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maryangelex · 6 months

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Never Let Me Go (Pt. 5)

John Price x f!Reader

(Part 6)

Summary: After weeks away, Price comes back from deployment to a warm welcome.

warnings: nsfw!!, cumshots, praising, pulling out, p in v sex, fingering, some overstimulating

a/n: this is very much not as proofread as I’d like it to be but that’s what a 1 am burst of horniness creativity does

songs for this chapter are Kerosene by Yves Tumor but also Burning Desire by Lana!!!

Three weeks passed since then. John had let you know he'd be back home sometime soon if everything went as planned. During these last four weeks, you and he had remained in consistent contact, growing more and more comfortable with each other.

At first, you had been hesitant to send him more pictures of yourself donning the few other pieces of lingerie you owned, but John made sure you knew just how much he enjoyed you taking his mind off his current situation.

He didn't pressure you, he never would be capable of doing so, but he did encourage you by sending you messages that let you know when he was in need of you, when he couldn't get you out of his mind, when he was desperate for you to ease his mind off work.

You, being your gratuitous self, never denied him that pleasure; you got to the point that you were beyond comfortable with letting John see your body, nearly every bit of it that wasn't clothed by the sheer lace fabric of your garments. Eventually, it was even he who wired you money for you to 'get yourself something pretty' for him, as he said.

And you did just that by buying yourself sets you thought he'd enjoy seeing; teddies, rompers, garter belts, babydolls, everything you thought John would appreciate his money going to. You felt like his sugar baby, but you absolutely didn't mind, in a way you were flattered.

You'd make sure to model every single new piece and John made sure to praise you and commend you for picking out something so perfect for him.

And throughout all this time of waiting and being restricted to receiving John's affection through your phone screen, you couldn't help but count the days, the hours until he'd come back home.

But you also couldn't help but wonder what this, between you and John, could be labeled as, what he considered this thing between the two of you to be? Surely it had escalated beyond a friendship, that line had been crossed a long time ago past the point of no return. John seemed like a serious man, and you knew he was much older than you to be doing situationships or anything of the sort.

You guessed you'd enjoy it for the time being, whatever this was, even though deep within you the long talks on the phone, the attention, his praises and affection, the way he showed you how much he wanted you, all of that was getting to you.

You were in the cafe this Saturday morning, and it was a busy shift for once; plenty of people decided that breakfast at your and your cousin's cozy little cafe would be ideal, for finding a cozy, warm place to hide away from the weather that got colder and gloomier each day.

Your cousin had made her best efforts to not pry into your little fling with John but she could only do so much. You had kept some mystery to it, but of course, it was difficult to contain the exhilaration of your escapades with the stunning man you had eating out of the palm of your hand. Still, you didn't want to give too much away. As far as she knew, you two were just texting and calling while he was away every now and then.

The two of you were hard at work today, though, not much talk was being had except for the few jokes you two exchanged every now and then to take the weight of work off your shoulders, to alleviate the few entitled customers that walked in throughout the day.

One of them really got under your skin, though. A middle-aged woman with a sour face had walked in to order a latte, and even though you had done your job and fulfilled her order, she still had something to say. She decided that she no longer wanted oat milk and instead wanted soy milk, demanding that you remake her drink, then deciding it was still not fit for her to pay you, and of course, deciding to insult you before being on her way.

You were enraged at that, and that was your cousin's cue to tell you to take a break and go do some grocery shopping at the shops next door. With an exasperated sigh, you grabbed your purse and coat and stomped out of the cafe, repeating a mantra in your head to keep cool and not let some bitter bitch ruin your day.

You checked your phone briefly as you walked down the street, hoping to see a text from John, something that would cheer you up. But to your misfortune, there was nothing today yet. You thought about how much better your day would be if you had him around, even if it was just through a short text. Another heavy sigh left you, this one more mournful than irritated.

You walked into the small family-owned grocery shop that was a few blocks from your cafe, your mind already starting to ease away from the negativity of that interaction as you wandered around. You and your cousin frequented this place to buy ingredients for the cafe, and for your personal shopping as well.

As you walked around collecting the items on your mental list, you felt your phone vibrate twice in your pocket. When you reached in to look at your screen you saw your beacon of hope; John had texted you.

The first one was his usual morning greeting, followed by a second one that made your heart jump.

"Coming back home on Sunday. Dinner?"

You held back a squeal when you bit your smiling lip, biting the glove off your hand to be able to respond to him as quickly as you could.

"My place at 8, don't be late", you replied, adding a few emojis to decorate your invitation to John.

You thought about just how easily the man could single-handedly turn your shitty day around. Your shopping list just became longer as you sought out the proper ingredients for John's homecoming dinner.

When Sunday rolled around you were off work, so you dedicated the entire day just to prep for your dinner. You had a whole menu prepared in your mind, even went to buy wine that didn't cost only £10. And something had possessed you to be John's perfect housewife and slave away at making him a Sunday roast.

It was nearly 6 by now, and while you let the meat roast in the oven you hurried to get yourself ready. You showered with diligence, scrubbing the smell of cooking off your skin and hair. All you could feel was a mix of nerves and excitement to see him again. The thought of John's hands on you again, in the comfort of your own home where the two of you couldn't possibly have any disruptions, made your heart skip a beat.

You shook the thought away as you threw on the dress you had picked out, one that hung on your body in every perfect way possible. When you got back to cooking it was nearly 7:30, so you checked your phone for any sign of John being on his way, or worse, for any sign of him not being able to make it.

But you were pleasantly surprised when you saw a message from him letting you know he was in a cab on his way to you. Another moment of your heart fluttering. Now you were counting down the seconds till 8, not knowing what to do with yourself as you waited for the roast to reach its perfect temperature. Your mind was racing; you wanted everything to be perfect for John, you wanted to be perfect for John.

Twenty minutes passed of you pacing around your flat, fluffing cushions that didn't need fluffing, biting your fingernails, dusting surfaces that didn't need dusting, and moving items centimeters in the same spot.

You were snapped out of your fit of perfectionism by the sound of three knocks at your door, the sound of knuckles striking the old wood made you jump. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding before striding to open the door, and when you did so he was standing there like an apparition.

That kind smile you hadn't seen in a month was flashing at you, tugging at bearded cheeks and crinkling the sides of deep blue eyes. You gawked at John like it was the first time you had seen him, the realization that he was real and at your doorstep dawned on you and you couldn't help the stupid smile that cut across your own face.

"John," was all you could muster, and the chuckle that rumbled from his chest as he stepped closer to you made you realize that he was real, that he was really back, that he was just inches from you.

John's hands cupped the sides of your face as he planted a kiss on the apple of your cheek. You held your hands over his own, feeling the man's rough skin in comparison to your supple, delicate fingertips that had never known labor like his.

"Miss me, dove?" he asked, voice husky. Of course, you did, you thought, swooning at the sound of his voice, your eyes locking with his. How you missed those ocean eyes of his. You nodded in his grasp, your hands migrating to his shoulders as you stepped forward to place a soft kiss on his lips. Your pecks were gentle, shy even, as if the distance and time apart had you both starting back at square one.

"I missed you too, sweetheart," he said against your lips, to which you giggled and gave him a chaste kiss before pulling back to lead him inside.

"I hope you're hungry," you smiled.

John let out a sigh, "Starving," he confessed. He entered your flat and you noticed he was still lugging his backpack with him. Your face dropped; did he come straight to you?

John had a gift for reading your thoughts through just your expression, "Didn't wanna waste any time getting to you, dove," he said, gesturing to the backpack in his hand before setting it aside at your entryway.

Fuck, his dedication to you never ceased to amaze you. The fact that he had gone out of his way to get to you the second he got off the plane ride home had you feeling some sort of way like you were the most important person in the world, a feeling John never failed to elicit in you.

"You didn't have to, John, I could've waited for you," you gave him an apologetic smile.

"I couldn't," he quipped, flirty bastard as always. You rolled your eyes, pretending like his courting didn't affect you.

You took hold of his hand, bringing him along with you with a light "c'mere," as a command to follow you to the kitchen. John let you guide him, and when he caught a whiff of the cozy smell in the kitchen he practically melted. His expression was a mix of impressed yet embarrassed at the realization that you made all of this for him; you could see the blush painting his cheeks.

You urged him to sit at the table where you had set everything out for him, grabbing his plate to serve him the Sunday roast you had put your heart into making for him. He insisted on opening the wine bottle for you, it was the least he could do.

"Fuckin' hell, love, I should've at least brought you flowers," he cursed, a scowl pulling at his lips in dissatisfaction with himself.

"Well I'll give you a second chance for you to do so," you chuckled lightheartedly, already planning on this being a Sunday habit for the two of you. He liked your remark, evident by the approving hum he let out.

You sat next to him at the table and the two of you shared the meal. It felt like this wasn't the first time, more so it felt like this was customary for you two; for you to welcome him with a home-cooked meal and a pristine house like you were his wife waiting for him to come back home. You basked in the feeling of it, completely ignoring the doubt that had lingered in the back of your mind.

John was none the wiser, he was enjoying himself thoroughly. You think he felt the same way; he looked content and delighted by the food and company, his hand never leaving yours throughout dinner, making sure he was holding you or touching you in any way as if to not let you go again, to not drift off you like a log in a river's current.

There was a glow to him now that he was with you, it was almost angelic. And the way that he looked at you made you feel enveloped with endearment.

When you were finished, and John looked like he was about to enter a food coma from how much he'd indulged in your delicious food, you felt more than satisfied with yourself as you rose from your seat to collect the plates. Immediately, John got up from his seat to help you; you knew he was unable to be a bystander when it came to you doing absolutely anything, the man couldn't live with himself if he did.

He helped you carry nearly everything to the sink and insisted he did the dishes for you. The domesticity of it all made you feel warm inside. When you came back to the table to wipe it clean and put anything remaining away, you felt John's presence behind you, the heat of his body radiating against your back as he inched closer.

You felt his large hands on your hips, stilling yourself as you revel in his touch. His hands scaled up your body, massaging the tender flesh of your hips and waist, feeling the plumpness and curves of your frame like you were clay on a potter's wheel. He hummed to himself and you felt the wetness pooling between your thighs. One of John's hands migrated up to your hair, gently adjusting it over your shoulder to expose your back in the strappy dress you wore. Your body was filled with goosebumps when the hairs of his mustache tickled your bare skin, peppering warm kisses on your shoulder blades.

"Can't believe you made all of this f'me, sweetheart," his voice vibrated against your skin as he spoke between kisses. The hand remaining on your waist was sprawled on your lower tummy, pressing your ass flush against him. You could feel the hard mass of muscle behind you, the bulge of his crotch poking against you.

"My sweet girl, so carin'...so stunnin' in this dress," his hand on your belly pet the silky fabric, while the other caressed up your arm, up to your shoulder, your collarbone, and finally stroking down your sternum between your breasts. His mouth occupied itself with the exposed skin of your neck now, his velvety lips gently pressing against it.

The sound of him calling you his ringed in your ears, and you couldn't hold back the whine that brewed in your throat.

"I wouldn't mind comin' home to this every day f'the rest of my life," he professed, and now you really were a wreck between your legs, all for this man's simple words. You wiggled your hips against his crotch, feeling the hardness that was confined in his jeans. That was signal enough for him; a sign that you were just as needy for him as he was for you.

"Remember everythin' I said I'd do to you over the phone, love?"

You nodded as your head lolled to the side, John's lips scaling up your neck and up to your jaw. His hands were now firmly holding your breasts, fondling the soft mounds of flesh.

"Been thinkin' 'bout it all this time... thinkin' 'bout how good 'm gonna fuck you tonight, dove."

Maybe it was all the wine you two consumed throughout your dinner, maybe it was the dizzying effect John's presence had on you, but without even realizing it you wound up in your room with him tearing your dress off between panting breaths and sloppy kisses. His hands desperately and messily scoured your now bare body, making sure to not leave an inch without being touched.

Your hands got to work as well, clumsily working at the buttons of his shirt; he chuckled lightly at your nervousness and gently assisted you until you finally tore off the pesky shirt. Your tipsy mind took a moment to admire the man before you; burly physique with a comforting layer of fat adorning the taut muscles his career had provided him. Your hands caressed his hairy chest, thick and lush, and trailed down to his abdomen following the treasure trail of hair that trailed down his waistband.

John's rumbling chuckle interrupted your gawking before helping you take off his trousers but staying in his underwear.

He gently guided you to your bed, his lips against yours whispering for you to lay down for him, and you complied, sprawled out on your bedsheets like a work of art made just for his eyes. He sat between your legs, looking down at your naked form and swallowing you whole, wide pupils burning a hole through you. You could see the way his cock twitched in the confines of his boxers as he eyed you, letting you know the sight of you like this was a delight to him.

