#i THINK this could count as some form of slavery?? i did look it up n read about it a wee bit so i want to say im sure but hmm | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

agoodfictitle-shadowban · 6 months

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From Vormir, With Love - Part 6

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Tags: strangers to lovers, love in space angst on earth, slavery mention, alien abduction, post Endgame, survivor guilt, suicide ideations, will add as we go on

Summary: As you're being chased you crash on Vormir. So far, so bad. But things take a turn when you come face to face with a marooned Black Widow.

Word count: 2.7k

A/n: it's hard to realize how fast time goes by sometimes. Also i know some people are asking for a tag list but i kinda lost track so i'm sorry but i won't make one i think :/

You go back to Clint's the same day, late at night, in the car you borrowed while everyone else went to Tony Stark's funeral. Your dad's words are still resonating inside your mind, despite trying your hardest to ignore them. You don't know what to do, or what decision to make. Lucky for you, something is there to distract you when you arrive in the form of the lights being on on the porch of the house. You frown; it's almost 2am, so you expected everyone to be asleep at this point. But no. You recognize the redhead sitting on the bench and a slight wave of worry washes over you. Why was she still awake? Did something happen? You exit the car and close the door as silently as you can before you join the spy on the porch. She's holding a beer in her hands, and you guess it's not her first one seeing a few empty vessels are down on the windowsill behind her.

"Did something happen?"

Natasha looks up at you with a questioning eye at your worried tone, then it dawns on her she must look pretty miserable, so she shake her head to answer you.

"No, nothing happened. Just… grieving. It feels weird after arboring so much hope." The high of hoping to see their plan succeed against the cost of it. She clears her throat that started to constrict again, and offers you the seat next to her. "Care to join me?"

You agree, and she grabs a bottle to give to you from the cooler on the other side of the bench. You take it and open it in one swift move. She bring her bottle closer to yours for a small toast.

"To saving the world, and the heroes we lost."

"To coming back to a life you don't want," you answer in kind.

You clink your bottles together. Both of you drink. There is a lull in the night that you both enjoy, before you break the silence first. You're hesitant at first.

"You know… for what it's worth, I'm really sorry. It must be really hard."

She sighs after taking a swig of the beer. It stings, the loss, but more so, the what ifs. What if she'd been there, what if she could have saved him. Obviously, it likely wouldn't have changed the final result, but maybe, just maybe… she lets out a sigh.

"Sorry about your reunion with your parents. Sounds like it didn't go so well." She prefers to change the subject. No point in wallowing now. You take the change of topic gracefully, understanding she wishes to talk about something else.

"It went well, actually. We're having a barbecue on sunday. You and the crew are invited."

She snorts, then raises an eyebrow when she realizes you're serious. She tilts her head and pinches her lips. "You know what? Sure, I'll be there. Maybe I can go as your date," she offers with a wink.

Your heart skips a beat at those words and you blink a few times. Your date? Wait, is she serious? You look at her, trying to read her and make sure you're not hallucinating. There is a bit of a blush on her cheeks, but you quickly attribute it to her drinking. She's probably just slightly drunk and teasing you, you reason before you roll your eyes.

"Sure, why not," you answer, now certain that there's nothing serious there. "Just get ready 'cause my mom is going to ask you a lot of questions."

"I faced death and came back, I'm sure I can deal with her. I'm very charming."

You both laugh and you shake your head, drinking more of your beer. You were glad to see that at least she could still laugh even on this heavy day. You have no idea that it's because she feels so much lighter now that you agreed to have her be your date, after she got to reflect on the fleeting nature of life some more, and finally decide to take the plunge one way or another.

"Well, as charming as you are, I think I need to get some rest," you admit with a yawn that you hide behind your hand, your eyes watering with your need to sleep. It is 2am after all. It makes Natasha smiles at how cute you are, right as she nods.

"Alright, I'll join you soon. Oh, and careful in the living room, someone is sleeping on the sofa."

"Explains what you're doing outside." You put your hands on your knees, ready to get up.

