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fatecantstopme · 5 months

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Truth Serum

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: When you're captured by a powerful witch, Sam and Dean race to save you. The three of you are confronted with painful truths that will change your relationships forever.

Warnings: Canon violence, swearing, use of pet names. SMUT, oral (M and F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V), dom/sub vibes. Dean surrenders control to reader.

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You woke up in an unfamiliar room, unable to move, and your memory was fuzzy--you had no idea how you'd gotten here. All you knew in that moment was your head was pounding and your arms were tied securely behind your back.

You looked around the room, seeking something familiar to ground yourself, but nothing spoke to you. You wracked your brain in an attempt to remember how the hell you got here...the last thing you could remember was going to get dinner for yourself and the boys.

Sam and Dean's faces appeared in your mind and you strained to hear anything else in the room or surrounding area--seeking either of their voices or anything that might indicate they were near. To your dismay, it was completely silent, not a single sound disturbed the night. All you could hear was the sound of your own panicked heart beating and the deep breaths that accompanied it.

You knew the boys would be searching for you, but you had no idea how long you'd been missing or if there were any signs of where you'd gone. You could only hope they would find you before it was too late. You had a feeling the witch the three of you had been hunting had found you first--and there was no telling what they would do to you.

You tried in vain to get yourself out of the binds that secured your hands together, swearing under your breath as the actions were fruitless. The only thing you'd succeeded in doing was giving yourself rope burn on both wrists.

At some point during your struggle, another person had entered the room, but you didn't notice their presence until they spoke. "Glad to see you're awake."

Your head spun in the direction of the voice and a woman stepped out from the shadows with a dark smirk on her face. She was objectively quite beautiful, with sunshine blond hair and brilliant green eyes. Her eyes reminded you of Dean's emerald orbs--though her's lacked the spark that lived in Dean's.

"Who are you?" you asked angrily.

"My name is Camille, little hunter. I believe you've been looking for me."

Her voice had an odd melodic tone to it that bothered you in a way you couldn't quite explain. It made your brain both fuzzy and painfully clear at the same time--a combination you didn't care to ever experience again.

"You're the witch I've been hunting," you stated.

"Very good, little hunter."

"I do have a name, you know," you muttered, slightly annoyed at the nickname.

"My apologies, hunter. What is your name?"

"(Y/N)."

"(Y/N)," Camille repeated. "And are you here alone?"

Every instinct you had told you to lie, but when you opened your mouth, you were surprised when the truth spilled from your lips. "No, I am here with two other hunters."

Camille smiled cruelly as she observed the shocked expression on your face. "You'd intended to lie, hadn't you?"

That melodic tone had intensified and you struggled to form the words you wanted. "What are you doing to me?" you growled lowly.

Camille smirked again. "Teaching you not to lie, little hunter."

"Well stop," you insisted.

She laughed. "Sorry, little hunter. It's part of my charm." She paused, attention turning towards the door. "It appears we're no longer alone." She put her finger to her lips and faded back into the shadow.

You shifted your gaze to the door and began listening for sounds. You heard the telltale sound of boots hitting the floor and you knew in your heart it was Sam and Dean. Everything in you wanted to call out to them--to warn them--scream--something, but not a single sound escaped when you opened your mouth. Anger settled in your bones, hating your inability to warn your friends.

The doorknob began to turn slowly and you let out a soft whine--the most you could manage in the moment.

"(Y/N)?" Dean's voice whispered from the other side of the door.

You were relieved to hear his voice, but terrified of what would happen next. You wanted to respond, but words continued to escape you.

The door slowly opened to reveal Sam and Dean's concerned faces. They quickly scanned the room, eyes falling on your form in the center of the room.

"(Y/N/N)," Dean said, clearly relieved to see you unharmed.

He started to come towards you, but you shook your head, eyes wide and alert. You wanted to say something, needed to tell him the witch was here--they were all in danger.

"Hey, sweetheart. It's okay. We'll get you out of here," Dean whispered.

You shook your head again, but it was too late. As soon as Dean took a step towards you, Camille stepped forward and sent both him and Sam flying against the wall. She waved her hand and two chairs appeared beside yours, and with another wave, both men were seated in said chairs. Their arms were tied behind their chairs in similar fashion to yours before they could even register what was happening.

"I'm so glad you could join us," Camille said as she came farther into the room, fully revealing herself to the new arrivals.

Dean glared at her in annoyance. "I'm guessing you're the witch bitch we've been looking for."

She smiled. "Indeed I am. My name is Camille, and who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?"

"Dean Winchester," Dean forced out, a look of surprise on his face. "And this is my brother, Sam."

Camille smiled. "Oh I've heard of you--the great Winchesters. I'm honored to have made your list, though I'm afraid you won't be successful this time around."

"Don't be too sure about that," Sam stated, speaking for the first time.

"It appears I have the upper hand, little hunters, so save the ego for someone else."

"'Little hunters'?" Dean asked in annoyance.

"Don't let it bother you, she's been calling me that since I woke up," you muttered. "I think it brings her joy."

"It does bring me joy," Camille commented. "But what really makes me happy is having the three of you here to play with. This is going to be such fun."

You felt the anger rise within you once again and you struggled against your bindings--useless or not, you couldn't give up. You noticed both Sam and Dean were doing the same.

"What do you want with us?" Sam asked.

"Obviously I'm going to kill you," she answered. "But not just yet."

You closed your eyes, sadness washing over you. You didn't want to die, but you couldn't bear the thought of Dean dying. Not that you didn't care about Sam, but you cared for Dean very deeply--seeing him die would destroy you.

"You shouldn't have come," you whispered.

"What was that, little hunter?"

You turned your gaze to Dean, who was sitting directly to your left, with Sam on the other side of him. "Neither of you should have come."

Surprise lit up both men's faces, but it was Dean who spoke. "Did you really think we would leave you?"

You shook your head and sighed.

"Tell us, little hunter, why didn't you want them to save you?"

You made eye contact with Camille and felt the anger flare up again. You resisted answering her question directly, instead saying, "I don't want anything to happen to them."

Camille took a step closer to you. "You're strong willed, little hunter. Most people can't resist my charms--I have them spilling their deepest, darkest secrets within seconds."

You simply glared at her, not willing to give in to her bait.

"Come now, tell me the truth," Camille said softly. "Why didn't you want them to save you?"

The melodic tone of her voice threatened to crush you. It felt like someone was squeezing your insides every time you attempted to resist her demands--whenever you wanted to lie or avoid the truth.

"What the hell are you doing to her?" Dean yelled.

"She needs to be honest. I don't like being lied to."

The pain intensified, forcing the words from your lips, "I didn't want Dean to get hurt."

"That's better," Camille said smugly. "Just Dean? What about Sam? You don't care about him?"

"Of course I do," you insisted.

"Then why did you only mention Dean?"

You tried to resist--you didn't want to admit the truth, especially in front of Dean. You'd spent years hiding your feelings and you sure as hell didn't want to admit to anything in the presence of witnesses. "None of your business," you forced out painfully.

Camille's face lit up in surprise. "Very strong willed," she muttered. "You can't resist forever, little hunter."

Her voice made the pain you were experiencing almost unbearable. You could barely breathe and a gasp of pain escaped your lips.

"(Y/N), please," Dean begged, clearly worried about you.

Your resolve broke and the words slipped from your mouth without thought, "I care about him!" As soon as the words left your lips, the pain lifted, allowing you to catch your breath.

"See? Was that so hard?" Camille asked cruelly. "Who's next?" She looked at both men before stepping towards Sam. "Tell me, Samuel, why did you come to save (Y/N)?"

"Because she's family," Sam answered honestly.

His words warmed your heart and you shot a weak smile his way. You considered Sam and Dean family too--it was nice to know they felt the same, or at least Sam did. You couldn't look at Dean, you were too afraid of what you'd see on his face. You hadn't really admitted your feelings, but you were worried he knew you too well to miss the truth in your words.

"Boring," Camille muttered before turning her attention to Dean instead. "Your turn, handsome. Why did you come to save (Y/N)?"

Dean glared at her, but his face twitched slightly, belying the pain he was feeling. It took all his strength to force out the words, "What he said," while nodding his head in his brother's direction.

Camille laughed coldly. "Don't lie to me, Dean." She leaned forward and asked him again, but he continued to resist.

You forced yourself to look at him and you could see the pain in his eyes. He was desperately trying to keep himself from answering, but it was obvious he was losing the battle.

Camille frowned and leaned farther forward, grabbing his chin in her hand and forcing him to make eye contact with her. "Answer me, Dean. Why did you come to save (Y/N)?"

Dean struggled for a moment, jaw clenched in anger and frustration. Camille squeezed his jaw harshly and Dean groaned in pain. Just when you thought Camille was going to give up, Dean yelled his answer, shocking everyone present. "BECAUSE I LOVE HER!"

He was breathless as the words left his lips and Camille let go of his face, a smile gracing her pretty face. "Finally, a little honesty."

You were shocked into silence, unable to fully process his words and their meaning. Dean Winchester couldn't have possibly just admitted his feelings for you--there was no way.

Camille returned her attention to you, a dark smile on her face. "How does that make you feel, (Y/N)?"

You closed your eyes and didn't answer her question.

"You admitted you care about him, but do you love him too?"

You stayed silent, fighting her truth-forcing voice. It wasn't that you didn't want to admit your feelings--you just didn't want her to know. You didn't want her to use your love for Dean against you or him. So you resisted her charms and kept your mouth shut despite the pain.

"If I can force the great Dean Winchester to be honest, don't think for a second that I can't do the same to you, little hunter," Camille seethed.

Your eyes shot open and you glared at her, burning a hole in her soul. "No," you growled.

"No, you don't love him?"

You didn't respond.

"Or you think you can keep your feelings a secret?"

You still didn't respond.

Camille put her hands on the arms of your chair and leaned in, her face frighteningly close to yours. "Tell me the truth, or I'll kill him."

You didn't need to ask to know she was referring to Dean and not Sam. For a moment you considered calling her bluff, but the anger in her eyes told you she wasn't playing a game. She would kill him without hesitation.

You turned your head to look at Dean and found his gaze already on you. Terror was etched into his handsome features--terror for you. Your decision was made in an instant and you stopped fighting.

"I'm so sorry, Dean," you said, addressing the green-eyed hunter directly. "I know I promised you we would always be friends, but I don't think I can do that anymore. You see…I fell in love with you. I don't even know when it happened, it just--did."

Dean's beautiful green eyes betrayed his emotions, even if his face remained impassive. He'd spent the better part of the past two years wishing and hoping to hear you say those words to him. You could see the love reflected in his gaze and you knew his utterance hadn't been a heat of the moment thing--he'd meant it.

Camille's face remained close to yours as she laughed mockingly. "It's a pity you didn't admit your feelings sooner--perhaps you could have been together."

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Sam's hands slipping from the grasp of the ropes. In a split second, you made a decision that could either save your life or end it. You turned your attention back to Camille and slammed your forehead into her face with all of your strength.

Luckily, you'd caught the witch by surprise and she want sprawling backwards, clutching her nose and cursing angrily. Her attention remained on you as she started to recite a spell.

The pain that struck your body was unlike anything you'd ever felt before and you knew you were dying--if she had the opportunity to finish the spell, you would be gone.

Dean yelled your name and struggled with everything he had to free himself. Sam, on the other hand, had sprung up from his chair and lunged at Camille, sending her sprawling onto the floor. The two of them were struggling as Sam pulled a knife from inside his jacket.

Dean managed to get his hands out of the ropes and he quickly jumped into the fray to help his brother. Sam managed to slip the blade into Camille's chest--a scream of pain leaving her throat.

Knowing his brother had the situation under control, Dean turned his attention to you. You were breathing heavily, but were mostly unharmed. The effects of Camille's spell were dying with her, for which you were thankful.

Dean pulled out his own knife and cut the ropes that bound you. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck and fell against him. His arms wrapped around you and he held you close. "You okay, sweetheart?" he asked softly.

You lifted your head to look at him and nodded, tears filling your eyes.

He offered you a soft smile and brushed your hair from your face. "Let's get you out of here."

"Please," you muttered.

Dean helped you up and turned to look for his brother. Sam had just stood up, Camille's body lying dead on the floor beneath him. "She's gone. I'll take care of the body and we can get the hell out of here."

Dean nodded. "I'm gonna take (Y/N) back to the motel. She needs to rest."

"I'm fine, Dean--really," you insisted.

Dean shot you a glance. "You had it worse than either of us. You need to rest."

His voice was so firm, leaving no room for argument, so you threw your hands up in surrender.

Sam offered you a soft smile. "He's right, (Y/N). I'll meet you guys back at the motel when I'm done here."

"Call if you need anything," Dean said before escorting you from the room.

**********

The car ride back to the motel was completely silent--and not in the comfortable way. Neither of you knew what to say or where to begin. There was an awkwardness between you that you'd never had before and it only added to the pre-existing tension.

When you got into the motel room, you sat down on your bed with a sigh. Dean grabbed two beers from the fridge, handing one to you before taking a seat at the little table by the door.

The two of you began to drink your beers in silence, but it quickly became unbearable. "Dean, I think we should talk."

He looked at you for the first time since you'd gotten back to the motel. You could see the fear in his eyes and you realized he was worried you were going to tell him you didn't mean what you'd said--that you didn't love him.

You sat the beer on the side table and stood up. "Don't you think for a single moment that I didn't mean what I said, Dean Winchester. I meant it--every word. No witch can make me say something that isn't true...I've been in love with you for years."

His lips parted in surprise, eyes swimming with emotions. "I meant it too," he whispered as he stood up and stepped towards you. "I love you, (Y/N)--I think I always have."

Your lips curled up in a small smile. "This isn't how I'd planned on telling you."

"Had you planned on telling me?"

"No," you answered honestly. "I was scared."

"Me too," he said softly. "Terrified, actually."

"Of what?"

"I always assumed you wouldn't want me...you know me too well, (Y/N). You've seen me at my absolute worst and you know how damaged and broken I am. Why in the world would you choose to love me?"

"Okay, first of all, cut that self-loathing shit out. You don't get to do that with me. You're right--I do know you too well. I have seen you at your worst, but I've also seen you at your best. I know who you truly are and you're a damn hero, Dean. You inspire me every day. We face the shittiest things life can possibly throw at us and you always keep fighting--you never give up. You keep me going even when I want to give up. You're the most incredible man I have ever met and I am truly blessed to be loved by you."

He took three steps forward, stopping mere inches from you. His eyes were filled with love, which you were certain was reflected in your own. "I don't deserve you, baby, but I swear I will never stop trying to be worthy of your love."

You touched his cheek gently. "You don't have to try, Dean. I love you just as you are."

He smiled slowly, his eyes lighting up as his gaze scanned your face. "Anyone ever tell you you look like a goddess?"

You laughed lightly. "You'd be the first."

He gave you an adorable lopsided grin, as his arm snaked around your waist and tugged you closer. He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours and you melted into him, a soft moan escaping against his lips.

His tongue brushed gently against your lips, which you parted to allow him entry. He tasted like mint and beer and something just distinctly Dean.

You slipped your hands into his jacket and pushed it off his shoulders, before doing the same with his flannel. His gentle, calloused hands slid under your shirt and pushed it upwards. You broke the kiss long enough to allow him to take off your shirt and his own before connecting your lips again.

You reveled in the feeling of his warm, strong chest against yours. His skin was soft and smooth as you ran your hands over the taunt muscles of his back.

His hands slipped lower, caressing your ass, fingers digging in as he tugged you closer to him. You could feel his bulge pressing into your lower belly and you were suddenly desperate to feel him--really feel him.

You tugged on his belt, undoing it quickly then shifting to the button on his jeans. He helped you remove his jeans and you took the opportunity to remove yours as well. As soon as you were both mostly naked, Dean grabbed you and dragged you to the bed, tossing you onto it and crawling on top of you.

His hungry lips attacked yours again, hands roaming any part of you he could reach. "God, your skin is so soft, baby," he whispered.

You didn't have the opportunity to respond as Dean's lips found the sweet spot on your neck--the one that always drove you wild. You had no idea how he knew where to kiss, but you didn't have it in you to ask. The soft moans that left your lips told him how much you were enjoying the feeling of his lips against your skin--and he had no intention of stopping.

His hand slipped behind your back and tugged at the clasp of your bra. You arched your back to give him better access and he made quick work of the undergarment, tugging it off and throwing it across the room. He groaned softly as he gazed at your exposed breasts. "I think it would be best if you never wore a bra again," he mumbled.

Your soft chuckle turned to moans of pleasure as his lips attached to your nipple and his hands began to gently kneed your supple flesh. Your fingers wound themselves into his short hair and you sighed happily, enjoying the feeling of his hands on you.

His mouth continued its trail downward, placing open mouthed kisses to your skin. He nipped at the softer parts of your body, eliciting gasps and moans of enjoyment.

He smirked against your skin, enjoying the sounds you made for him. He pressed his lips to your core, teasing you with his lips and tongue before finally slipping his tongue between your folds. He growled lowly, burying his face deeply between your thighs.

"Dean," you gasped, fingers twisting into his hair.

"You taste like fucking heaven," he murmured, lifting his head just enough to get the words out before diving back in.

You'd had sex plenty of times before, but never in your life had you been eaten out like this--Dean Winchester was a master--a genius--with his mouth.

"Fuck--Dean, please!" you cried.

He seemed to know what you needed, reading your body like a book. He slid two fingers inside of you and began to gently press them into your most sensitive spot, drag them along your walls, and do it again on repeat.