He dipped down to press his lips over yours, hands tracing the sides of your body down to take a handful of your hips and drag you down closer to him. You took a fistful of the hair at the back of his head as you kissed him deeper, your hips rolling up to find his clothed erection to rub on for some relief, but his grip only tightened on your hips and pressed you still on the mattress.

"Needy girl," he whispered, giving your bottom lip a light tug with his teeth. Your response was a whiny moan and all he did was smile at your evident impatience.

One of his hands scaled up your body, taking one of your breasts and giving it a squeeze before toying with the sensitive pebble. His mouth followed suit, popping the other unattended one into his mouth and sucking on it, making another pathetic sound come from you.

He nipped your tits lightly, scattering bites and kisses alternating between the two while his fingers trailed down the center of your abdomen and down to between your legs. You absentmindedly spread them wider for him, the coldness of the room only making your drenched pussy more sensitive before he swiped a finger between your folds. The contact made you shudder, and John feeling your wetness made him growl a gravelly moan in his throat.

"Like this for me already, sweetheart?" you nodded your head pitifully which only riled him up even more. The rough fingerpads of his ring and middle fingers applied pressure on your clit, rubbing tight circles on it. John propped himself on his free arm as he watched the way your mouth fell agape in silent moans and as you squirmed at the way he treated your delicate pussy.

"P-please," you started, your legs spreading impossibly farther apart.

"Please what, love?"

"Need you, John," your nails dug into his shoulders. "Want you...so bad."

John was too good of a man to deny his pretty girl anything, so of course he moved his fingers and slowly dipped them into your aching entrance, painfully slowly. A mewl came from your parted lips as you felt the pressure of his only the first knuckle of fingers inside of you. If just his fingers were this thick and invasive in your pussy you couldn't imaginejust how much his cock would split you open.

His eyes were fixated on watching the way your face contorted as he pressed further in, so so so slowly penetrating you, until his fingers bottomed out inside of you. And then a beat later, you practically sobbed when you felt the digits curl inside of you, seeking out the spongy, sensitive spot inside your walls.

Your hands gripped John's biceps to ground yourself as he fucked you with his fingers, alternating between curling inside and pumping in and out of you. His thumb joined in to rub at your throbbing clit, and his mouth busied itself with one of your breasts once again. You threw your head back and just about fell apart, hips rolling to match his movements as you selfishly got off on his fingers.

"Fuck, doll...love how I make you sound," John cursed under his breath, mouth never leaving your tit as he lapped his tongue and tenderly bit the soft flesh. His cock was throbbing and leaking pre in his boxers, the impossible hardness of it almost made him lightheaded.

His mouth moved to your neck now, lips sucking on your skin to make sure when you went out everyone knew you were not to be claimed by anyone else but him.

"J-John," you sobbed, feeling the tightness in your stomach that was only rising further the more his fingers fucked you.

"I know, baby, I know," he cooed, "be good and cum for me, yeah?"

You nodded your head desperately, a hand reaching to tug his hair once again, peeling him away from your neck to crash his lips against yours. But he resisted, opting to keep his gaze on your teary-eyed face, his pace never faltering as he knew you were almost at the edge of the precipice.

"Uh-uh, doll...wanna see your pretty face when you cum."

With only a few more pumps of his fingers, your walls were clamping around the digits, your legs spasming and your moans being sobbed out as you came on John's hand. His rhythm slowed down, his thumb on your clit being the only thing moving and overstimulating your abused clit as you rode out your orgasm. Your ears were practically ringing and your mind was in a haze as you climaxed.

John's piercing blue eyes took in the sight of you cumming from just his fingers which were now completely saturated in your slick. He whispered praises as you came down from your high, breathless and sensitive. His fingers retracted from your pussy, collecting the juices that were oozing from you, that had now covered the inside of your thighs.

"Good girl," he purred, "so fuckin' good... look at you, sweetheart."

He brought his fingers to his lips, sucking on them and closing his eyes as a delighted hum came from him at the taste of you. "Taste so fuckin' good...missed how this pussy tastes so much."

You whined at his words and at the view of him tasting you on his fingers. Your hand weakly reached for his boxers, tugging on the waistband in a silent request for him to finally take them off.

He looked at you and chuckled, "So greedy...want my cock even after I just made you cum?"

"Need it, John," you said shamelessly, your eyes pleading for him innocently.

He sat back on his haunches, tugging down his boxers with his clean hand while the other reached to stroke his aching cock, coating it in the mix of his spit and your juices. He moaned lewdly at the contact, slowly jerking himself off in front of you for a moment, lubing up his cock and preparing it for you.

You watched just how pretty he was in his hand, how he sat heavily on the palm of his hand, flushed red tip and veiny, with a hefty girth that you knew would tear you open.

You watched him intently and your desperation for him was anew; arousal and neediness for him overcoming you again. You weren't going to be satisfied until John's cock was in you.

"I did promise to properly fuck you," his unoccupied hand stroked your cheek and you melted in his touch, your sweaty skin felt like it was on fire.

"And I keep my promises, love." he purred, aligning his cock with your socked entrance that he had just so generously prepared. When he pressed inside you felt his girth stretch you wide, feeling the sting of the intrusion despite his prep-work; and yet, he fit so perfectly in you, like the last piece of a puzzle. You gasped in unison as he buried himself into you to the hilt. He took a moment to savor the feeling of you wrapped around his cock, like a perfect mold cast precisely for him. Your walls fluttered around him, begging for him to move. And after a beat, he rolled his hips, slipping his shaft out of you until only the tip was kissing your entrance, before slowly sliding back into you. He kept this pace, pulling out entirely just to bottom out to the point you felt the mound of hair at his base phantom over your skin. You choked on your moans, nails digging at John’s shoulder blades as he pistoned his hips into you. His pace hastened and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled your home.

John’s hand was cupping your jaw, holding eye contact with you as he bullied his cock into you. Those crystal eyes watched your tear-filled ones, watched the way you lost yourself at the feeling of his tip punishing that sweet spot inside of you.

The way he fucked you was becoming more and more primal each thrust. John was at the verge of giving into every ounce of desire that he’d had pent up since the moment he walked into your cafe. Since the moment he’d tasted you. You felt the way his thrusts became harsher, the squelching sound of your pussy was lewd and sinful as you took every inch of him. He held you impossibly close, his thrusts were shorter but impossibly deeper, making his pelvis rub against your needy clit.

His breathing was ragged, huffing past his parted lips.

“Fuck, baby…been wanting you like this…so fuckin’ long, so fuckin’ bad,” he tucked your sweat-damp hair behind your ear before lightly wrapping his hand over your neck, just to feel your pulse, feel that you’re really there, “you’re fuckin’ perfect, n’ you’re mine.”

Now he slammed his hips into yours, thrusting with reckless abandon, losing himself in you. You let out a cry and tears rolled down your cheeks. A hand gripped at the tufts of hair in the nape of his head and his forehead rested against yours. You were his, since the moment he walked through the door you knew you would be. And here you were, your heart racing and your pussy enamored by the way he fucked you and claimed you as his.

You babbled mindlessly about how you were his, about how you wanted him to use you, how you wanted to cum so bad around his cock. So shameless you wouldn’t recognize yourself if you really heard what you were professing. You only heard a groan come from John and a string of curses as he fucked you impossibly deeper and harder, any further and you two would merge into one.

One of John’s hands slipped between the two of you to rub at your clit. His mouth clashed against yours, swallowing the moans that were flying out of you at the added pleasure, before encouraging to be his good girl and cum for him a second time.

“I can feel you so close, baby, so fuckin’ close,” he growled, lips still against yours, “let go, baby, be good and cum for me again, yeah?”

And it was like his word was your command. John’s thrusts and the feeling of his fingers rubbing your clit made you cum once more. Your back arched off the mattress and you gave another sob as you clenched around the wide girth of his cock, body convulsing as euphoria consumed you, burning every single one of your senses.

“That’s it, baby, that’s it.”

John didn’t stop fucking into you, though. He slowed down momentarily to let you come down from your high.

But then his pace picked up and became sloppier as he chased his own high, pounding into you to reach his own climax.

“Please, John,” you mumbled drunkenly “Want you— want you to cum, too.” Your body went limp like a rag doll sprawled on the bed, arms falling over your head on the mattress, letting him use you as he pleased.

John let out a growl as he leaned back, holding your hips in place so he could relentlessly fuck you to his heart’s desire. Huffing breaths and grunts escaped him, chest puffed proudly as he took you and used you like you asked him to.

And soon enough, he pulled out of you, spurting ropes of cum onto your lower belly and pussy. He grunted as his hips faltered, cock pulsating as he painted your abdomen and entrance with his seed. You moaned at the sight of him coming undone, at the feeling of his hot cum all over you.

John supported himself on his arm beside you, panting breathlessly as every drop of him was let out onto you. You tiredly embraced him as he came down from his high, planting lazy kisses on his sweaty face. He gave you an appreciative hum as he slowly let himself lay beside you.

The two of you lay on your bed exhausted, messy and in a haze but basking in the afterglow.

After a moment, John reached for the box of tissues you had on your nightstand and cleaned up the mess of himself that coated your skin. You let him and gave him a smile that conveyed how out of it you still were, to which he chuckled pleased with himself.

Once finished, he wrapped his arms around you, lifting your tired body to lay on top of his hairy chest. You were both sticky with sweat, but you were too drained to care as you lay on top of him, absorbing his musk and heat of his body. You felt his lips give a chaste kiss to the crown of your head before your lids started closing.

John’s fingertips raked over the expanse of your back as you drifted asleep, the last thing you gave him was content sigh.

He chuckled to himself, inhaling the scent at the top of your head before he let himself doze off with the weight of your body on him.

That night you didn’t dream. Your body gave out completely. You had nothing to dream about since all you wanted was lying under you in the comfort of your bedsheets.

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just-a-fragment · 10 months

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It's jung heewon's birthday and gosh her character arc still hits hard even after finishing the novel for almost a year now.

She was a "nameless background character" and when she was introduced it's implied she was a victim of one of the most cruel crimes someone can commit to another person(and yet its something that happens to most women).

In this scene, KDJ's commentary states that its a "cliche" or not an unexpected development that happens to "nameless" characters whenever a story has societal collapse. So it's very refreshing that not only did she turn out to be such an important character, but when she gained one of the more powerful attack skills, she was able to enact her vengeance and carry this righteous catharsis throughout the novel. But it doesn't stop there!

The skill actually contains a caveat. She wasn't the one who decided which "evil" is deserving of being killed. She has to constantly answer to a system that has to unanimously "vote" if the skill should be used or not. So while she's extremely powerful, there were times where she wasn't able to defend herself just because the system of good decided that her enemy wasn't worthy of punishment.

Except who are these constellations to decide if someone was worthy or not, especially when, aside from delighting in these spectacles, they weren't the ones affected by such grievances. She has seen how the so-called "good" abandoned her and her companions in vital times, that's why it was so satisfying when she finally gained full autonomy to enact her own judgement. She saw that the system doesn't actually adhere to morality but to an audience, to authorities who never cared for their own well-being in the first place. The best part about this arc is not just how her skill evolved from adhering to a shaky yet rigid parameter to the intrinsic desire to protect the ones you love but how it doesn't abhor the way she handled her trauma! It was never implied that the rage she felt was cruel.

Her story arc is such a kind fate that most authors rarely consider for characters who suffered the same as her. It's established early on that aside from being one of the most powerful characters, she's also funny! she's very caring to the kids, she mentors jihye, she's very loyal to kimcom. She has one of the more consistent moral codes in the novel, she's justice personified. It's what makes her character arc so satisfying, her trauma never retracted any of this, because that's always been who she is.

Her character arc could've just been dissecting her trauma around men, but it's also how it's incredibly hard to maintain your sense of justice/sense of self under an oppressive system. How even the most capable people are held back.

She's not reduced to some brooding/tsundere combat side character, who not only overly relies on the male mc but experiences more trauma to further male mc / other male character developments, which unfortunately happens to characters that have the same fate as her.

Like she's incredibly loyal to dokja but she questions his decisions, she doesn't praise him as a god that goes through with all of his plans just because he saved her, Because she doesn't owe him anything and both of them know this! By the end of the novel she was the one who felt remorse, but her loyalty is still there.

