lip to curb his own appetite.

She shivered, thinking he was going to indulge her lewd fantasy and christen her his queen there before all of his subjects. However, the cloud of lust dissipated as quickly as it had formed when Ahkmenrah’s family swarmed them with praise and introductions.

Nouke had only met Ahk’s older sisters once or twice in her youth. Most were married off to important husbands before she and Ahkmenrah were old enough to speak, but she did remember that they were all beautiful, kind people.

While she stumbled through each introduction, confusing names of sisters, husbands, nieces, and nephews, each welcomed her with open arms. As they caught up with their younger brother, Nouke stood at Ahk’s side, her heart swelling every time she found a piece of her husband in one of their expressions. Ahk, Set, and their oldest sister had a tendency to bite their lip before they smiled. His laugh was a perfect echo of his second oldest sister and all of them had strong jaws and expressive eyes. There was an entire repertoire of matching idiosyncrasies that made Ahkmenrah and his sister’s harmonious, and Nouke was never more delighted to be among a group of strangers.

***

Nouke was unsure how far into the night the celebration had lasted when she found herself longing for it to be over. The food and drinks continued to flow endlessly; the guests continued to dance and thrive in the convivial atmosphere without constraint. She alone seemed to beg for an end.

Sleep was far from her mind, yet the thrill of the festivities concluded when Shepseheret and Setshepsut pulled her away from Ahkmenrah, tasked with the obligation of introducing her to all the important ladies of Egypt in attendance.

The burden of duty, she thought, easily recalling each time Ahk had spoken of duty and frowned. At last, she understood. And just like her dutiful husband, Nouke wore a kind face and as regal a posture as she could manage, while her mother-in-law and sister-in-law paraded her from noble to noble.

Each woman greeted her with a respectful bow, yet not all their praise felt genuine, which made for a keenly distressing jumble of introductions and conversations. From awe to abhorrence, their lofty masks split to reveal the truth of how they saw her. Some commended her for coming from nothing, while others made it clear with only their icy tone, that the notion of a commoner queen repulsed them.

“Don’t let them get to you,” Set said in a timely fashion, just as Nouke’s anxiety was beginning to root in her bones again. The negativity and false faces were too much too quickly.

“Some of them are jealous, and some of them are upset my brother chose you over their daughters.” There was a smug quirk to Setshepsut’s lips that was enough to allay a sliver of Nouke’s malaise finding it to be a twin of Ahk’s smug simper.

Still, Nouke’s brows had difficulty not knitting together with inquiry.

“Did Ahkmen not tell you?” Set asked, her brows pulling together in a similar expression.

“Tell me what?”

Setshepsut’s features softened into a genuine, wholehearted smile, and she looked to her mother.

“When the council encouraged him to seek out a second wife, my husband sent for suitors,” Ahk’s mother explained, joining the conversation as they stood amid the sea of guests.

It should not have come as a surprise the handsome, young pharaoh would have a line of women waiting to wed him, and even though she’d married him hours prior, Nouke struggled to keep jealousy from twisting a frown onto her lips.

“Ahkmen denied them all,” Setshepsut assured her, once again swift enough to combat the nagging sensation the thought of suitors conjured. “He was already so in love with you; I'm not even sure he truly looked at any of them.”

Nouke’s smile grew firmer, “When did this all—”

“A few weeks before you showed up,” Set said happily. “It is as though the gods knew you needed one another.”

Nouke beamed, and while her words struggled to compile themselves to form a response, she knew Set was wise enough to understand that the feeling was the same.

“The gods always know what we need before we do,” Shep said in a scholarly tone, full of wisdom and warmth. “Which is why the gods blessed me with three daughters before a son. His kindness comes from all his sisters, and kindness can be just as powerful as any weapon a king could hold.”

The former queen’s sentiment was not lost on Nouke; Shepseheret's knowing expression provided enough context. Her son would always rule Egypt with a level head and no cruelty, unlike his brother.

A quiet moment passed as they idly scanned the crowd around them until Shepseheret’s elegant posture relaxed.

“I do believe we’ve met everyone.” She exhaled, releasing more of her queenly persona, looking every bit as exhausted from the charade as Nouke felt.

“I know those were a lot of names and faces, but it will spare you in the future,” Shepseheret explained, offering an apologetic smile. “It should keep them from showing up unannounced to introduce themselves.”

Nouke frowned, “They do that?”

Ahk’s sister nodded, frowning herself, looking more irritated than sad.

“Mmhm, any excuse to possibly gain more favor with the pharaoh.” Set threw a narrow-eyed glance around them. “Everyone here is not-so-secretly vying for the next-best position of power.”

Nouke’s frown pressed deeper into her features as she glanced at the party-goers through a new lens of understanding. It made so much sense suddenly—the grandeur of every detail—the frock and the praise and the forced well wishes. 

Every soul in the garden was there only for the prospect of selfish gain, be it for a seat at the pharaoh’s council or merely to nurse from the royal teat. They attended only to take whatever they could: meals and drink and entertainment when no guest in attendance ever knew a day of famine.

They owned no golden crown to mark them supreme over all, but they were mayors and governors—lords and ladies—who knew only lavishment and plentiful meals. None of them put in a day’s labor under the sun out of fear of going hungry. And still, they took what was provided freely with heedless greed.

The worst thought was that the pharaoh could do nothing but play along to ensure no offended party sought to overthrow him.

Queen for less than an evening and already the weight of it all seemed crushing.

“I’m going to find Ahk,” Nouke announced, suddenly in need of his warmth after hours of only cold faces.

“Thank you,” she added with a genuine smile, grateful to have them both to ease her into her new life.

A sickly air of melancholy swept over Egypt's new queen as she wandered the party alone, her inner thoughts a tangled web that drastically contrasted the joviality enduring around her. Nouke felt her usual spirit unexpectedly laden: overwhelmed and acutely out of place among a legion of highborn faces. Their mocking expressions could not be overshadowed by the few wholesome gazes that met her as she walked making her spirit heavier.

Every non-distracted face and sober mind bid her a bow as she maneuvered passed, each act making her wonder whether they saw a queen or a servant strolling by.

The envy was easiest to catch on the young faces of potential queens; each one of them beauties Ahkmenrah passed up to tie himself eternally to her. Nouke did garner a hint of pride at that particular thought, manifesting with a well-hidden smirk.

Nevertheless, by the time her feet carried her across the spacious garden to its center where the twin thrones sat, Nouke felt thin—like the threadbare garments, riddled with holes, she wore on her farm. She lingered a moment in the open area between the masses of guests and her throne, letting her focus slip into the distance with a deep inhale, and a slow exhale. Only after several slow, calculated breaths did her spirit find its center once more, bringing a much-needed wave of calm.

The abrupt sound of children laughing quickly stole Nouke’s focus, and the sight she found was enough to devour the remaining traces of melancholy. Instantaneously her face erupted into a grin so wide it hurt to hold. All at once, the heaviness in her heart melted into a warmth that swelled to fill her entire body with adoration. 

Upon the lordly stage, where the thrones sat unoccupied, was Ahkmenrah and a slew of his tiny nieces and nephews. All of them were laughing and smiling as their uncle playfully chased them with a mischievous smirk on his lips, his fingers outstretched and threatening to tickle them. Nouke’s heart fluttered, and tears prickled her eyes as she pictured their children running and giggling as Ahkmenrah chased them; beautiful babes with ringlets, blue eyes and smiles that rivaled the sun. What a wonderful vision.

The smallest of Ahk’s nephews let out a yelp when he scooped the boy into his arms, his cry immediately followed by a barrage of shrieks and laughs as his uncle tossed him into the air. When the pharaoh caught him, Ahk kissed the boy’s cheek before releasing him. The little boy let out another mirthful cry as his tiny legs carried him into the crowd the moment his feet met the ground. Ahkmenrah’s grin was like magic, unfurling slow, with ample affection as he watched his nephew vanish into the sea of people.

Several of the other children ran after the toddler, all carrying on with convivial squeals that somehow made the pharaoh’s grin even brighter. Only one of his nieces remained, older than most of the other kids, but still small enough to warrant her yanking on her uncle's cape to get his attention. Ahk turned his radiant smile upon her, and she matched its vibrance when he scooped her up as well, neatly tumbling backward onto the wide seat of his throne.

The little girl cackled as they expertly fell, reaching with wonderment in her eyes for the golden crown on her uncle’s head. Ahk’s smile touched his eyes as he carefully removed it and placed the headpiece on her head. Immediately it slipped past her ears and nose, causing her to giggle as she pushed it back far enough on her crown to see. She stood in Ahkmenrah’s lap, throwing her arm around his neck for a quick hug before mussing his hair.

A second later, the girl hopped from his lap with an excited squeal and ran to join the other children, her uncle's crown still on her head.

Ahkmenrah chuckled a delightful sounding bellow that shook his entire body with joy as he settled back into his throne effortlessly. He took a long swig from his goblet that was precariously perched on the wide arm of his chair, relaxing.

All at once, the warmth in her chest dripped further down, becoming something much more immodest than the virtuous affection it had been only a moment ago. Never had Nouke been so compelled to sit on someone’s lap. Seeing her husband forgoing his perfect posture for a lax slouch, legs sprawled wide in front of him, with the curls on his head an unruly mess, made her tingle and ache.

He was like poetry in motion, and all hers. 

The keenly alluring sight of her husband perched so prettily on his throne, with a hint of kingly arrogance playing around his upturned lips—brought on by the drink in his hand—was like flint on steel. Sparks stoked molten heat to spill to her core; like a pot boiling over, the wave of longing begged for attention. No routine introduction or beckon of duty was going to keep her from taking advantage of such an enticing sight. The liquid desire coursing through her veins evoked a brazen want that Nouke clung to, allowing it to bleed into her movements. Her sultry gait quickly caught the pharaoh’s attention and the moment their eyes met; Ahkmenrah's playfully arrogant smirk spread into a wide, adoring, and proud smile.

“My queen,” he purred, welcoming her into his lap gladly when she lithely perched herself there, tucking her legs at either side of him.

She swept her fingers through his unruly curls, no longer able to quell the desire to do so, before her hands came to rest at the back of his neck. A gentle hum vibrated from deep in his chest at the glide of her fingers over his scalp, and his eyes fluttered shut as he savored their feel. Just the sound was enough to prickle her touch starved skin in a wave of goosebumps.