His mouth focused on your clit while his fingers continued to stroke your walls. He could feel you getting close--your pussy was squeezing his fingers and your thighs had begun to tighten around his head.

Your fingertips scratched against his scalp and you ground yourself down against his mouth, chasing your impending orgasm. Dean tightened his grip on your hips, holding you in place. Your moans increased in volume as you suddenly fell over the edge.

Your legs began to shake as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. Dean continued his ministrations, not wanting to stop until you forcefully tugged his hair to get him off.

"Sensitive, baby," you whimpered.

Dean gave your pussy a few more kitten licks before relenting and allowing you to pull him up. He licked his lips happily, a smirk gracing his handsome face.

He crawled back up your body, kissing your skin as he moved. When his lips finally pressed against yours again, his cock brushed against your core, earning a sharp inhale from both of you.

"I wanted to take my time with you, sweetheart, but I need to be inside of you immediately."

You chuckled lightly. "I'm certainly not going to complain."

He grinned and flipped over onto his back, dragging you with him so you were now straddling his thighs.

"Dean!" you giggled as he manhandled you.

"I thought you'd want to ride me," he teased.

"Oh did you now?"

"Since you like to be in control and all."

"Just because I tell you what to do, doesn't mean I want to be in control in bed, Dean."

"So you don't wanna be on top?" he asked. "Cuz I can roll you back over, pretty girl."

You pressed both hands down on his chest to keep him in place. "Now, I didn't say that..."

He grinned. "That's what I thought."

"But if you're gonna give me control, I want complete control."

He looked a little worried for a moment before nodding slowly.

"Hey," you said softly. "If you don't want to, it's okay."

"No, no--I want to," he insisted. "I'm just...not used to it."

"If you want me to stop or you don't like something I'm doing, just tell me, okay?"

He nodded and squeezed your hips affectionately. "I trust you."

You smiled and leaned down to kiss him. "Put your arms above your head."

He did as you asked and waited for your next command.

"Hold on to the headboard, handsome," you ordered. "And do not move them, understand?"

He nodded.

You grabbed his jaw and held it tightly. "Words, Dean."

His eyes widened in surprise, but you noticed the dark lustful look in them. "Yes ma'am," he whispered.

"Good boy." You sat back up and slid back so you were straddling his thighs. You dragged your fingers down his chest, nails scratching gently against his skin.

He groaned softly, clearly enjoying the sensation.

You smiled, pleased to see he liked what you were doing. You lowered your head to lick a stripe up his painfully hard cock. You twirled your tongue slowly around the head, eliciting a moan of pleasure from Dean.

You smirked before dropping your head to take him into your mouth as deeply as you could.

"Oh--fuck--" he groaned.

Your head was bobbing up and down, sucking his cock like your life depended on it. You relaxed your throat, allowing him to slip farther in. You constricted your throat around him and continued to use your tongue to pleasure him.

"Holy--" Dean squirmed beneath you. "Feels so good, baby."

You moaned, the vibrations sending a wave of pleasure through his entire body.

"Jesus, baby." He was dying to tangle his fingers in your hair, but he didn't want to disobey your order. "I can't--baby, I need you to stop or I'm gonna cum."

You moaned in disappointment, but you lifted your head off of him and moved to straddle his hips. You gently rubbed your core against his cock, and his hips thrust upwards in an attempt to seek more friction.

"Uh-uh, no moving," you ordered.

"But, I--"

"No moving, Dean. Keep your hands where they are and keep those hips on the bed."

"Yes ma'am," he mumbled.

You smiled softly and stroked his cheek affectionately. "I'll let you know when you can move."

You grabbed his cock and lined it up with your core before sinking down on it in one fluid motion. You both groaned in pleasure at the feeling--your pussy stretched to the absolute max.

You took a deep breath before beginning to move your hips, grinding against him and twisting your hips in a circle.

As you moved, your hands traveled up your body to your neck. From there, you slowly moved both hands down your body, stopping to massage your breasts. You played with your nipples as you watched Dean, his eyes glued to your motions.

You moaned softly, tossing your head back in pleasure. You loved seeing him struggling to keep control of himself beneath you. You smirked at the way he was white knuckling the headboard, obviously desperate to touch you, but afraid to disobey you.

"You're doing so good for me, baby," you murmured.

He whimpered softly as he watched you.

You moved your hands down your stomach, allowing one to slip between your legs to gently massage your clit. The other hand traveled back to your breasts to toy with them.

"Fuck, baby," Dean whispered. "Let me touch you."

"Not yet."

He groaned and squeezed the headboard tighter.

You smiled as you began to move up and down, gathering speed as you did so.

"Please," Dean begged. "Please, baby--I wanna touch you."

"I know you do, handsome, but you can't yet."

He whimpered softly and shifted his hips. You could feel the desperation seeping from him, but you knew the longer you held him off, the better it would feel for the both of you when he finally did touch you.

You continued your movements, but you placed both of your hands on his chest, touching and teasing him with your soft fingers.

He groaned in frustration and desperation. "Baby," he begged again. "Please."

You leaned forward and brushed your lips against his, pulling back when he tried to return the kiss. He chased after your lips, whimpering when you sat back up.

"How badly do you wanna touch me?"

"I would do anything, (Y/N)."

You smirked. "Do you need to touch me?"

He looked almost pained as he stared into your eyes. "I need it so badly, baby. Please, (Y/N/N). Please just let me touch you."

Your expression softened and you decided to take pity on him, so you leaned forward, brushing your lips against his ear. "Touch me, Dean."

In an instant, his hands left the headboard and grabbed you tightly, pulling you to him as he began to thrust up into you.

You gasped in surprise and pleasure.

He pressed his feet into the mattress and began to thrust up into you with force. He was holding you tightly to keep you in place, his teeth nipping at your neck and shoulder as he moved.

You were at a loss for words--the pleasure so overwhelming you couldn't breathe, let alone think.

"Fuck, I need to see you," he groaned as he flipped you onto your back and hovered over you. He grabbed your legs and lifted them up, putting one on either side of his head as he continued to thrust into you.

This new angle made your legs shake and you cried out, screaming his name repeatedly as he pumped into you.

"That's it baby, tell everyone who's fucking you--let them know who makes you feel good."

Your orgasm hit you so suddenly it shocked you. You screamed again as you came with force.

Dean didn't stop, he wanted more from you and he would give anything to see you come undone again.

"It's too much!" you whimpered.

"Do you want me to stop, baby?"

You didn't respond, barely able to speak.

"Come on, sweetheart. Do you want me to stop?"

"Don't stop!" you gasped.

He grinned. "I won't, baby."

He slipped a hand between your legs and began to slowly circle your clit, applying just a little pressure in time with your moans.

The pleasure you were experiencing was so incredible--it was unlike anything you'd ever even imagined. The sounds coming from your mouth would have been embarrassing in any other context, but you couldn't be bothered to care.

As for Dean, he was loving the sounds you made and the way you looked beneath him. He was using every ounce of his self-control not to cum, but his control was waning.

Another orgasm hit you--once again shocking you both with its suddenness and intensity. You screamed his name as you came harshly.

Dean finally allowed your legs to drop and he leaned forward, caging you beneath him as he began to chase his own high. He was already close--and you could tell.

"Don't cum until I say," you whispered.

His eyes widened. "Baby--I don't think I can hold off--"

"Yes you can, Dean. Do it for me."

He groaned softly, but nodded his agreement. He kissed you passionately, which you returned in kind. You wrapped your arms and legs around him, pulling him as close to you as you could.

"I don't know how much longer I can wait," he murmured.

"You can do it, baby. You're doing so good for me."

He dug his fingers into the sheets on either side of your head and focused entirely on not cumming until you gave him permission.

You waited a few more moments before giving him the command he was desperate for, "Cum for me."

"Fuck, (Y/N)," he groaned loudly, spilling inside of you. His whole body was shaking as he continued to fill you up, gasps and moans slipping from his lips into your skin.

Finally, he collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily as he came down. You ran your fingers down his back in a gentle, affectionate manner. You loved the feeling of his large body laying on top of you, hard and warm against your soft skin.

"Never thought I'd feel like this," Dean mumbled into your neck.

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't know sex could be this good. You're fucking incredible, baby."

You chuckled lightly. "Right back at you, handsome."

He groaned as he slowly rolled off of you. "I don't think I can move more than that."

You laughed. "I can't feel my legs, so I can't help you."

"God, I love hearing you say that."

"I love you," you said warmly.

He turned his head to look at you. "I love you too, baby."

You smiled at him and he surprised you by grabbing your hand and lifting it to his lips. He placed a soft kiss against it and then laid your hand and his on his chest.

"Who knew Dean Winchester could be so submissive," you teased.

"Only for you, sweetheart. Anyone else asks and it'd be a hard no. You're the only one that gets to see my sweet, sensitive side."

"Wait--you have a sweet, sensitive side?"

He glared at you and you laughed warmly.

"You're the sweetest, most sensitive man I know." You managed to roll onto your side so you could kiss him affectionately.

"Don't tell anyone," he whispered. "I have a reputation to maintain."

"Don't worry, Winchester. Your secret's safe with me."

He smiled warmly and tugged you close to him. "Would you judge me if I just passed out?"

You chuckled softly. "As long as you don't mind me passing out too."

"So what you're saying is, you wanna sleep with me?"

You laughed. "I would love to sleep with you, Dean."

He grinned and kissed the top of your head. "How'd I get to be so lucky?"

"Something about a witch with truth serum powers."

He chuckled. "Who knew I'd be thankful for witchy mojo?"

You smiled and curled up into his side, sighing contentedly. "Goodnight, Dean," you whispered.

"Goodnight, beautiful. I love you."

"Love you too," you mumbled, already drifting off to a peaceful sleep in the arm's of the only man you've ever truly loved.

#dean Winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean Winchester x reader smut #supernatural smut

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creedslove · 10 months

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we were married. months later Joel admit to us, he met someone else, fell in love and he wants a divorce, because he won't cheat on us. Later, after we parted our ways, we see Joel and his new girlfriend and her round belly. We decide it' time for us to move somewhere else, find new job, new life.

When years pass, we met Sarah. We have no idea who she is, we only know her mom left when she was little. We think it's so funny she has the same last name as our ex husband. She mentions her dad is a constructor, he can help with repairing few things.

Imagine shock and confusion, when Joel see YOU, as person he arrived to help.

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: anon, this idea is too good, you killed me with it because I haven't been able to think of something else since I read it

• you met Sarah when she was knocking on your door while selling cookies for school, or whatever, you didn't really pay attention, you just bought a couple of boxes and offered her a glass of water

• you also liked her immediately: she was funny, sweet and smart and she reminded you of someone you avoided thinking about for a long time

• she was very polite and the first thing she paid attention was your bookshelf, being really into reading and loving your choices

• and that's how you became friends, even if she was a teen and you were a full adult, she was a very pleasant girl to be around

• she lived a few streets away as she'd mentioned and it didn't take very long for her to tell you how her mom had abandoned her and her dad a couple of months after she was born

• you'd placed your hand on her shoulder and assured her you also knew what was like to be abandoned by someone you loved

• something about the fact her last name was Miller also got you a little disturbed, you even thought of telling her you had actually been married to someone whose last name was Miller, but you gave up, she would've probably asked questions you didn't want to answer

• so you shrugged, after all, Miller wasn't such a different name

• she'd also mentioned her dad was a contractor and you asked her to call him and stop by your home one of these days, as you had a few things you needed fixing

• she assured you he would be there first thing on Saturday morning and you agreed, willing to get all the problems in your home fixed

• you were finishing doing the breakfast dishes when you heard the truck parking and Sarah's sweet voice, so you put on your best smile and went outside

• you were brutally shocked the moment you saw Joel Miller walking out of his truck, he looked a little older, but overall he was still the same bastard who broke your heart

• Joel on the other hand, couldn't even believe his eyes, he hadn't seen you in so long, he assumed you would've moved out and got married, as guilt still haunted him for leaving you for a romance that didn't work

• he was speechless when you walked towards him, extending your hand at him and shaking it as if you'd never met before, he thought it was odd, but then he spotted Sarah smiling at the two of you and understood you didn't want to make a scene in front of Sarah

• you took Joel inside, showing him exactly where you want it the fixing and while he tried making small talk, you cut him off

"Don't apologize Joel... It's been too long, you're better off without me and I'm definitely better off without you. I don't need to hear what happened, Sarah told me everything and I hope I can continue being friends with her without having the worry about our past"

• he nodded and began to work, silently as his mind tried to get in the right place, he was so surprised to run into you again, after everything that happened, everything he did, and through his daughter after all, that was ironic to say the least

• he couldn't believe how beautiful you were, this time you weren't a silly young girl in love with him, you were a woman, a gorgeous woman, who had a beautiful home, who succeeded in life like he always knew you would

• he didn't spot any photographs nor a ring on your finger, so he assumed that maybe, and just maybe, if he played his cards right, he could still work on a chance with you

____

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal headcanon #pedro pascal headcanons #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller headcanon #joel miller headcanons #joel miller tlou #tlou show #tlou fanfiction

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footprintsinthesxnd · 5 months

Text

Anything For You

So here is the much awaited part 2 of ‘Good Girl’ for @ronsparky I’m sorry it took so long. Warnings: smut, sexual themes, bondage, swearing, Nixon being his usual self, 18+ fic only. Word count: 2.9k

It had been a few months since Y/n's last interaction with Speirs. It’s not like she was avoiding him, the company had been moved back to Mourmelon for a breather and between trying to relax and drills and training they just hadn’t managed to talk about what happened in Hagenau. They still shared longing looks across rooms and when they were occasionally close enough to touch Ron would reach out and brush his hand against hers.

After two months in Mourmelon, the company moved on to Struzelburg, Germany. The air seemed cleaner, the weather warmer and the general living conditions nicer. Y/n often thought that these comforts were almost like being back at Toccoa or Aldbourne.

She had just come back from collecting some eggs with Frank and George when she bumped into Speirs carrying a large tray of silver utensils through the street.

“You want some help with that Lieutenant?” She laughed, watching his shocked face meet hers and he gulped.

“No, that’s quite alright. I can manage,” he replied gruffly, already turning away from her and in the direction of the battalion post office.

Y/n trailed after him, despite Ron’s continued protests. Inside the post office, Ron placed the silverware on the counter, pulling out two packs of smokes for Private Vest.

“Same address as last time, Sir?” Vest asked, pocketing the packets of cigarettes with a smile.

“Yes,” Speirs replied abruptly, his eyes flicking back to Y/n for a second before turning away.

“Sure thing. I’ll say, Sir, the Y/l/n family will sure have a lot of nice silverware.” Speirs harsh glare cut the private off from saying anything else. Y/n stood in silence watching as Speirs tried to break his icey resolve and turn to her. He mumbled something about being needed at battalion before heading out the door, his head down as he passed Y/n but she couldn’t bring herself to follow him.

“Hey, Sergeant, ain’t Y/l/n your last name?”

“Shut it, Private,” Y/n snapped, spinning around on the spot and hurrying after Ron who had disappeared into the crowd of paratroopers.

Y/n had tried to find him that night but Lipton told her that he was in his room and didn’t want to be disturbed. This act went on for the rest of the month with Ron hiding away and avoiding her. That was until the company was moved on to Berchtesgaden.

Y/n finally found herself with her own room, a hot shower and a warm bed. It was these simple luxuries that Y/n had learned not to take advantage of. The alcohol flowed freely and the boys celebrated. The war in Europe had finally come to an end and despite the continuing war in Japan looming over them, for a moment, just for one night they could celebrate in peace.

Y/n had left the party an hour ago, wandering the halls in a dress she had found in one of the rooms. It was long, flowing out behind her and despite the neckline being a little lower than she would have liked, she wore it in a desperate attempt to reclaim something she had lost. She’d danced with nearly all the men that night, arm in arm with Malarkey, spinning frantically around the floor with George, Bull had taken her for a very sweet slow dance. She felt like a woman again, and the men treated her as though she was something to be admired.

Y/n found her way to the balcony that the officers often frequented, the sun loungers lay along one of the walls with discarded whiskey bottles that almost certainly belonged to Captain Nixon. At this time of night; despite the ruckus downstairs, the air was still and quiet. No wind blew, no birds sang. A dark silence hung over the mountains. Y/n didn’t know whether to find it ominous or peaceful but the silence was soon broken by the heavy footfalls of Ronald Speirs who rounded the corner so quickly that they both jumped in surprise.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise anyone was out here,” Ron confessed, avoiding her gaze and turning to head back the way he’d come.

“Ron, wait! Please. You’ve been avoiding me and we need to talk,” Y/n protested, watching as Ron fought with himself until he finally turned around to face her.

“There’s nothing to talk about. What happened between us never should have happened. We both know that. You’re going to go back home soon enough and I’m planning on staying in the army, and that’s it, either of us make it out of the Pacific anyway.” Ron huffed, slouching against the hard brick wall, glaring at the ground, “we were never gonna make it you and I.”

Y/n felt her heart clench and her lungs felt tight as she tried to find the words to convey how she felt. “You don’t know that Ron. You can’t know that unless you give us a chance.”

“We have no chance Y/n. One day you’ll wake up and realise that I was no good for you so I’m letting you go now before it’s too late. I’ve sent all the silver home to your family. I want to support you even if I can’t be with you.”