Same thing can be said with Hyunsung who was consistently willing to be a tool for her catharsis, for her righteous anger, and this might be a controversial opinion, but I actually kinda liked that they broke up! In the brief/rare times we get their perspective, yeah we can see that they actually do care/love each other, we can't deny that their love story was born from the apocalypse. It was never confirmed but I wouldn't ignore the possibility that to some constellations, their relationship was a spectacle, people were supporting them, or egging them on(I mean we even see how HSY placed a bet on them)

It's a very refreshing or even realistic take to these kinds of storylines, yes Hyunsung helped her when she was broken, yes he helped her with her trauma, yes they loved each other. But the implication that Heewon, someone who was introduced as a person whose agency was taken from her, being able to decide that her "knight-in-shining armor" isn't her endgame, and being able to acknowledge that it isn't the right time, but the love existed, the love was still there(which is one of orv's main themes). Like that's such a powerful and important message!

I also like how the side stories addresses the argument on whether or not she deserves the backstory she got like!!! SS already proved that she was written with so much care, so much interiority, so much agency, so much love. I wish I could write more(even though this post is already long lol) but I haven't read the side stories.

So yeah HAPPY BIRTHDAY JUNG HEEWON WOMAN OF ALL TIME.

#orv #orv spoilers #HAPPY BIRTHDAY JUNG HEEWON #orv analysis #jung heewon #jhw #omniscient reader's viewpoint

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gunsandspaceships · 11 days

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Tony’s Childhood. Part 2.1. Effects: Own Will

Before this part, be sure to read Part 1.

If you're not aware of Tony's strange understanding of the importance of his own wants and needs, check out this post from daydreamsandnightlights.

Here I will try to explain the roots of this behavior.

At age 4 Tony built his first circuit board (IM1)

At age 6 built his first engine (IM1)

Let's think about what it meant that he built all these things at such an early age. Was this his own or his father's will?

Let’s take Morgan for comparison – she is indeed a brilliant kid too, since at the age of 5 she can count up to 3000 (ordinary kids count up to 1000 at the age of 8), knows how much is in a ton, what “disintegrate” means and can easily manipulate her dad, a genius.

Looking at Morgan's behavior, we can assume that she is already capable of building a circuit board under the guidance of her father. But she doesn't. Because her father does not demand this from her. She is a kid. She plays with plush dogs and beavers, sleds on Captain America’s shield, and likes to have bedtime stories read to her before bed. She sneaks into her father’s garage because there are interesting things inside that she can take and play with, not to build something and add it to the list of impressive achievements.

The question is: did Tony want to create things because he liked it, or because his father did it and wanted his son to do the same?

We know that Howard had plans for Tony to "change the world" with Howard's ideas about the future. Apparently, he was preparing Tony for this purpose.

Do small children have a desire to tinker and build things? Some yes. Do they want to or should they play with cubes and constructor sets? Yes. Do they want to or should they work with real motorcycle engines and soldering irons? Hell no. They usually don't have the appropriate motor skills to do this, so they can easily hurt themselves. I'll talk more about this later when I discuss his pain tolerance.

I think it’s impossible to say now whether Tony was interested in engineering from that age (I mean sincere desire, not ability). So we cannot answer that question. But I doubt 4-year-old Tony realized what he was doing when building computer parts. He liked it though. Because those were probably the only times he spent time with his father.

Howard continued to deny his son his will when Tony was sent to boarding school when Tony was 7 years old. There he had a regulated, planned life for 7 years. Then college for another 7. And then became the youngest CEO at 21. None of this sounds like a child’s “I did what I wanted”.

He did not express his will but pleased others. Because this way he received a little love. Or a substitute for love, to be precise. And when, perhaps for the first time, he was taken care of by Yinsen, who saved him, even in such a terrible way, and died for him, he was incredibly grateful. And after that, his attitude towards people changed.

But not the attitude of people towards him, since they continued to want something from him, expecting the same behavior that they were used to seeing from the “rich and famous”.

*Doesn’t want to celebrate his birthday with a bunch of strangers in his house? Wants to spend his last days with the woman he loves? DENIED*

*Needs psychological support from people he trusts? DENIED*

*Wants to save the team from a breakup because he cares and knows what’s coming? DENIED*

Conclusion: Tony didn't belong to himself his whole life. He didn’t use to defend his own, laid deep within, interests. First, his will was moved aside by his father’s. Then Stane’s and the public’s. Fury then came with his Initiative without asking what Tony wanted. Then S.H.I.E.L.D. came to him (not) asking to find Tesseract and save the world. Then the whole team came. Then the government with its Accords, and so on and so forth. None of them bothered to ask, “What do you want, Tony?”. And the only times he insisted on something, were the times when he tried to keep the team together and prevent their death.

#tony stark #iron man #marvel #mcu #the avengers #captain america civil war #avengers age of ultron #iron man 3 #pepper potts #avengers endgame #captain america #morgan stark #psychology #iron man 2 #howard stark

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commander-krios · 3 months

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“Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel the same as I do, then I’ll leave you alone.” for revan and canderous? :D

I... I finished it?? OMG I did it! I hope this was worth the wait, I'm so sorry this took so long. Warnings for graphic violence and descriptions of death/corpses.

Read on AO3

“We need to talk.”

Closing her eyes, Yuehai breathed in through her nose, trying her hardest not to give in to the anger that swelled in her chest. The coarse red dirt of Korriban stained her feet, dirtied her robes, burned her skin as she knelt to retrieve the stone urn half buried. “This isn’t the time or place.”

Gravel crunched beneath Canderous’ boots as he stepped closer, his shadow dwarfing her as she pried the urn from the ground. The HK droid had walked off to patrol a few minutes before, leaving the two of them in the heated silence. The Mandalorian hadn’t said a word during most of their trek through the tombs or the caves, but now, when they were so close to getting off this dreadful rock, he had to open his mouth.

“Revan-”

With a hiss, she glared up at him, furious at the use of a name that died with her past. “Don’t call me that.”

Those grey eyes she swore didn’t haunt her dreams slanted in her direction. The unforgiving sun left his skin burned as he stood there, but not once did he complain of the pain. Stubborn to the end. Something they had in common, at least.

One of many things, her mind taunted, dark whispers fading as his gaze brought her back to the conversation. It was a strange thing, to feel desire for a man that she might’ve killed in another life. To think that one look into his eyes kept her from falling to the dark again.

“Revan is a part of who you are, even if you’re ashamed of it.”

“You think I’m ashamed of who I am? Who I was?” She stood, shaking some of the dirt out of those hideous black robes the Academy gave their students. “You know nothing about me.”

“That’s a lie.” Canderous crossed his arms over his chest, not backing down even as her fingers flexed, tempted to strangle him where he stood. “We are the same. Even you can’t deny that.”

No, she couldn’t.

And that was part of the problem when it came to this thing between her and Canderous. They were warriors, scarred by blade and hands stained with blood, capable of both terrible destruction and great deeds. Their lives were built on war, sustained by death, only to fall at the height of their power.

Whenever she looked at him, she saw the past.

Canderous stepped closer, the space between them thinning to nothing. The sweet pungent scent of sweat mixed with the rusty smell of dirt, turned red by years of blood seeping into the ground. When he reached out with a steady hand to brush his fingers over her dark hair, she dropped her gaze to a scar on his neck, jagged, white, and she wondered, not for the first time, where he’d gotten it. His rough fingers brushed her cheek and she couldn’t stop the immediate reaction to his touch, closing her eyes and leaning into his hand, wanting to feel more of his strength.

“Look me in the eyes.” He commanded, refusing to back down when she did without argument, his eyes like molten metal, no light in their depths, only darkness. “Tell me you don’t want this, that you don’t feel the pull that’s between us. Tell me to leave you alone and I will.”

That was just it. She couldn’t do any of those things. Because no matter how much she wanted to deny this old bastard the satisfaction of being correct in at least one thing since he joined her crew, Yuehai knew she’d never speak those words. Because they were lies.

And Revan was many things, but a liar, she was not.

The telltale feel of the dark side washed over her suddenly, skin prickling uncomfortably, the hair on her arms rising before three Dark Jedi appeared in the distance over Canderous’s shoulder. They strolled casually down the hill to where they’d been secreted away, red lightsabers glowing bright even against the bloody sands of Korriban.

“I almost feel guilty for interrupting such a lovely moment.” Heavy sarcasm laced every word, not a trace of sincerity in the voice that spoke from beneath the dark hood.

Not that she’d expected any.

Yuehai couldn’t see their faces, but she could see the pale skin and black veins that were common in dark side corruption. She sighed, stepping around Canderous at the same time he turned, her sabers in her hands without hesitation. “More of you? Didn't you have enough of getting your asses kicked on Tatooine and the Leviathan?”

One of them hissed at her, spitting curses before stepping forward, as if he could strike fear in the heart of the woman who had destroyed the Mandalorians and destroyed the Jedi. “You are nothing without your Jedi, traitor. With her battle meditation, the Republic will lie before our feet, nothing more than burned rubble and broken bodies.”

She eyed the Sith’s form, making a mental note of how he favored his left leg: an old injury or perhaps he was tortured as punishment for a failure. The cause did not matter when she could benefit from the weakness. “Your master is the traitor and I will see him kneeling at my feet before I end his life.”

A crimson lightsaber slashed through the air, a wide arcing swing that was full of rage and little control. Yuehai lifted her hand in a single fluid motion, the blue lightsaber in her left hand blocking the first swing while the one in her right, one that glowed with an amethyst crystal, found its home in the Sith’s chest. With a downward thrust, she cleaved him in two, leaving a smoking mass of flesh where a person had stood a moment before.

The Sith that had spoken howled in fury, stepping forward with a raised hand, electricity crackling at his fingertips. Blocking with one of her sabers would only work a few times before the lightning overpowered her, but she didn’t need much time to close the distance.

If she was truly Darth Revan, she doubted any of these Sith had the power to kill her. They were nothing more than ants to crush beneath her boot.

Canderous opened fire, his repeater leaving multiple smoking holes in the Sith furthest away. The scent of burning flesh assaulted her nose only briefly before Yuehai used her connection on the force to leap into the air, lightsabers posed to strike. The Sith got his saber up in time to block the attack, but she didn’t let up, slashing and pushing the Sith back until he was practically pressed against a outcropping of stone, nowhere left to go.

The electricity built to a maelstrom beneath his skin. Shadowy whispers of imminent danger tickled at the back of her mind but she ignored the warnings, striking out with her right saber. It met the Sith’s in a shower of red and purple sparks, the blades hissing as they made contact. She pushed as hard as she could towards his left side, the weight of her form pressing against him, her muscles straining beneath thick, itchy robes. The Sith tried to pivot the sudden movement, but his weakened leg almost buckled under their combined weight.

She saw the terror flash in his gaze when he looked at her, blue eyes turned hazy, yellow, a mark of the Sith. There was no doubt that he’d killed innocents, done evil in a galaxy that had suffered enough. Here, in the sandy wasteland of Korriban, under the shade of tombs of greater Sith, this man would die and Yuehai felt not a fraction of pity for him.

He hesitated to release his hold on the lightning with her body so close. If he did so, he’d be caught in the crossfire, frying him as well as himself. As he fought against being overpowered, Yuehai spun her second lightsaber, severing his hand from the rest of his body.

He screamed as the stump smoked, blood sizzling as the wound cauterized, and Yuehai stepped out of the way so Canderous had the perfect shot. It was over within seconds, the Sith all dead at her feet, her breath coming in puffs, her lungs burning from the exertion. When she turned to face the Mandalorian again, her hair fell into her eyes, obscuring his image slightly.

Nothing could hide the flash of his eyes as he watched her across the battlefield. After a moment, the tension eased, and he slung the repeater across his shoulder before crossing the distance between them with purposeful strides.

“Don’t-” She warned him, lightsabers still hanging at her sides, the heat felt through her clothing even with the brutal Korriban sun beating down on her. She didn’t know if she intended to use her weapons or not, but all thought fled her mind when he pressed her against the stone at her back.

He was pigheaded, impossible, irritating, and one of the most stubborn bastards she’d ever met and yet, when he slipped his strong hands around her waist, his hot mouth against her own, she knew that she was lost. The kiss was hasty, intense, leaving every part of her burning, the desire for more lingering when he pulled back.

“You are the greatest warrior I have fought against, Revan.” He told her with a conviction that almost had her heart singing in her chest. Yuehai knew what the feeling was even if she couldn’t remember ever feeling it before. It terrified her. “And the greatest warrior I have ever fought beside. I will continue fighting at your side until you have no more use for me.”

With a groan, she shut off her lightsabers, clipping them to her belt once more. Damn him. “Stubborn bastard. This misplaced devotion of yours is going to get you killed one day.”