As her fingers wove and played absently with the hair at the back of his head, the queen met her king's eyes in a gaze that transcended all others; an exchange marked with wonderment, as though the meaning of life itself was transcribed in the smoldering colors of each other’s eyes.

Nouke’s heart was beating with a familiar, anticipatory fervor; every passing moment without kissing him moved painfully slow. There were hundreds of wandering eyes, but sensibility was lost when she was under the worship of Ahk's stormy gaze. He looked upon her as though she was the only living being in the universe; a mix of awe and affection that coupled sublimely with the quirk of rascally desire on his lips.

Ahkmenrah's own aura was inherently beguiling, effortlessly eating away every rational thought until Nouke found it impossible to douse the growing fire within her, wandering eyes be damned.  

Shamelessly, she took his bottom lip between hers, teasing a brush of her tongue over the sensitive skin until Ahk welcomed the kiss with a hungry sound. Nouke leaned closer, controlling the lascivious play of his lips and tongue, purring agreeably at the delicious taste of her king's mouth under her own. 

Ahkmenrah artlessly abandoned his goblet, the clank of the chalice against the stone ground barely registered when his hands came to moor at the small of her back, and the heat of his fanning fingers consumed all her senses. He drew her closer still, the slight friction against his frame utterly divine as their kiss built with a burst of fervor. It deepened and expanded, her hands holding his jaw as their joined passion became something inevitably bigger than they both could contain. Nouke’s sober mind grew drunk with lust when his heavy breath swept over her skin; Ahk’s low gasp curling around her spine. Every sensitive part of her was tingling. She wanted him. Needed him. 

When they parted to find their breath, the blue of Ahkmenrah’s eyes was narrow; a thin ring around wide pools of black, and he blinked slowly, watching her with feline intensity.

“Are you enjoying the festivities, my love?” he asked once his breathing calmed. His tone was like velvet, warm and luxurious; a bravado that actively attempted to unravel any trace of composure she had left.

Nouke’s lips quirked into a coy smirk as she considered her answer until she decided to reply with a kiss; her words tangled in the haze of her desire. Her hands surrendered their delicate press to the edge of his jaw, blunt nails raking over the skin of his neck, mapping the jeweled wesekh and down further over the lean muscles of his torso until she found the bulge under the silky fabric of his shendyt.

The pharaoh shifted and gasped a choked sound as his eyes fluttered with mild shock, lips trembling into a grin. With a purr and a mischievous simper of her own, Nouke palmed him, the sensation of his girth twitching and growing with even the slightest touch instilled Egypt's new queen with pleasurable power no crown could ever foster.

“I am now,” she whispered against his ear, and when she flicked her tongue to taste the soft lobe, Ahkmenrah groaned.

The strain to keep his kingly resolve in front of potentially gauging eyes only made Nouke want him more. His eyes fluttered shut as she pumped him slowly, watching as he gnawed his bottom lip to combat the need to express his pleasure with a wanton cry. 

Another rampant surge of power tore through her in a wave that heightened each of her senses and dripped to her own arousal. The desire to hear every sound she could coax out of her handsome pharaoh fueled every movement. She worked down his covered length, brushing her pinky over his sensitive tip, and when he moaned, Nouke muffled it with a burning kiss. An impish grin worked onto her face while she sucked and nibbled his bottom lip until her resolve folded as her mind and senses blurred with lust.

Ahkmenrah was quick to pick up the shift in her ministrations, their kiss stealing some of her confident vigor. The distraction of his lips allowed him to gather her dress just enough for his fingers to find her heated center. Without ceremony, he glided two digits through her slick folds, and he grinned.

“So wet for me,” he murmured, his thumb sweeping quick circles over her sensitive nub with enough pressure to make her gasp.

The shock of his delicious fingers was enough to make her forget the scene around them.

“Oh! Ahk!” she bit out louder than she should have. Instantly her vision flashed white and her once preoccupied hands anchored themselves to his strong shoulders.

“Shhhh,” he admonished gently, pumping his fingers slowly and just enough to send Nouke reeling.

All rational thought abandoned her, leaving her to the mercy of her own desires and her husband's gifted fingers. Suddenly, Nouke cared little about who may have taken notice of their less than proper behavior.

Wantonly, she rolled her hips into his cupped hand, its heel providing the friction she longed for. A jolt of pleasure pulsed through her, and her walls squeezed tight around Ahk’s wide fingers, causing them both to moan.

“I do so love the intimacy of large gatherings,” he mused, watching her as she skirted around the edge of unravel, so very close to coming undone already. “Everyone is entirely too caught up in everything else to notice anything. . . peculiar.”

Nouke gasped when Ahk pressed the heel of his hand against her clit with a sweeping motion that triggered a wave of euphoria so grand his name tumbled heedlessly from her mouth again. The pharaoh pressed a finger to her lips to shush her cry, throwing her a devilish grin.

“That is, of course, if you don’t make too much noise.”

Even through her half-lidded, hazy vision, Ahkmenrah’s impish smirk was easy to make out: supremely proud of his innate ability to properly sate her.

In a rapidly diminishing moment of clarity, Nouke drew his thumb into her mouth, tongue curling around the digit, sucking and hallowing her cheeks until the act won her a groan from her husband, giving her a taste of satisfaction. 

Had she been capable of more than a solitary moment of coherent thought, Nouke would have happily gone back to teasing him, but her body was greedily playing into his game; surrendering to desire with eager desperation. Nouke released his thumb when her mouth fell open with another cry of pleasure as her hips bucked against the soft heel of his hand.

The pharaoh’s free hand moved to cradle her throat, the brush of his finger so soft. His warm lips followed his touch, trailing from her jaw to her neck, as his hand fell to palm the globe of her breast. Even through the fabric of her dress, her nipples stiffened wantonly at his contact, her head falling back, body shivering. Nouke husked out a ragged sigh, a helpless cry that wanted to be more, but he shushed her again just as gently as before. Warmth curled through her body, triggered by the timbre of his soft chide, making the muscles in her abdomen so, so tight.

“Come for me,” Ahk murmured low against her ear, his teeth grazing the soft skin of her lobe.

Nouke bit out a sharp inhale when his confident fingers began working her in earnest, steering her with precision to that heavenly peak. Another moan spilled past her lips as everything inside coiled hot, and tense and hard.

“Quiet, my love,” he warned softly, and she could hear his smile.

“Come for me, my beautiful queen,” he encouraged, hooking his fingers perfectly.

That was enough.

The velvet of his voice in her ear coupled with the feel of his hand circling the aching cluster of nerves at her center swelled until it burst, surging throughout her body like lightning from the tips of her fingers to her curling toes. Every nerve was on fire with ecstasy.

The intensity secured her to his shoulders with a white-knuckled grip, afraid she would fall. Her lips parted with rolling whimpers and tiny cries she could not contain, riding out her pleasure as quietly as she could will herself to do.

“Perfect…” Ahkmenrah marveled, completely beguiled by the sight of her undoing.

When the waves of her pleasure shifted into small tremors of aftershock, Ahk withdrew his fingers, leaving Nouke suddenly bereft. She whined on account, blinking slowly until her vision came back to her.

Despite the threat of wandering eyes, Ahkmenrah pushed each slick digit into his mouth, indecently sucking and licking them clean, his expression utterly smug.

Little by little, the entirety of Nouke’s senses returned to her; the lusty haze dissipating enough for her to lay her focus on her handsome husband who was ogling her with playful arrogance.

Immediately she cursed herself for allowing Ahk to get the upper hand. He ruled every night they spent together—not that she minded; Ahkmenrah was an attentive, generous lover. However, Nouke felt it more than fair she got a chance to be smug, to send him reeling. No longer could he hold over her the guise of the powerful pharaoh who did as he pleased. She was a queen, and she was going to prove it.  

Nouke shifted in his lap, a sly gambit to test the state of his arousal. She licked her lips feeling his hard length beneath her; the peak of her tongue making Ahk’s lewd smirk grow. Nouke matched his arrogant grin, and the change in her body language sent a devious twinkle into Ahkmenrah’s lust dark eyes.

Before he could, Nouke kissed him, pushing her lips on his with prurient vigor stemming from the irresistible need to be the master of his undoing. The phantom feel of his fingers inside her encouraged her movements, her wet center grinding against his clothed cock. A low groan rumbled from deep in his chest.

“Shhh,” she admonished teasingly.

Nouke grinned when his blunt fingernails pressed into her hips in an attempt to quiet his own cries as her body continued to roll against him. She kept her hands at either side of his face to hold him where she wanted, controlling every movement of their kisses.

Ahk’s tongue was warm and velveteen like his voice, the inside of his mouth damp and hot, and when he made another low groan, it wound around her with warmth. Ravenous need began to whirl and tighten deep in her belly once more, and for a moment all traces of playfulness was scoured away leaving only breathless need.

Nouke willed herself to focus, breaking their kiss long enough for the haze to settle, carding her fingers through his dark hair as she met his eyes. They were half-lidded and sparkling—the blue-gray she loved nearly consumed by black. The more or less smug twist on his kiss swollen lips did well to lend Nouke a rational thought: a reminder not to let him win the game again so quickly.

Once more, her hips rolled against his pulsing length, coercing soft hums and groans past his lips in a beautifully soft fanfare that worked between Nouke’s thighs as she fought off a cry of her own. She tugged his bottom lip with her teeth before moving to the heavenly angle of his jaw, her tongue tasting its sharp edge from his chin to the soft skin behind his ear.

Ahk inhaled sharply, his mouth falling open as her name spilled heedlessly off his tongue in a tone too loud to be a whisper. His hips bucked in helpless abandon, arousing another strangled moan deep in his chest, and Nouke stopped.

The pharaoh’s breath hitched at the unexpected end to her ministrations, and the sudden loss of her body against his prompted a whimper. Nouke reveled at the sight of his blinking, wild eyes searching her face for an explanation while she nonchalantly took her time re-situating her gown and jewelry.

Right where I want you, she thought, stretching her legs to allow blood to flow.

Her husband was still blinking, looking profoundly bereft and confused when she threw him a coy smirk. A flash of her tongue to tease and wet her lips caused him to swallow—hard—and his mouth fell open, as though he wanted to speak.

All Ahk managed, however, was another choked whine.