“Who says you can’t be with me?” Y/n cried, “Do I not get a say in this.” She moved closer to Ron, her dress trailing along behind her. They were inches apart when she spoke again. “I want this to be my choice Ron, and I choose you.”

Ron surged forward, pressing his lips roughly to hers. His hand gripped desperately at her hips, pulling her flush to him. In that kiss was the sweetest passion she had ever felt. Ron’s lips were soft, the stubble of his chin grazing her face but she didn’t mind the burn. Y/n found herself weaving her fingers into his hair, wrapping one of her legs around his to pull him closer. The kiss spoke volumes, travelling all the unsaid words, the unspoken feelings and desires. Y/n pulled back, brushing her thumb over Ron’s cheek and feeling the damp tears that had fallen. “I want you too,” Ron whispered, his voice cracking and Y/n realised she had never seen him cry before, his stony resolve breaking down and revealing the man beneath who just wanted to be loved.

“Oh Ron,” she whispered, their lips brushing again as she spoke. Ron looked up at her, his eyes misty and his lip quivering as he spoke.

“I’m sorry I’m so weak. I should have told you before,” he mumbled into her neck, burying his face from her view.

“You’re not weak Ron. You are the bravest man in this company. Only the brave become vulnerable emotionally and for you to show me that is braver than any act of the battlefield,” Y/n soothed him, rubbing his back in comforting circles.

Ron pulled away, his eyes becoming dark and stormy once more and a sly smirk spread across his handsome face. “If I remember correctly, you and I have some unfinished business.”

Y/n chuckled, reaching out and placing her hand in his, “I believe we do.”

Ron chuckled and it felt like the most genuine laugh they had ever shared. He scooped her up into his arms, carrying her bridal style along the corridor. She grinned up at him and Ron smiled happily down at her. Y/n now knew what she was missing in life. All those years of thinking she had a missing part and Ron’s smile filled that hole.

The walk to Ron’s room was short, too short really because all too soon Ron was carrying her over the threshold of his room and slamming the door closed with his foot, never once putting her down until he gently laid her on the bed. Ron moved to close the curtains but Y/n called out to him, “No, leave them open. You look beautiful in the moonlight.”

Ron huffed, the smile growing on his lips once more. Y/n felt herself growing warmer, just led on Ron’s bed watching him unbutton his shirt in the moonlight had her heart racing. The curves of the muscles rippling under his toned flesh caused her to whimper and Ron’s head snapped up, dark eyes watching him intensely as he whispered, “Are you going to be a good girl?”

Ron’s lips brushed against her ear lobe, sending shivers down her spine, as he whispered sweet nothings to her. Y/n had lost all coherent language as soon as Ron’s lips met hers. His hands roamed down her sides, ruffling the fabric of the dress and bunching it around her middle.

“Ron,” she pleaded with him but he ignored her, continuing to kiss down her neck while his hand grazed its way up her bare thighs. Her hands fisted in his hair and Ron groaned at the comforting sting of pain and pleasure it gave him. Ron would be lying if he said he hadn’t been dreaming of this moment since Hagenuea, well maybe even before then. The pathetic whimpers falling from Y/n’s mouth had him driven to the brink of insanity.

“Ronny, please,” Y/n begged again and Ron chuckled at this new nickname he’d been given.

“Oh Darling, you’re so needy. Tell me what you want. I’ve barely touched you and you're so desperate already.”

Y/n gasped as Ron’s fingers ran over the edge of her pant line, “Ron, God, please. Please.”

“So impatient, Darling.” Ron tutted, sitting back on his heels and smiling down at her. The distinct bulge in his trousers caused Y/n to groan further. She reached out, massaging the bulge through his trousers and watching as Ron fought back the urge to moan.

“Please Ronny,” Y/n mumbled, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Please, Ron.”

Ron couldn’t take it anymore, he sprung forward, pinning her beneath his large frame, his hands gripping her wrists and pulling them above her head. Y/n tried to wriggle out from his grip but his grip only tightened.

“Now now Darling, don’t get upset,” Ron reassured her, pressing his lips to hers to silence the whimpers.

Ron worked quickly, stripping her of her dress and underwear, tossing them across the room to be collected later. Next came his trousers, he pulled off his belt and began wrapping it around her wrists, pulling them flush against the headboard and restraining her there.

“Please Ron, let me help you. Let me touch you,” she cried but Ron silenced her again with another kiss.

“Oh pretty lady, you don’t need to touch me. Tonight is all about you.”

Y/n could feel his fingers slipping down beneath her dress once more, rubbing against the soft flesh before trailing to where she wanted him. Where she needed him.

“Ron!” She gasped, as his thumb began to slowly circle her clit, while his other hand moved up her body, stroking the smooth skin of her lower abdomen before trailing up to her breasts. Y/n had never felt so safe and secure while simultaneously being so exposed as he pressed another kiss to her lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” Ron cooed, brushing the stray strands of hair that had fallen into her face while continuing his movements on her clit. She couldn’t speak, she could barely breathe as her stomach began to knot and the pressure between her legs grew. She wanted to snap her legs shut as she wriggled beneath him, and as if Ron sensed this he situated himself further between her legs. “Now you promised you’d be a good girl and good girls don’t close their legs now, do they?”

Y/n shook her head frantically, she’d never felt so pathetic. Ever since she joined the paratroopers she had spent every day proving she was tough, she could handle herself and yet by just his touch alone Ronald Speirs had rendered her incapacitated.

A small moan escaped her as Ron’s tongue swirled around her nipple.

“Do you like that, Darling? Tell me you like it.”

“I like it,” Y/n nearly screamed. “Please, I like it. Don’t stop.”

Ron hummed in amusement, repeating the action and earning the same response.

“Please Ron, please I need more,” she whined, fighting against the restraints that held her there. The desperate look in her eyes was all Ron needed. He reached forward, removing the belt and freeing her hands. They immediately landed on the hem of his underwear, pulling at the elastic impatiently but Ron pushed her hands away.

“Not yet my Darling. Remember I told you, tonight is all about you,” Ron pressed a final kiss to her lips, squeezing her hips before he sank beneath the covers out of view.

Y/n had been with men before but none had done anything like this. She gasped, grabbing a fistful of the bedsheets and throwing her head back in an exaggerated groan. Ron linked his arms under her legs, placing them over his shoulders and he continued to trail kisses over her clit. The small licks and nibbles drove her wild. Y/n cried and whimpered, tugging frantically at Ron’s brown locks as the pressure in her stomach continued to build.

“God, Ron I’m so close. I’m so close. Please…” she cried out as the knot came undone and her whole body spasmed. Her legs clamped tightly around Ron’s head but he didn’t seem to notice, choosing to continue to kiss and lick her until the tremors finally subsided and Y/n could breathe again.

He reappeared from beneath the covers, his lips and chin dripping with saliva and a wicked grin on his face. His brown locks fell onto his sweaty forehead as he spoke, “Did you enjoy that my Darling.”

“Yes,” Y/n mumbled, her chest still heaving from the effort of her orgasm.

“Good because I’m only just getting started.”

Y/n let out a guttural moan, pushing herself off the pillows, “Ron, I want you to fuck me.”

She wasn’t sure where the foul language had come from, despite being surrounded by soldiers all the time she rarely swore but now seemed like an appropriate time.

Ron took this as a sign, pushing his boxers down and allowing his desperately hard cock to spring free from its restraint. He reached over to the bedside cabinet, retrieving a condom and rolling it down his cock. Y/n watched in awe of him. Not only was he an attractive man but his body was sculpted like a Greek God and Y/n thanked all those runs up Currehea for that.

Ron pushed her back against the bed, pressing his hips into hers and teasing her once more but the teasing didn’t continue for long and soon he was lining himself up to her entrance.

“Are you ready? If at any point you want me to stop…”

“Ron, please just shut up and fuck me,” Y/n snapped, already too wound up and desperate to keep talking. Ron nodded, pressing his lips securely to hers as he entered. With every inch that pushed inside of her Y/n felt fuller than she ever had before and the ecstasy building within her was stronger than ever.

Once he was inside all the way, Ron allowed her a moment to adjust before pulling out and slamming back into her. His thrusts were relentless and precise. Hitting the exact spot with every thrust and sending Y/n into a frenzy of incoherent phrases as she clawed at his back like a mad woman. Despite the pace he was going, Ron made her feel loved with every thrust, pressing delicate kisses to her ear lobe, whispering to her, a number of ‘I love you’s’ were exchanged too.

“Ron, please… I’m so close,” she cried out, causing Ron to draw in a deep breath. He reached his hand down between their bodies, circling her clit with his thumb once more until she came undone with a loud cry of his name. He grabbed her face, kissing her passionately and silencing the moans as he came undone inside of her.

The pair lay like this for a few moments, sweat trickling down Ron’s spine and his damp hair smeared against his forehead.

“Y/n, Sweetheart, are you alright?” He looked down at her, his eyes full of love and concern.

“I’m perfect,” she replied, reaching up to brush away the stray hairs from his eyes, “Everything is perfect.”

The moment was disturbed by a harsh crashing noise followed by the bedroom door flying open and a very drunk Nixon stumbling into the room.

“SPEIRS?” He shouted, seemingly shocked that Ron was in the room he thought belonged to him.

“SERGEANT Y/L/N?” Nixon started blankly for a few moments before sticking his head out the door.

“HARRY YOU OWE ME 20 BUCKS. I TOLD YOU THEY WERE FUCKING!”

“NIXON!” Ron snapped, glaring harshly at him as he rolled out of Y/n who let out a small moan. “GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Nixon looked at them again before waving his hand and mumbling as he retreated out of the room. The couple fell back onto the bed laughing. Ron pulled off the condom, disposing of it into the bedside bin and moving to get out of bed when Y/n stopped him.

“Wait. Let’s cuddle for a while.” Ron nodded, sighing as he pulled Y/n flush to his chest. Y/n glanced up at him, her face shining pale in the moonlight.

“Ron, next time we have sex, can you please make sure you lock the door.” Ron nodded, sighing as he pulled Y/n flush to his chest.

“Of course my Darling. Anything for you.”

Tags @iceman-kazansky @yeahcurrahhe-e @msmercury84 @blvestxr @dustyjumpwjngs @theflyingfin @jump-wings @kafka-ohdear @kmc1989 @mads-weasley @docroesmorphine @liptonsbabe @ronald-speirs @sweetxvanixlla @hesbuckcompton-baby @ronsparky @allthingsimagines @whollyjoly @bucky32557038ww2 @panzershrike-pretz @malarkgirlypop @hanniewinnix @inglourious-imagines @l13bg0tt

#band of brothers #ronald speirs fic #ronald spiers x reader #ronald speirs #band of brothers fic

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femsolid · 8 months

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There was a talk show on french TV the other day about trans parents and their children. One of the guests was a butch lesbian truck driver and her daughter. The show's host asked the daughter if there were any telltale sign that her mother was a man and the daughter said that her mom ("dad" she called her) had interests and hobbies that were traditionnaly associated with men. I still can't believe I have to hear this shit in 2023. The mother said that she just couldn't bear the thought of being a "masculine woman". She just could NOT be a masculine woman. No way. Being a butch lesbian was unacceptable to her. Therefore she had to be a man. She said she had nothing against masculine women, that she even fell in love with one, it just couldn't be her. But sitting there on the couch... she was exactly that. She was not feminine, she was not a man either, she was a butch lesbian. She just had to pretend (and make everyone pretend with her) that she was a straight man for her to be okay with who she was. And that was pretty sad. Because in the end it means she still isn't okay with who she is. An interesting thing she said was that she only started thinking of transitioning after she heard some french idiots use the word "queer" and she looked it up on the internet and discovered all the propaganda associated and then here she was, boom, a man. An online epiphany. I'm happy she found a way to let go of the pressure of femininity and hope she's happier this way, but the thought process behind it is so incredibly regressive, sexist and homophobic it's hard to stomach.

There was also a transbro invited with his daughter. She said that she and her little brother found out about their dad by discovering his secret instagram account on which he was pretending to be a woman. She also explained that since he had started his transition he was making his children's life a living hell at home. She justified and excused it by claiming he was going through female puberty. The father nodded with a big smile on his face. Haha cute and amusing. Apparently, his doctor told him that the hormones he's taking are turning him into a teenage girl. And teenage girls are annoying, emotional and irrational of course, we all know that, so voilà. The daughter of another transbro said the same thing, that her dad was going through his teenage girl phase and was therefore crying and screaming for no reason. The show's psychologist suprisingly intervened to say it had nothing to do with being female and everything to do with the artifical hormones intake causing mood swings. I would argue that narcissism and misogyny are at play as well.

Another interesting part was when they discussed the fact that trans identified parents have often fantasized about being a member of the opposite sex for a long time but their family on the other hand typically had no idea and is shocked when they discover it. The trans identifying person rushes everything because in their perception they've been waiting for a long time. So they're like: now you know! So pretend with me and be okay with it! But to the family it's completely sudden, so to be asked to forget about the person they know, stop using their name, be an unwilling witness to their sexual changes and be just fine with it is... an impossible task.

And on the topic of sexual changes there were discussions, initiated by the psychologist, about how disturbing it is for the children to become involved in their parents' sex lives. Because through talks of phalloplasties, vaginoplasties, estrogen to induce breast growth, etc, the parents are indeed making the children a part of their sex lives and all the (now adult) daughters agreed that it was uncomfortable to say the least. Like when your dad is recovering from turning his penis into a hole or getting fake breasts you're forced to become aware and part of it. It was interesting that only daughters were present as well. Of course all of them, no matter how uncomfortable, said we should support transitioning and that was the conclusion of the show. I didn't listen to everything because I was working at the same time but. Yeah. All in all, the usual.

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sunnycanvas · 3 months

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Salahuddin x reader that spoils him and loves being near him and kissing him

I stood there in my room praying for the arrival for my beloved. A servant who also happens to be my friend walked inside the room with fruits "Malika, it's good to see you being worried about your husband's well being but you should definitely eat something" "Your husband will come victorious for sure" "Besides sultan will have my head of they came to know that I let you starve" I smiled wryly and my friend grew tensed.

"Forgive me, Malika if I offended you"

I quickly reassured her it had nothing to do with her

Even though I knew he would come victorious. I still couldn't help but worry. "Why do I have a feeling something bad is going to happen" . I suddenly stood up from my place

"Malika?"

"Quickly, get the servants" "Our sultan is coming back" . My friend asked no further questions and left to get the servants ready

"My intuition doesn't fail me" "I have a feeling my husband is coming back right now lost from the battlefield"

And my intuition came out to be accurate

My husband Salahuddin entered his palace with a racing camel.

"Quickly call Malika (Y/N)"

"I am here my lord". I quickly responded to my husband's call. "Where are the others" I thought. "Could it be- no... way did that inexperienced incredibly young leper boy caused this much damage "

"(Y/N)" my husband called my name

Setting aside my confusion I rushed forward towards him. My husband embraced me in front of everyone. I was shocked at such public display of our affection and was about to scold him but my husband didn't listen to and only held me tighter as if afraid that I would disappear. I could feel him trembling.

"Please not you too, don't look at me with same disappointment that others have shown me" hearing such a strong desperate plea, I did not have heart to scold me.

"My lord let us get inside" I requested. My husband although distraught immediately took control of his composure nodded

"Prepare Sultan's favourite food and bring it in my room" my voice boomed as the servants bowed respectfully and left. I could hear murmurs in the hallway

"Our sultan lost against that al-khinzir"

"I thought the king was cursed"

"Wasn't maximum of his experienced commander not there"

Angry at their gossiping I said "Fatima, give 50 lashes to anyone who speaks about today" . My lord voice echoed through hallway and I knew that got them quite. I took sultan inside my room . Salahuddin admiring me said "I really love your firece side" "Atleast you are there with me".

"My lord, I warned" you know how I feel talking about this, my husband seemed to be lost in his own world and said "But it's true, I have lost my reputation in the eyes of both my enemies and subjects" "I fear it was cause uprising" "I think it's best to be removed from the position of sultan" "It's clear Allah didn't show me favour"

"Enough!" I yelled. "You know I hate it when anyone disrespect you like that" my husband grew quite again. I realised that this battle impacted him more than I realised. I gently took his hand and made him follow me to bathroom. My husband followed me without any protest

"Strip"

"(Y/N-"

"No I am not in mood for sex either"

My husband followed my words without any further questions. I lightly traced my fingers on his chest which had battle scars. "Sultan, have I ever told you how handsome you are" . My husband laughed and said "Plenty of times Habibti". I gently guided him to bathtub which was filled with warm water. Once he settled down I started massaging his head. My husband sighed in bliss and he slowly closed his eyes. My husband blissful said "I sometimes feel like I don't deserve you, such a beautiful woman you are". I smiled and said "Plenty of times habibi ". My husband soon dozed off while sleeping. I slowly left so I don't disturb his sleep. I bring oil scented candles and light up the room. I also bring a small table with in the bathroom. Carefully I place food on the table. Once I am done I began stripping. I gently dipped myself in water.

"Habibi" I softly called, my husband still in deep didn't respond. Not wanting to give up. I shook his arm. That seems to have finally woken his up. Salahuddin, my husband was filled with awe at the night of me naked.

"When did you do all this" . I smiled and said "That doesn't matter right now, please eat or else food will get cold". Salahuddin smiled as I crawled towards him and sat on his lap. I took the food from the table and began feeding him. My husband obediently ate food provided to him by me. Once we were done he started licking my fingers. I chuckled at the sight. I gently guided my his head towards my chest and let him listen my heart beat. "You hear that sultan, how my heart beats in joy when I am with you" "It breaks my heart when I see you like this" "Please don't give up on yourself" "Atleast for me". My husband smiled sadly and said "Thank you so much, for coming in my life" "You are right I can't let you down" "I need to fight for you".