The smallest of grins crossed his lips, fleeting, brief, disappearing as quickly as it’d appeared. So quick it was that she thought she might’ve imagined it. “Dying in battle, with or against you, would be an honor.”

It almost sounded like he was teasing her.

“Will it be such an honor when I suffocate you in your sleep?” Squinting up at him, she tried to keep the frustration out of her voice, but she saw the quirk of his eyebrow at her words.

The whir of machinery broke the silence that fell, the familiar sight of HK-47 returning from his patrol. At the sight of the bodies scattered around them, the assassin droid pivoted towards her almost offended. “Statement: Master! You killed meatbags without me. Query: How could you?”

Yuehai bit her lip, trying not to laugh at how human he almost sounded and instead, tucked her hand into Canderous’, enjoying the rough calloused skin against her own. They still needed to find the Star Map, but they were so close, Bastila’s rescue nearly at hand. Then… maybe then the future might actually be a possibility.

#my writing #kotor #kotor fanfiction #star wars #star wars: knights of the old republic #knights of the old republic #darth revan #revan #canderous ordo #hk 47 #revanderous #revan x canderous #yuehai xun #violence #death #graphic violence

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fieldofdaisiies · 1 year

Text

Azriel x demon!Reader | The Dungeon

type: smut (fluff at the end) warning(s): explicit descriptions, rough sex, shadowplay, vulgar language word count: 2.3k words

request: sure, my wicked mind won't leave me alone. Could you write (if you want), one where the reader is part demon maybe? but there is a "beast" form that she is afraid of being scary and that Azriel don't like her anymore, but one night Az asks them to have an intimate night with reader in her real form ? something certainly lewd and fluff. English is not my first language so forgive the mistakes 😅 and thank you 🌺❤️‍🔥

Azriel’s eyes are trained on your sweat slicked skin, how your hands are bound together, chained to the ceiling. Teeth bared, you growl lowly, eyes aglow. Once a full moon this would happen and Azriel wanted to finally see it. He wants to be with you, wants to be there for you.

You have been mate’s for a while now, but not once did you reveal your real —your beast— form to the shadowsinger. But Azriel wants to change that—your are his mate, he wants to truly know all of you.

Icy cold power stretches out like dark cloud, crawling under the spymaster’s skin when you growl again, your eyes trained on him. They glow vividly, burning flames dancing in them.

Azriel feels everything but cold. His blood is running hot, his skin prickling, grazed in a thin film of sweat. He wants to feel your icy skin on his warm membrane. He wants to feel your touch all over his body. He needs to feel you touch all over his body.

You have been afraid that it would scare Azriel, that he would no longer like you after seeing you in this form, but gods, it did the exact opposite to our shadowsinger.

Some primal, animalistic part of him gets him quite aroused at the sight of you, the danger, the lethality glowing in your eyes. He knows what, in this form, you could be capable of. And he wants all of it. He wanted to experience it all. The danger, the rawness, the power. He wants to have a taste of it all, he wants to become subject of it.

One hand moving over his crotch, his skin feeling so tight, his cock throbs at the sight of your disheveled figure. He knows that every rational part of his mind has left, finding that sight so terribly arousing. But he also knows of the so called heat, the desire and arousal you emit during that phase. Maybe it is your lust that reaches him through the bond and gets him so worked up.

You want him just as much as he wants you, but could he truly let this happen? Could you let this happen? Could you allow this?

An escapee of the prison. A demon locked away centuries ago. Caught by no other than the shadowsinger himself. That is what you are. So could the restraints really be removed from you?

Over the months that you were living in his dungeon in the Hewn City you and Azriel got to know each other, grew closer, found yourself yearning for the other until one day the bond snapped in place. Neither of you could believe it. It seemed like an atrocity–everyone apart from you two had been shocked.

Azriel is the High Lord’s spymaster. You are a creature with no other purpose than bringing pain and violence to this world. You thought there would never be a life in freedom for you and if Azriel would allow his deepest desires to reach the surface, if he would allow himself to claim you, he would not only betray his own morals but also his dear friend, his brother, the High Lord. Rhysand ordered that you either would be locked up again in the Prison or that you would otherwise be taken care of—killed in other words. Someone like you could not be trusted, you were thought to be cruel, vicious, lethal. It that is what people say about you. You were never given a chance in life. From the moment on that you were born your fate was doomed. Azriel, once there was no denying that the two of you were mates, convinced his brother to allow you freedom, to let him be with you. And he allowed it, you became a citizen of the Night Court, living amongst the others. You were finally given a chance. Rhysand gave you a chance. And most importantly Azriel did.

Only once a month you would go back to a prison, a different kind of prison. Azriel’s dungeon for the really, really bad kind of fae. His torture chamber was the only room that could hold your power in, that could hold you in.

Where shackles of magic bound you, you had found a place to let your true self show.

In the past you were always alone in here until Azriel said he wanted this to end. He wants to be with you during this phase, knowing how agonising and exhausting it is for you. He is you mate, he needs to be there for you every step of your love. For better, for worse.

Azriel leans back in his chair and crosses his ankle over his knee. “It is midnight,” he breathes. You rattle on the chain, groaning, your toes curling on the ground. His voice, the deep tenor reverberating through your whole body, is your undoing. It fuels some primal need inside of you, that makes wet heat flood your body.

During a full moon you are so sensitive, so full of need for your mate. Also the days around full moon, like the previous night where Azriel has taken you five times and you still felt a throbbing need between your thighs in the morning.

You rub your thighs together, the memories flooding you, making your skin feel tight and hot. But gods, your body is actually icy cold, the demon inside of you reaching the surface. Black has replaced your eye colour, damp strands of hair clutch to your face, the same with your thin night gown that is drenched in sweat. But for Azriel you still are the most beautiful female in this world. Breathtaking and stunning.

You rattle the restraints once again, growling and snapping your gaze into his direction. He looks delicious–stunning, cruel beauty.

The shadowsinger's pupils are dilated when he looks at you with a heavy-lidded gaze, long lashes drawing shadows to his flushed cheeks. Azriel must have felt hot as well, you thought, as a thin film of sweat has built up on his forehead, his nose, his neck. Gods, his neck! You want to taste his neck, lick over it, bit into it while he moves inside of you. While his proud cock stretches you out, ruts into you, makes you come. It is torture having to look at him without being able to touch him. Without him touching you.

“Need you,” you groan through gritted teeth and squeeze your eyes shut. “Need you in me. On me. Please touch me.” Azriel breathes a laugh, a smirk appearing on his face. His hand moves over his crotch when his shadows slowly scattered towards you. Almost like a cat’s tail they curl around your calves, slowly gliding up and leaving heat in every place they touch.

You eyes closed, your head falls back when two of his shadows brushed up your torso, smoothing over the pebbled hardness. The slip, damp with sweat, clutches to your skin and leaves absolutely nothing to imagination. Azriel groans low in his throat, his shadows at the ready but waiting for their command.

“Say please,” Azriel coos.

“Please,” you breathe through gritted tears. His shadows shove your night gown down, curling around your nipples, rolling, teasing and tugging just like their owner likes to do. Two other shadows slide inside your undergarments and part your hot and damp flesh, moving inside, making your growl in pure bliss.

The stimulation was perfect, intense and overwhelming.

Azriel loves the sight that is presented to him, your hands chained to the ceiling, his shadows bringing you pleasure, your hips rocking, lips parted. A lewd sound leaves your

Gods, it truly was a sight for sore eyes. Azriel adjusted himself in his pants, his cock throbbing and aching behind his tight pants. The shadows move in and out of you, just like your mate’s scarred fingers. Azriel is not touching you, but then he is. HIs hand toys with the laces of his pants, his head tipped back slightly, lips parted, eyelids heavy. He was not going to make you come with his shadows, just play with you, tease you, prepare you for him.

Azriel shoves his pants down his legs, sitting now fully nude and in a sprawl in front of. It…does things to you and fuels your need even more.

A feeling of amusement, almost arrogance, fills the shadowsinger at the sight of you. He knows how much you need him and he loves it. He loves the feeling of lust that reaches him through the bond.

And then….it was enough of the teasing. The shadowsinger decides to take matters into his own hands. He stands, moving over to you in a fluid movement. His shadows depart, skittering away from you and leaving you aching for some more touching.

Azriel’s hands fall to your hips, mouth mere inches form your face. Desire stretches out. But Azriel turns you around so your back his to his front. He is hard and ready, pressing against your back.

“Want me to take care of that throbbing need?” Azriel groans against your ear, his hands sliding to your front.

You grit your teeth, arching your back so your ass rubs against your mate's front. A shudder courses through the shadowsinger, his hips thrusting forward. “Yes,” you say when he fists your slip and rips it into two halves, your undergarment following immediately. “Better.”

Still chained to the ceiling, Azriel adjust you so you are flush to his body, his hard length pressing against your core.

Your bodies come together when he pushes forward, holding you at your hips, one hand moving up to curl around your throat. You moan, your head leaning against his shoulder, his sculptured, solid chest pressing against your back. It is the raw and primal lust that fills this moment–not once had either of you felt such want, such desire, such need.

A loud growl leaves you, followed by a lewd scream when your mate thrusts his hips against yours and slides in to the hilt. His fingers curl tighter around your throat, squeezing.

“That‘s what you wanted, huh?“ Azriel pants against the back of your neck, his proud length stretching you out, making your walls clench around him. The two of you move against the wall, the shadowsinger steadying himself on you. The cool brick wall presses against your front, your cheek, while Azriel ruts into you, his pace soon turning fast, relentless almost. And then he fucks. Just like you wanted him to.

A feeling of light-headedness overcomes you when flecks of black and white spark in your vision. His fingers press into the sides of your throat, hips thrusting against your ass. He has never taken you so hard and you know this even thought you have half-entered a state of oblivion already. But it is exactly what you needed, how you needed to be taken care of in that state. Azriel knew this, understood it and now takes care of you in just the right way.

Rocking against him, deep, primal groans leave the shadowsinger, accompanied by growls of pleasure that have your toes curling and your walls clenching tighter.

When the heat finally cools and after having been pressed against the wall for quite some time you breathlessly fall into bed–you don't remember much, it has all become a blur or need, of desire, of pleasure, of damp skin moving against damp skin, of feeling Azriel's cock so deep inside of you, of the press of his body against yours.

Azriel wraps you in his arms, in his wings, cradling you tightly to his chest. His scarred hand brushes over your damp hair when you curl your leg over his waist. “It did not scare you?” you silently ask, voice barely above a whisper. You cannot meet his gaze, afraid that his eyes might say more than his mouth does. Azriel gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze, inhaling deeply. "There was not one moment where I was scared. It was definitely something new, something different. But there was not a single moment where I felt intimated or in the slightest bit scared. It is who you are and I know that you would never hurt me." Azriel kisses the top of your head. "And I couldn't be more thankful that you showed me this side of you. That you showed me this vulnerable part of your life.”

Your heart swells at his words, at the lush feeling reaching your through the bond. He meant what he said. He truly loves you no matter your dark side. He is not afraid either. A single tear falls to his skin and you kiss his peck.

“I love you, Azriel,” you mumble into his soft and in a thin film of sweat covered skin. “More than anything in this world.” “I love you with my whole heart, Y/N. And you have to know one thing for sure—“ Azriel grabs the back of your head, tilting it back so that you look straight into his eyes, “you will never have to spend a full moon alone. From now on until the very last day of our immortal lives will I be with you on a full moon. We will always be down here and I will take care of you, my love.”

You move a hand over your mouth, a silent sob leaving you when tears brim your eyes. You want to scream it from the rooftop how much you love this male, how important he is, how much he values you, how much you value him.

“You are so perfect. The way you are. And I couldn’t love you anymore. I will never be scared of you. I will always be in complete and utter admiration of you, my love.”

A tear rolls out of your eye, your heart swelling, heart beating rapidly against your ribs.

“And before you say you don't deserve this,” Azriel says, the corner of his mouth tipping up, “you do. You deserve all of it. All the love you can get. You had to live without it for so long. So I will spend the rest of my life worshipping and loving you as much as you deserve to be loved and worshipped."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii @nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbitxh @cityofidek @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22 @valeriedarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian @kennedy-brooke

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel smut #azriel shadowsinger #acotar x reader #acotar #acosf

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karatekels · 6 months

Text

Heirloom - Epilogue

It's the epilogue, where our star-crossed lovers get their happy ending!

TW: Graphic sex, rough sex, violent sex (all consensual)

Previous Parts:

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

---

One Month Later…

Valek’s POV:

“I cannot stand by and watch this go on for another minute, Jan!” Cassandra snarls at Valek, baring her fangs at him. “You will talk to her, or I will,” she threatens, and he hisses in warning.