Nouke held his gaze for only a moment before turning without a word, ambling into the crowd with an air of mystery she knew would see him venturing after her—once he’d calmed himself down first. 

This time, as the new queen strolled through the mass of party guests, her spirit was buzzing with a puckish charm that carried her feet across the garden in a buoyant stride leaving her oblivious to any mask of disdain thrown her way.

It wasn’t long before she found a vacant corner, free of guests and guards; a quick discovery that made Nouke smirk. Ahkmenrah was right, there was a certain level of solitude that correlated to large gatherings, and she was abundantly grateful.

The sounds of celebration faded into the distance as the fervent beat of her heart grew more prominent in her ears. Only a few minutes passed, but Nouke was impatient. Every nerve in her body was aching to finally have Ahkmenrah buried deep inside of her; ready to feel that coiling spring snap for a second time as she was lost in the feel of him.

However, neither she nor her husband would know that satisfaction until he paid for what he’d done; defiling her proudly and publicly—the perfect justification to have her way.

The moment he found her leaning against the high stone wall; Ahk's eyes devoured her. Nouke recognized the look of animalistic need on his face—she felt it in herself—and the second he stepped into her orbit, heat pulsed to her core. Hastily, she clenched her thighs in an attempt to deter her own want.

Make him yours, she reminded herself.

But Ahkmenrah’s hands and mouth were already on her. He pressed her against the wall with avid hunger and a low, sensual growl that was almost enough to steal the teasing Nouke had in mind. The pharaoh was so decadent and rich to taste—a nectar that was so sweet; it made her feel helpless each time his kiss was deep and full of passion. It took all of her will power not to drown in the luxuriousness of his tongue and mouth.

 “I do not like seeing you walk away from me like that,” he scolded, his pouty upper lip close enough to brush against hers as he spoke.

The bass note of his voice dropped sinfully low, and the lascivious fire in his eyes was difficult to look away from. His words prompted a chill to work down her spine as he pinned her harder against the wall.

Slowly, a familiar haze began to cloud her mind when his warm lips seared a line of wet kisses down her neck, sucking and nibbling until soft purple marks burnished the surface of her skin. Each one he tasted with a wide sweep of his tongue, making her hum gentle encouragement—sinking further into his ministrations.

Nouke’s nails dug into his biceps, leaving tiny red crescents, her body bucking wantonly against his—betraying her rationale. Ahk had a talent for unraveling her resolve.

With what clarity remained, Nouke pushed through the haze. Her fingers sunk deeper into the muscles of his arms, sureing her grip, and with a calculated spin she pinned him against the wall.

The sudden rush of power was like a drug in her veins, spreading wild with desire she couldn’t quell. An impish smirk drew her lips with a curl seeing the look of shock in his big, beautiful eyes, and she quickly covered him with her whole body. Her nails raked possessively down his arms as her hips rolled against his middle, relishing in his hard length pressed against her center.

When he moaned, she kissed him until the air was taken from his lungs, leaving him panting and thirsty for more. Ahk hissed and bucked under the friction of her undulating movements, and Nouke’s lips trailed down the line of his throat, suckling on his fluttering pulse.

“My queen…” he sighed raggedly with exuberant praise of encouragement.

Her mouth climbed inexorably upward, along the column of his neck to the edge of his jaw, and Ahk’s head rolled against the wall. She coaxed a groan from his lips as she suckled her own marks on his flawless skin, tasting each before mapping the rest of his enticing throat with her mouth.

While her lips explored, Nouke’s hands wandered the lean plates of his chest and torso, calloused fingertips raking over the tight muscles of his abdomen before venturing lower, untying his fanciful belt with practiced ease.

Ahkmenrah’s moan was low and loud when she gripped him through the fabric of his shendyt, the sound eliciting tendrils of warmth to pool in her center. Nouke stroked him lazily over his silky garments, her focus lost in every guttural sound she was able to cajole out of him.

Her hand stilled, prompting a whimper and she blazed a line of kisses to his ear.

“Would you like your queen to kneel before her king?” She grinned when his skin erupted in goosebumps, inspiring another wave of power to envelope her.

“Yes,” Ahk swallowed.

“Yes, what?” she murmured, sliding a single finger under the waistline of his shendyt.

“Yes, my queen,” he husked out just as her fingers dipped bellow the fabric and curled around his cock.

A string of profanities spilled from his lips and his head rolled against the wall; Nouke watched with avid thrill as he unraveled with every slow stroke she offered. She surged forward to kiss him in a hasty brush of lips before tasting her way down his body, humming pleasantly at the feel of his muscles shifting under her mouth.

Every sound and instinctual movement of his body chasing the pleasure she stimulated rushed through her own like fire. Nouke's thighs were slick with her own arousal, her core ready and begging to accommodate him.

A sort of sigh escaped Ahkmenrah’s mouth when she released his throbbing cock to kneel in front of him. She could feel his lustful gaze upon her, and she met it, tugging gently at the fabric that hid him until the garment slipped past his slim hips, all the way to his ankles.

His freed cock jutted proudly, and she licked her lips taking in the sight of his kingly grandeur—there truly wasn’t a part of him that wasn’t perfect.

When she glanced to meet his gaze, she found it half-crazed with lust, pleading for her to touch him. A mischievous smirk quirked onto her lips as she leaned to press soft kisses to each of his hip bones, causing him to whine until finally, she took mercy on him.

Gently, she curled her fingers around him, letting her thumb swirl the pearly bead of precum over his sensitive tip, feeling him shiver and hiss from the sensation. She squeezed him to reacquaint herself with his girth before stroking him once, delighted with the way he trembled against her.

He was a vision of licentious need, and Nouke was certain no queen ever felt so powerful on her knees as she did then.

Nouke kept eye contact as her tongue unfurled to taste him, licking his entire length before taking him into her mouth. A haggard string of curses tumbled off of his tongue, groaning as he pushed his hands into her hair to keep her head still against the slight thrust of his hips, fucking her mouth slowly until her tongue swirled over his tip.

Ahk’s body stilled and tensed as Nouke dipped and suckled, cheeks hallowing as her hand worked his base until with an impetus shove, he pushed her away.

“I need you,” he proclaimed urgently, pulling her to her feet and into a sloppy kiss.

“Yes,” she agreed against his mouth without protest. 

Nouke welcomed his weight when he turned to pin her to the wall, the swift gesture awakening something dark and primal in them both. Without ceremony, Ahkmenrah freed her breasts from the gown she wore, humming delightfully, his palms instantly molding to the globes like his hands were made to hold them. He kneaded and pinched until her nipples stiffened, and when he leaned to kiss the soft underside before dragging his tongue over the stiff peak, Nouke moaned loudly feeling his smile of satisfaction.

Every part of her was more sensitive to his touch than ever before, his hot breath tingled over her skin as he kissed his way up her torso to her mouth. Her fingers trembled as she gathered her dress before swinging her leg around his waist to draw his center against hers.

In a single perfect thrust, Ahk glided to fill her, completely engulfed and could go no further. They moaned in unison, the sudden pleasure almost enough to work them over the edge in one fell swoop.

His movements were slow at first, surely an attempt to draw out every moment of their pleasure, and she tightened around him at the same rhythm, watching his eyes darken and flutter until his thrusts became the paradigm of desperation. Nouke’s head rolled against the stone wall, staccato moans of absolute lechery spilling from her mouth as her husband fucked her hard.

The pharaoh buried his face in the crook of her neck, his teeth nipping the darkening spots of lavender he’d kindled previously, each bite shooting a luscious chill throughout her whole body.

Nouke gasped and keened, free to make any and every sound he coaxed out of her this time, and he did the same. Every hungry thrust teetered precariously between calculated and clumsy. One, a mindful push that aroused glorious friction, while the next was a carnal shove that yielded both pain and pleasure.

Her fingers twisted into the short hairs at the back of his head, pressing against him to better angle herself to meet every thrust. Immediately she was rewarded with a fresh wave of heat that seeped to where they were joined, arousing a moan to pass between them.

“Ahk,” she cried, so close and almost in tears from the intense waves of pleasure he sparked with every thrust like nothing she’d ever felt.

Nouke clung to him with an iron grip despite her rapidly diminishing strength. She choked out another moan when his hand hoisted her other leg around his waist, creating a new angle that found her sweet spot every time his hips hammered into her.

Sweat beaded to cool her skin, provoking more chills to work down her spine, coupling euphorically with every other sensation vibrating through each nerve ending.

“Ahk…” she husked out again in a plea, the muscles in her abdomen constricting, her walls growing tighter around his cock as her climax built.

His lust-filled eyes took several moments to find their focus as his hand moved to cradle her throat—a gesture of prideful passion—squeezing just enough to propel a fierce jolt of heat to every hollow and shadowed place inside her. Nouke’s muscles grew impossibly tighter, back bowing in reaction.

Ahkmenrah’s hand was still on her throat when he found the focus to drink in the sight of his queen. The lewd intensity in his black eyes was something that, even through her hazy vision, made Nouke powerless against him.

“This time I want you to scream,” he demanded with a growl and a crooked smirk. “Come for your king, and scream so everyone knows you are mine.”

As he spoke, his hot breath scorched across her overly stimulated skin, causing the build-up of tension to snap at once. She screamed as everything uncoiled in a white-hot rush. Nouke’s vision tunneled, forcing her eyes shut, tears ruining the kohl as they streamed down her face at the manifestation of her joyous pleasure.

The erratic pulse of her walls worked Ahkmenrah to the brink, hips trembling as he reached his peak a moment later. He cried her name into the air with a chanted refrain that echoed the movements of his thrusts until he filled her; hot cum coating her walls, mixing with her own.

Her head rolled forward onto his shoulder, its weight suddenly too much to manage as she came down from her high, sounding a haggard but satisfied sigh. Ahk mimicked the motion, resting close enough to plant soft, barely there, kisses to her neck and shoulder as he held her with all his remaining strength.

“Did I hurt you, my love?” he asked in a calming murmur that was free of his previous, dominating bravado.

After a couple more steady breaths, Nouke raised her head to meet his gaze; his eyes were blue again—the lusty blackness chased away. There was a twinge of concern on his compassionate features that made her heart swell as he searched for an answer in her expression.