I quickly corrected him "Not for me but yourself" "You are the rightful king and I have no doubt that you will soon win Jerusalem" . "You need to quickly send message that you are alive to your allies as well as your enemies, so that nobody comes for your throne". My husband buried his head in my chest and said "Later, let me enjoy my beautiful wife first". I smiled and ruffled his head "You can be such a child sometimes I swear". My husband smiled smiled in response and said "Only for you"

#kingdom of heaven #baldwin iv #kingdom of heaven 2005 #kingdom of heaven fanfic #kingdom of heaven fanfiction #kingdom of heaven fandom #kingdom of heaven headcanons #lord saladin #saladin #Salahuddin #Salah ad-Din #saladin x reader #Salah ad-din x reader #lord saladin x reader

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lleldey · 1 year

Text

Preview: The Deepest Marks of Essence

Read here

Description: When you found yourself circled by a tribe, you never thought it would lead you to tap into your deepest wants and desires. You are the example of how one should act at all costs, but if you ever manage to escape this maze and if your story ever becomes told, you’ll never be looked at the same. But it’s hard to regret it when your nights are spent with gentle caresses and starry midnight skies. You got everything you secretly longed for, but at what cost?

Warnings: a tribe, use of weapons, yelling, mentions of wounds-blood, JK is a yandere, mentions of people dying/killing, smut, use of psychedelics, more will be added!

Word Count: ~650

!In no way of shape and form do I think this is how Jungkook acts in real life, this is pure work of fiction, so if you choose to read it, please keep that in mind!

You watch in horror how the masked leaves fall one after the other like dominoes, and your gaze moves with them to see a steep ditch covering the entire area of the site, circling your only means of exit. A sharp sound like a whiplash follows soon after, and you realize you’ve run straight into a trap when the unmasked ditch has triggered a sturdy net to fall from the trees.

Wherever you turn your head, the trap follows, disturbing birds that fly high over your head away from danger. Oh, how you’d love to accompany them. Breathless, you grasp Taes’ hands around your waist, your only means of safety, holding you from falling to what might as well be your death.

“Shit”, he gasps in your ear, and you know you’re truly fucked when rushed steps and shouts near you. “What do we do now?” He balances you back on the ground, evident fear coloring his voice; as much as you’d love to step into the older sisters’ shoes and ease his mind, quickly figuring out a way to salvage the problem, you’re left speechless.

Even if you somehow manage to jump over the ditch, the net is too high to climb over and the netting too tough to tear. But there’s no time to think when you feel a sharp sting over your leg. Its force makes you fall on all fours, biting back a scream of pain you see a spear impaled on the other side of the ditch.

Fearful, you turn around to see a swarm of people surrounding you and your brother, another spear is thrown, but this time toward your brother, who barely manages to duck before it hits his body. Tears fall as you notice all the weapons pointed at you, and you’re just about ready to be impaled when a woman shrieks something in her tongue, and points at you.

It must be a sign to finish you off, you’re sure of it, you curl up awaiting the attack, but it never comes, rather you see the woman hit the man’s head who threw his spear at you. Your gaze quickly roams over the group, frightened by their relentless stares at you, but you notice one consistency – they’re pointing at your forehead.

You quickly touch it, confused about what’s happening, but when you do, a chorus of shouts come your way telling you to stop. And you realize what’s the hold-up, it’s the mark, Jungkooks blood smeared over your skin from yesterday.

As if he’s summoned, he runs through the crowd of people with a group of men following closely behind him. His gaze instantly meets yours, and you see the shock traveling through his system as he takes in your bleeding skin and terrified expression.

Just like a switch being flipped, he steps into his domineering aura; even though you’re away from him, you feel the energy of his anger like a shock wave washing over you, the sparkling eyes and gentle touch which you oh so adored nowhere present.

Overwhelmed with rage Jungkook turns to his people and barks something in their tongue, the tone of his voice makes you cover and for the first time, you’re glad you don’t understand what he’s saying.

You see the man who shot at you fall to his knees, head deeply bowed down and hands put into a praying position. You don’t have to understand their language to know he’s begging, but his prayers aren’t answered when he’s forced to stand up. And in a blink of an eye, his neck is snapped.

What you wouldn't be willing to do to return to yesterday when everything was so sweet you were bracing yourself for a toothache. But just as you feared, the shoe had to drop, only you didn’t expect the price to be your life.

#bts yandere #yandere bts #yandere #jungkook dark #jungkook yandere #jungkook #jk yandere #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #btsyandere #jungkook x reader

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elusivemellifluence · 2 years

Text

I saw someone recommend Babel: Or the Necessity of Violence: An Arcane History of the Oxford Translators' Revolution by R.F. Kuang as an example of a fantasy story with no romance in it, and tilted my head curiously, thinking about what radically different things a story can mean to different readers. Because when I read it, I saw a significant subplot devoted to deliciously subtle, tragically unrealised queer love story between Robin and Ramy.

It lived in unanswered questions and charged silences*. It was hard to look at, hard to understand, in a world with such rigid expectations and strict social rules. It was a forbidden love on multiple levels, between two boys who were meant to devote their hearts and minds to serving the British empire above all personal concerns, between two boys who were meant to love women if anyone at all. In a story all about the magic of words, it was unspoken, unspeakable, but still not unacknowledged. They knew, or almost knew, and were getting gradually, infinitesimally closer to someday putting words to it, if only between themselves, until Ramy died and all that possibility died with him.**

It's about being closeted. It's about meeting the first other person you've ever known who's like you. It's about inching towards something you have no roadmap for. It's about the long history of tragic homoerotic vibes between British academics. It's about the love that dare not speak its name. It's about yet another thing the Translation Institute took from Robin, that's simultaneously yet another thing the Translation Institute gave him.

It's about another thing Letty's privilege blinded her to. A white woman wanting a brown man, and killing him for rejecting her***, never seeing the reason in the same way that she never saw the racism her friends were subjected to on a daily basis. A love triangle, mirroring the one between Griffin, Sterling and Evie, though Letty didn't know it was a triangle and couldn't even imagine that Ramy might care for Robin instead or that Robin might have his own desires beyond comforting her in her heartbreak. Robin asked Ramy why he didn't dance with her, and he said Don't you know why?*. Later that night Letty wept drunkenly into Robin's shoulder, asking Why doesn't he see me?, and he knew better than to tell her the truth****.

*p. 244:

"She wants you," Robin said. ... "Very badly. So why—" "Don't you know why?" Their eyes met. Robin felt a prickle at the back of his neck. The space between them felt very charged, like the moment between lightning and thunder, and Robin had no idea what was going on or what would happen next, only that it all felt very strange and terrifying, like teetering over the edge of a windy, roaring cliff.

**p. 410

One day Robin would ask himself how his shock had turned so easily to rage; why his first reaction was not disbelief at this betrayal but black, consuming hatred. And the answer would elude and disturb him, for it tiptoed around a complicated tangle of love and jealousy that ensnared them all, for which they had no name or explanation, a truth they'd only been starting to wake up to and now, after this, would never acknowledge.

***p. 503

"I think she wanted him dead," he continued hoarsely. "You could see it on her face – she wasn't scared, she knew what she was doing, she could have aimed at any one of us, and she knew it was Ramy she wanted." "Robin ..." "She loved him, you know," he said. The words came out of him like a torrent now; the floodgates were broken, and the waters could not be stopped. No matter how devastating, how tragic, he had to say it out loud, had to burden someone else with this awful, awful suspicion. "She told me, the night of the commemoration ball – she spent nearly an hour weeping into my shoulder because she wanted to dance with him, and he wouldn't even look at her. He never looked at her, he didn't ..." He had to stop, his tears threatened to choke him.

****p. 249

"I wish he would see me," she kept repeating. "Why won't he see me?" And though Robin could think of any number of reasons – because Ramy was a brown man in England and Letty the daughter of an admiral; because Ramy did not want to be shot in the street; or because Ramy simply did not love her like she loved him, and she'd badly mistaken his general kindness and ostentatious verve for special attention, because Letty was the kind of girl who was used to, and had come to always expect, special attention – he knew better than to tell her the truth. ... He had the oddest feeling of disappearing as he spoke, of fading into the background of a painting depicting a story which must have been as old as history.

(Despite how long this ended up getting, footnotes and all, I'm not trying to argue that my interpretation is right and the 'no romance' interpretation is wrong - I love the ambiguity, and think it's genuinely fascinating how this reading jumped out so clearly to me, a bisexual who spent a significant amount of my late teens pining over my best friend while coming to terms with my sexuality, while another reader with a different perspective saw something else entirely.)

#babel #babel spoilers

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sailorshadzter · 8 months

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Could you please, please, please do an AU where Ned told Catelyn the truth about Jon and everything ending with Jonsa. Please 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

WHOOO BABY DID THIS SPIRAL INTO SOMETHING.

anon, thanks for this. long as it's been in my inbox, i really REALLY enjoyed writing it.

send me prompts

“Cat, we must speak.”

It’s the day he’s returned from war, battered and tired, but not from battle. His lady wife, young and beautiful, is tearful in her smile, their infant son asleep in his cradle across the room. It strikes him at that very moment that these two boys are but weeks apart in age, the one who sleeps in the room and the one who waits in the hall, cradled by a faithful maid. “You’ve just returned home, Ned,” she murmurs, shaking her head, hands outstretched. “There is more than enough time to talk.” She’s thinking of the morning after her wedding to this man, when he’d rode off into war, casting her but a single glance across his shoulder as he went through Winterfell’s gates. For the next nine months, she was burdened with the weight of pregnancy, carrying within her their son, their firstborn, Winterfell’s heir. “Come, you must meet your son.”

Ned sighs, but knows he cannot argue that, so he follows her across the room, so he might lean over the cradle and inspect the child there. He’s of good size, with a shock of dark auburn hair, certainly a boy who favors her Tully looks, rather than his own Stark. “A handsome lad,” Ned says a moment later, reaching into the cradle so he might take the baby into his arms, carefully as he can so as to not disturb his sleep. Beside him, Catelyn smiles, overcome with emotion at the sight of her husband finally meeting his son. She has done her duty by him and on the wedding night, no less. “He will grow into a fine boy.” He turns to face his wife, knowing he should feel something more, but he can think of little else than the other child he must bring to her. They are strangers, he and his wife, so he’s uncertain as to how she’ll take the news of another child, but he can only hope she’ll be delighted to take on the role of mother to a boy who has lost his. “Cat… Really, there is something I must tell you.” His wife, noting his tone, finally gives in with a single nod.

And so, he plunges into the story only he knows, of the birth of Lyanna’s child and her untimely death in childbed. Catelyn feels the familiar sting of pity, of horror, at hearing of the younger woman’s demise- it was a fate any woman could face and one they all feared. “I promised her… As she lay dying, I promised I would care for the child and protect him.” Ned swallows, recalling the grip of her hand in his, the smell of bloodstains and roses still lingering in his nose. “I must protect him with my name, you see… Or else I fear…” He stops speaking, fearful to say anymore, even here in the privacy of their own chamber. Even if it was his greatest friend on the throne now, that same friend would not pause in slaying even an infant, if he thought him to be a threat to his newly obtained crown. “I don’t mean to dishonor you with this, but you understand… I must claim him as my bastard, to keep him safe from the world.” Cat is staring back at him with her wide, blue eyes, lips parting as if she means to speak but cannot find the words. “I am trusting only you with this truth, Cat.”

She lets out the long breath she’s been holding and gives a single, solemn nod. “Then I shall accept him as your bastard, Ned. I will raise him along with our son as brothers.” If there’s one thing she knows about her husband, it’s his belief in what’s right and his love for his family. Lyanna was beloved by him in a way that no one else could ever compare to and the loss of her would be something he’d feel for a lifetime to come. This one thing she could do, simply to ease the burden of his grief.

So then, Ned opens the door and gestures for the maid to step inside, bringing with her the sleeping baby she carries. He takes the babe from her and bids her to go, turning to face his wife only when they are alone once more. “Lyanna wished to call him Aegon,” his wife wrinkles her nose at the name and he can’t help but to chuckle softly, the first laugh he’s felt in the weeks since Lyanna’s death. “I thought we might call him Jon, after Jonnel Stark, my ancestor.” Cat leans over his arm so she can peer down at the face of this baby he’s brought, surprised to see a face quite like she imagines her husband’s must have been at this very same age. He was a Stark, even at this young age.

“Jon. Jon Snow,” Cat tests the name upon her lips and she nods, finding it fits.

Just like that, they’ve gone from one child to two.

[ x x x ]

“I don’t like where things are headed.”

They are standing on the battlements, overlooking the courtyard where their six children play. Cat looks grim as she touches his arm, the gesture forcing her husband’s eyes back to her instead. “Is it that bad, Ned?” She asks quietly, fearful of the answer.

To her horror, he nods.

“Robert will die and the boy will inherit the throne,” Ned mutters with a shake of his head, letting out a sigh as he straightens his spine. “Sooner, rather than later I fear.” He thinks of his friend, the king, once a warrior of the mightest strength, now a fattened pig who drinks until he must be carried to his rooms more nights a week than seemly for any man, let alone the King of Westeros. “A bastard,” he continues, speaking the words he’s thought about for all these years, since he first laid eyes upon the child. “All of them.” Those golden haired children were certainly not Robert’s, but rather begotten from the twisted relationship between his queen Cersei and her own twin brother.

“There is another…” Cat prompts, softly, so softly he scarcely hears her over the gentle breeze.

Ned turns his dark gray eyes upon her, hand sliding over hers. “Let’s hope it doesn’t have to come to such a thing,” he says and she nods, casting her glance back out over the railing, focusing on the single dark-haired boy among the other auburn ones. A boy with Targaryen and Stark blood, a royal born boy that the world doesn’t even know exists. Her eyes move to the others, over Robb, who’s laughing heartily at something Jon has said, over Bran who’s dancing around his older brothers, to Rickon who’s clinging to his sister’s skirts. Sansa, her second born and oldest daughter, beautiful even now at just ten-years-old, is smiling as she puts her hand to Rickon’s curls, like a mother might do. And of course there’s Arya, her other daughter, her only Stark looking child among them. Cat feels sorrow tug at her heart, fearful for the world these precious children of her’s might have to grow up in. She can only hope it doesn’t come to what Ned thinks it might.

“I’ll keep them safe, Cat,” Ned speaks suddenly, drawing her out of her own thoughts and back to him. It’s as if he’s aged twenty years standing there, but she clings to his hand and nods, knowing he was a man of his word. Through and through, Ned Stark was a man who kept his promises.

“I know,” she whispers and his arms come around her, the one place she feels at home.

[ x x x ]

When Robert dies four years later, his sour tempered, violent natured son ascends the throne.

At first, everything seems to fall into place, as if somehow, things will work out. He’s a young man after all, perhaps he will be guided by his council to become a good king. But then, Ned is thrown out of his place as Hand to the King, replaced by his imp uncle Tyrion Lannister. The council of this young king is his grandfather Tywin and a gaggle of loyal Lannister men. Whatever hope Ned has of a young king coming into his own as a good, honorable man, are thrown out the window just several months into his reign. The people of King’s Landing revolt, starving and dying in the streets, while their king eats hearty in his golden palace. And what’s more, Ned has heard the rumors of his behavior… frightening rumors he knows, deep down, are far more than simple gossip.

He sighs, sinking into his place beneath the heart tree, the silence of the godswood all he needs right now. There is so much to think of, so many possibilities, so many worries, so much going through his mind that he thinks he’ll go crazy before nightfall. But then, as he sits there, he hears the drifting laughter of his children, reminding him of all he has to protect.

Then, deep within the recesses of his mind, a plan begins to formulate.

[ x x x ]

“Jon, come, we must speak my boy.”

The young man looks up, surprised, but swings his legs over the bench so he might rise up. His siblings all giggle at his expense, thinking him to be in trouble, giving Ned a moment of respite- this must mean Jon was responsible for the latest Stark children hijinks, which had resulted in mud all through the main hallway. Ned smiles in spite of himself and puts his arm around the boy’s shoulders, drawing him out of the great hall and into the corridor. “Father, I didn’t mean-” he begins, solidifying Ned’s thoughts, but he only shakes his head, as if it means little to him. “Please don’t be cross with me.”

“I’m not cross, Jon, we simply must talk.” Ned says as they step out into the bright morning sunshine. “You remember once asking me about your mother…?” He asks when they’ve settled themselves into the godswood, beneath the very tree he often sits beneath himself. Jon’s gray eyes widen and he nods. “I have decided now is the time for me to tell you the truth, Jon. About your mother. And your father.” His confusion is palpable and Ned reaches out, hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Soon, all will make sense.”

And then, he begins to talk, telling this boy the same story he’d told only his wife sixteen years before.

[ x x x ]

That night, Jon is somber at dinner, perhaps far more than he usually might be.

Of all of the children, Jon has always been the most solemn, most like Ned than any of his true born sons. And the only one who notices, truly notices, is the girl standing at his door now.

Sansa raises her hand, knocking twice, rocking on the balls of her feet as she waits for his response. From behind the thick door, she hears the muffled sound of his footsteps, then comes the creak of the door as it swings open, revealing his face to her. “Sansa,” he greets, surprised, Stark colored eyes widening at the sight of her there. “Come in,” he says next, stepping back to allow her entry.