“You will do no such thing,” Valek orders, stretching to his full height and towering over the tiny woman ominously. “Y/N is still adjusting to this life, she doesn’t need any other problems to worry about,” he continues less aggressively, trying to reason with her. Following your Turning, the group had relocated to Valek’s castle in Germany to conduct research on the Berziers Cross. You had thrown yourself into the research, and he was incredibly grateful for it; the last thing he wanted to do was distract you from your task.

“Adjusting? She’s taken to being a vampire more easily than anyone I’ve ever seen, Jan, be reasonable,” Cassandra scoffs, turning her nose up at him. “But it has been a month now, and I have grown tired of watching the two of you tiptoe around each other!”

Since the night you had been Turned, you and Valek had not spoken of your feelings, nor your kiss in your last human moments. He had chalked it up to you being relieved that he was alright and would be saving you as well, or to the bloodloss, or shock, at least on your end. His own feelings were of little consequence in comparison to your own.

“Y/N has given no indication that she wishes to be involved with me,” he protests, and Cassandra rolls her eyes.

“Really, Jan, are you blind?” she rebuffs him, waving away his defence with her hand. “She cared for you as a human, and she cares for you now. Why must you work so hard to refuse yourself happiness?”

“It is not my happiness I am concerned about, Cassandra,” he snaps defensively, and to his annoyance, her expression softens.

“Dearest, do not think for a moment that you are not capable of bringing Y/N the utmost joy. You make her happy, Jan. She longs to spend time with you.”

“And how would you know that?”

“Because she’s told me!”

“What? You’ve already spoken to her about this?!” Valek hisses, indignant. “I specifically asked you to stay out of this, Cassandra!”

“I haven’t told her about your desires,” she clarifies, though she doesn’t seem happy about it. “She’s told me. You know I spend more time with her than you do, and neither of you are happy about that!”

Valek huffs, moving away from her and pretending to peruse a bookshelf. He knows she’s going to mock him for asking.

“…What is it that she said?” he asks softly, and he doesn’t need to turn to know that Cassandra is radiating smug satisfaction as he gives in.

“She told me the other day that she wishes she was human,” she says softly, and Valek turns to face her with a guilty, pained expression. You regretted your decision to Turn?

“…She says she had something to offer you then, and that you had more of a reason to come around. She misses you, you dolt.”

Valek feels a warmth bloom in his chest, as was always the case where you were concerned, although this particular revelation brings him a far greater joy. He had stayed away from you, it was true, but only because he didn’t want to risk pushing you towards a relationship that you did not want. Hearing that you felt his distance was due to any deficiency of yours has him feeling terribly guilty.

“Am I finally starting to get the point through that thick skull of yours?” she asks, arching a brow at him. Valek looks at her exasperatedly.

“Why does it please you so, interfering in other peoples’ affairs, hmm?”

Cassandra shrugs, sliding off of the desk she had been perched on. “Having lost my own love, I find it greatly irritating when people try to deny their heart's desire when it lies right before them. Especially when it comes to my two favourite people in the world.”

She approaches Valek, laying a dainty hand on his chest, over his still heart. “You deserve to love her, Jan,” she says earnestly, staring into his pale eyes with her own. “And you’ve waited long enough for her.”

He sighs deeply, closing his eyes as though he could block out Cassandra’s logic. She was right, she was always right… but what if she was wrong about this?

“Alright, fine, you unholy terror,” he concedes. “I will try to figure out how to approach Y/N about this.”

Cassandra claps her hands excitedly, hopping up and down.

“Wonderful! I will ensure that the two of you are left alone tomorrow night.”

“No, I did not mean –”

“I am not going to let you dwell on this any longer, Jan,” Cassandra interrupts sternly. “I will take the others and return to Castello della Chiocciola for a few days. We need to check in on the Slayers anyway.”

“A few days?!” Valek repeats incredulously. “How long do you imagine this conversation will take?”

“Oh, I am sure the two of you will find something to do with your time together,” she murmurs suggestively, laughing delightedly as she flits out of Valek’s reach as he lunges for her.

“They will be back any minute, we should go and greet them!” she says brightly, dashing up the steps to the main floor. Valek follows at a slower pace, letting his anger at Cassandra coat his nerves.

They both didn’t like the idea of you leaving the castle without one of them accompanying you, but Cassandra had insisted that they have this talk. And so, you had been sent to feed with the others, under the watchful eye of two other Masters that they trusted. Valek is eager to see you safely returned home.

The small group returns, entering through the ornate front door, everyone retreating to their own lives in the castle, until only you remain, standing before him and Cassandra.

You are radiant.

The colour drained from your complexion seemed to have been returned to the rest of you tenfold; your hair, your eyes, your lips… you were a beautiful creature. He had been wrong in his initial reluctance to Turn you; he had thought you a creature of the Sun, but you glowed just as brightly as a child of the Moon. You were a glimmer of light in the darkness; his little star.

“Cassandra!” you exclaim happily, your voice turned richer and more musical with your transformation. You flit up the stairs to embrace the woman warmly, before turning your gaze over to him. “Valek,” you murmur, inclining your head respectfully to him, your eyes cast downwards. Your cheeks are flushed, likely due to your recent meal, but he greedily wants to attribute the blush to himself.

“Good evening, Y/N,” he croons, and he sees Cassandra rolling her eyes from behind you.

“Valek and I were just talking,” she chimes in immediately, and he would snap her neck if she didn’t mean so much to him. “I will be taking the other vampires back to Italy for a few days to check on things, so you and Valek will have the castle to yourselves!”

“Oh, I don’t –” you start to protest, but she grabs your hands with both of her own.

“Come on, you can help me pack! And I ordered you some more things to try on!” Cassandra says cheerily, monopolizing the situation just as she had done with him before your return. Valek isn’t entirely sure the woman isn’t a witch; her ability to swing things in her favour was astounding. The two of you disappear, leaving Valek in the grand foyer to figure out just what he was going to say to you tomorrow.

---

The next evening, Valek leaves you to yourself for a few hours to prepare himself. You had predictably thrown yourself into your research the moment that the others had left, combing through ancient texts in his collection. Your thirst for knowledge is unparalleled, and he has started to understand the Slayers’ reluctance in letting you out into the world; you would have discovered their deception on your own, he was sure.

Once he has finished staging everything just so – Cassandra would mock him if she knew, he was sure – he moves through the castle in the direction of the library, the place where you could almost always be found. He finds you at your table in the corner lost in your reading, stacks of books and scattered papers covering the surface.

“Y/N,” he says quietly with amusement when you have still not noticed his presence after a minute or two. Your head snaps up, and you blink up at him, smiling sheepishly.

“Oh, Valek! I’m sorry, I was a million miles away,” you say, your tone embarrassed. “What can I help you with?” you ask him with a warm smile.

“Would you join me upstairs, my dear?” he asks nervously, and you look up at him with an inquisitive expression. “You have been working too hard down here, and I know how you have missed the moon.”

“I get distracted,” you admit quietly with a guilty smile. “There’s just so much more to see now…” you trail off, referring to your enhanced eyesight. You shake your head to bring yourself out of your thoughts. “Yes, of course I can join you, Valek.”

He watches you mark the places in your notes and your book, trying to organize everything somewhat before you stand and move to join him. He offers you his arm and you take it, exiting the library with him.

“Is everything alright?” you ask hesitantly, looking up at him, and Cassandra’s words from the night before echo through his mind. Had he really left you feeling as though he only wanted to speak with you if he needed something?

“Of course, my dear,” he replies, despite his anxiety peaking. “I hope that I have not given you the impression that you are merely here as a scholar.”

“I don’t mind!” you tell him, smiling happily. “It feels so wonderful to be useful,” you say enthusiastically, sincerity ringing in every word. Valek hopes that he can channel your honesty in a moment, as you approach the door to the conservatory. While they couldn’t make use of it during the day, the glass room was spectacular for seeing the stars at night, and he knew that after the library, it was your favourite place in the castle.

“I am pleased to hear that you are enjoying your work, my dear,” he tells you, stopping you before you open the door to the conservatory. You turn and look up at him with a confused expression. “But I have brought you here to tell you something, Y/N.”

“What is it?” you ask when he cannot bring himself to speak, your voice concerned. “Is everything alright? Is that why everyone else left?”

He shushes you gently, placing a finger to your lips. He’s pleased that you have indeed retained some of your softness through your transformation.

“Everything is fine, little one,” he assures you. Despite your lack of experience, you were always so ready for a fight. He finds it charming.

“Tell me, what do you remember about the night that I Turned you?” he asks, trying to gage if you even remember your kiss in the first place. He feels you tense beneath his fingertips and you drop your gaze, unable to look at him, and he knows that you remember.

“Oh. This is about that. We don’t have to talk about it, Valek, I understand. Of course you wouldn’t…”

You stop your babbling as he throws open the doors of the conservatory, the sight within silencing you far more quickly than trying to talk to you possibly could.

Every surface in the room, from the chaise lounge to the piano is covered in bouquets of dark red roses, loose petals scattered across the marble floor. The moonlight streams through the windows and ceiling, bathing the room in a white glow, the stars clearly visible across the night sky.

You walk into the room slowly, timidly, as though you’re afraid of disturbing the scene, but Valek finds that you complete the picture perfectly. After a long moment that stretches on for ages, you turn back to look at him with an astonished expression. He slowly moves towards you, gliding across the floor silently and stopping just before you.

“Y/N, you are the most incredible woman I have ever known. You captivated my heart as a human, you sacrificed yourself for my own salvation, you have changed me irrevocably… I want you by my side for eternity. I will do everything in my power to keep you safe and happy, I will give you my whole self; I am already yours. I love you, Y/N. I love you so very much.”

As you stare at him in disbelief, your mouth slightly open, he finds himself freezing in place as though he’s turning to stone. More than six hundred years of this existence, and he still does not have patience for this moment that seems to be stretching endlessly… Please, say something.

Your mouth finally settles on letting out a wordless cry of surprise before you launch yourself into his arms, wrapping yourself around him with your newfound strength. Valek did not expect such a physical response in lieu of a confession from you, but manages to catch you with ease, pulling you closer against his chest, one arm around your waist, the other running across your shoulders. Your bury your face in the crook between his neck and shoulder, squeezing him tightly.

“I love you too, Valek!” you exclaim, your voice muffled against him, but he hears every word. You lean back to look him in the eye, and his heart soars as he takes in the fierce joy in your expression. “I’ve loved you for ages.”

He can’t help but chuckle at the hyperbole, but his laughter is cut off as you press your lips to his, kissing him so passionately he swears his body is heating up as it responds to your touch. He kisses you back, letting out a deep, primal growl that has you gasping and writhing in his arms.

Valek immediately heads for the master bedroom, carrying you in his arms, moving slowly at an almost-human pace as he savours every moment of this. Of course, it wasn’t like he had a bed, but the chaise lounge beneath his window would be just perfect to lay you down on as he worshipped you.

However, upon entering his bedroom, he is taken aback by the significant changes made to his room. He gently sets you back on your feet, noting the changes with a suspicious eye. A massive four poster bed with dark, luxurious sheets now lies in the middle of his room, rose petals lining the floor from the doorway to the foot of the bed and scattered across the inky bedspread.

“Valek, how presumptuous of you!” you tease him with a giggle, taking in the new décor.

“I had nothing to do with this!” he insists, though he can’t say he’s upset with the renovations.

“Oh,” you mutter to yourself, seeming to have come to some realization. “I’m going to kill Cassandra,” you growl venomously. Valek turns to you, catching you fussing with your skirts.

“You think this was Cassandra?” he asks you, confused by your animosity towards your friend. It did seem like something that Cassandra would do to him, but she hadn’t been threatening you with the same sort of thing… had she?

“I know it was her,” you moan, hiding your face in your hands. “It matches…”

“What matches?” he asks, and you jump, looking at him guiltily.

“She uh… bought some things for me when we were having a Girl’s Night, as a joke... Insisted on it, really. And now I know why she did, and why she told me to wear it tonight… just for fun, she said…”

Cassandra had purchased you clothing to match the sheets of his bed?

Oh.

“That meddlesome little leech!” you hiss, stomping your foot in your fury, but Valek finds that his anger has completely dissipated.

“Show me,” he orders you in a low, soft voice, and you turn to look at him with wide eyes.

“W-What?” you ask meekly, yelping when he darts next to you again, cradling your face in one of his large hands.