A gentle smile spread over her lips as her fingers mapped the line of his jaw in feather-light touches; her eyes fixated on his, enchanted by the kindness glistening in them.

“No,” she said, her smile growing. “On the contrary.”

Ahkmenrah beamed and joined their lips in a lazy passionate kiss.

Incrementally they unwound themselves from the other, and immediately Nouke missed the feeling of him inside of her. By the look on his face, Ahkmenrah shared the bereft feeling and made a point of keeping himself pressed to her body as they stood.

“Do you think anyone heard us?” Nouke asked with a coy smirk playing around her mouth and eyes, unable to look away from her husband's swollen lips.

He teased her with a flash of his tongue, making them shine deliciously in the starlight. Ahk stole a glance around, then met her with a cheeky smirk.

“It doesn’t appear so,” he paused. “Perhaps we should try again?”

His brow hoisted high into a playful arch as his hands wove behind her, giving her ass a firm squeeze.

“If you think you’re up to it.” Nouke matched his grin and tangled her fingers in his thick hair, gently massaging his scalp.

Ahkmenrah closed his eyes and purred at the sensation of her blunt nails working the crown of his head. He stole a quick kiss before his entire face erupted into a toothy, arrogant smile.

“You doubt your king?”

“Never.”

Nouke claimed his lips again, feeling each of their impish grins mold into a soulful and demanding show of effortless passion. It took only the sweep of his tongue begging for entrance to prompt the familiar heat to begin to build once more, and when he moaned, she did too. They were blatantly aware how easy it would be to chase their pleasure to completion a second and third time, and both of them didn’t care. They were making up for lost time.

Ahkmenrah was already semi-hard; the growing length of his cock pressed against her making her ache, and she whimpered impatiently.

“Always so eager,” Ahk mused, reaching as he dipped a finger between her slick folds; the surprise almost enough to send her careening back over the edge.

Before Nouke could bite out a witty response, the sound of Setshepsut’s voice broke their serenity.

“Nouke!?”

The sudden sound rendered their roaming hands and lips immobile and Ahkmenrah cursed under his breath with a defeated smirk.

“Apparently, my sister heard us.” Although his tone was annoyed, his expression was amused.

When Set’s call came again, it was closer, causing the king and queen to scramble in a rushed attempt to make themselves look respectable; as if the purple and red marks on both their necks weren’t evidence of their rendezvous.

“Nouke?!...Oh! Ahkmen, have you seen Nou—”

Ahk was still tying his shendyt when he turned to cast her a grin. And while Nouke couldn’t see it, she knew it was undoubtedly gushing with shameless gusto and telling enough to match his hastily adorned attire and wayward curls.

“What’s the matter, Set?” Ahk asked as he casually bent to retrieve his discarded belt and refastened it.

Setshepsut’s eye watched him, blinking, mouth slightly open as though her words were suddenly lost.

“I—um—heard Nouke scream…” she decided on, abruptly looking as though she regretted investigating the sound.

The pharaoh tossed a quick look to his queen behind him, then met his sister with a prideful smirk, “I assure you; we are both quite well.”

Set nodded, casting a swaying glance to them both, “I see that.”

She paused to give her brother a mock look of disapproval, “I am aware the future of Egypt relies on you producing an heir, but some of your guests have noticed your absence. I suggest you finish this up.”

She eyed them both with a quirk tugging the corner of her lips that made it clear she was more amused than dismayed.

“Of course, Set. We were only doing our duty as king and queen,” Ahkmenrah teased further, and Setshepsut rolled her eyes.

“Mmhmm,” she hummed as she turned away to make her way back to the party.

“We probably should go back,” Nouke sighed as she smoothed out the wrinkled front of her dress.

The allure of staying tucked away with Ahkmenrah was almost too much to ignore, but the beckon of responsibility was stronger. When he glided effortlessly into her orbit, wrapping his arms around her waist, she reached to comb her fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame the messy curls she couldn’t keep from touching.

“Mmm,” Ahk purred, brushing the tip of his nose over her’s gently. “We do have the rest of our lives to spend together.”

He never looked away from her, his eyes crystal clear.

“I think we can afford to share the rest of this night with people who came to celebrate us,” he added as he pulled her into one last kiss that drifted into a slow draw that embodied the depth of his love.

“Are you with me, my love?” Ahkmenrah wove their fingers together as he spoke.

“Now and forever,” Nouke nodded. 

Next Chapter-> Chapter Seventeen: The Blessings We Deserve

#Ahkmenrah #Ahkmenrah x Original Character #Ahkmenrah Fanfiction #Night at the Museum #NATM #NATM Fanfiction #Left to Ruin #Rami Malek Character #Rami Malek Character Fanfiction #Rami Malek Fanfiction #Rami Malek #Smut #Ahkmenrah Smut

[vellichor-virgo]

manuscript search xvi

one day i will ease up on the manuscript searches...... but that day is not today

i had this entire post typed up and then hit a wrong key while i was trying to add tags and the whole thing deleted...... i’m simmering with rage

thanks for tagging me @drippingmoon! :) my words are sympathy, window, eye, & time

sympathy:

“You can’t blame me for wanting to know more about the newest addition to the crown prince’s little circle. [...] Especially when,” [Iliana] continues slowly, eyes raising to mine, “I know the type of people Prince Aedan likes to collect.”

I say nothing, but my silent question must have shown on my face. Iliana turns away from me, beginning to walk idly through the room. Her hand reaches out to run along the edges of the furniture and walls, each movement slow and deliberate.

“You see, there’s lovely Maia, a foreign import. Then there’s Pollux, a disgraced son. Both of their lives touched by such tragic losses.” Her voice oozes mocking sympathy, especially on those last two words.

She turns around, lazily making her way back toward me, reminding me of a house cat stalking prey. She may not have any intent to harm, but she draws pleasure from this instilling of unease and fear.

“Of course, they both came to the prince at a much younger age than you. But regardless, Aedan’s rule about his companions still applies. He likes the ones who have lost something.”

window:

Clutching the novel in my hand, I return to the dining table and finish my supper while I read. I feel myself relaxing, the tension draining from my body, the anxiety loosening its grip on my mind. Outside, the sun drifts toward the horizon, eventually setting in a riot of flaming colour outside my window. The sky blushes periwinkle with twilight, then deepens as night arrives, staking its claim on the world.

eye: 

Unsettled, I take a step forward—and freeze.

Something seems to click into place inside me. The shift is minuscule, barely noticeable, but I feel it all the same. As though something coiled and long-slumbering deep inside me has blinked open an eye. 

time x3: 

I tip my head back to the sky as I begin to walk, trying to judge the time. Above, an endless expanse of stars are scattered between snatches of clouds. I make out the shape of the Virgo constellation amongst them, observing us from the heavens. It is nearing the end of its vigil; this time next week, the Libra constellation will have risen to replace it. According to Ayeran myth, the twelve zodiac constellations are the guardians of our world, each bade by the sky goddess Naeva to protect us for a period of time each year before passing the mantle to the next one. It is an endless cycle that has existed for eons before I was born and will endure long after I am dead.  

who to tag to induct them into the searching circle??? uhhh i’m just gonna throw this one at @sleepyowlwrites @wannabeauthorzofija & anyone else who wants to jump on bc i’m not too sure who outside the searching circle is cool w tag games & i’m trying not to spam anyone

new words: sky, click, blush, & circle

#tag games #manuscript search tag #my writing #night's daughter: excerpt #ch: celena #ch: iliana

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Ten Sides

Trying to get myself back into writing long fics again by retconning/rebooting an old fic premise. This is a redo of Tamper.

Summary: After her breakdown, Azula is sent to an institution that alters her moods using spirit energy. Aang is an instrumental pawn in this endeavor. 

They like to tamper with her spirit. She supposes that it doesn’t matter because it is broken anyways. They constantly shift it and mold it and faintly Azula knows that it is wrong. But they have tampered with her spirit too much already for her to be alarmed by it beyond the simple acknowledgment that it is unnatural and invasive, no matter how good the intent. And lately she doesn’t have a reason to believe that their intentions are good. She isn’t sure when they began to shift from therapy to control but she hasn’t the means to fend their antics off.

She has become a lab elephant-rat of sorts. Before her, spirit vines have never been used to treat a patient like herself. Combined with the Avatar's reluctant aid, she hasn’t even a chance to resist. So her moods shift constantly and not of her own accord. Not even of their own accord. They shift and bend to the will of Aang. To the will of the Sun Pool facility personal.

Azula is a different person day to day. They will elevate her mood and she will become chipper and bubbly, more like TyLee than herself. Sometimes they will touch her spirit in the wrong way and she will be numb and impassive, almost depressive. More closely resembling Mai in this instance. At some point she had taken to naming each personality that seemed to emerge from them playing with her emotions. Including the real Azula there are ten; Cheerful and bubbly Azula is Sachi. Somber Azula is Yuka. When they have her in a state of unexplainable rage, she becomes Shiori. The passionate and lustful, Aiakahana is the most uncomfortable to reflect upon. Being Aiakahana brings her a sense of shame and embarrassment. Humiliation has a name too, it is Rokora, who was easy to make flustered and awkward.

Other times they are able to bring out a more curiosity driven, childlike version of her. This person, she calls, Inori. They could elicit a more fearful and paranoid version of herself—Kowagaru, she names that one.

There are three emotions that they seem to enjoy amplifying the most; there is a generous and giving Azula, who she has named Shona and a loving and rather sweet version of her that she calls Ai-Emi. Least of all, Azula enjoys being Nari.

Nari is timid, shy, and soft-spoken. Often she is prone to being taken advantage of. Nari is everything Azula dreads letting herself be. She has no fight. She has no control nor dominance. They usually evoke Nari when they want to try a new treatment with her or to subdue her. They know she won’t say no, and if she does then they know that she will eventually submit. She is almost certain that they are trying to mold her into Nari for good. She would certainly be easier to manage that way.

These days, even on the days where they aren’t tampering so heavily with her spirit energy, Azula finds herself in a state of confusion. Somewhere down the lines she has lost herself completely, she is growing uncertain of which personality is her real one. She can no longer tell if she is truly feeling things of her own accord or if they are false emotions. And she loathes the uncertainty, the insecurity.

She lies tethered to a bed, it might as well be a cold metal operating table. The warm and plush sheets are falsely comforting. She supposes that it is another ploy to coax Nari to the foreground as much as possible.