It’s not often she comes to his rooms, as what sister comes so willingly to her brother? But, then he remembers and his heart sinks. She notices, of course, reaching for his hand without a word. For a long moment they stand there together, silent and still, her bright blue eyes staring back at him as if they understand everything he’s not even said yet. “Tell me, won’t you?” She asks, head tilting, red hair a cascading waterfall over a shoulder.

Jon peers back at her, wondering if to her, only to her, he could divulge what their father- her father- had just told him that morning. He decides, if just for now, to keep things as they’ve always been. “It’s nothing,” he finally says, forcing a smile, hoping it pays off. She eyes him skeptically and he damns her for being so perceptive of his thoughts, his feelings. “Really Sansa, I’m fine,” he goes on, stronger now. He knows that Ned plans on revealing the truth to the rest of his siblings soon, when the time is right, so he chooses not to spill his guts. Besides, of all of them, Sansa’s never been able to keep a single secret.

“If you’re sure…” She says a moment later, sighing, not really believing him. But, she knows Jon well enough to know that he would speak of it when he was ready. “I’m here if you need, you know,” she reminds him, softer now, her smile reappearing. He’s struck by the sight of it, by the realization that of all his siblings, she was the one most worried, the only one who noticed there was even something slightly off with him. And for that, for her, he’s thankful.

“I know,” he grins, feeling it for the first time all day. “Thank you, Sansa.”

She nods, giving his hand one last tender squeeze, then she’s gone, slipping from his room, her scent lingering long after she’s gone.

[ x x x ]

The day King’s Landing riots violently, Ned knows he must tell the North.

So, he calls his council, the most loyal heads of the Northern houses, back to Winterfell for a single meeting. There, in the great hall, he presents Jon Snow to them, not as his bastard born son, but as the true born son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. It takes convincing of course, it takes many hours of conversation, of adamant reminders of what was happening in King’s Landing. It would soon overflow into their own space, if they were not careful.

In the end, they accept their lord’s word as truth, as they always do. And in the end, Jon is proclaimed the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms, a prince with Targaryen and Stark blood, a prince they would support until their very last breath. He will be called King in the North, for now, until they can make their move, until they can do what they must to secure the peace and safety of Westeros. Then, one day soon, they will march South and he will take his rightful place as King of the Iron Throne.

[ x x x ]

“I imagine you’ll leave soon.”

Sansa’s voice cuts into his thoughts, bringing him out of the silence he’s fallen into. “Aye,” he nods, glancing her way, only to find she’s already looking his way. Once siblings, then cousins, now betrothed. What a strange turn of events, he supposes. But, a marriage match with her would be the most advantageous of them all, all things considered.

It’s been six months of fighting and they’ve suffered their greatest loss of them all- Robb. Jon cannot think of that day, of that moment, so he pushes it away, choosing instead to focus on anything and everything else. His new place as King in the North, as the true King of the Seven Kingdoms, has his thoughts quite occupied after all. “You’ll come back, won’t you?” She asks softly, so softly he wonders if he’s only just imagined her words. He turns his stormy eyes to her and takes her hand, nodding.

“I promise,” he vows, a man of his word, like the one who raised him.

She smiles, nodding, trusting him because if she doesn’t, all that’s left for her is misery.

[ x x x ]

It’s two long years of fighting.

Battle after battle, neverending it seems, a war sometimes he thinks isn’t worth fighting. But, Jon knows it is his duty to do what he’s done, to fight a war for the crown that should have been his from the moment of his birth. They’ve come a long way in these last two years, losing good men to battle wounds and losing hope on their darkest of days.

But somehow, someway, they win their way into King’s Landing.

As he walks into the throne room for the first time, battle worn and bleeding, he sucks in a breath; it’s far different than he imagined it to be, but it’s his all the same. The throne sits ahead of him, daunting and dark, the place his grandfather had once sat, the place his father would have sat.

The sound of footsteps and he turns, sharply, thinking it to be Lannister men come, but instead it is Ned standing there, panting, a cut above his left eye bleeding fiercely. “Jon,” he speaks his name and Jon is reaching for the man he’s called father all of his life. “You’ve done it.” Ned says with a smile, thinking of all it’s cost them to get to where they were now, thinking of all they’ve lost, of all they’ve gained.

“We’ve done it,” Jon amends softly, knowing that he’d not be standing there if it wasn’t for this man. For the man who raised him as his own, who protected him with his name, who has loved him all these years. “Thank you, father.” Ned looks up with tears in his eyes but he smiles, nodding. Ned Stark was his father, no matter what his blood might have said.

[ x x x ]

Sansa runs into his arms, holding onto him as she’s never done before.

“I was so worried,” she whispers, burying her face into the crook of his shoulder, her traveling clothes telling him she’d come straight to him. Behind them, in the doorway hovers Catelyn Stark, but she swallows and ducks out of sight, the door closing behind her. They’re alone, if just for this one moment. “They said you were injured.” She draws back, inspecting him, taking in the sight of his few bandaged injuries, though he looks well enough. “And father…” That awkwardness returns, the between of who they were and who they are now, but she shakes her head. “He will recover, the maesters say.” Jon nods, for he’s heard such a thing himself, despite the Stark patriarch's wounds. “You swear you’re alright?” She asks next, softly now, blue eyes finding gray.

“I swear,” Jon says quietly, drawing her into his embrace, something he’s not done before, something that quickens the pace of her heart. “I can’t believe you’ve come so soon…” He’s not expected her for weeks, months even. But when she draws back, she’s grinning, shaking her head as if she can’t believe what he’s just said.

“I couldn’t stay away,” she admits, thinking of the begging she had to do to get her mother to bring her here. She can’t explain it, but she knows this was where she was supposed to be- at his side.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he pulls her close once more, wondering when the feel of her in his arms had begun to feel so right.

So like home.

#jonsa #actuallyjonsa #jon x sansa #anon prompts #anon asks #writing prompts #my writing #i wrote this

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storiesforallfandoms · 2 years

Text

between the stacks ~ johnny depp

word count: 2376

request?: yes!

@jaysmentalspace “Hi there (˘⌣˘ ) I've never done a request before but I was inquiring as to whether you could possibly write one for me. One about Mr Johnny Depp. Where he comes to a small town, possibly looking for old poetry books and he happens to run into the reader, whom works there and he takes a fancy to her...or something along those lines. It would be greatly appreciated ♡♡♡”

description: in a small town where nothing ever happens, a celebrity wanders into her bookstore

pairing: johnny depp x female!reader

warnings: nothing!

masterlist (one, two)

A little bookstore in a quiet town rarely saw any sort of business or anything exciting. Not that the owner, a young woman who had the bookstore passed down for generations, minded too much. All the down time meant she could read to her heart’s desire, which was usually her entire shift.

When the bell of the door rang, she glanced up from the current book she was reading to greet the new customer, only to double take when she realized who had just walked into the store.

“Hello,” said the familiar stranger.

“Hello,” she responded. “Is there, uh, is there anything I can help you with?”

“I was just looking for some poetry books,” he responded.

“I can show you where they are,” (Y/N) said, coming from behind the counter. “I will warn you, you’ll be disappointed with the selection. It is very, very small.”

He followed her towards the back of the store where their single shelf of poetry books was mixed in with the numerous biography and non-fiction books.

“It’s very little,” he agreed. “But I definitely think I can find something new here. Thank you Ms...”

“Oh, just call me (Y/N).”

“Thank you, (Y/N). My name is Johnny.”

~~~~~~

(Y/N) tried to remain calm as she returned to her book, but her mind kept drifting to the man who was just a few feet away, thumbing through the poetry books. She didn’t want to disturb him while he was just trying to have some time alone, but she knew no one would believe her if she told them he had been there. She wanted to try and sneak a picture of him or something, but at the same time she didn’t want to invade on his privacy.

Johnny was around for a little more than an hour, which shocked (Y/N). There weren’t that many poetry books for him to look through, and she was desperately hoping he wasn’t just reading them while he was there and not buying them. As much as she was starstruck by the presence of an actual celebrity in her bookstore, she was also a business woman and she couldn’t afford to let people just sit around and read and not buy anything.

She had finally gotten sucked back into her book when a voice asked, “Interesting read?”

(Y/N) jumped and looked up to see Johnny stood in front of the counter, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Sorry,” she said, bookmarking and closing the book.

“Don’t be sorry for reading,” Johnny said. “Seems you have plenty of down time to get through some books.”

“Oh definitely. I think I’ve read nearly every book in here. We get new shipments every other week so I never run out of material, luckily.”

“I’m surprised to see it so empty.”

(Y/N) let out a dry chuckle. “You shouldn’t be. Not a lot of people are rushing to bookstores these days. For one, the usual complaints about digital books being the preferred reading method. I understand the desire to have all the books one could ever want on a device that you can carry around in your purse, but I prefer the physical copies. There’s not much better than that new book smell.”

Johnny nodded along with her rant in silence. (Y/N) barley noticed that she was rambling on. She rarely had anyone to talk to inside the bookstore.

“Also, small town bookstore is as cliched as you would think,” she continued. “Not much business. People aren’t rushing here when they’re bored like they will to the theatre or go for a drive. I don’t see many people here in the run of a day.”

“How do you stay in business?”

“My family owns the place. Mom and dad have money put away if need be, and we make enough to get by at the very least.” She paused, her gaze drifting to the books Johnny was holding. “I’m rambling and you’re trying to go.”

Johnny chuckled. “No, trust me you are more than alright. I don’t have anywhere to be.”

“Your bodyguards won’t get too worried if you’re gone for too long?”

She avoided his gaze as she began scanning in his books. She wasn’t sure if that was something she should’ve said, but she couldn’t take it back now.

“Ah, so you do know who I am,” Johnny finally said.

When (Y/N) looked up, she couldn’t see any bad emotions on his face. He still had a hint of a smile.

“Of course I do. I don’t live under a rock,” she said in a light tone. “I’m flattered that you’d choose my little bookstore to come shop in.”

“I like to buy new poetry books whenever I’m supposed to be filming for a long time,” he explained. “Your shop drew my attention. It looked very homey, and now knowing that this is a family owned establishment I understand why it has that feeling.”

(Y/N) smiled and started to bag his books. She didn’t want him to leave just yet. Not just because she was starstruck by the celebrity in her store, but also because he just seemed very down to Earth and nice to talk to. She didn’t want this to end and to be left alone just yet.

Unfortunately, Johnny was taking his debit card from his wallet, meaning their interaction was coming to an end.

When it was paid for, she reluctantly passed him his bag and smiled. “Thank you for stopping by.”

“Thank you for your help.”

She watched him go, pausing at the door to smile and wave at her before disappearing into her small town, likely to never see her again. Once he was gone, (Y/N) let out a sigh and leaned against the counter. It had been such a short conversation, but now with his voice gone the store sounded a lot quieter, and the next few hours of her shift on her own seemed incredibly daunting.

She tried to get back into reading her book, but the silence was deafening. Eventually, she closed her book again and went to the back office to get the Bluetooth speaker that was there in order to play some music while she waited out the rest of the day.

~~~~~~

The next day, (Y/N) was receiving the weekly stock shipment when the door bell chimed to signal someone coming in. She looked over the delivery man’s shoulder to tell the new customer she’d be with them in a second, but stopped as she recognized the familiar face from the day before.

Johnny smiled at her and nodded towards the nearby stacks, mouthing, “Whenever you’re ready” before disappearing between them.

“Everything alright, (Y/N)?” the delivery man asked, looking over his shoulder just in time as Johnny hid between the stacks.

“Uh, yeah,” she said. “Sorry, someone came in then went back out I guess. Here, let me help you put the shipment out back.”

She didn’t want to seem like she was trying to rush the interaction, especially since this was the most socialization either of them got in the run of a day, but (Y/N) really wanted to go speak with Johnny again. She had spend the entire night thinking about their interaction from the day before. She kept thinking about messaging someone, anyone, and telling them that she had met and sold books to Johnny Depp himself, but she knew no one would believe her. That, and she didn’t want to give away Johnny’s privacy. There hadn’t been any announcements of a movie being filmed in their small town, so she figured no one knew that he was there besides her.

When the final box was placed in the back room, (Y/N) made some friendly small talk with the delivery man before he left to continue his route to other stores. The minute he was out the door and in his truck, away from the windows and unable to see inside, she quickly rushed to where Johnny had gone.

She found him leaning against one of the stacks, a book in his hand and his eyes slowly scanning the pages.

“Welcome back,” she said to him. “Did you read all your poetry books that quickly?”

He closed the book in his hand and smiled at her. “I did not, however I am now considering buying this book as well. You took so long that I nearly got halfway through it.”

“Listen, that’s what you get for coming on stock day. You’re lucky I managed to get Hank out of here as quickly as I did. He usually sticks around for hours just talking until he gets in trouble or I have a customer come in.”

Johnny made a thoughtful face. “Seems he likes your company.”

“I like his, too. Most of the other store owners don’t talk to him the way I do, and I don’t normally get a lot of people who come in and stick around for a long time. We tend to be each other’s company once a week.”

Silence fell between them besides the soft sounds of music playing from the Bluetooth speaker set up on the front counter.

“You’ve added music here,” Johnny observed.

“Yeah. I found it was too quiet yesterday so I dug out that old speaker. I didn’t think it would even work. It’s just been hidden away in my desk in the office for at least a year.”

“It’s nice. It really sets the tone of the atmosphere.”

“The homey atmosphere?”

Johnny chuckled and nodded. “Exactly.”

More silence. A slow song was playing. (Y/N) found her mind wandering, imagining Johnny asking her to slow dance between the stacks of her empty bookstore. The two of them hiding away in this one section, sharing secret stories and stolen moments where no one else could see them.

She imagined him leaning in close to her, their lips just nearly touching, the feeling of his warm breath on her face...

She quickly shook her head to get rid of these thoughts. Where had they come from? There was no way she could be feeling those things yet. She had only personally met Johnny the day before. They had only had one short conversation the day before. It lasted a total of maybe ten minutes, and then he left. There was absolutely no way she was feeling anything for this man.

Right?

“So, what brings you back here if it isn’t for more poetry books?” she finally asked.

“Well, this may seem forward, but I wanted to ask if you would like to go get coffee with me while I’m filming in town.”

The question took (Y/N) by surprise. When she didn’t respond, Johnny continued.

“I enjoyed our conversation yesterday, even if it was short. You seem very nice, and you didn’t treat me any differently despite knowing who I am. I can’t explain it, but I just sense something very...good from you, if that makes any sense. I figure, if you wanted to go out sometime, you would know the best places in town to go. Somewhere a little more private and intimate than I’m used to. If this is overstepping any boundaries, though, please tell me. I know we barely know each other, so I have no idea if you’re already seeing someone or not.” He paused and let out a laugh. “Sorry, now I’m the one rambling.”

“It’s nice to be on the receiving end of it,” (Y/N) joked. “But, to answer both of your questions: no I am not seeing anyone, and yes I would very much like to get coffee with you.”

The smile on Johnny’s face could be equated to a kid on Christmas morning. (Y/N) couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“Okay, that’s...that’s great. When would work best for you?”

(Y/N) thought for a moment before responding, “On Sunday’s we usually don’t open the store till a little later in the day. We could go out that morning, if that works for you.”

“That sounds great. Here - ” He took his phone from his pocket and passed it to her. “ - you can put your number in my phone and I’ll send you a message so you have mine, then you can send me the details when you’re finished working today.”

(Y/N) added her name and number to his phone before passing it back to him. She wanted to make a joke about him being very brave to give a random woman he just met his phone number, but she didn’t want to ruin things between them before they even got started.

Once she gave him back his phone, they heard the door to the store open again.

“The one day people are actually coming,” (Y/N) muttered to herself.

“That’s alright. I probably shouldn’t take you away from your job for too long. I’ll talk to you later.”

(Y/N) almost hoped he would kiss her cheek or something, and tried not to be too disappointed when he didn’t. Be realistic, (Y/N), you just met him. This isn’t a rom-com.

She went to talk to the new customers as Johnny slipped through the door without being noticed. Once the customers had gotten what they were looking for and left, she quickly checked her phone to see if she had any new messages.

Hello, it’s Johnny. I’m hoping this is the right number. I realized I didn’t buy that book I was reading while I waited for you. Is there any way you could hold that for me until I can come again? I was very invested in what I was reading.

(Y/N) giggled to herself and went to find the book in question. She sent a message back to Johnny saying, This is the right number. I have the book behind the counter. Just know I have a strict 24 hour hold policy, so you’ll have to come get it by this time tomorrow.

Moments later, another message came in.

Well, I’ll have to come by first thing when you open tomorrow morning then.

(Y/N)’s heart fluttered as the speaker began to play a slow ballad.

#johnny depp #johnny depp imagine #johnny depp x reader #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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skzhocomments · 5 months

Text

Mafia Book #2 - PART I - The Black Iris - Chapter 3 - Tight-lipped

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

General masterlist

Wattpad | AO3

Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 (coming soon)

---

PART I - THE BLACK IRIS

Chapter 3 - Tight-lipped

chapter word count: 3.3k words

~third person POV~

The next morning, Iris opened her eyes to the unfamiliar room, hearing faint sounds coming from downstairs. Minho was still sleeping soundly next to her, so she took a bit of time to admire his features in the daylight. His skin was soft, his nose had a small mole, and his eyes looked tired, even if closed. He had bags under his eyes that made her wonder when was the last time he had a good night sleep and actually rested.