“Show me, little one…” he croons seductively, his eyes shining brightly in the moonlight. “I want to see them…”

You give him a nervous, jittery smile, and he lowers his head to yours once more, kissing you deeply in a way that has you relaxing and pressing yourself up against him. You surprise him by running your hands up his chest and pushing his long dark coat off of his shoulders. Wanting to help you feel more at ease, he helps you, letting the heavy fabric pool on the floor at his feet. Continuing to allow you to take the lead, he lets you guide him back to the bed and sit him down, standing between his legs with a nervous expression.

“Do not be frightened or embarrassed, my treasure,” he murmurs, cradling your head in both of his hands. “I have never wanted the way I want you.”

His words seem to give you confidence, and you take a step back before reaching behind you to undo the buttons on your dress, yanking it down to the floor in one smooth movement and revealing yourself to him.

You are wearing a black brocade bustier that presses your breasts up enticingly, emphasizing your cleavage. Lacy black underwear is visible beneath the matching garter belt, holding up thigh-high stockings. The lingerie is adorned with silk ribbons dyed a deep red, matching the rose petals scattered throughout the room.

Valek lets out another possessive growl, lunging at you like a predator, his momentum carrying you both across the room until you are pressed against the glass of the windows. You gasp with surprise as his hands roam your body, relishing the look and feel of you wrapped up like a darkly sensual gift; all for him.

“You are the most glorious being that has ever walked the earth,” he whispers against your skin as his lips and teeth and tongue roam your neck and shoulders, mapping them just as his hands do the same to your body. You writhe against him, tangling your hands in his raven hair and pressing him closer, further into you. He groans at the feeling of you tugging on his locks, urging him to touch you more.

“I am unworthy of your beauty, beloved, but I will worship at your feet if you would allow it,” he continues, dropping to his knees to run his mouth from one hip bone to the next, savouring the path his lips take. You shudder beneath his ministrations.

“I should be worshipping you,” you counter, moaning as he kneads your ass in his large hands. “My love… my Master…”

“You do not ever need to call me that, my treasure,” he murmurs, rising to his full height once more to look down at you sternly, though he cannot deny that thrill of arousal that thrums through him, hearing that title from your lips. How he wants to possess you, to own you…

“I know I don’t need to,” you reply with a coy smile. “But I very much want to.”

There is a loud ripping noise as he tears the bustier to shreds off of your body, desperate to get his hands on you.

“You have to tell Cassandra you ruined that,” you tell him off-handedly as you give his shirt the same treatment, your clawed hands roaming over his massive chest, smooth and hard as marble before you attack him with you lips as well, moaning at the taste of him.

“Very well; you can explain that you ruined the bed,” he replies, the dark tone of his voice promising its destruction. He scoops you up and flits over to the bed, tossing you onto it before pouncing on top of you. You squirm and buck beneath him, clearly enjoying the feeling of being pinned by his larger frame.

“There is no escaping me, beloved. There is no escaping this…” he hisses, teasing your body with light touches of his long fingers that have you arching against him with a lusty cry. He kisses his way down your body, between your breasts and down your stomach until his head rests between your trembling thighs.

“Do you know how I savoured tasting these quivering thighs?” he purrs, pinning your legs and hips in place as he looks up your body at you. “That was my form of bloodlust, Y/N. After biting you here –” he pauses to sink his fangs into you exactly where he had when he Turned you, making you scream with ecstasy.

“– And here –” he repeats this gesture on your other thigh, and he can smell your arousal growing between your legs as you thrash beneath him. Between vampires, a bite did nothing more than provide the victim with a pleasant, painful ache, and you certainly seem receptive to it.

“– I could not stop myself from sinking my teeth into you again and again, everywhere I could reach. You are still mouthwatering, even now…” he purrs, as you shudder and moan wantonly.

“Do it again!” you cry out desperately, begging him for more of the painful pleasure, and he is more than happy to oblige, sliding up your body once more and pinning you in place.

“Yes, Valek!” you cry, throwing your head back as he claims your neck with his lips and teeth. “Please, take me! I want to be yours in every way,” you moan throatily, and he can no longer resist, tearing your remaining lingerie to shreds like a feral animal, leaving scratches across your pale skin that only seem to spur you on further. Dark and depraved; you were perfect for him.

Valek moves to the side of the bed to discard his remaining clothing, but doesn’t get very far before you reach over, ripping his clothing off of his body. He looks back at you, and you merely give him a smug smile in return.

“Just being fair,” you chirp up at him as you lounge against the sheets, looking like a delicious perversion of an angel. He gives you an indulgent smile, allowing you this one victory; you can cling to it when he’s claiming you again and again until even your immortal body is desperate for rest.

He grabs one of your bare ankles, tugging you so that your lower legs are dangling off the sides of the bed to either side of his own. Leaning down, he runs a clawed hand possessively up your body to your neck, giving it a firm squeeze.

“You wish to belong to me, little star?” he purrs, watching your eyes glaze over with desire as you nod frantically with an erotic groan, unable to speak. He grabs the back of your thighs, one in each of his large hands, lifting them up to wrap around his waist and making you lift yourself off of the bed until only your shoulders and head are on the mattress.

He looks down, seeing his hard, aching member so close to your entrance, looking past where his hands grip your hips and down your body to your delirious expression. He could he be so eager to defile something so innocent?

But defile you he would.

He lines his cock up with your dripping, wet entrance, and you let out a needy wail when he doesn’t thrust in after a moment.

“Please, Valek, take me!” you beg, and there has never been a more beautiful sound. “Make me yours, my love!”

He thrusts forward, fully sheathing himself inside of you in one smooth motion, coming to lean over you as you both moan in unison. Your mouth is in a constant ‘O’ of wordless pleasure, the occasional whine emitting from your lips as your eyes roll back into your head as he fucks you, making you his own in yet another way. You feel divine, wrapped so tightly around his cock, and your warmth… he finally understands the insatiability of some of his kind. This feeling… he never wants it to stop.

“Please, I need you closer!” you moan desperately, and he obliges, reluctantly removing himself from you before pouncing on you on top of the bed. But before he can slide himself inside you once more, you have flipped the two of you over, your legs to either side of his hips, and before he can do anything about it, you’ve dropped down onto him once more, enveloping his cock in your tight, sweet cunt and rolling your hips against his in a way that has him cursing in Czech, words that he wasn’t aware he even remembered.

“You are my undoing, Y/N,” he groans, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy as you ride him passionately, fucking yourself hard and deep on his cock. “My siren. I will bring you pleasure everlasting, for all of my days.”

As if to prove his point, he grabs one of your wrists from where you’ve placed your hands on his chest to steady yourself, bringing it to his lips and sinking his fangs into your arm, making you keen in pleasure.

“I will have you always, little star,” he coos, even as he bites you again, feeling you tighten and shudder around him. “You are mine for always.”

“Always, Valek,” you moan, reaching down with your free hand to rub yourself just above where his cock was thrusting in and out of your cunt. He replaces your fingers with his own, searching for spots that have you nearly sobbing with pleasure and need, bucking up against him. He will learn to play you like a fine-tuned instrument; you have eternity after all.

“Fuck love, I’m getting close!” you wail, your bouncing on his cock taking on a stuttering, uneven pace. He sits up, the clenching of his abdominal muscles causing his balls to tighten with impending release, and bites your neck, keeping his fangs buried inside of you as he keeps his cock buried inside you as well, hands holding your hips as you climax hard, tightening around him as he fills you with his release.

You are seeing stars, but Valek only sees you; he’ll see only you for eternity.

---

It's cheesy, and I don't care. I am a Cassandra here - not involved romantically, but more than willing to meddle when it comes to these two! Hope you all enjoyed!

#thomas ian griffith #jan valek #vampires #valek x reader #heirloom #dark desires october #smut #graphic smut #vampire smut

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helluva-hazbins · 1 month

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@liecoris asked:

❛ thank you for helping me. ❜ ( Lucifer )

It catches him a bit off-guard. He'd had his attention on other matters, with a numberous amount of his own personal scripts on the best ways he'd handle speaking about each issue were replaying in his thoughts. Preparing what to say and how to react was the most reliable way he'd found to manage most scenarios, a way for him to at least feel in control of what would otherwise seem to be unpredictable chaos. A way to mitigate his own anxiety.

So the look he offers to her at first is one plucked out of a busy, buzzing realm of thought forms, with a hint of surprise. "Huh?" He absently uttered in a low tone of confusion. That was until it registrered exactly who had approached him. His eyes enlarged suddenly. "Oh! Oh, well, of course, naturally it was hardly any trouble at all on my part. Not even a fraction of my abilities were spared. Really.... It was my pleasure..~" he said cool, calm and collected, he added a flourished spin of his cane as he turned his full attention on her now. Always the performer in his own right, it was effortless, the way he moved to impress others, a gift even.

"Well, you know, not a 'pleasure' in terms of circumstances; terrible, horrible circumstances. Can you imagine me calling any of that desirable?" He gave out a laugh. She's watching him, of course she is, the show he was putting on was meant to keep all eyes on him but something about the gaze she's allowing, it causes a flutter in his chest, he tells himself the Big Boss has no room to get nervous and coughs to clear his throat while his hands begin to fidget around the cane held in his hands. "Uhhh... But How are you holding up? Everything tip-top? I would hate to imagine you still enduring any amount of pain or discomfort." There's a sudden discernable shift in the tone of his words, a sense that they've been woven with undoubted warmth and smooth charm, an authenticity of empathy on display, one most would deny the King of Hell Himself could be capable of but they're real and directed only at her in this moment being shared between them.

#liecoris #muse!lucifer #rp meme #thanks for the ask!#[[you have no idea how this made his day! He already finds songs that remind him of her - this muse I swear x'D]]

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everlastiingiimmortals · 3 months

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A Reflection on Stelle and the Stellaron Hunters

This piece was long overdue, but since I started talking about Stelle and her ties to the Hunters, I figured I might as well go in depth on her thoughts on them now. I'll go in order of appearance: Kafka, Silver Wolf, Blade, Sam, and Elio.

The first, and probably most significant, relation is obviously with Kafka. I've seen a multitude of portrayals with respect to the dynamic between Kafka and Stelle, but I can very confidently say that my Stelle hates Kafka. She wants absolutely nothing to do with Kafka, and the truth is that Kafka terrifies her. Almost all of it stems from her deep-rooted fear of losing her autonomy, something that I've talked about here. She knows what Kafka is capable of, she's seen it with her own eyes multiple times, and the knowledge that Kafka has the full capacity to just erase (or at least block) her memories and has done so haunts her. She's so incredibly conflicted about that too, because on the one hand she likes who she is, she doesn't want to ever remember a time when she was affiliated with the Stellaron Hunters, but at the same time it kills her to know that a part of her has effectively been... robbed. It's a constant tug-of-war between her desire to know more about herself and her refusal to let Kafka have any sort of leverage over her -- something she questions regularly as Kafka seems to know each and every step she takes, thanks to Elio (more on them later). She wishes deeply that Kafka would stop acting so warmly toward her. Any and all friendliness towards her is met with very strong hostility, borderline aggression at that.

Silver Wolf, on the other hand, is someone she actually... is okay with. Someone she could almost call a friend. She doesn't know how to feel about that, but Silver Wolf has made her stance on things pretty clear: she just wants to have fun. Their shared love of gaming is something that Stelle can get behind, and I do imagine that Silver Wolf fully earned Stelle's respect during the Aetherium Wars. Is she curious about Silver Wolf's past? ...Yes, I'd say so. But she hesitates to ask, because the thought of such a topic turning to her own history with the Stellaron Hunters is a frightening one. She... can't deny that a lot of her curiosity about their dynamic stems from Silver Wolf constantly talking about the others. She wonders what her relationship with Silver Wolf was like, too. Were they gaming buddies in the past too? Is that why she's comfortable with Silver Wolf? ...The thought makes her a little sad sometimes.

When it comes to Blade, the real complications in her feelings hit full force. Blade is scary. Blade is dangerous, an unknown, a threat, a symbol of harm to her friends and family. ...Blade is safety. Blade is reliable. Blade trained her. She even takes more after him than Kafka in terms of personality. Stelle's agreement to help Kafka in her companion mission wasn't for Kafka, it was entirely borne from both her desire to find out more information to help Dan Heng and her want to ease his suffering, because nobody deserves torment like that -- even if she didn't fully understand why she felt such compassion for him at the time. The few times he spoke to her in private, and especially at the end of Kafka's companion mission, when he called her young one, she did feel young. She felt so horribly small. The sensation came with such agony, because that sense of security, no matter how fleeting, feels like a direct betrayal of Dan Heng every single time. Her guilt surrounding this tears her up inside every single time. I think... Blade is probably the one that Stelle could sit quietly with the most, and she does not know at all how to come to terms with this.