“Try to relax.” Instructs the head of operations, a doctor named Sangyul. She doesn’t think that she has a choice. If she can’t calm herself, Aang will instill serenity within her. She decides that she should just try to calm herself on her own. She lets her body go slack. “Good.” The remark is completely patronizing and is almost enough to bring tension back to her. “Avatar Aang.”

With that cue, Aang steps forward. His eyes are wide and innocent. His demeanor is nothing but friendly and hopeful and yet the sight of it instills nausea within her. “Good morning, Azula.” He greets.

She stares at her palms.

He has been doing this long enough to know that he won’t be getting a response. Sangyul fixes a few spirit vines across her forehead and at her temples and beckons Aang forward. The smile that the Avatar offers is supposed to be reassuring. It only makes her feel sicker, some part of her wonders if he does know exactly what he is doing and that he reaps some sick joy from it. She closes her eyes as his fingers press against her forehead. The spirit vines radiate a faint purple as Aang taps into their power.

She can feel him working his way in. She has long since given up on trying to wall him out. His fingers are phantasmal and they pull and tug on invisible threads of energy. In her mind, their color varies; brilliant red-orange, she thinks, is their natural state. An aura of power and control and confidence. When she is angry they flare a brighter red and when she feels passion, the hue is more scarlett.

Aang’s energy, as it invades hers, is a white-blue, tinged with the purple of spirit vines. It creeps in and curls around the vulnerable threads of her aura and emotions. The white-blue tendrils fan out until they touch each and every thread. It is a tedious process, a slow one. Once the first thread is wholly wrapped in pink, he moves on to the next and then the next. Even after all of this time, he still hasn’t mastered the art. Every now and again, he forgets to unravel the thread--or simply can’t seem to do it--and so pink turns bright red and then deep red.

The purple radiating upon and around the spirit vines is beginning to fade. Aang doesn’t have time to go back and correct his mistakes. Half of the threads of her mood are pink and the other half are left scarlet.

Azula hasn’t yet come up with names for the hybrid emotions he has been leaving her with lately. Granted, this time there is more pink than scarlet. She is exhausted. Exhausted to the point where she can barely lift a finger.

“You alright?” Aang asks.

She yearns to tell him that he can save his false care, but only manages a sleepy murumer.  

Like clockwork, they peel the vines from her head and lead her back to her room to sleep it off. When she wakes she won’t be her.

.oOo.

Aang is sitting at the foot of her bed. With nothing else to do, he observes her sleeping form. These days, she looks so small and fragile. In that way, she doesn’t even look like her. When her eyes flutter open he wishes that he could be elsewhere, for both her sake and his own.

“Avatar.” She greets, her voice is low and soft with sleepiness. She heaves herself upright and eyes the boy. Her expression is too kind for it to be her, the real her. His stomach lurches, Sangyul will be pleased with his work, but he only feels disgust.

“They said that it might be good for you if I ate dinner with you.”

Azula swallows, “you...you want to have dinner with me?”

Aang’s unease grows when she struggles to meet his stare. He offers her a soft, albeit, uncomfortable smile. He is all too familiar with this mood. “Yeah, I think that it would be good for you to have some company.”

She gives a rather sheepish smile. “I think that, that would be nice.”

Aang rubs the back of his head. “Yeah.” He lays down a small box containing fried rice, noodles topped with an egg, and a small assortment of fruits.

“Did you make all of this?”

He did, he had carefully put it together, a little something to lift her mood but also because the stuff that they try to feed her looks foul. He shakes his head anyways, he knows how she will take it if he says that he had cooked for her and it makes him feel terribly awkward and guilty.

“Oh.” She looks downcast. Disappointed. It is better if she is. Her smile returns, “well, it is good to have a meal with you, Avatar.” Her fingers brush over his; he hadn’t painted her aura with enough deep red for her to dare anything more than that. But he is well aware that she wants to, that she wishes she had the courage for it. He can see it in her eyes, it is the look Katara had given to him some time ago, before he had lost his way.

He wants to tell her that it is nice to have a meal with her too, but it will have the same effect as telling her that he prepared dinner for her. “Please just eat, Azula.”

Her face falls again. She picks up her chopsticks and hovers a few noodles in front of her mouth before putting them down again. “You’re angry with me.”

“No! No! I just…” he just what? “I just...they don’t give you a very long dinner time and I need to make sure that you have time to finish it.” He finishes lamely.

She has a few quiet bites before offering him one. Again he shakes his head, “it’s your dinner. I already ate.”

When she finishes her meal he finds himself wishing that he were right about her having short meal times. There is no food left to keep her occupied for what remains of the hour and it is a good twenty minutes. She twirls her bangs around her pointer. Were she Azula, really Azula, he would use this extra time to ask her how she is feeling. There is no sense in it when he knows how she is feeling. How he has forced her to feel. She loves him. For now, anyhow.

Not for the first time, he questions how this is supposed to help her heal and recover. And not for the first time, he concludes that helping her get better had never been a goal at all. He will tell them that he no longer feels up to treating her.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being here, Avatar. You’re the only person here who isn’t...cold. I think that you actually care for me.” She pauses, moving closer towards him. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me or how to fix it. They’re supposed to help me but they don’t. You do though, you try, I think.”  She wraps her arms around him and nuzzles her face into his chest.

His stomach knots. He isn’t a bad guy, he is worse than that. And he has probably just proved that by letting her lean into him and hugging her back. He feels like he is taking advantage of her. He shouldn’t be hugging her back. Even if comforting her is his only goal. She isn’t crying this time but he has been around her long enough to sense the hurt. Even if it is buried under layers of false emotions. Azula is still there. The real Azula. He sees her in those sad eyes. Her grip tightens. Her expression isn’t suited for her, it is too timid and too soft. And yet there is a flicker of fierceness behind those eyes. Something that still fights, perhaps a sparkle of resistance. He decides that he can’t leave. Not yet.

#Azula #Avatar The Last Airbender #Aang #Azulaang #Fanfiction

[thecleverdame]

Gods of Twilight - 13

Alpha!Werewolf!Sam x Human!Reader

Master List (posting schedule is there as well)

Summary: You marry Sam, The King of Lebanon, as part of an alliance between two lands. You soon discover that nothing is as it appears and that your husband is hiding a secret that may end your relationship before it can begin.

Warnings: smut, dub-con, canon-level violence, domestic discipline, spanking

Beta:  @ilikaicalie​

*This story is complete. All 27 chapters are available on Patreon. To get access to this and many other stories, subscribe for a pledge of 2.50 per month. CLICK HERE

-

The long dining table in the great hall is packed with your esteemed guests and their advisors. Sam is seated at the head of the table with you to his left, and Dean on his right. Katherine is seated next to you, and Luther next to Dean, followed by your parents and then various cohorts and so on.

The first course is a bit awkward as you struggle to make polite conversation, but after a few glasses of wine everyone livens up and the interaction seems to come more easily.

“It’s rather hot in here.” Katherine shifts beside you fanning herself, looking uncomfortable in her own skin. “The fire is blazing.”

You look across the room at the flames licking in the enormous hearth. As far as you’re concerned the castle is always cold. Some days it feels as if you’ll never get warm.

“We’ll have someone open a window,” you offer, raising your finger as a servant girl scurries to your side. “Have that window opened and please bring Queen Katherine a glass of cool water.”

The moment the window is cracked Katherine breathes a sigh of relief and you shiver, forcing a smile. Dean’s been watching the entire interaction and looks at you for a moment before gesturing his glass in your direction.

“If you ate more you wouldn’t so cold all the time,” he observes as you focus on him.

Somewhere along the way you and your brother-in-law found yourself at constant odds. You’ve tried, you really have, but Dean doesn’t care for you and makes no effort to hide his disdain.

“Thank you for that helpful advice.” You glare at him.

“You’re too skinny,” Dean continues, attracting the attention of Luther, who’s been making conversation with Sam.

“She looks fine to me.” Luther grins and out of the corner of your eye, you see his wife cock her head.

“She is fine just as she is,” Sam pipes up, eyes honing in on you. “Leave her alone.”

“It’s alright,” you offer, looking down the table desperate for someone to take the focus from you.

Your mother catches your reaction and smiles, all too pleased to take over the conversation.

“Samuel,” she raises her glass in his direction. “I can’t tell you how grateful my husband and I are that you and our daughter seem to be such a complementary match.”

You’re not sure where this is going, but you don’t care for it one bit. Sam seems to sense your unease, he always does. His hand curls over yours where it rests on the table giving you a gentle squeeze.

“I am lucky to have her.” Your husband offers a grim smile. Sam is generous with his affection behind closed doors, but he’s well aware of his appearance, especially in front of Luther.

“What kind words,” she bats her eyes, flicking from you to Sam. “I know all too well how challenging she can be. It seems you’ve been able to instill a level of expectation and discipline in her that her father never had the stomach for.”

You choke on your wine, covering your mouth as your eyes go wide. Dean lets out a boisterous chuckle before gaining control of his demeanor. Your mother has unwittingly touched on the most divisive aspect of your marriage. Heat rises in your cheeks as you stare at your goblet.

“My apologies,” she smirks, looking around innocently. “Have I touched on a sensitive subject?”

“You’ve no idea-” Dean adds.

“Enough,” Sam intercedes, setting down his drink. “We haven’t heard from you Luther, how are you faring with such a cold winter settling in?”

“It’s awful, isn’t it? Frigid, awful white everywhere. And the villagers always complain, they’re never happy with what we give them.”

“This year it’s the rationing of firewood.” Katherine waves her hand, disgusted. “One would think we don’t give them anything.”

“Rationing firewood?” You’re unsure of what that means. “Why would one ration firewood?”

“Perhaps ration is not the most accurate.”

“They tax the people for cutting down the trees,” Dean interjects. “Isn’t that right? Every log comes at a price.”

“It’s fair recompense,” Luther explains calmly. “The trees belong to me, not to mention the services and protections I offer in exchange. But to hear them tell it, we’re heartless.”

“What do they do if they can’t afford the tax?” you press, feeling your loathing of the man rise into your throat.

“They usually find a way,” he sighs. “They always over dramatize the situation. It’s important not to get caught up in the hysteria.”