Iris knew Minho must've had a lot on his shoulders. After all, he confirmed so himself last night when he briefly mentioned he was the next in line should anything happen to Chris. Despite all the heavy weights, he also carried a heavy burden on his soul, and she was determined to find out what exactly happened, to help him out a bit. Maybe doing so would end up helping her in return, and she would finally be able to accept why what happened to her... happened.

Her fingertips slowly traced Minho's cheek, and he opened his eyes softly.

"Good morning." Iris spoke quietly, not wanting to disturb him in this post-sleep vulnerable state.

"Hey. Did you sleep well?"

"I did... what about you?"

"I feel so well rested. It's weird." He chuckled lazily. "What time is it?"

"Hmm. I'm not sure. I threw my phone in the river last night."

"You aren't one to care for material possessions, are you?" Minho turned his head on the pillow to look at her better. "Although you do have that slutty pair of heels."

"Do you like high heels, Minho?"

"Mhm. If you're wearing them."

"You're such a flirt." She chuckled, then sat up and stretched her arms. "I hear people downstairs."

"Should we go introduce you to everyone else?" He sat up as well and scratched his nape, not knowing how introductions should go like. What would he even tell the others? Should they keep up with the therapist scenario, or should he call her his lover?

"I'd like that." Iris stood up and grabbed her clothes from yesterday, taking them with her to the bathroom attached to the room. A few minutes later, she came out all freshened up.

"I'll go take a quick shower, then change, too. You can wait for me."

"Sure." Iris smiled, but as soon as she heard the shower running, she opened the door and headed downstairs, towards the lively room. It's not that she didn't want to wait for Minho, or that she was impatient. It's just that... she wanted her own chance to meet the others without his influence.

She quickly found that everyone was in the kitchen, where a large, long table stood proudly with a few men and a woman around it. Chris was nowhere to be seen, but thanks to her immaculate memory, Iris was able to recognise everyone, knowing their names and the little bit of info Minho told her yesterday night when she looked at the picture.

"Yes, and that's why I think that chicken is truly one of the most important- good morning?" A blonde man – Felix – looked bewildered at the girl dressed in black sports attire that just came into the room.

"Hello Felix." Iris smiled and walked in the room confidently, going straight to the table and sitting down as if she's always had her breakfast with these people and that was her spot.

"Do I know you...?" He tilted his head, while everyone watched with the same shocked expression.

"Who are you?" The only girl still in this mafia – Momo – asked directly.

"Iris. It's nice to meet you all."

"What are you doing here...?" Another man – Han – asked hesitantly.

"I'm... a new addition to your team, I suppose." Iris smiled brightly, trying not to feel intimidated by the weird atmosphere. Not having an ally on her side was difficult, but she did it to herself when she decided to not listen to Minho and head here on her own, and you reap what you sow, after all.

"... what?" The artistic guy, Hyunjin, asked after a few seconds of silence.

"You heard her." A stern, familiar voice came from behind Iris, and she didn't have to turn around to know who it was. "Minho brought her last night, and from now on, she's going to be our therapist. Feel free to talk to her if you need anything." Chris explained, then went and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge.

"A therapist...?" Momo asked, almost amused, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.

"No way." Changbin shook his head in disbelief. Still, she was right there, and Chris wasn't the type to lie about this kind of stuff.

"Is that your breakfast?" Iris asked suddenly, noticing Chris' water bottle. "Eat something consistent, will you?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Should I cook for you? Would you eat then?" She tilted her head and looked at Chris as if he were a child, which infuriated him. It was easy for her to get under his skin, which confused him to no end. Why did he allow her to join them so easily, and why was he so affected by her words?

"I don't need you to." He spoke, then went back to the fridge and got a few ingredients to make a sandwich.

"No way..." Han mumbled, more shocked than before, seeing that Chris actually listened to someone and ate something.

"There you were." Minho came into the kitchen, little annoyance on his face that Iris decided to ignore.

"Minho, what is this?" Momo asked, making him turn his gaze from Iris to her. "How could you bring someone new without consulting us?"

"There were some... unexpected circumstances." Minho shrugged.

"Very explicit." Hyunjin joked.

"Yeah." Minho just nodded, then went to Iris and asked if she wanted anything to eat. The fact that Minho was willingly cooking breakfast for someone – even worse, a girl, so early in the morning while she sat around doing nothing but watching him with a dumb smile on her face was once again baffling to everyone else present around the table.

Minho served Iris breakfast and watched her eat, occasionally asking her to give him a bite of her food.

"Why didn't you cook some for yourself if you were hungry?" She asked him amused, but he ignored the question and just pointed to things on her plate, opening his mouth and asking her to feed him.

She, of course, complied to his requests, for his eyes were too sparkly and bright, and seeing his small triumphant smile was worth losing some of the good food he cooked.

"So, now that you've met almost everyone, what do you think?" Minho asked curiously while they leisurely walked in the garden. Iris was glad she decided to wear sneakers last night instead of her heels, otherwise she would've just about died today.

"It's a mess." She chuckled. "Everyone is so gloomy and cautious."

"It's not as bad anymore, since Felix got better, but..."

"What happened to him?"

"It's a long story."

"Don't we have all the time in the world, though?"

Minho sighed. What was it about Iris that made him want to share everything with her?

"Those girls you saw in the picture... Emilia and Hyo. I told you we all made a lot of mistakes two years ago, resulting in their deaths."

"Yes. You told me Hyo betrayed you."

"She shot Felix two times and told everyone it was Shade – I mean Emilia, that was her alias. And as the gullible idiots we were... we all believed her, and actively hunted Shade down. I don't know why we've been so blind. We never got over that, especially the few of us who were directly involved."

"You and Chris."

"... and Jeongin."

"I see..." Iris nodded. "Is that the greenhouse?" She pointed to the beautiful glass building hidden between trees in the garden.

"Yes. Do you like it?"

"It's really beautiful."

"Unfortunately, I can't take you in. Hyunjin has to be the one to bring you there, if... he ends up trusting you. I can't tell him to-"

"Trust is hard to build and impossible to impose, so don't worry."

"You're so wise." Minho chuckled. "Should we go shopping today?"

"Shopping? What for?"

"Clothes for you."

"Oh, we could just drop by my apartment and pack some essentials from there. I have lots."

"Hmm, okay. Let's do that later, then."

"Wow, you have a lot of stuff." Minho remarked as he patiently watched Iris pack a big suitcase. Mounds of clothes and shoe boxes were scattered on and around her bed as she picked the items she liked the most.

"Yea, told you there's no need to go shopping. I love fashion, so I collect a lot of clothes."

"How much money did you spend on all this stuff?" Minho chuckled, noting that her shoe collection alone must've been in the tens of thousands of dollars.

"All my paychecks." She shrugged. "I had a good salary, worked my ass off for it."

"And you decided to drop everything... why?"

She hesitated to reply.

"I'm honestly a bit shocked you decided to move in with us." Minho continued prying, but Iris was unwavering.

"I left this life behind, didn't I?" She said after a few seconds of thinking, glancing around her apartment. It felt much like she was going on a trip, not that she was going to have her life change completely and join a Mafia for a man she just met, whom she's spoken to 3 times.

The alternative was being dead, though, and it felt like choosing between two wrongs, but which would be the lesser evil?

Iris was almost done packing when a loud knock startled both her and Minho. She cautiously approached the door and looked through the peephole, but she couldn't see anyone.

"Who is it?" Minho asked from the bedroom, as he didn't bother standing up from the chair.

"No idea, probably just some kids who are playing around-" Iris started, but before she finished the sentence, the door swung open.

"Iris? What was that?" Minho stood up alarmed and reached for his pistol, but he wasn't able to see anything, as a smoke bomb had been diffused. Feeling himself grow dizzy and hearing no reply from Iris whatsoever, Minho cursed in his head, before falling to the ground and losing consciousness.

~Minho's POV~

Opening up my eyes slowly, I felt an impending headache overcoming my senses. I groaned in pain and tried to take in my surroundings. It was difficult to move, as I was tied tightly to a chair, and glancing to my left, Iris seemed to be, too.

Fuck.

"You awake?" She whispered, her eyes unreadable. If she was afraid, I couldn't tell. I nodded shortly.

"Who was it?" I asked her, and she just shrugged.

"I don't know. There's two men, and they wear masks."

"Cowards." I spat out.

"What will we do?" She asked, still collected, and I admired her for being able to keep calm under these circumstances. I doubt this was a usual occurrence for her. To me, this was nothing new; we've sometimes been kidnapped by our enemies, so I knew what to expect. But for her to be so composed? She was indeed an interesting woman, and she kept surprising me.

"I'll talk to them and try to get you out of here, hm?" I nodded, trying to reassure her. Truth is, I was probably more nervous for her well-being than she was.

She opened her mouth to say something, but before she got the chance to, the door opened, revealing the two men she just told me about.

They didn't wear any masks, but nothing about their appearance rang any bells, so I couldn't understand why they did this.

"Seems like they're finally awake." One of the men spoke.

"We thought you were sleeping beauties for a second there." The other mocked, and they shared a brief laugh before turning to us.

"Who the fuck are you?" I asked, my face stoic.

"Come on, Lee Know, let us talk a bit before you start, goddammit!"

"Calm down, brother. We were expecting him to ask questions, don't lose your cool." One of the men petted the angry one on the shoulder, and I chuckled slightly.

"You're right. I'm sorry, bro."

"Losers." I mumbled under my breath, and they both turned their attention to me. "So, why am I wasting my time here?" I then asked, unbothered by the circumstances. We were clearly at a disadvantage, with both of us tied up, and I knew I had to protect Iris somehow, so the best course of action would be to divert their attention from her, find out what they want and give them information in exchange for her safety.

"You're the leader of SKZ gun trade, aren't you?"

"Indeed." I nodded. "May I help you with some weapons?"

"Help us? Tsk." One of the men spat.

"Then some intel?" I smirked.

"He knows how this works." The other man whispered, almost in an admiring way. I tried to suppress my chuckle this time. These dudes were amateurs, and they were lucky they caught me off guard.

"We want you to give us your dealer's contact."

"My dealer's contact? Did you tie me up for something so trivial?" I asked, this time annoyed.

"Not just the contact, obviously! We want in, and the only way to do so is to take you down, so you better tell us everything we want to know." One of the men replied.

"Besides, we tried to partner up at first. We tried meeting you officially, but you didn't-"

"I didn't meet with you, so you decided to take me and this random girl and strap us to these chairs? Let her go at once, then we'll talk."

"We just thought she'd be collateral damage-"

"Did you not hear me?" I insisted, calmly. "Let her go, or there won't be any talking going on between us."

This was so stupid. It must've been the most pathetic reason someone wanted to kidnap me. To talk.

"Bro, maybe she knows something as well, since she was with him!"

"Yes. Let's talk to her instead!"

Tsk.

They went in front of Iris, who was still sporting the same resting bitch face, completely unimpressed by these two men, who were frankly pretty pathetic.

"Hello, pretty." The first man smiled, the tone of his voice sounding like he was talking to a 5-year-old, not to an adult woman. "Do you happen to know anything about this man?" He pointed to me.

Iris turned her head in my direction and looked at me from head to toe, as if she was seeing me for the first time. Then, she turned back to the guy and shook her head.

"You were with him, though."

"You see, he's my tinder date, but... he was just supposed to be a one-night stand, so I don't even know his name." She then turned to me again. "Is this supposed to be some kind of dumb role play fantasy of yours? If so, you all should know this is NOT consensual."

"You really don't know anything about the gun trades?"

"Gun trades? Is that code for something? Like a safe word?" She tilted her head.

Iris was good at playing dumb. Hopefully she was convincing enough for these bastards to let her go.

"What should we do?" Dumb and dumber started whispering again, this time slightly out of earshot, so I wasn't able to hear much.

"You really don't know anything?" He asked her again, an eyebrow raised, and she shook her head.

"I told you, asshole, I don't-" Before she got the chance to finish, his right palm collided with her cheek. He must've put a lot of force into that slap, for her whole face turned towards me, pure shock in her expression.

"You fucking-" I started cursing, before he grabbed Iris' hair and forced her to look at him. "Yah, let her go!"

"Missy, this is your chance to tell us what you know about his trades. If you don't tell us anything, you'll be a good example for your friend here of what happens when you don't talk."

Iris didn't say anything. She just looked at the guy while the other took out a needle out of his pocket.

"She's a tough egg." The first man let go of her hair.

"Won't be for long." The other one replied with a shrug, approaching her.

"Yah, I told you we'll talk if you let her go, and what do you do?" I asked, annoyed, but the men ignored me. Iris stood silent.

"So, missy, what do you know about this man here?" He pointed to me.

She still didn't say anything.

"Okay... if you won't talk, then I guess we'll have to follow through with our plan." He shrugged. "I'll ask again, what do you know about this man?"

She remained silent, which annoyed the man with the needle, who instantly stuck it in her thigh.

Iris bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes shut, probably to try and focus on something else but the pain. The man took the needle out and stuck it in her other thigh.

"I told you... I don't know anything about him." She said, trying to control herself, despite the pain she was in.

"Tell us his real name."

"I don't know it."

He stuck the needle again, three times, this time in her arm.

"Where does he live?"

She shook her head, the needle piercing her skin again.

"Who does he live with?"

When she failed to respond once again, the guy took the needle and inserted it in her index finger, under the fingernail. If she was able to suppress the pain until now, this one took her over the edge, and she screamed loudly.

"Dude, she already said she doesn't know me, what the fuck is wrong with you?" I was feeling powerless. How could these two idiots do this to her, in front of me, no less?

"Bro, she doesn't seem to have any idea about what's happening." Dumb whispered to dumber, loud enough for us to hear. "She would've said something by now..."

"Yea, I've been trying to tell you for a while...I don't know him, or anything about him or the so-called gun trades!" She whined.

"Let's see if this gets her talking." The taller man took out a gun for his back pocket and pointed it to her forehead.

"Answer just one of those questions, and you'll live." He smirked evilly. "His name, his address, the name of his buddies – anything you might know, and we'll let you go."

"I'll tell you!" I screamed at them, wanting to divert their attention, but they were set on Iris.

"I don't know anything." Iris replied as calmly as she could under these circumstances.

"Fine. Don't tell me I haven't warned you." The man put his finger on the trigger, looking straight into Iris' eyes.

"Wait!" I shouted, and got ignored once again, for the man was deadly set on punishing Iris for not speaking up. "Don't!" I tried again, the tension in the room and my anxiety almost palpable. How the fuck did we get here? Why her?

Why?!

"Last chance." The man smirked evilly, but Iris remained unbreakable.

Why is she going to such lengths to stay loyal to me?! Even if she promised to follow me no matter what, she should fucking put her life first, and tell them everything they want to know that she knows of!

"Man, just tell me exactly what you want, and we'll make it happen. I give you my word. Just let her go now!" I tried pleading, talking some sense into the man, but he wouldn't listen.

The restraints on the chair were too tight, it was impossible to get out of these ropes, and I was really hopeless. The only thing I could do was watch the man rob me of the only woman who ever made me feel something – even if we haven't known each other long.

I wanted to close my eyes, to not watch the inevitable. This certainly never happened before. I killed and saw people get killed so many times, it felt as natural as breathing.

Just... not her. I couldn't. I didn't want to see her get killed because she got involved with me.

I saved her from taking her own life – for what?!

FUCK!

"If you won't say anything more, I guess it can't be helped." The man shrugged, and not even a second after, he pulled the trigger.

---

Chapter 2 | Chapter 4

18 notes · View notes

nctsjiho · 2 years

Text

I'm Her Family

cw: ig it's angsty? || era: May 2022, during 127's Japan tour

❀ Some unwelcomed guests suddenly show up. Yuta decides to go confront them

“Oh! Yutaaa!” Mark’s excited voice boomed through the hallway of the hotel on the floor they were staying. Luckily the whole floor was occupied by staff and members and it was still midday, so Mark’s overflowing excitement—along with the volume of his voice—wouldn’t disturb any innocent vacation-goers.

What was less lucky was that with his excitement Mark failed to notice how distracted and gloomy the Japanese looked. The familiar call of his name, though, caught Yuta’s attention and he made eye contact with the younger man. “Mark.” He sounded almost relieved. “Have you seen JiHo?”

Mark’s expression painted with confusion as he looked around the hallway; as if he was looking for said girl. “No,” he said. “But I’m pretty sure she is in her room. Heard something about the manager going to check her injured hand,” he explained, still sounding very confused. “Why?”

“Nothing.” Yuta sighed in something akin to relief before patting the younger one’s shoulder. “Thanks! And if you see JiHo, don’t mention that I asked for her. Okay?”

Before Mark could even answer, Yuta ran off in the same direction he came from. Towards the elevator, heading to the lobby of the hotel.

Yuta pulled his cap a bit lower on his head, covering his eyes. He quickly scanned the room to see if there was anyone unwanted there, before heading towards one of the group’s staff who was joined by two other people.

“What are you doing here?” Yuta asked lowely. All three people turned to the idol, shocked faces now staring at him. “How did you know we were here?”