There's not much on Sam publicly (yet. wiggles my fingers at 2.0. i know what you are) but I think that Stelle doesn't remember Sam at all. It was VERY alarming to get that emoji spam from Blade's phone from Sam, but at the same time Stelle found it... cute. Charming in a way that Stelle doesn't entirely trust. At the present moment, she's very unsure what to think of Sam, but that'll be subject to change very soon! Currently, though, she places Sam in a similar sphere to Silver Wolf just based on preliminary vibes.

-rubs hands- Elio.

An enigma to her in everything but name, Elio is probably the person that Stelle is the second most scared of -- second to Kafka only because Kafka has had a real and direct impact on her life, while Elio remains this nebulous entity spoken of more like a myth than anything else. Would she be curious to meet Elio? ...She doesn't know. She doesn't think so. On the one hand, there's no doubt that they could easily answer any questions she has, but on the other, fate as a concept is something she so strongly stands again. There's no doubt in her mind that an encounter with Elio would leave her feeling worse than she did beforehand. But at the same time, there's an inherent desire to confront them, find out what they have in store for her, prove them wrong. I think she'd like to surprise Elio in that regard. There's definitely a sense of defiance accompanying her wariness about them. I believe even if an encounter with Elio were to go badly for Stelle, it'd fuel her determination to see things through, her way. I'm waiting on more info about Elio to say more!!

That's pretty much the thick and thin of it so far. I crave more Stellaron Hunter content aaaaaaaaa. More of her thoughts on Sam will be shared following Penacony's release! I'm looking forward to it \o/

#//about; (VESSEL OF DESTRUCTION)#Willow Rambles #yeah this deserves that tag

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quotergirl19 · 1 year

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Anthony gives Colin a pep talk:

Just As Colin’s realized he loves Penelope he hears word that Lord Debling intends to make an offer of marriage to her. Colin goes into a full panic and Anthony notices something is wrong with his brother and forces him to admit his feelings. Colin thought that what he felt for her was a deep friendly affection because he’s known her so long but he’s realized he’s in love with Penelope and now he’s about to lose her forever.

Anthony: Colin do not to waste any time. Go to Penelope and make your intentions for her clear.

Colin: Penelope has the chance marry a good and kind man who appreciates her and she would be a titled lady. There’s no way she will settle for the friend who ignored her affection for years, insulted and hurt her. I cannot even bring myself to think of the things she endured because of me. She was so good to me for so long and how did I repay her devotion? By blindly assuming it was just her nature to be a devoted friend and dismissing her feelings as a young girl’s infatuation. Her heart was true and I looked right past her as if she meant nothing to me and she watched me court her cousin. She tried to warn me away from Marina to protect me and nearly burst into tears when I told her I was leaving town on my tour. While I was off traveling she wrote to encourage and support me when she herself was mourning her murdered father. Then I thoughtlessly implied she was not a lady worth courting at her own family’s party. There is so much that I have done unintentionally that I am ashamed of. I have not treated her as a lady, yet she has graciously forgiven me time and time again. I could never hope to deserve her.

Anthony: Take it from me, no good can come from trying to suppress or deny your true feelings. Especially when the love of your life is on the line. If you go to her and tell her how you feel you may have your heart’s desire yet brother! Tell her the truth, that you cannot live with the regret of letting her go without a fight, because she deserves to know that she’s the woman you want for the rest of your life. Think Colin, that woman has loved you the majority of her life. I have seen her pining for your attention since she was 10. Do you truly believe your sweet, patient Penelope will forget what you have meant to her so quickly? Do not be a foolish boy who plays games and hides his affections, be a man. Step up and tell the woman you love that you love her. Show her you love her with your words and actions.

Colin: Why are you not suggesting that I simply go on with life and hope to forget her? Are you not the man who told me that in time, I would forget the woman I loved and it would be as though I’d never loved her at all?

Anthony: Penelope is not some mysterious beauty you met at a ball and flirted with a few times Colin. You have known her forever. She has been part of all our lives for years. You yourself have admitted she is not only Eloise’s greatest friend, she is yours as well and you are in love with her. I’m sorry to tell you brother but Penelope is not the same as Miss Thompson and I fear losing her would break your heart in ways you may never recover from.

Colin: When I was an impulsive and foolish boy who did not even know himself yet Penelope understood me and saw the man I was capable of becoming. She encouraged me to believe in myself and go after my dreams. I have seen the world and done things I might never have done because of her. When I was far from home and more lonely than I could bear, I had Penelope with me in her letters and in my heart. For that alone I will always love her. I know what true devoted love is because of Penelope. There is no other woman who could ever compare. She does not hold a piece of my heart. She is my heart.

Anthony: What are you waiting for man? Go and fight for her. For the future you want. For the happiness you could have together… go and be the man who deserves her love and love her as fiercely as she has loved you all these years.

Colin: Can I borrow a carriage?

Anthony: Of course brother… wait, why are you smirking? Don’t you dare defile her in my carriage.

Colin: Are you implying that I would to entice the love of my life into a carriage ride and proceed to pour my heart out to her in hopes of seducing her into marrying me? I would not dream of it.

Anthony: Why don’t I believe you?

Colin: Because I intend to do precisely that if need be.

Anthony: Must it be in my carriage though, Simon has a lovely carriage, borrow his.

Colin: I’m afraid I must go, time is of the essence and I must work quickly. I have to to win her and desperate times call for desperate measures. I believe I shall get her some flowers first… something yellow perhaps. For old times sake. Thank you for the talk brother. Wish me luck!

#Anthony is team Polin #bridgerton #polin #quotergirl mini fic #bridgerton season 3 expectations #Penelope Featherington #Colin Bridgerton #Anthony Bridgerton #colin x penelope #penelope x colin #she fell first he fell harder #friends to lovers #polin forever

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mamamittens · 4 months

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Had the horrifying realization why I've been moody lately, really twitchy, irritated, and had the desire to cry very easily on top of wanting to workshop the arguably saddest parts of Nikia's story lol

Soon my least favorite part of having the full, feminine package

Just trying to piece together their (Thatch and Nikia's) reunion.

Did she ever call or was she just so relieved and hopeful that Thatch was willing to take that step she never got the nerve to? She must have waited weeks with no signs until her father delivered the news by accident.

She stared at her snail for hours, trying not to vomit as she worked up the nerve to call and give her condolences.

She never does.

Thatch, in a brief moment of clarity after surgery before being put under to heal, tells the attending nurse to "tell his angel he'll make it up to her soon" and the nurse assumes Thatch is delirious or speaking of his guardian angel, how else could he have managed to just barely dodge the worst of the blow without realizing Teach's intent?

(Thatch had been working on his haki cause he always wanted to know where Nikia was when he visited, worried and secretly wishing to let her know he would always see her)

So no one ever tells Nikia Thatch is okay, the truth kept secret in case Teach had darker plans that required Thatch dead. Most don't even know Thatch calls her, he bribed one of his brothers who mans the snails to keep his silence. The brother doesn't know her number and assumes Thatch would find a way to call himself.

There was no snail capable of making the call where they put Thatch to rest, a total lockdown of information with the patient kept under anesthetic.

Nikia has to make a rigid schedule to remember to eat. Structuring her days because her minimal appetite is gone, desire to cook stabbed dead. She mourns and keeps to herself, with few the wiser. Reassuring herself that Ace, headstrong Ace, is already going after Teach, and as a relative stranger, she has no right place in that conflict.

No right when she could never find the courage to call herself or even confess while he was alive. So she wears his foulard as a comfort and a reminder of her shortcomings. Hesitation kills, she knows this... And she hesitated for nearly three years.

Thatch wakes sometime shortly before Ace is captured and assumes Nikia had been called, shocked and exhausted but determined to recover. Then he gets the news of Ace's execution and the stress nearly gets him out back under again. Barely managing to behave himself well enough to watch the broadcast.

She insists on joining her father's crew to answer the call, desperate to do what she can to make up for three years wasted with her hesitation. Takes flight while they form a line around Marineford so high up she's mistaken for a bird if she's spotted at all.

Thatch is setting off the heart monitor like crazy but the nurses are too preoccupied watching their little brother sacrifice himself for his own little brother to sedate Thatch. Only for a shot from nowhere to buy them all precious time.

Nikia watches with fury, crying into her helmet as Teach steps out onto the battlefield. She doesn't recognize the sound they echoes in her helmet as human, something between a snarl and a sob as Teach and Whitebeard face off.

Teach laughs and her world spins. Fury burning her lungs how dare he laugh after what he's done--

Thatch sucks in a sharp breath as Teach is killed instantly, a horrible weight lifted as his would-be-murderer is denied his quarry for a second time.

She's sent hurtling again, shocked and nearly dropping her gun as instinct kicks in and she rights herself. Her hands trembling as she looks back to see Whitebeard glaring at the sky, a body laid out at his feet without a face, just a smear of blood.

She didn't even realize she pulled the trigger. She sucks in a sharp breath, lungs shuddering as she steadies herself.

With Akainu handicapped and Teach adruptly dead, the evacuation goes swimmingly, Shanks even showing up to assist. He never looks back as Luffy is carried off by his father's old Captain's son.

Nikia flies back, still well out of sight, and collapses onto the deck sobbing in her father's arms.

She's passed out and tucked into his bed when they receive the message Whitebeard wants to meet "The Marineford Shooter".

Whitebeard is furious when he recognizes Nikia as his old friend's daughter, angry an ally interfered in his fight with a young woman who looks worn and frail. Red eyes and dark circles behind glasses.

A familiar fabric wrapped around her waist as she anxiously pulls it tighter.

Then Whitebeard realizes it's deeper than he expected and she may very well have more reasons to have been there than her father. But she doesn't tell him, eyes anywhere but on him until just before she leaves.

Wounded eyes locking with his.

"I... I-I'm sorry about your son."

Whitebeard makes another call, seeking to settle the debt he owed her for saving Ace's life and possibly his own.

He sees her face when Thatch appears on deck, embraced gently by his brothers who missed him dearly.

He sees when Thatch sees her and what she's still wearing as she slips away before she makes a scene. Grumpy but amused when her father threatens Thatch, who's still healing.

Nikia nearly collapses onto her bed, sobbing with relief and shame that she's still too afraid to talk to him.

Thatch hovering in the doorway as she falls apart. Spooking when he pulls her close and settles back onto the bed, just holding her. Retroactively terrified she was at Marineford while being so proud she went to war on his family's behalf wearing his colors.

"I thought you were dead."

"... I meant to call."

Thatch considers all the reasons he hesitated. All the reasons she probably did as well. Still does as she moves to kiss him and freezes, settling her lips between his eyes while still crying instead of where she clearly intended to originally.

"S-Sorry, you're still injured."

Thatch decided he's hesitated enough. That she's gone far enough for him and his.

"I'll never be too injured to kiss my angel."

He pulls her down and kisses her properly, gently holding her wet cheeks between his palms. Noting that she's lost weight. Her eyes look tired.

His 'death' weighed heavily on her.

But they can talk about it all later. Their fears and future aspirations. Take it slow or fast. Why they both hesitated so long.

Later.

For now, they just hold each other close and rest peacefully for the first time in a very long time. Both of them.

I'm going to go cry now and pass TF out for work lol

#mittens rambles #one piece oc #nikia op oc #back on my bullshit

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docholligay · 9 months

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Ep 4: Misty

Hello! This is about up to Episode 4 of Yellowjackets, and ONLY episode 4 of Yellowjackets. I have not seen beyond the fourth episode, at all, and know NOTHING about this show. Please do not spoil it for me. Things that are spoilery in nature, for me, include: saying things like “Just wait!!” confirming or denying anything I put forward, outside information about the cast interviews or creator statements, leading questions like “Do you think “blank moment” means anything?” etc. Remember that Y’ALL HAVE SEEN THE SHOW AND I HAVE NOT. This informs the way you talk about things relating to the show. Just be really careful is all I’m asking. Also: If there is LITERALLY any stance I could take on this show or character that would make you upset, please just fucking block the tag

If you WOULD like to discuss the show and my takes on it, the Discord is right here! I don’t go there, so it’s a great place to get every emotion out.

Please thank @sailorsunspot and @moonlight-frittata for backing this odd way of doing a liveblog, and remember my tip jar is always open

I feel like every time I watch this show and specifically every time I watch Misty, all I can say is “Holy shit, oh my god” and though it is not very interesting, it is always right. I laughed ALOUD at the “do people write notes…before they’re murdered, or is that more of a suicide thing?” I have never identified with Misty more even though I would not be surprised if in fact Misty did kill Travis. Why? I mean, at this point I’d be satisfied with “for the same fucking reason she pulled Nat’s starter” to bring her closer

Which is sort of a tangential segue into what I wanted to talk about with Misty and her being a CNA. I am so embarrassed I didn’t see this before, but it’s just a natural outgrowth of her desire for people to NEED her, to be placed in a position where she’s the one who can help. But she couldn’t hack it as a nurse, I guess, or the schooling, so here she is, and it’s not at all what she imagined, it’s bringing jello to old people.