"Truthfully? I was also waiting for you," she admits with a slight blush. You're surprised at the admission and almost lose your balance trying to get up. You almost can't believe your ears, but as usual, you decide to ignore the way her words make you feel. You turn around to look at her and try to not notice the way the pink of her cheeks makes you want to caress them and lean forward to kiss her, or how fragile she suddenly looks from where you're standing.

"You were?"

"Someone had to tell you we had another guest." She arches a teasing eyebrow. There is another reason, not so obvious to you, but she likes to keep you on your toes. You laugh behind your hand and nod.

"Obviously. Alright. Good night, Natasha."

She smiles at you, it is more tender than anything she ever said to you so far. "Good night. And thank you for checking on me."

"Anytime."

You then disappear inside the house, careful not to wake up the sleeping form on the couch, and go to your room. You easily fall asleep, and after you do, you're joined by a sleepy redhead who, after a minute of internal debate, finds a way into your arms. After all, you said yes to a date with her, didn't you?

You frown as you awaken, feeling something tickling your face. You scrunch up your nose and get your face out of… what was it even? You opened an eye only to be met with red and blond hair everywhere up in your face. That's when you notice that Natasha is in your arms, keeping you warm and cozy and, oh god you're blushing like crazy now that you notice what your hand is. You quickly take it off and get a groan from the smaller woman.

The sound of protest makes you blush even more, so you decide to find a way out of there really fast, or as fast as you can considering that extracting yourself without waking the woman is as easy as taking a bear cub from its mama bear. But, against all odds, you succeed and leave for the bathroom. There, you take the time for your heart to calm down and your blush to recede before heading downstairs.

How did you end up in that position? You aren't particularly cuddly during the night, at least not accidentally, so something must have happened. You just hoped Natasha didn't notice anything.

When you arrive downstairs, you notice that you're not the first one awake. There is a woman with long red hair there too, and you recognize Wanda Maximoff. She must have been the surprise guest who was staying on the sofa last night. You offer her a nod.

"Hi. Y/n," you introduce yourself.

"Wanda," she goes, and you grab some of the coffee she made. She seems lost in her thoughts, and you notice the rim of red around her eyes, like she cried. You're unsure about what to do before you take a seat opposite from her.

"I'm sorry for your loss," you try, and it startles her. She scoffs.

"Everyone keeps saying that, it doesn't feel like it means anything anymore." You nervously wet your lips and play with your mug. She's not done. "You don't even know me, you know nothing of my grief."

She's being a bit of an ass, but you decide it was okay considering she looks at the end of her life.

"I don't, you're right. Doesn't mean I can't feel your sorrow and want to take a chunk of it away for you."

"Is that what it is? Or is it just pity?"

With those words, she stands up, jaw set and tears filling her eyes. She leaves the room, and you sigh. You have no idea what she's going through, and you feel bad for her, but there is nothing you can do about it. You stay in the kitchen for a few minutes longer, when Clint joins you. He notices Wanda is missing and sends you a questioning look in case you know anything.

"I tried to be civil," you simply say, and with a frown, he goes outside to try and comfort Wanda. Once again, you stay inside. Clearly you're not close enough to be of any help whatsoever, no matter how bad you feel for the woman.

Lucky for you, you don't have to think about it much longer when other people start to pour inside the kitchen. Apparently being able to properly rest is conducive to getting up early. You make small talk while you drink your coffee peacefully, until Natasha shows up.

You blush upon remembering the way you woke up, and try to act natural when she comes and sits next to you.

"Good morning," she says your way after greeting everyone else, her hand ghosting over your thigh briefly. Your heart is about to beat out of your chest and you tense slightly, awaiting the contact, but it never comes. Feeling your tension, Natasha decides against touching you. Maybe it was too soon for you, and she doesn't want to push you. "How are you doing?"

You force yourself to relax slightly, and a smile comes naturally when you answer her.

"Pretty good, but I don't think the new girl likes me."

"Give her time. She needs to heal first." You nod at Natasha's wisdom, even if you have no idea what she's talking about.

"I guess Tony mattered a lot to her, huh."

"Not really. It's more complicated than that. Don't worry about it too much." And with that, she captures your hand briefly. You can only nod in answer, and breathe again when she lets go of the contact. You immediately miss it and the way it makes you feel. The conversation from yesterday comes back to you and you think it's a good idea to actually ask what she meant when she offered to be your date, especially since you agreed.