“Yuta. That’s your name right?” The man asked in broken Japanese and extended his hand for the idol to grab, but Yuta didn’t reciprocate. With an awkward laugh the tall stocky man retrieved his hand. “Very nice to—”

The small Asian woman next to the man scoffed, slapping away the man’s hand as he tried to reach out for a handshake with Yuta again. “Don’t!” she scolded the man then turned to look at the staff again. “I’m asking you if I can speak to her—”

“No you can’t,” Yuta interrupted sternly. The atmosphere grew more tense as the small but beautiful woman glared at him. She wasn’t able to speak when Yuta spoke first. “Let’s move this to a private room.”

Reluctantly every party agreed to Yuta’s proposal and they headed towards a small meeting room near the back of the first floor of the hotel.

“Tell your manager or whoever this man is that I need to speak to Honami.” The lady’s demanding voice echoed through the room.

Yuta chuckled. An almost evil looking smirk played on his lips as he shook his head in disagreement. “Honami,” he sighed, almost as if he was trying to get a feel for the name. “You come here, trying to stir up a ruckus, to see a girl who hasn’t used that name even once in her life?” he chuckled bitterly. “JiHo doesn’t want to see you. She never has and she never will—”

The woman stood up and pushed her chair back. “This isn’t any of your concern. I— My husband and I deserve to see our daughter!”

Behind the woman, the tall man reached out for his wife to pull her back down on her chair. She did sit down, although reluctantly and started to translate to him in a mixture of English and simple Japanese what Yuta had told her.

It was troubling what Yuta was doing. As he looked at the couple, it reminded him so much of JiHo’s actual parents—the ones that actually took care of JiHo. The man in front of him really did look like his brother, the man that JiHo calls her father. The woman reminded him of JiHo a lot. She had the same eyes that held a similar look of determination, but this woman’s determination wasn’t welcomed by anyone.

“I don’t know how you found us, but please believe me when I tell you JiHo does not want to see you.” Yuta sounded a lot more calm now as the soft squeeze of his shoulder by the staff member helped him calm down.

“I’m the one that birthed that girl 20 years ago—”

With a slam of his hands on the table Yuta stood up tall, towering even over the large man in front of him. “JiHo is 21! Turning 22 this year! You decided to abandon her! You never contacted her and even cut off contact with your own brother,” he yelled that last part to the man, who couldn’t even fully understand him. “In 21 years, JiHo never expressed the need to contact you”—his voice lowered an octave—”JiHo doesn’t want to see you.”

“She’s my daughter! We’re her family—”

“NO! I’M HER FAMILY!” Yuta’s face coloured a deep shade of red as he yelled at the woman. One hot tear rolled over his cheek and as it fell on his hand it felt like it was burning his skin. Yuta, however, stood unwavering as he sent daggering glares at the two people. “Now leave before I call security.”

“Honami—”

“Her name is JiHo.”

“Honami wants to see us,” the woman leaned over the table in a similar fashion as Yuta. She stared up into his eyes—since she was still a lot shorter—and gave him a menacing smirk. “You think you know her so well?” Despite the threat Yuta stood his ground. “My husband’s brother and his wife didn’t go to see her for years. Do you really think a child is strong enough to endure all those years without her family?”

“She had us,” Yuta whispered, trying to contain his emotions.

“Then what do you think this is?” The woman reached out to her purse and pulled out 5 envelopes which she presented to him. A moment passed. And then another moment, before Yuta reached out and looked down at the letter. He turned one around and noticed the unmistakable handwriting of his group’s female member. “She spent almost 8 years without a family. She couldn’t resist the temptation so she reached out to us. Her actual family. And now we’re here.”

Whilst the woman spoke, Yuta had taken one of the letters out of its envelope. His eyes scanned the letter, not really sure whether to read it or not, since he didn’t want to violate JiHo’s privacy. But he noticed two things. The first being how much she wrote. The letter he was holding was only one piece of paper, but it was well filled. However some of the other letters seemed a lot thicker. The second thing he noticed was the date written on the letter. 2019.

Yuta scoffed, putting the letter back in its envelope and then clutching all of them to his side. “If you wanted to be there for her, why did you wait 3 years, maybe even more to come see her? What is it that you want from her?”

“I admit,” the woman said softly. “I waited a long time. We had given her up because we weren’t ready for children. She was a mistake, but now, after all these years we are ready to have a family. We were ready, but didn’t know if Honami wanted us. But clearly”—she pointed at the letters—”she did want us. And we’re here to talk to her now.”

“If you really cared about her, you wouldn’t have let a suffering child continue to suffer. You knew! You knew she needed her family but you ignored her. You waited until it was convenient for you. If you really wanted to own up to what you did, if you realised what you did was wrong and you wanted to make things better, for her sake and not for your own selfishness, you wouldn’t be calling JiHo a mistake.”

Yuta turned and pulled the staff member with him to leave the room.

“Tell Honami we want to see her!”

With the door closing behind Yuta and the staff, the voice of JiHo’s biological mother silenced. Yuta let out a deep sigh before looking down at the envelopes again. “Do you think those were the only ones she wrote?” the staff asked to which Yuta relecutantly shook his head from side to side.

“I’m not sure actually, but I hope these were the only ones.” Yuta pocketed the envelopes, not sure if he was going to present them to JiHo or not. At least not now. For the time being, he wanted JiHo to be able to focus on their concerts. “Let’s go back and… don’t tell JiHo about this.”

The staff sighed as he looked at the taller idol. “She deserves to know,” he told Yuta who pressed his eyes closed and rested his head against the wall inside the elevator on their way back up.

“She does… Just not right now.”

---

masterlists: main masterlist || jiho.writings masterlist

#jiho.writings #nct 24th member #nct addition #nct female member #nct imagines #yuta imagines #nct additional member #nct extra member #nct female addition #nct additions #nct added member #nct angst #nct yuta imagines #nct 127 imagines #yuta angst #kpop!addition #kpop!oc

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lillywillow · 1 year

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I Like You A Latte

Summary: Bruce never had the courage to talk to the cute girl at the café until fortune intervenes

Written for: @avengersbingo

Words: 939

Square Filled: Meet Cute

Pairing: Bruce Banner x Female Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Bruce had been coming to the café for a while now. It had a calming atmosphere and they made excellent calming drinks. On cold days, he could warm up with a blended tea of lavender and chamomile. On hotter days, they had a range of calming smoothie blends. The staff there were nice too. Recently though, he noticed a woman come in, order her coffee and sit down to start working on her laptop. She always sat at the same table (when she could), had the same routine. Bruce wondered what kind of work she was in… an author perhaps? Maybe a journalist on a deadline? Or someone working on a degree? Would it disturb her if he went to talk to her? The last thing he wanted was to be a bother. For now, Bruce would be content admiring her from afar.

…

One warm, summer afternoon, Bruce had just received his usual smoothie. He moved in a little closer to your table. Bruce thought to himself that today would be the day he would finally work up the courage to talk to you. As he approached you, he failed to notice the person behind him with a large bag. That person swung the heavy bag over their shoulder, hitting Bruce in the back and knocking him into you, his drink going all over you. Bruce was mortified as you stared at him in shock. He also felt angry at the person who pushed him and upset that he may have just had his chances dashed. The person barely uttered a gruff “sorry” as they walked out the door. Now it was Bruce’s turn to apologies.

“I’m so sorry! I was pushed and now I’ve got my drink all over you, and… and…”

Now Bruce was trying to fight to keep his heartrate from spiking.

While you were annoyed that you had just been doused in cold, sticky smoothie, you could tell this guy was genuinely apologetic, unlike the person you could tell had caused the chain reaction. You had seen this man come in a few times since you started coming here. He would mainly sit on his own and enjoy his drink. You thought he was pretty cute.

“Don’t worry about it,” you sighed.

“Please, allow me to buy to a coffee and a treat to apologise…”

You tried to protest but he was insistent.

Soon, you had a fresh coffee and a treat as he got himself a new drink. You thanked him as came back with some napkins to help you clean up.

“Again, I’m really sorry. I’m Bruce, by the way…”

You introduced yourself and informed him once again, he didn’t have to worry about it. You could tell he still felt guilty about it. Placing your hand on his, you offered him a kind smile which made him blush.

“Look, accidents happen. I’d like to give that guy with the bag a piece of my mind but I don’t hold it against you,” you assured Bruce which made him smile.

There were a few moments of awkward silence while you both decided on what to say.

“I, um… I often see you come in here with your laptop… are you working on something?” Bruce shyly asked, mentally chiding himself on how intrusive that may have sounded.

“Actually, I’m a historian doing research on women in science. When I have enough information, I may write a book about them…”

“I hope I’m not disturbing you…”

“I could do with a break… at the moment I’m trying to find out more on Clara Immerwahr but I’m starting to run dry,” you explained.

“Tell me more about her,” Bruce requested.

You told him all about the German born chemist and wife of fellow chemist Fritz Harber and her tragic fate. Bruce listened with fascination at your every word and asked about the other women you had researched. He couldn’t help but smile at the way your face lit up with each historical woman you spoke about. Before you knew it, an hour had passed.

“I’m sorry, I just realised I never asked about you… what’s your story?” you asked.

“Well… um… I’m a scientist and I… sometimes find it very stressful working with the people I live with…” he explained.

Bruce told you about himself without giving away too much detail. Soon, you were chatting the afternoon away, about your various interests and favourite things. Bruce hadn’t meant to stay so long but he was really enjoying your company and you enjoyed his. The pair of you talked for so long that you were still there at closing time.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Bruce asked hopefully.

“Of course. Same place?” you replied.

He beamed and nodded. Bruce knew that eventually he would have to tell you the full truth but for now, he was content just officially meeting you (although he wished the circumstances were better). From now on, Bruce would look forward to his visits to the café. Perhaps one day, he would eventually ask you out on a proper date but for now, he was just happy talking to such a wonderful woman like you.

You were also happy to finally get to talk to such a nice sweet guy like Bruce. Sure, your first meeting wasn’t the best but who knows? It could one day be a funny anecdote to be told at your wedding…

#avengersbingo #Bruce Banner #bruce banner x reader #I Like You a Latte #cafe #meet cute #marvel #marvel fic #marvel one shot

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peleda-dainius · 3 months

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I've been mulling something over and I feel like sharing it, so here we go. Heads up: It's going to be long and it's going to involve the movie Poor Things, and there will be some discussion of sexual assault later on.

The phrase "art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable" gets tossed around a lot online from what I've seen. However, it seems that this has become shorthand for "if something makes you feel disturbed or disgusted, it must be good art". This has become a linchpin in pretty much every argument I've seen about how to interpret Poor Things.

I take issue with this. Yes, an artist can use their medium to illicit a feeling of disgust or disturbance in their audience to get a point across about the scenario they're presenting. Making someone complicit in the disgust of a disgusting situation that they otherwise may never experience or think about in their lives can be a very powerful way to communicate with an audience. It can also be a powerful way to reframe situations that the audience might not have previously been bothered by because they never saw a reason to be. However, not all disturbing media is inherently deep or meaningful just because because it invokes "negative" feelings.

It seems like people are forgetting that things like erotica/pornography and slasher films exist. I know some will bristle at the notion of including literal porn in this conversation, but bear with me. Sometimes the purpose of "gross" media is literally to experience and engage with a feeling, not go spelunking into social philosophy. Many people enjoy slasher films because they enjoy the rush of disgust and shock. It can be fun if you're the kind of person who enjoys that. Same thing with erotica and porn. Many people enjoy that because at the time they're viewing it they want to engage with feelings of arousal, romance, and/or intrigue. These are also completely valid reasons to consume media. There's nothing wrong with it. But the fact that you feel a feeling doesn't actually mean that some deep philosophical lesson has been imparted. Sometimes feelings are just feelings.

In my personal opinion, the "disturbing" content in Poor Things was gratuitous and ineffective. Using the initial premise of a baby's brain inside an adult woman's body and then having nearly all of the resulting person's entire character arc revolve around some bizarre interpretation of sexual liberation was tactless and out of touch. I have seen some people try to justify that this was actually the point of the movie: the way that a morally deranged and misogynistic society sexualizes immature young women and girls, or the way that women in general are infantilized and their struggle to gain sexual agency. However, I personally do not think that this was effectively conveyed if that was the goal. I also do not think that was the goal.

Lead actress Emma Stone describes the movie as a "romantic comedy". When asked about the sexual nature of the character she plays, Stone says:

"Because she’s so free, because she lacks that shame about anything—eating, drinking, the way she’s taking in the world, her relationships to other people, her environment, sexuality—for me it was a really freeing experience. As a woman in the world as we know it, and as an American woman also, it was a really freeing thing to think if I didn’t have judgment around my body or around my sexuality. That’s one of the reasons why I love the way that this is shot and that the story is told, because the camera’s also not saying, Oh, well, now we should look away because we know in our society that this is something that shouldn't be seen. None of this would be embarrassing to her or something that she would think was shameful in any way."

In another interview, the director himself describes his work like this:

“Shame is one thing that we are conditioned to feel in certain situations and Emma’s character doesn’t have that. She never got to know what shame is, so she is totally free to give her mind, her thoughts, her opinions, her body, whatever.” He goes on to describe the story being about, "a human being that has a second chance in the world, someone who hasn’t been moulded in a very specific manner to perceive the world in a certain way. She gets to start clean, and that gives her a far freer view of things. She’s a 28-year-old woman who, up until then, had lived a life that obviously didn’t satisfy her. And she comes back with a blank slate, able to start again, and to own that life.”

Unless the cast and crew are lying as part of some elaborate performance art piece on the acceptability of sexualizing children in society and media, it seems like maybe their message was more about the impact of socialization and the way it controls us and restricts our behavior. That isn't to say that seeing a criticism of misogyny, sexualizing children, and the infantilisation of women isn't a valid personal interpretation. You are not required to take the creator's intent into account when interpreting media for yourself and deciding what it means to you individually. However, that is only one approach to analyzing media and calling those who do factor in the creator's intent when assessing their work "media illiterate" is... Not It™. Yes, art is meaningful to individuals in different ways and each person will approach a piece of art with their own unique blend of personal experiences and opinions that will make it more or less meaningful to them regardless of what the creator's intended. But art is also a communication, not least of which between the artist and the audience, and not every attempt at communication is effective. Sometimes it is downright blundering.

I could go on for hours about the eroticism of childishness in Poor Things. Even more telling perhaps, I could go on for days about the public response to the eroticism of childishness in Poor Things, especially the droves of fans chomping at the bit to declare the film a satirical masterpiece on that very topic. Unfortunately, however, it seems to me that any commentary on the subject of sexualizing children was unintentional. I choose to read a hopeful message into this situation by imagining that those who see this commentary as the point of the film saw the uncomfortably obtuse pedophilic overtones in the premise and could not imagine that the creators did not realize it was there. The subsequent search for meaning resulted in this "criticism of toxic and pedophilic misogyny" interpretation rather than the less pleasant alternatives: either that the sexualization of the child was simply a throwaway plot element, or worse, that the creators simply do not see a problem with sexualizing children and/or children's behavior. For the sake of being charitable, I posit the former: that the sexualization of childishness in Poor Things was at least partially the unintentional result of a badly handled plot point. I believe this because any time I see it brought up to anyone who worked on the movie, the conversation is immediately pivoted to how free and uninhibited Bella is. The fact that she's a child in an adult woman's body is glazed over almost entirely. When it is discussed, as in the quote above by the director, it seems that it was merely the mechanism by which they obtained an adult woman with a "clean slate", socially and mentally speaking, which was the perspective they wanted to use to examine how socialization impacts the way that humans interact with the world and with each other. In particular, the director seems to take the position that socialization is largely oppressive, especially to women's sexual agency.

The topic of the potentially oppressive nature of socialization is too big for me to handle here. I will say that I don't entirely disagree with the director, but that it is an incredibly complex subject that isn't easy to wrangle. The question of whether or not Poor Things sends an effective message about women's sexual liberation in relation to socialization is a bit more straightforward to me: I think it failed.

We live in a society that heavily restricts women's sexuality, that's true. The knee-jerk reaction to this is to imagine that a sexually liberated society would allow women to have as much sex as they want without shame or stigma. In theory, I agree. However, the film seems to take the position that without the oppression of society, nobody would ever turn down sex and that is where I have to disagree. Foundational to women's sexual liberation is the ability to say yes or no to sex and have that choice be respected. Yet at no time do we see Bella Baxter turn down sex. We see her spit out food that she doesn't like mid-chew. We see her end a relationship with a man that she's grown bored of (and their sexual relationship ends by default). But we never see her call off a sexual encounter because she isn't enjoying it the same way she calls off the other unpleasant experiences that she is shown engaging with on screen. In fact, when she does start having less enjoyable sexual experiences with men that she's uninterested in, she starts contriving ways to make unenjoyable sex more enjoyable rather than leaving and finding something more fulfilling to do or even just someone more pleasant to have sex with.

Perhaps that was also an unintentional oversight in her character development or perhaps it was a fully intentional comment on seeing the positive in situations rather than focusing on the negative. Even so, I find the "sex is like pizza: even when it's bad, it's still good" perspective to be far from feminist or empowering. In fact, it echoes the juvenile and misogynistic claims of rape deniers who say that it's better to just lay back and enjoy sex even if it wasn't what you wanted. The further implication of this being that sexual trauma is your choice because you could just choose to enjoy it instead. Additionally, claiming that the only reason a woman would choose not to enjoy sex is because of socially imposed shame is insultingly simplistic. At the very least, it's an insult to survivors of marital rape who were forced to have sex under otherwise socially acceptable circumstances that do not engender shame by default. Our bodies are part of who we are as a whole; they are ours and they are us. It's the part that we use to physically interact with the world and the people around us. Having our bodies used by someone else against our will is always harmful to some degree.