“But what of families with children?” You look at Sam, who’s wearing an unreadable stare. “And the elderly? Surely it’s dangerous for them in this kind of cold without easy access to kindling?”

“What a bleeding heart your wife has.” Luther is speaking to Sam but looking at you with a look of pitied amusement on his fat face. “There are always deaths in the winter, it’s part of living in a hard country.”

“Deaths?” You’re horrified, trying to understand why everyone else at the table isn’t as appalled as you are. “That’s utterly unforgivable,” you sputter.

“Oh my,” Katherine chuckles, entertained by your reaction.

“Y/N,” Sam’s hand on yours again. “I think that’s enough-”

“I certainly wouldn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable,” you spit, looking around the table. You lean forward to see your father, who’s watching you carefully, his eyes darting to Sam to gauge your husband’s reaction to this outburst. It’s a gesture that makes your blood boil.  “Wasn’t it you, dear father, who always told me that the measure of a man is how he treats those most in need?”

“Well, I-” Alexander looks to Luther who’s still in good spirits. “That’s true but-”

“My wife has a soft heart,” Sam intercedes again.

“She certainly speaks freely,” Katherine sits back in her chair, sipping her wine. “I’m surprised you allow such an outburst.”

“An outburst?” You’re really fired up now. “Would you like to see a true outburst-”

“Y/N,” Sam says your name louder his time, his hand curling around your wrist and squeezing hard enough that you sit back, looking to him. “Let’s all take a breath.”

“My wife learned to hold her tongue a long time ago, perhaps you need to-” Luther can’t help himself.

“I do not need advice, Luther.” Sam’s angry now and it’s in large part to you not being able to hold your tongue.

“I’m just saying,” Luther gives you a look from stem to stern before looking to Sam. “If she was my wife, I’d set some expectations.”

“She is not your wife. This is her home and she’s free to share her opinions.” Sam grits back.

There’s an undeniable flutter in your belly to hear him defend you so ardently. You suspect he may not put up such a united front once you’re behind closed doors, but Luther is testing his resolve. He already sees you as Sam’s weak spot and he now knows exactly how to get a rise of him. Sam is quick to jealousy, he can’t control it and Luther has found the trigger.

“Forgive me,” you reign yourself in, taking a deep breath and setting a polite smile across your face. “I had no intention of souring the mood.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Dean chimes in, staring from across the table.

“Let us move on to happier topics, shall we?” Your mother moves the conversation along.

You sit quietly and listen to the chattering going on around you, still seething internally as you watch Luther make a pig of himself. Katherine is no better with her obnoxious laugh and an ongoing list of complaints. First, it was too hot, then it’s too cold, her pudding is much too firm and her wine not sweet enough. You suffer through course after course as the minutes turn into hours. Everyone is a bit drunk by the time the final round of spirits arrive and you want nothing more than to retreat back to your chambers.

“...and that’s how I knew she was married!” Dean finishes his story and the entire hall erupts in laughter. His tales never disappoint and expertly walk the line of humor and impropriety. He does have a way with people, you’ll give him that. Sam’s brother is an expert in disarming and charming nearly everyone, save for you.

Looking to Sam you find him fixed on Luther, his face blank as he’s lost in thought.

Behind closed doors, you’ve found Sam to be a gentle, patient man. He’s a combination of attributes that you would have never imagined could exist in one person. His sometimes gruff exterior and brooding demeanor are offset by a soft touch and his willingness to listen to you with genuine interest. He’s both gentle and fierce when need be, so it’s easy for you to forget that the husband you know intimately is not the same man that he presents to the world. He takes his position seriously, he considers his role as a commitment to the people he rules over.

“Alexander,” Sam speaks up and the entire room falls silent. “Tell me, have you ever had occasion to deal with poachers?”

Luther sits back, looking around the table as if he’s looking forward to another wild tale.

“Yes,” your father nods thoughtfully. “Some years ago, when Y/N was just a child we dealt with bands of men coming into our lands from Westfort.”

“Ah,” Sam nods, setting his wine on the table. “Hunters?”

“Fisherman. They would row across the channel and up in the estuary. They nearly fished us dry one summer.” Looking to Sam your father is not sure where this is going but you have no doubt as you glance up to catch Dean’s eye.

“And what action did you take?” Sam presses on, resting his forearm on the table.

“At first we issued warnings. I spoke with King Harold and we came to an agreement.”

“Will you share with us? I’m in need of new ideas.”

“Of course,” your father has really perked up now, always thrilled to contribute. “Harold announced to his people that the infraction would come with a severe penalty. That worked for a time, then he gave me the autonomy to dole out consequences as I saw fit. Some of the men coming to fish did it to feed their families, we just ran them off, gave them a good scare. But the men who came to poach and sell for profit? They ended up in the stocks when we could catch them.”

“I see.” Sam thinks on this for a moment. “Perhaps you could help me with my problem?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Alexander smiles softly from your husband to you.

“Luther’s men have been poaching wolves from our land. Encroaching further and further-”

“Now just one moment!” Luther cuts him off. “I don’t think this is-”

“It’s not just animals, there have been murders.”

“The culprits remain unverifiable!” Luther contends, thrusting a finger toward Sam.

“Ay, there is no way to be sure,” Katherine shrugs beside you, looking unphased despite everything going on around her.

“Let us not play, we both know they are your men!” Sam shouts, his fist coming down with a mighty bang that rattles the table. “I’m trying to be civil about this, but my patience is wearing thin.”

“I’m not entirely sure I like your tone,” Luther cocks a brow, it’s the first look of genuine annoyance you’ve seen from him.

“Good. I need you to understand how serious this is.”

“Your precious wolves,” Luther waves his hand dismissively and Katherine chuckles. Your mother remains silent and your father tries to keep the peace.

“Perhaps we could sit down later and talk about this.”

“We have talked, and then we talked more. Talking has gotten us nowhere.” Sam's eyes are on fire, boring holes into Luther. His reaction seems disproportionate, leading you to believe that there’s more to the story than he’s shared with you.

“Dean,” Luther turns to the eldest son. “You need to talk some sense into your brother. This is not the way to make friends.”

“Enough!” Sam shouts again, standing with both hands on the table as he leans in. “My brother isn’t the one you should be worried about appeasing. If you refuse to handle this, I will. I’m ordering any man not a citizen of Lebanon to be shot on sight.”

“Sam,” Dean starts but one look from his brother and he falls silent.  

“That’s a bit of an overreaction don’t you think?” Luther tips his head, remaining calm and collected.

“We’ll find out.” Sam looks down the table at the rest of your guests, glancing at your father. “Please stay, eat and drink until you’ve had your fill. I’m retiring for the night.”

Sam looks to you and you get up, smiling weakly. “Goodnight.”

--

“The man is a tyrant!” Sam mutters, pacing back and forth in your chambers.

“I am so sorry. I think I’m the one who set the tone for the night.” You sigh. “But I couldn’t hold my tongue. He’s such an awful man I don’t think it’s acceptable for everyone to act like that. Even if the things he does are-”

“I’m not upset with you,” Sam steps closer, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You once told me that you were afraid that being married to me meant that you’d be seen but never heard. That couldn’t be further from the truth. While it wasn’t the best time to express your displeasure, I won’t ever silence you. At least not on matters of ethics and compassion. You are entitled to an opinion as much as anyone.”

You sigh, smiling up at him in relief.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I agree with your brother. Luther doesn’t serve to live.”

“You think I should have him killed?” He raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t take you for such extremes.”

“By allowing Luther to live, others will die, innocent people.” You can feel the anger returning. “He’s a bad man.”

“Yes, he is,” Sam cups your face, examining thoughtfully as if the physical contact calms him. “I’m going to take care of him, one way or the other.”

You’re not sure what that means but you don’t ask for clarification. Everything surrounding Luther is unsavory and you wish to forget about him.

“I was so looking forward to tonight and now I wish I could erase it from my memory.” You confess.

“I might be able to help with that,” he chuckles, the hand on your face sliding down your neck, his thumbs pressing lightly at the side of your throat.

“You’re staying with me tonight?” You’re genuinely surprised. “You were so upset. I thought you would want to go with Dean, run under the moon.”

“No, not tonight,” his thumbs stroke the soft skin under your ear. “Tonight I want you.”

“Well,” you smile, standing on your toes to get closer, whispering, “you better have me then.”

He smiles, leaning down to kiss you. It always starts as a simple kiss, blossoming into something deeper as his arms wrap around to pull you close. After several minutes he pulls away, breathless, eyes shining as he looks over your face.

“Turn around,” he commands and you spin, allowing him to take your dress off, then pulling the shift over your head leaving you stark naked. He presses against your back and your eyes flutter shut as he leans down to kiss your shoulder.

One of his hands cups your breast, squeezing gently as his other hand sweeps over your belly, finding its way between your legs. Two fingers curl into your wet flesh, dipping inside then up to find your clit with a soft touch. You moan, arching back against him as his touch grows more insistent.

“Will you let me knot you?” he murmurs, nipping right below your ear.

He’s only done it a few times over the last month. While you’ve certainly been intimate on a nightly basis, he understands that you’re not capable of taking his knot too frequently. So he waits, giving your body time to heal. And he always asks permission.

“Yes,” you gasp, nodding as his fingers slip downward, scooping into your cunt as the heel of his hand presses over your bud.

“You’re already wet for me,” he observes, fingers pushing deeper, opening inside you. Whimpering you rock forward, head lolling back against his chest.

“You have quite an effect on me,” you whisper.

“Get on the bed,” he instructs placing a kiss at your temple before playfully swatting your backside.

You crawl to the bed, sitting in the middle on the blanket to watch him undress, then happily lying back, welcoming him between your legs. He prefers to start like this, his weight pinning you in place while he fucks you slow and even. Tonight is no exception as he fists his cock, lining himself up and thrusting in to the root.

“God,” you gasp, clutching at his shoulder as he moves inside you.

His hands are everywhere, holding your leg over his hips, grabbing your breast, stroking your hair. And his kisses are just as all-consuming, his thick tongue sliding deep to silence your moans.

The thrusting of his hips grows faster and then he stops, placing a kiss between your breasts before pulling out.

“Roll over,” he instructs, one hand stroking his wet cock.

You’ve come to know this position well. Once on your hands and knees, you feel him nudge between your calves, then a hand between your thighs smacking them wider. With one hand at your lower back, he presses inside, stroking deeper than before. This part is almost more challenging than what comes next. In this position, he can bury himself right up to your womb.