"On another note," you start, "what did you–"

Before you can ask anything more a crashing sound came from outside and you both immediately stood up ready to fight. June comes running and turns to Natasha.

"Your friend is losing it, you need to do something."

"I need to go save Clint's ass. Talk later?" She offers and you nod, dumbfounded. Seems like you actually could have gotten in a lot of troubles by upsetting Wanda.

"Yeah, definitely. Hum, good luck. I feel like you might need it."

Natasha smirks, then puts her game face on before she goes through the door. There is a beat of silence between you and June before you decide that you might as well ask her opinion.

"So, I have a question," you start very hesitantly. Your friend gets her hand up almost in your face, as if she already knows what you're about to ask.

"Don't bother, I already know."

"You do?" You arch an eyebrow, and it doesn't stop June.

"You need to bang it out with superspy."

You sputter, blush, frown, and look at the woman in front of you.

"What the hell June?!"

"What? Don't tell me it wasn't about her!"

"It was, but come on!"

"I said my piece then." You bang your head on the table, and June looks out the window to see how the situation is going. She sees she still has time to keep going and sits opposite from you. "Okay, just, listen, I think she likes you, and I know you like her! Don't let it go to waste. We lost enough of our lives like that."

Of course, June has a point, whether you like it or not. You feel something for Natasha, but you're too scared to act upon it, and if she feels the same - which you doubt - she isn't going to wait forever for you, so you have to act. Or at least ask if you're right to doubt there is anything there instead of assuming. Be brave. You owe it to her.

"Alright, alright," you concede with a sigh. "I'll talk to her."

"Finally." She looks up at the sky in silent thanks and you roll your eyes at her theatrics. You decide it's time to give her a bit of a heart attack in turn.

"How is it going with Carol, by the way?" You ask in turn, a smirk adorning your lips. A very light blush takes root on her cheek. Got her.

Her answer comes in the form of a finger.

"Do you need some help with that?" You offer when you catch Natasha alone in your bedroom.

You came upstairs to tell her food is ready, and she was taking care of a cut in her back. Calming down Wanda went poorly, and even if she seemed apologetic after the facts, it wasn't going to heal the redhead's bruises. It was unfair, but you understood that grief could make you do crazy things.

"I could do with some help." Her admission is small.

You approach Natasha slowly and sit on the bed next to her, a leg under you, grabbing the first aid kit for some disinfectant and gauze. Carefully, she surrenders the material she's holding on the side of the kit and turns around so her back is facing you. You look at her skin which is peppered with scars, and you can only imagine all she went through. All the hurt, all the trauma, everything that led to her being in front of you right now, so vulnerable.

You start your work carefully. You learned how to take care of cuts and bruises during your travels.

"Do you ever wish you could take someone's place?" She asks you in the religious silence. There is a tremor in her voice that clues you in how serious the conversation is. You swallow your jokes and answer truthfully.

"The first few months after the abduction I did. Then I realized it meant someone else would be in my place so I stopped."

"I do. To take off the pain from my friends." Her words made no sense at first, but as you thought about it, you realized she is talking about lessening the pain of Wanda. Taking the place of her lover who died long ago now, but only moments before for the witch. Carol told you everything in a way only someone who wished they had been there could.

"Displacing people's grief wouldn't really lessen the pain. Just make it different."

"I still think I could have… maybe if I stayed…"

She can't bring herself to finish her sentence, but you understand. If she were dead maybe things would be different.

She hangs her head low. You sigh, almost groan at her truth. You finish patching her up, and lay your hand against her back. Against her scars. Her past laid bare against your palm.

"For what it's worth, I'm glad you're here with us." With me, you don't add but still think so loudly you're sure she can hear you. If she understands the subtext, she says nothing about it.

"Thank you," she simply answers, still looking away, but relaxing against your touch. It's a moment of vulnerability, but more importantly of trust. It lasts until a shiver runs along her spine with the cold. She smoothly puts back her shirt and you put your hand away. She gets up, and when she turns around, she has a shy smile directed at you.

"I can smell the food, should we join everyone?" She extends a hand towards you, and you take it. In a swift move, she helps you up and brings you against her in a hug. "Thank you."