My takeaway is that Poor Things was a visually intoxicating crime of passion that fools its audience into thinking it's more profound than it actually is with clever camera work and an overabundance of shock value. It fails to convey what seems like the obvious message because the obvious message is an accident. Then it continues to fail at conveying its intended message because it treats its own themes so superficially that despite giving itself more than enough time to delve deeply into its subject matter, Poor Things spends an unnecessary amount of screentime treading the same ground and making no real progress. Events that should be more meaningful to her character development like being exposed to suffering and slavery end up having a negligible impact on the story. Instead the audience is just subjected to a gratuitous number of awkward sex scenes that claim to explore themes of self-discovery and sexual liberation but which manage to say nothing significant on either topic (at least not significant enough to justify the two and a half hour runtime).

Poor Things almost completely neglects to include any element of this in it's discussion of sexual liberation. The closest thing we get is at the end of the movie where Bella's father/husband (who still exclusively sees her as his wife even after the situation is explained) threatens to have her clitoris removed to "cure her" of her extensive sexual desires so that she can be an obedient wife and bear his children. But the threat is never truly imminent and Bella is quickly able to dispatch her father/husband, swap his brain with a goat, and live happily ever after, no harm done. At best we can say that she fully avoids a threat to her sexual freedom. However, even here, we do not see Bella withdraw consent to sexual encounter based on her own learned preferences. For a story focused on liberation and self-exploration, the fact that we never see Bella developing or enforcing her own sexual boundaries short of "don't literally mutilate my body" makes the theme feel under-developed.

Not only is it a missed opportunity, but in my opinion it undermines the supposed exploration of sexual liberation by ignoring a full half of what it means to be sexually liberated. In this regard, the entire film comes off to me as a very shallow "third wave" feminist flop exclusively obsessed with the image of a woman having nonstop sex as an expression of the ultimate freedom. In ignoring the potential implications of assault (or just broadly unenjoyable sex, it doesn't have to be sexual violence) Poor Things also fails to account for another important aspect of the socialized environment that it is supposedly trying to criticize: While it is true that women are broadly not encouraged to pursue or enjoy sex in our society, they are almost paradoxically also pushed to engage in it anyway even (and sometimes especially) when they don't want to. Married women's bodies have "belonged" to their husbands for centuries. Women are expected to put out after a man goes through the effort and expends the money to take her on a date. If a woman dresses too "provocatively", she must be asking for sex or should at least be willing to "help a guy out" because his arousal is her fault.

On one hand, it could and had been argued that Bella genuinely wants to have as much sex as possible, so this is irrelevant to her story. The fact that she agrees to have sex with basically anyone who offers means that none of these extremely common everyday occurrences for the average woman would pose a problem for her. She would simply agree to sex, no questions asked, no problem, no conflict. That still detracts from the main themes of the film in my opinion. Considering they had a whole two and a half hours to examine this topic, the fact that they invented a female character who conveniently never says no and therefore never has to confront the problem of unwanted or unpleasant sex in any meaningful way seems frankly baffling. I'm struggling to not attribute to malice that which can be adequately explained by bad writing and underdeveloped social philosophy.

As much as I understand that a protagonist doing something doesn't mean the writers are condoning it, it does genuinely seem that the creators of Poor Things are glorifying Bella's self-discovery-fueled pursuit of self-gratification in no small part as a reaction to our society's common message that women should always put others first and themselves second or worse. But in developing the character of Bella, I think they swung too far the other way and inadvertently played right back into the tropes they were trying to undermine by creating a woman who never says no to sex. Despite the heavy handed wish-fulfillment that we get out of her relationships with Duncan and Alfie and their foiled attempts to control her, Poor Things still ends up leaving us with the male gaze ideal: An attractive hypersexual woman who will have sex with you at any moment, no questions asked, no consequences, and no strings attached.

And yes. It was uncomfortable to watch. For me it was uncomfortable specifically because of the whole child-brain-adult-body situation, which according to the creators wasn't the point. I admit that I am personally invested in the topic of child exploitation, so the fact that these elements were present and weren't taken seriously is a huge black mark for me. That said, my distaste for the film is far more extensive that my distaste for how they handled the initial premise. I'm also not saying that nobody should enjoy or relate to any facet of the film. That's not even remotely my place to decide and I have seen some interesting personal interpretations, especially from autistic women, but I personally couldn't find enough redeeming qualities to offset the films failings.

#poor things #analysis #opinion #oscars

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calypso707 · 1 year

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Chapter 5 : False hope.

Erina was pushed against the stone wall in front of her and she winced at the shock. Leon soon ended up at her side, with JD pressing the blade of his knife against the American agent's lower back. JD had dragged them into an alleyway at the back of the cathedral. Erina watched the two men out of the corner of her eye, JD looking disturbed: "Buddy told me to get rid of you, but I need you”

He used the knife to undo Leon's restraints, and as soon as he was free, Leon pinned JD against the wall and blocked his arm to disarm him. He sent the weapon to Erina, who managed to catch it without difficulty, freeing herself in turn before attaching the weapon to her belt. Leon kept JD blocked against the stone wall, his arm pressed to his throat. "When you want to play hardball, learn how to use your weapons, it'll be child's play to disarm you" spat Leon. "After the stunt you pulled, I'm not helping you, understand?”

The young woman didn't dwell on what the two men were saying to each other and started to take a few steps away, with Leon beginning to follow. JD's voice behind them, calling out to them, echoed through the alleyway: "Help us! Buddy's planning to inject himself with the virus!"

The two agents stopped and Erina turned to look at the blond man. He looked genuinely upset and continued: "I tried to dissuade him, but he doesn't care. If he ever injects himself with the virus, he'll become one of them, he'll end up like Ivan and I'll..." he paused. "Since the death of his fiancée, he's changed completely and has nothing but revenge on his mind. Even if it means becoming a monster himself, but there has to be another way!”

Erina considered him for a long time, remaining silent at first. For Leon, his hero side probably wanted to take over and accede to JD's request to prevent Buddy from taking the virus. The young woman took a step towards him: "Why are you telling us this?" she finally asked. "I work for Belikova, my orders are to stop you, so why do you think for a second that I'm going to help you?"

"Because I know where your brother is," announced JD, "Isaak, he's the one who was in contact with Ivan's supplier. He arranged to meet Buddy a couple hours ago to give him the last vial of the virus".

Erina flinched at JD's words as he approached the two agents to hand the machine gun back to Leon, who fastened the strap around his torso. Just as she wanted to ask him a question, Leon beat her to it: "Where is he?" asked the American.

"In the underground car park at the town centre, where we found you" announced JD.

"If this is a lie, I swear I'll kill you with my bare hands" snapped Erina.

She didn't wait for a reply from JD and went on her way through the alley, ignoring Leon who was hurrying to catch up with her. She felt a hand grab her wrist to make her stop and she turned abruptly to look at Leon, flustered: "What do you want?"

"What's your plan, uh?" asked Leon, staring at her. "You're going to barge in there unarmed? Think about it”

"Think about what? The only thing I care about is finding my brother. You want to be a hero and stop Sasha from injecting himself with the virus? Fine, I don't care," replied Erina. "When my brother is safe, I'll inform Belikova of the situation”

“You seem to know Buddy personally, so how can you not care about him?”

“Worry about him? He's the reason my brother joined them. Sure, we used to live in the same village and if it hadn't been for all that, I might have wanted to save him, but no. My parents died for their stupid cause, my brother joined them and risks his life because of them. So Sasha can die for all I care” said Erina.

"So what? Everyone does as they please?" Leon seemed to be getting irritated, he hadn't let go of Erina's wrist for all that, on the contrary, he seemed to be tightening his embrace to keep her close to him. "I'm not your enemy, okay? So stop being so stubborn and take the time to assess the situation, we're both in the same boat, the slightest false move and we're dead".

Erina considered him for a long moment before finally making a movement with her arm to get him to let her go. Leon was right, when she had an objective in mind, she would rush headlong into it, but she couldn't afford to do that, not when she knew these creatures were roaming around. Her brother's survival was making her completely reckless, and she was letting her emotions get the better of her, something she would never have allowed on any other mission. But what could she do? Her only weapon was a knife, she had no mobile phone, nothing. Even if she agreed to team up with Léon for the time being, how was she going to be able to assist him without a weapon? The two agents had finally set off again through the city, which had been completely ransacked by the attacks from the partisans and the army. She was even surprised to see how things had degenerated. The streets looked completely empty; if the news of a bioterrorist attack had reached Belikova's ears, she would probably already have ordered the evacuation of the surviving civilians. However, some units were still patrolling the streets of the old town.

They reached the underground car park fairly quickly, Erina holding the knife firmly in her right hand, Leon armed with his machine gun, ready to fire at the slightest danger. With his flashlight, he scanned the area to see if anyone was there. They arrived near the hole that had been caused by the explosion a few hours earlier and which had led to Leon's capture. Erina scanned the area: nothing, her brother wasn't here. She squinted as she saw an open briefcase on the ground in the distance. She approached it quickly and crouched down to examine the contents. It was empty and it was already too late; Alexander had already taken the last dose. But where had her brother gone? She felt Leon's gaze on her as he approached, also taking a look at the contents of the case.

"Are you looking for something?" asked a female voice from behind them.

Leon suddenly turned around and found himself attacked as Erina scrambled to her feet. A brief struggle ensued between Leon and his assailant, who managed to push her back and she raised her weapon. She was a woman with Asian features, short black hair, dark eyes, dressed in a suit and skirt and red heels. Practical for fighting, Erina thought. Leon seemed to know her and was confused: "Ada? What are you doing here? Are you here for the virus?"

Bingo.

"Questions, always questions" replied Ada. "You can be sure I'm not going to answer. I see you've already replaced me," she added, glancing in Erina's direction, who was rather annoyed by this absurd exchange.

"I thought it was time to draw a line under you, so I set my sights on her," admitted Leon.

"What a shame, I was hoping we'd pick up where we left off the other night" she grinned.

"Sorry, it's not going to happen," replied Leon.

Erina pinched the bridge of her nose before crossing her arms under her chest in annoyance. They were wasting their time and her brother wasn't there. Just as she was about to intervene, Ada raised her arm, the weapon in her hand actually appearing to be a sort of grappling hook: "I'll be you, I'll go. They're planning to wipe the city off the map, the bombardment's about to start" she winked at Leon. "See you next time, handsome".

Before he could reply, she sent her grappling hook up in the air and climbed out of the car park through the hole left by the explosion. Erina took a few steps to watch her run away, disconcerted by her words. A bombing? Impossible, Belikova wouldn't have ordered such a thing if she knew that civilians might still be alive, knowing that there was a hope that she might still be alive. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest as panic overcame her. She had to find a way to contact her. She turned to Leon: "Have you finished, Don Juan? We need to-"

"Jealous, sweetheart?" asked Leon, raising an eyebrow.

"Screw you"

At the same moment, the cathedral bells began to ring out, and the two agents looked at each other before running back towards the cathedral. Erina had a bad feeling about this; it was probably not a good sign. With a bit of luck, her brother had returned to the building to join his comrades-in-arms. But what if JD had rung the bells to call them back because he was under attack?

#resident evil #romance #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil leon #leon scott kennedy #leon resident evil #leon x oc #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil damnation #original character #reisdent evil

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chanshoesunite · 2 years

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24 Days of CHRISMAS: Day 7

Content info: slice of life, bang chan x fem!reader, corporate!chan, corporate!reader, talking on the phone for hours, getting along, growing feels

Word count: 1160

Warnings: just a comforting read

5pm.

It’s a Wednesday afternoon, almost evening, and you’re still working on a work presentation you are due to hold via Zoom on Friday. You are on the creative team, working for a record company, and the newest designs for upcoming album releases need to be confirmed by your superiors. While you always love the creative aspect of the task – designing the lyrics booklets, discussing colour schemes and the likes – it is the presentation aspect you dread. Nothing quite like potentially having your work torn apart by your superiors in front of your teammates. Especially since one of them, Chan, has been your secret crush for a few months now. He works in music production, so you don’t actually interact that much, but seeing him in the office is enough to make your heart flutter. His caramel-coloured hair, his large hands, his dimpled smile, his Australian accent… There’s nothing that’s not to love about your co-worker.

You shake your head. The designs are solid, no, stunning, and if they don’t love them, it is not a reflection of you as an individual.

Your phone rings just then, the standard iPhone ringtone sounding in your ears via your Bluetooth earphones. You check the display and almost drop the phone. It’s Chan!

You wait for a few beats. You can’t just answer, can you?

You decide that you are a grown ass professional woman who can pick up her phone when an acquaintance from work calls. “Hello?”

“Hi, YN, it’s Chan. I hope it’s okay to call you? Am I disturbing you?” His deep voice resonates through the earphones, giving you little butterflies.

“No, it’s fine. What’s up?” you ask, trying to sound smooth and nonchalant and sexy at the same time, but still probably coming off as a bit awkward.

You can hear him sigh through the line. “I had a meeting with the boss today and it SUCKED. And I thought, you know, you can relate. Since it’s your turn on Friday.”

You get up, walk over to your comfy reading chair and curl up. “Tell me.”

5:15 pm.

“He said WHAT?” You sit up straighter in your chair, shocked by Chan’s retelling of what seems to have been a disastrous meeting. “Your mixing was-“

“-the worst he’s ever heard, yup,” Chan confirms again, his voice a mixture of gloomy and amused. “The fucking nerve of him. I am so fucking talented.”

“You are!” you quickly confirm, maybe too quicky? Chan is silent for a beat. “Thanks,” he says, his voice soft. “That means a lot from someone who creates wonderful art for the music we make.”

It’s your turn to blush, but you’re not having any of it. “So, what happened then?”

5:45pm.

“When I joined, JYP wasn’t in charge yet,” Chan recounts, and you can hear him doing something in the background, maybe fixing himself something to drink. “We had this other director. I think he was even worse, though.” He seems to be taking a sip of something. “Where did you work before? You joined last February, right?”

Huh. So… he HAS been paying attention to you? Interesting. “I did. I was in advertising before, but I kind of felt like… I don’t know, letting capitalism win or something?” Chan chuckles at that. “Not that we’re not making money here – you know what I mean, right?”

“Yeah,” he agrees softly. “I do.”

6:20pm.

“I cannot believe that THAT was your first live concert,” you laugh, simultaneously ordering some sushi, because you can’t really be bothered to start cooking and in truth, you don’t want to stop talking to Chan. “NICKELBACK?! That’s hella embarrassing, Christopher.” About half an hour ago, Chan told you his full name, and there is no going back now.

There are some whiny noises coming through the phone. “Oh, come on,” he complains. “I was young and got the ticket as a gift, okay? No need to be mean, YNnie!” Maybe you imagine both of you pausing for a second at the nickname, but it feels natural, as if he’s done it a hundred times. “Plus, I bet you went to see some cheesy one hit wonder act in 2008 or something.”

You snort with laughter, and normally you would feel self-conscious about the unflattering noise, but it's not like that with Chan. It's easy, like breathing, like smiling. Thinking about that, you continue shutting your laptop and lying down on your couch. “That’s one secret I’ll never tell,” you say in your best Gossip Girl voice.

Chan grumbles, then asks: “Did you just lie down?”

“I did.”

He seems to hesitate. “I’m not keeping you from anything, am I? Or… Anyone?”

You huff a little laugh. “No, just me, trying to procrastinate finishing that stupid presentation.”

“I see. I should let you get back to that, right?”

You sit up so fast your head is spinning a little bit. “No, please, Chan,” you almost beg, “If you go now, I need to work.”

His giggle is positively endearing. “Okay then, I’ll tell you the story of my first meeting with JYP…”

7pm.

The doorbell rings. Your sushi! “Hold on,” you tell Chan as you jog over to the door to let in the driver and receive your takeout.

“What did you order?” Chan asks as you get back to him. “You were so polite to that guy, YNnie, that’s kind of cute.”

You blush, busying yourself with preparing a plate and chopsticks. “Maki and sushi. Treat yourself, am I right?”

Your co-worker agrees. “Is this the moment where you let me go?”

You shrug before remembering he can’t see that. “I mean. Do you want to keep me company over the phone while I eat?”

Chan ponders that. “My pizza should arrive any minute. How about we take a bathroom break and I call you right back?”

You smile to yourself. “It’s a date,” you say before you can help yourself.

Chan is silent for a second. “It isn’t. But it could be. In person. If you wanted. Like… How about Friday night?”

You can’t believe this is happening. Your mouth is agape with shock, and you hurry to answer. “Sure. I’d love that.” Oh no, maybe love is too strong a word? “I mean, I’d like that. You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

You are both silent for a moment in which you realise that you are going on a date with Christopher Chan Bang in 48 hours. Also, those silences between you - how are they so comfortable? It's amazing.

“And you’re still going to call me back in a few minutes?”

“I am,” he confirms. “We have a date to plan.”

You smile to yourself. “I guess we do.”

“So,” he says.

“So,” you agree.

“I’ll call you right back,” he promises, before the line goes dead.

And while you dance around your living room in excitement, he keeps his promise – and it will be the first of many.

~Day 8~

#Author Hare: My crush called me earlier and I wish it had gone like this so I wrote this lol delulu girl at it again amirite #author tortoise: ITS SO FLUFFY IM GONNA DIIIIIE #bang chan fluff #bang chan fanfic #bang chan drabble #24 days of chrismas #bang chan x yn #bang chan x reader #author hare #author hare x her work crush

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