One of his hands curls under your belly in search of your bud, which means he’s getting close. Right on cue, you feel the thick ring of muscle around the base of his cock swell, fighting to get inside you again and again. His finger moves harder, grunting with each stroke of his hips.

Two fingers gently press together over your clit and you cum, writhing on his cock as he holds himself inside. His knot pops and he yelps in pleasure, rutting into your backside again and again.

You cry out, open hands curling into the bed, holding on for dear life. You breathe through the pain, deep lung fulls to stay calm. It’s not nearly as bad as the first time, you don’t cry anymore. Now that you know what to expect you just close your eyes and try to think about how this could be the time that he puts his child in your belly.

His timing has gotten better, your pleasure takes away from the shock of it all, leaving only the dull, uncomfortable ache of him inside you.

“My God,” he groans. His heavy, sweating body curls over your back, knot tugging inside you.

“Careful,” you hiss, reaching behind you to grab his hip.

“I’m sorry,” he’s still panting, wrapping both arms around your stomach as he moves the pair of you onto your side. “Did it hurt?”

“It gets easier each time,” you explain, wiggling back into him. “I don’t mind this part.”

“No?” He nips at your earlobe, grabbing your breast again. “There is nothing better than feeling you around my knot.”

“I wish I could do this for you every time.”

“That is something we need to talk about.” He nuzzles behind your ear. “Perhaps now is not the best time but you should know my rut is coming.”

“Oh,” you turn your head trying to see him. There’s an uneasy feeling in your stomach, as you wiggle with his knot still firmly lodged inside your cunt. “What does that mean? When?”

“Soon. A week or two,” he explains, rubbing his nose into the hair at the back of your head.

“And you’ll stay with me this time?” You ask hesitantly.

“That is something we need to decide together.”

“What alternative is there?” You're growing increasingly uncomfortable, feeling the ache bloom between your legs. He’s silent but you already know the answer. The alternative is Ruby. “I want you to stay with me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers as his hand strokes up the outside of your thigh.

“You won’t. You never hurt me.”

“That’s not true. You’re in pain right now, you’re just not vocalizing it.” he retorts, shifting behind you.

“How do you know that?”

“I can hear your heart speed up. I can smell it on you, like fear,” he explains. His knot is lessening, and he gently tugs it from your body, rolling you onto your back so he can look you in the eye. “You can barely walk after we’re together once. I’ll need this again and again.”

“Then you can have me again and again,” you insist, searching his expression for understanding. “I couldn’t bear it if you were with her. Not after all this.”

“I know,” his mouth twists in displeasure, dipping down for a kiss. “Don’t be upset. We’ll find a way.”

“You swear?”

“I swear.”  

#alpha sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester au #sam winchester smut #sam winchester fanfiction

[crazyclouds5281]

Code Olympus

Just an idea for a story. Takes much inspiration from the Webtoon Code Adam, drawn by Atterozen. (An interesting, and very relevant, piece of information is that, in real life, Code Adam is a protocol used to help locate and rescue missing children)

---

It all began when Athena fell in love with a scientist. He, like most of her other fare, was an intelligent blond man, with forest-green eyes, and a voracious need to know. He sought knowledge from all sources, often times going on benders across the internet or through libraries, looking for information on whatever topic he was studying at the time. Most of it focused on human biology, as that is what he researched, but occasionally, it was the oddest thing, such as the mating habits of goats.

They met in a small, niche cafe. Whenever she was feeling particularly restless, Athena would teleport herself to quiet little places like this, seeking conversation and companionship. Her attention was drawn to a man in a corner booth, reading a rather hefty book. A cup of coffee was in his hand, and a plate of pie was pushed off to the side, untouched and unnoticed. The man's lovely green eyes were flicking down the page at an incredible rate, and he was mumbling under his breath so fast, it was a miracle he could even breathe in. His dark-blond hair was shaved close to his scalp in a buzzcut. A white lab coat was slung over the backrest of his bench.

So involved was he in his reading, that he didn't even notice when Athena sat down across from him and ordered a cup of tea from the waitress. For a while, the goddess amused herself with watching the man, but by the time her tea was half-gone, she was feeling a bit impatient.

"Hello," Athena said, startling the man something horrible. He jolted so hard his knee slammed into the underside of the table, and he hissed. He glared at Athena. Now that he was looking up, she could see the dark bags under his eyes, as if he hardly slept.

"Can I help you?" he asked, deep voice rumbling in his chest. Up close, he was a rather physically imposing man. His jaw was square, facial features hard as stone. His shoulders were broad under his solid black button-up, the sleeves rolled back to unveil his thick forearms.

"Yes, perhaps you can," Athena mused demurely.  "You see, I am in desperate need of intelligent conversation, and I was hoping you might be able to provide."

His expression went from angry to flat. "Unfortunately, I am a bit busy at the moment," he said, tapping his book with a thick index finger. "So unless you can explain the intricacies of genetic coding, I'm going to have to ask you to try someone else."

"I happen to be quite knowledgeable about many things."

"Is that so?" he asked skeptically.

"It is. You may quiz me, if you feel it necessary."

The man took that as the invitation it was, and launched a slew of questions, all of which Athena answered without fail. Lacking regular duties to attend to, such as the attention her Father needed to pay to his domain of the sky, the Goddess of Wisdom found herself with quite a bit of free time, which she usually spent reading. As you can imagine, one can read a significant amount in three thousand or so years.

At some point, the man's lips had quirked upwards with a smile. He was enjoying this just as much as Athena. "Well, seems like you weren't joking. I'm Edward Bennett. It's nice to meet you, Miss...?"

"Astrid Graves," she replied, making up the name on the spot.  They shook hands over the table, and Edward glanced at his watch as he drew his hand back.

"Looks like my lunch break is over. I suppose I'll see you around, Miss Graves?"

"Here, tomorrow?"

"I can work with that."

---

Lunch breaks became dinner dates became nights spent together in a loving embrace (in Athena's mindscape, of course. She was still one of the three Virgin Goddesses). A few months later, they were in the place where it all started, when Athena dropped the bomb on Edward.

"I'm pregnant."

Edward blinked. "Is that so?"

"Yes."

"...Huh."

His lack of reaction was a bit worrying. "Is that... Bad?" she asked nervously, a far cry from the immortal warrior she actually was.

The corner of his lip twisted downward. "Hard to say. I'm not really fit to be a father, and I can't afford to cut back on my time in the lab, or I'll lose out on... A good 90% of my grants. Sorry, Astrid, but until I can stabilize my position, you'll have to take care of the kid mostly on your own for now."

Athena nibbled on her lip, wondering how best to break the news to him. Edward was a sharp man, though, and quickly picked up on her unease.

"Not gonna work, huh?" he asked, taking a sip of his coffee. He sighed. "Well, we can always hire a nanny or something. Unless you have family who'd be willing to help out a bit?"

Athena shook her head. "That's not the problem. I... Once the child is delivered, I will be forced to leave."

Edward raised a brow. "Forced? You're a grown woman, Astrid. Your parents can't legally make you do anything. They can't tell you not to have a child." It was a bit baffling to him, that such an independent woman was worried about something like this.

"That's not it." She breathed in deeply. "I won't be able to stay, because of the Ancient Laws."

Edward's confusion became more profound. "Ancient? What, like from the Paleozoic Era? he asked with a little chuckle. "C'mon, I've never heard of any law that says a woman has to leave just because she had a child out of wedlock. If you're that worried about it, then let's get married. Doesn't have to be a big ceremony- we can just hold a little celebration down at one of those halls, invite a few people, and call it a night."

Athena sighed. It was never easy to admit that she wasn't mortal to her lovers, because it marked the beginning of the end of their relationship. She'd found, over the years, that the best way to do it was to just rip the bandage off. "We can't get married, either, because I am a goddess."

Edward stared at Athena for a long, silent moment, before he blinked. "Is this- listen, Astrid, it's fine if you're one of those LARPers, or whatever, but if you're gonna do it, at least don't joke about being pregnant." He sounded a bit annoyed, and Athena frowned. The Goddess of Wisdom looked him straight in the eye and, using her divine powers, instilled the fact that what she was saying was the truth directly into his mind. Edward's head jerked back, shocked by the sudden intrusion, before he rubbed his temples. "Oh. Okay. Wow."

"Wow, indeed. As the Greek Goddess Athena, the Ancient Laws dictate that I, and the other gods, cannot stay with mortals for long periods of time, and we cannot, under any circumstances, interfere in the lives of our demigod children. The Heroes must be left to grow on their own."

"And, all these other Olympian gods, they just, what- go around, hooking up with people, and then leaving them with the children?"

"Not all. Artemis and Hestia have sworn to remain virgins, while Hera will never couple with a mortal. My Father, Zeus, and his brothers, Poseidon and Hades, have also sworn to no longer have demigod children."

Edward stared at her wide-eyed, astounded that she could possibly say something so insane with a straight face. "So, that's it? Here's a kid, have fun? I legitimately cannot take care of a child right now. Are you sure you can't stay for at least a few years, at least until I can get a stable job?"

Athena deflated. "I'm afraid I cannot. Should I linger more than a few days after the child's birth, the consequences will be most severe. Since I am a goddess, they will fall directly on our child."

Edward's gaze was boring a hole into the table. "Fine. Whatever. When's the kid due?"

"Next week. Pregnancy for a goddess is much quicker than a mortal woman." She also refrained from mentioning that the child would be popping out of her head. That was just a bit too much for the poor man.

Edward's glare hardened. "That's barely any time at all," he seethed, "What am I supposed to do about my job?"

"You're a smart man. I'm sure you'll figure something out," Athena said encouragingly. Unfortunately for her, it sounded rather patronizing to the man.

"Right," Edward hissed, standing abruptly. He pulled out his wallet and slapped a few bills on the table, barely bothering to count the amount. "I need time to think." With that, the man stormed out the cafe, leaving the pensive goddess to her own thoughts.

---

This is impossible. I need this job- I don't have time to take care of a friggin' kid! Crazy damned woman. How many other guys has she trapped like this? How many other people have the rest of her family trapped? So many people, raising a kid they can't take care of, just because some god or goddess wanted to mess around with one of us puny mortals. What a fucking mess...