This is another reason why it wouldn’t surprise me at all if Misty were at the heart of a lot of this. It’s getting the band back together! It’s reconsturcting a part of Misty’s life that, so far, we’re shown is some of the happiest she’s ever been, because she is useful, and in groups like this, she can’t be on the outs. She can be teased, but even when they tease her about wanting to give a sponge bath to Coach Ben, she is more a part of this group than she has been before. She is more a poart of SOMETHING.

So, even to the extreme negative, I absofuckinglutely think Misty is capable of this shit, and quite willing to engage in it--we see how she has access to people who can hack email, she can track people down, and she knows enough about being caught to know how NOT to be caught.

So where do we think her obsession with coach Ben is going? I mean, TIMES ARE TOUGH, we’re out here with exactly two guys and a lot of women who so far assume they dig on dudes and also are swelling with hormones. But I think Misty was latched onto him long before we ever boarded that plane. His leg has made him rely on her, and that reliance feels like love to her, I think, even if there is no way in heaven or hell Ben would be interested.

Fucking tailing Nat after Nat tells her the plans are none of her business, Jesus Christ, Misty, and it’s just another example of how Misty doesn’t understand why no one likes her and why she can’t have friends. Nat is no fucking peach, and I’m the first to say that, but Misty either has no actual idea about appropriate ways to act, or doesn’t care. And really, I think it’s a little of both, i think Misty has somehow talked herself into the idea that she alone, bullied and beleaguered, has the right to act however she wants because she’s HELPING. When she stalks Nat, she sees it as HELPING, she talks herself into the fact that she is looking out for her, she ‘has her back’ this isn’t creepy, it’s helpful. I think to a very large extent, she buys her own bullshit on this.

It’s pathetic as fuck, but Nat is the closest thing she has to a friend. It’s such a perfect moment when the gal that she takes out as a cover (brilliant, by the way, I laughed. Great touch.) tells her that she reminds her of her granddaughter and “no one really likes her either”

The show is working with Misty in such a way that it wants to show us how a person can be lonely and unliked and to what extent do we allow ourselves to feel like they have it coming?

#Doc watches Yellowjackets #yellowjackets S1 E4

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torchwood-99 · 7 months

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Eowyn's Feminist Plotline

The narrative explicitly says that Eowyn's depression is rooted in sexism, and the limitations (such as on fighting) that sexism puts on her. Eowyn riding to fight is very much a feminist moment.

There's been an overcorrection that Eowyn's martial plotline isn't feminist, or isn't part of her feminist arc. Because she went to war partially out of a desire to die gloriously due to her depression, and her endgame of choosing peace has been accused of undermining her feminist arc, it's been overcorrected and now people overlook the feminist themes in Eowyn's arc.

First, the fact Eowyn was kept from fighting was a direct cause of her depression. Gandalf spells it out to Eomer in the House of Healing that unlike him, she couldn't go out and have the benefits of "deeds and open fields (para)" and that was constantly kept confined due to her gender. Sexism and the way that sexism took effect (forbade to ride and out fight, forever kept in the home) was one of the direct causes of her depression, and one of the reasons she wanted to die.

Eowyn also makes Aragorn confront how as a woman she was caged in, left behind to wait and see if her loved ones will come back to her, or if death will. She doesn't let him off the hook by pointing out the underlying sexism in his words.

Like all people, she needs variety in her life, she needs to see new things, and she needs to have control over her life. She also wants thrill and excitement and camaraderie, and to practise the skills she enjoys and takes pride in. She is denied this because she is a woman. And sexism has throughout history robbed women of these rights. The denial of this played a massive part in her depression.

In riding out to fight, she was vindicated by the text. Not in wishing to die, that was refused her and seen as something she had to overcome within herself. However, her right to fight when the world refused her was something she had to overcome with others.

In her fight with the Witch King, her part is part of an important overriding arc in Lord of the Rings that often, it is the overlooked, the underappreciated, like the Hobbits, that save the day. This is emphasised by having Merry be brought along with her, and the two of them being the ones to bring down the Witch King, because they are not "Men", they are a woman and a hobbit. By virtue of not being men, they were denied the right to fight. But this was what allowed them to triumph on the battlefield.

Before riding out to war, it's like Eowyn looks at her life, looks at her desires, sees that the world is possibly ending, and if she doesn't get out of her cage now, she never will. Her depression and her lack of faith in the victory of humanity means she wishes to die gloriously in battle, as opposed to waiting for death to come to her, leaving her to die in the place she has come to see as a cage.

In riding out to war, Eowyn takes what people told her about being a woman, what it means to be a woman, what women are capable of, and she said "no. I'm my own person. I'm not your "sister", your "niece", your trophy or your prize. I know what I can do and what I want to be and I will make that happen, whatever you think women are capable of." She looks at their gender roles, she says no, and she proves victorious.

She also has to overcome her inner demons. There she has to show herself, with the help of others, that's she worthy of life and life is worthy of living. That's her internal arc. Her external arc, the things she has to teach others, is that like Hobbits, women are capable of far more than Men believe them to be.

In many ways, Eowyn's arc is about overcoming sexism. Overcoming the effects that sexism has had on her mental healthy by choosing to live and heal and find hope in the future and what she can be, and overcoming the sexism that others have inflicted on her by taking charge of her destiny, helping others to do so in the face of similar oppression, and showing the world that her capabilities are not diminished or defined by her womanhood.

#Eowyn #LOTR #Lord of the Rings #Merry Brandybruck #feminism #meta #action girl defence #eowyn of rohan

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bookerdewittsstuff · 1 year

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Enemies to Lovers with Booker Dewitt HCs part one.

(this is not canon but it follows characters from the storyline) this is a very long one, i know hcs are supposed to be sweet and short but i got carried away. this is mostly the reader’s backstory and the enemies part. enjoy.

CW: MENTIONS OF MISOGYNY, BLOOD, KILLING AND BOOKER BEING A COMPLETE LOSER ASSHOLE, READER HATES RELIGION AND EXPRESSES IT. not proofread, ignore any mistakes 😇

»»————-　★　————-««

- Working for a world renowned physicist such as Rosalind Lutece, and her male counterpart, Robert, had its pros. For example, you were paid well, you learned something new every day, you were treated as a high class individual, and you felt like you had a purpose.

- Working for a world renowned physicist such as Rosalind Lutece also had its cons. you worked in dangerous environments with dangerous chemicals and machines, your tedious work kept you from socializing, and you couldn’t afford to make any mistakes ever. all of those you could handle. there was just one con that absolutely turned your life upside down.

- you met Ms. Lutece before Columbia was even built, before Comstock had even thought of the idea of a city in the sky. you went to school together, played in the streets after dark together, dreamed of a big future together. The two of you were basically inseparable. She wanted to be a physicist and you wanted to go into mechanical engineering. the two of you knew exactly how hard it was for women to get ahead in your desired careers, or to even go to college at all. this didn’t stop either of you, you worked through your primary and secondary years proving yourselves that you were capable of achieving these dreams.

- although your college years were probably the worst years of your life due to misogyny and discrimination, you were extremely grateful and lucky to have graduated in the late 1800s as a woman with an engineering degree. after graduation passed, you weren’t exactly sure what to do now. nobody was going to hire a woman, even if you did graduate top of your class.

- when lutece was invited to Columbia, she demanded that you come with her. she explained that this man, who claimed to be a prophet, had built a city in the sky, and wanted her to work for him on a very secretive project. she told you that she explained to him that you were a mechanical engineer, and anything she needed built you could build. you didn’t have anything holding you back anymore, and you couldn’t deny that you were extremely interested in the mechanical aspect of a floating city in the sky in the 1900s.

-off you two went, you moved to the city in the sky and set up shop. you never personally met the man who claimed to be a prophet, but your life pretty much revolved around his project. you and rosalind, and later robert, spent years researching, experimenting, etc. until you could finally start building the proper machines.

- that was many years ago. it was now 1912, and hell had broken loose in what many considered to be their own slice of heaven. the “false shepherd” had arrived in columbia, with his motive to “lead the lamb astray”. you never believed any of that propaganda. you were a very analytical woman, never believing in religion because it just didn’t make sense to you. facts were facts, and religion lacked a lot of facts. but you kept that to yourself because you were grateful for the opportunity of living in such an advanced place, even if the residents were a bit on a naive side.

- once you found out that this feared false shepherd was a man named booker dewitt from down below, you almost wanted to laugh. from first glance, he looked pretty normal, a bit rugged sure, but relatively normal.

- it surprised you to find out you’d be leading the false shepherd through columbia. this wasn’t your choice, it was rosalind’s decision, which surprised you even more because this woman was working for the prophet, the man who instilled fear in the minds of the citizens of columbia about the very man she wanted you to help.

- you were very hesitant to say the least. you didn’t want to lose your life helping a man you didn’t even know. but you trusted your best friend, so you agreed.

- the first time you met booker, he was a complete jerk. he insured that you knew he was in charge, despite the fact that you had lived in columbia and he had just arrived not even hours ago. every off handed comment he made about you being a woman in engineering made you bite your tongue and recite in your head that you were doing this for rosalind, not him.

- other than giving him directions and the occasional heads up that an enemy was approaching, you didn’t speak. he did the fighting, you did the navigating. you never once got a thank you, or any kind of gratitude on his end.

- when you did begin to converse more, it was mostly bickering.

- “mr. dewitt, i’m telling you that this way is safer. if we cut thr-“

- “listen lady, i don’t care if that way is safer. my way is much faster, and the faster we get elizabeth to this damn airship, the sooner we can go our separate ways. understand? who’s the one who does all the fighting while you stand there with your head up your ass? yeah, thought so. we’re going this way.”

- booker interrupted you a lot. he also challenged your self defense skills, as well as your competence. that man honestly made your eye twitch and your heart rate increase in the worst way possible. but you were doing this for rosalind.

- you didn’t even like looking at him. he always had this scowl on his face, like the world had beaten him down until he was reduced to nothing. underneath, there was a sadness that he tried not to show. but every time elizabeth was taken from the two of you, he freaked out more than he should, considering how much he boasts about his combat skills.

- one time, he had almost gotten you killed, using you as involuntary bait to distract an enemy. that was your last straw.

- “mr. dewitt, listen to me when i talk to you. you are a pathetic excuse for a man. what kind of man throws a woman, who is helping him might i add, into direct danger? i have done absolutely nothing for you to treat me this way. if anything, i have ensured all of our safety. you are destroying people’s homes, and for what? i don’t know. if not for me, you would be dead by now. i’ll give it to you, you’re a damn good fighter, but goddamnit i am the one who is fucking helping you!”

- with a gasp you covered your mouth. what kind of a lady uses fuck? only the germans used that word and if your mom had been around she’d make sure your bottom was bruised for weeks.

- his reaction didn’t surprise you. you had scolded him right after he killed about a dozen cops, and a few firemen. blood all over his ragged clothes and his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, his gun in one hand.

- he just stared at you and scoffed. “alright lady. listen here, i don’t know who you are or why you’re supposed to be helping me, but i’m required to do whatever is necessary to make sure elizabeth is safe. not you. so if that means putting you in danger, i won’t hesitate. ” and then he and elizabeth walked away with you reluctantly trailing behind them a few moments later. it dawned on you that he did not care about you or your opinions on him, or even your safety.

- you were just about ready to murder him yourself and collect the generous reward that comstock was offering. but you were doing this for lutece. and comstock had already considered you a traitor as well.

- the mindless bickering continued.

- “mr. dewitt if you keep talking, somebody is going to hear you. i advise you to be as quiet as possible.”

- “then you should stop talking as well, lady. your shrill voice is a lot more noticeable than mine is.”

- “you are putting us all in danger! we are not going that way!”

-“i don’t know how many times i have to tell you. i. am. in. charge. you either follow me or die, choice is yours.”

- elizabeth decided to never get caught in the crossfire, no matter how many times she wanted to scold booker for treating a woman so disrespectfully.

- it wasn’t until meeting jeremiah fink when booker revealed his true thoughts about you.

»»————-　★　————-««

*dj khalid voice* anotha one 😈

#bioshock #bioshock fanfiction #bioshock infinite #booker dewitt #booker dewitt x reader #elizabeth comstock

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