Wait.

That bastard, Martin, said that as long as you can show something worthwhile, it doesn't matter how long you're in the lab. And, if you manage to start a project that generates enough interest from the higher-ups, you can pretty much retire and live off the royalties, even if you're a beginner. Would explain why I haven't seen him around since he invented a goddamn element.

How worthwhile would a demigod be?

#percy jackon and the olympians #pjo fanfic #code adam

[concussed-to-pieces]

Stay Safe Playlist

YouTube Playlist for Stay Safe Found Here

(Alternatively, if the link doesn't work: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLtGKUohVH5zUp6uaQkDTx7T8VNCVjrccq )

I present the soundtrack/score/playlist for Stay Safe! While I was writing, I had the idea to ‘score’ it like it was a visual media byproduct. Music is incredibly helpful for me when I need to visualize different things or instill certain emotions.

Beneath the cut you will find a full breakdown of the individual songs chapter by chapter, as well as the YouTube links to each of them! There will be spoilers for all chapters of Stay Safe, of course.

Enjoy!

Part One: Should Have Known Better

Intro--Carpenter Brut

So here we have our introductory piece! Something to channel a little danger, a little suspicion, that sense of unease from waking up bleary-eyed in a new place. Throughout it weaves the old school sci-fi motif to set our scene, with heavy synth use and electronic instruments.

Launch--Daniel L.K. Caldwell

We lean heavily on the electronic once more, evoking a sense of weightlessness as we head through hyperspace to the dulcet tones of deep synth, querying brass and lonely, wordless vocalizations. Our protagonist finds themselves managing the care of a strange child in a new environment. They are weary and sore but their charge is an easy burden to bear, all things considered. When they eventually bed down for some well-deserved rest, they find they can sleep peacefully.

...x…

Part Two: Tranquil Turmoil

Star-Stealing Girl--Chrono Cross Original Soundtrack

This piece is inquisitive and lilting, and fits well with Sorgan. Through it you can hear soft, high vocalizations like a child's singing. The village radiates safety and comfort, invoking an aching sense of nostalgia for things that our protagonist may have once had.

The Countess Cathleen/The Women of Sidhe--Riverdance

Near and dear to the heart, this piece is twofold. We carry on the gentle, idyllic motif of the previous piece with some crooning pipes, but of course our group is in this village for a very specific reason. The second half of this track morphs into something determined, made of sterner stuff than its gauzy counterparts. This perfectly accompanies the implied training montage of the villagers and our protagonist under the watchful tutelage of a shock trooper and a Mandalorian.

...x…

Part Three: Vibroblade Mettle

Facing Fears--Ivan Torrent

At last, we come to our big fight! We start out soft, our protagonist calming the children in the hut before they themselves are attacked. There's the uptick in tempo, the shift of music where they grit their teeth down harmonized by beautiful vocalizations. The whole piece has a certain panicky cadence until around the halfway mark, where it briefly flattens out before building back up to a triumphant crescendo. Our protagonist will let nothing and no one past them.

Good Night--Undertale Soundtrack

Thoroughly exhausted and incapacitated by the fighting, our protagonist drops where they stand. They are safe, and they sleep like a rock in the comfort of that knowledge. This piece is short and soothing, perfect to loop over and over again to lull you into slumber.

The Rage Of The Shadow Warriors--Star Wars: Republic Commando Soundtrack

The children are taught a very important song and dance by the Mandalorian, which they then perform in front of their parents.

...x…

Part Four: Reaching Out

Cosmos--Hazy

This piece is contemplative, soft piano with ethereal, twinkling electronic notes. There is an airy quality to it that lends itself to reflection. We find our protagonist sitting sulky and disgruntled on Tattooine. At first, their resentment is sharp and crisp, but as one day turns into two, they begin to worry and their resentment thaws gently.

Sixty Seconds To What?--Ennio Morricone

Our gunslinging attack! We prelude with light chimes, instilling a false sense of security as Calican dandles the child on his knee. Then, the guitar picks up when our protagonist discovers the truth behind Toro's motives. Organ and horn blast to highlight Calican's villainous gloating and sneering at the Mandalorian, contrasting sharply with the light chimes once again to close the piece out as Calican falls.

America Online--The Midnight

The song that gave this chapter its title! This track invokes a sense of longing, with its worn-out cassette sound and quiet electronic pipe trills. Through it all weaves the tentative, heavily-filtered vocals with the query that our protagonist will soon find on the tip of their tongue.

...x…

Part Five: Dark Past

Lighting The Fuse--The Magnificent Seven Soundtrack

Our protagonist finds themselves in a tense spot, surrounded by unfamiliar ne'er-do-wells. There is unease in the air; we are at the slow build to an inevitable explosion. Grudging alliances are forged, undoubtedly for the sole purpose of gleefully breaking them.

Animal In Me--Solence

Our protagonist is separated from the Mandalorian once again and there is no way to truly know what transpired in the prison beneath their feet. However, his mental and physical state when he returns suggests that something unsavory has occurred. Our protagonist, for all of their good intentions, knows precious little about the armored man's grisly past.

Dream A Little Dream Of Me (Instrumental)--Yiruma

The Mandalorian, delirious, asks our protagonist to sing him the lullaby they sing for the child. They oblige, assisting him in obtaining peaceful rest.

...x…

Part Six: Go Alone

Bat Out Of Hell--Meat Loaf

Something lighthearted and fun! Meat Loaf songs are always a joy to belt out when you think no one else is listening, and this one is no exception. Our protagonist is unwittingly observed by the armored man, another nail driven in the coffin of eventual reveal.

The Savage Divide--Fallout 76 Soundtrack 

We come to our protagonist moping around. They mourn being left behind once more, but they understand the reasoning behind it. This piece is wistful, with keening strings that lead nowhere but are lovely in their looping futility.

...x…

Part Seven: Like A Ghost

Is This Love--Whitesnake

The song that started it all! If this was a movie in the eighties, you can bet this would be the song playing during our important scene. The scene where the stoic Mandalorian finally bears his heart to our protagonist. It's a song that seems like it should be delighted, but it sounds more like heartache. Love is no simple thing, as we will soon find out.

Stay--Smash Into Pieces

The song that gave this chapter its name! Pleading agony given vocals. The Mandalorian doesn't know what to say and that appears to be his downfall as our protagonist leaves him to ruminate on his behavior.

Adieu--The Seatbelts

Our protagonist scolds themselves roundly for their doe-eyed optimism with this gentle jazz piece in the background. Whisper-soft vocals chiding over idyllic ideas of love, not so much sad as disappointed. The piece is steeped in callous awareness, though shrouded in piano and delicate guitar.

...x…

Part Eight: Savior At High Noon

Let It Never Be--Terrane

Our protagonist departs the Razor Crest alone and begins their walk back to the town. Soft, hazy vocals paint a picture of defeated, mechanical steps, emotions pushed to the side in favor of putting distance between our protagonist and the subject of their affections.

I'll Never See Him Again--Pocahontas Soundtrack

A throwback! Our protagonist finally makes it to the town and is ultimately struck by the crushing realization that they will no doubt never see the Mandalorian again. In a fit of exhausted grief and perhaps a touch of self pity, they cry themselves out. This piece never fails to elicit an emotional response, with the tender, pained violin playing that familiar theme.

Holdout--Two Steps From Hell

Our high noon showdown! We start strong, drums hammering like thunder as our protagonist all but throws themselves into the fray. The rattle of cymbals mimics the cacophony of beskar, loaning the scene a sense of despairing grandeur.

You Saved Me--Piotr Wojtowicz

Our protagonist, unmoved by intelligence or self-preservation, storms the proverbial beaches to aid the mortally wounded Mandalorian. Visual media would make this miles more glamorous, with gratuitous slow motion and competent lighting. We start out soft, but there's nothing quite like the breath-taking hitch of gentle piano that swells to female vocalization and fierce drum beats!

...x…

Part Nine: Swan Song

Mandalorian Funeral Chant--Star Wars: Republic Commando Soundtrack

The Mandalorian sings IG-11 off, paying tribute to the reformed droid in the only way that he knows how.

Sacrifice--Transformers: The Last Knight Soundtrack

It's time for agony! We have a somber piece, strings circling round and round to a build as our protagonist slowly loses consciousness. There is an urgency and fear here, as well as weary resignation. Our protagonist is so, so tired.

Melancholy--Alex Kosenko

The long walk home. The two weeks in the bacta tank. The uncertainty of our protagonist's fate, and how heavily it weighs on the Mandalorian who now finds himself alone again. This piece is lonely, it's sadness and longing all in one. A contemplative doldrum.

...x…

Interlude: How He Sees The World

Star Wars: The Mandalorian Suite--Samuel Kim

This composer is exceptionally talented! They've taken the score for this series and woven in motifs from the original scores, giving the whole piece a beautifully layered depth. A suite track for the retread installment, where we view the entire tale through the visor of the Mandalorian.

...x…

Part Ten: Shereshoy

One Summer's Day--Joe Hisaishi

Our protagonist wakes in the Nevarro medbay, disoriented from their time in the bacta. The piano shines here, with searching orchestrations occasionally gaining center stage. There is a feeling of loss, of nostalgia and most importantly, a sense that things need to be put to rights.

So Small--Thomas Bergersen

The reunion! This track starts off quiet, gentle. Apprehensive and yet, cautiously hopeful. Our protagonist has found their way back to the Mandalorian and, as the music swells in that oh-so-familiar old romantic motif, all is forgiven. The strings build in tandem with the brass and choir, triumphantly declaring everything that is affection and reconciliation before tapering off. However, if we wanted to go for something a bit more eighties...

The Outfield (The Midnight Remix)--The Night Game

The alternate/bonus track for their reunion! This remix has boosted synth and extra canned drums, lending itself better to the sci-fi vibes. Another crooning, eighties-style power ballad to have everything fade to black right before we get that salacious X rating, and the proverbial credits begin to roll.

Dream A Little Dream Of Me--Jacklyn Lovey

Finally, a vocal rendition of Dream A Little Dream Of Me. A modern cover with a gentler tone overall, and the perfect way to round this score out. 

The curtain closes on our tale, and I would like to thank you all for reading, listening and enjoying! Stay safe, my friends!

#playlist #the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #stay safe playlist #because I love music #so so much #enjoy!