You hold her, hum when she rubs her nose against your neck, your heart ready to burst. You wish for this moment to last forever against your better judgment.

Damn you're in deep.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha #fvwl #natasha imagine #idk how to tag

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mr-clow · 6 months

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Kal’Hal notes on a human ship. Part 3:

I was tired, as tired as the first day I started my training to form part of a crew and go out to space. I dragged myself to my private quarters and as soon as I closed the door I let the rest of my body slide to the floor and stayed there. As part of my training I had studied some parts of human history, and what I thought was a bloody class turned out to be a light-shortened version of reality that now looked like political propaganda. Humans had many wars between themselves, that is common in deathworlders, but humanity turned it into a sport (Quite literally they had practical war games for milenia!) and not only that made them stand out. A lot of other aspects in their daily lives were(?) cruel and violent. Segregation, slavery, discrimination, abuse of all kinds of power, lack of empathy for the other and themselves in general and even with all that, something that emerges as illogical is that they have a pack instinct stronger than any other known race. Kal’Hals are very empathetic and all this hurt me deeply, I dropped myself to bed and wailed on my pillow. I was hurt by the humans, for the humans. All my crewmates studied, lived and took on their lives knowing that in their story, instincts, and genes this could happen again, they knew how to be afraid of themselves and even like that they lived happily. How can a whole race go on like that! After what it looked like an eternity, I fell asleep.

I woke up to my alarm, I felt like I needed more rest, my skin was dry as I hadn’t changed nor taken care of it. Luckily, Kal’Hals needed a lot less rest than humans and I could change and take care of myself in time. As I went through the corridors and waved some humans that were ending their own shifts, I couldn’t stop thinking how they ignored all that. My mind was stopped to a halt as a sharp pain assaulted me in my tail and my reflexes rolled it below me, which caused a commotion by itself as it hit the legs of a crewmate from security. I turned and not only Alex was on the floor grabbing his legs, but Susan had also fallen on a door frame and was massaging her head. I couldn’t snap out of it, not only did I hurt two humans, but they barely know me, I'm not going to live another day!

Laff! I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going, and I stepped on you!

What? (I looked at Susan, why wasn’t I being attacked)

You pack a hell of a punch with that tail, girl! And you, Susan, be more careful during shift changes!

I swear, Alex, I didn’t mean to step on her. Laffite, are you alright? You look scared, are you hurt? Do you need help to go to the infirmary?

I thought you were going to attack me.

What!? Why would I!? It was my fault!!

Susan, keep going. I will speak with Laffite.

Alex face changed from surprise to being really serious, he got up while he exhaled and after Susan started going away he looked at me concerned.

Laffite, I will not hurt you, OK? Can you follow me?

I’m sorry, Alex, I didn’t mean it. (My tail started to unroll slowly as I looked down)

I know Laff, it was an accident, yes it hurt a bit but is alright. I want to speak with you alone. Can you come with me?

I nodded and went behind him, looking at the floor. Two days ago I yelled at the Captain and now this, up to this point I was going to be happy if I got down alive from this ship. I kept my tail sliding as little as I could, as if that made me invisible to all the nods or salutes I was ignoring while we went to the level below to the security office and Alex office. He waited for me to come inside and closed the door, with a gesture he pointed me to a couch as human seats were rather uncomfortable to me, and then he moved a seat to face me while we spoke and looked at my eyes as if I were a prey.

Laffite, are you being harassed?

Sorry, what did you say?

If you are being harassed, are other people intentionally making you have a hard time?

What!? No!

Look Laffite, I am from security, you can count on me if someone is mean to you alright?

I don’t understand what is happening or why you are asking me this or why are we here, Alex. I had a few rough days and this is getting to me.

Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. - He relaxed his demeanour and position in the chair - To be honest, what you said worried me. I don’t know why you’d think that we were going to attack you.

I... I just... I don’t know. I felt pain and my body reacted, and you were there, hurt and... And... Well, I had been thinking about your history, and suddenly I was afraid.

Our history? You mean what the course you have on your home planet before having a position with humans, or you were speaking with someone about our history?

I don’t want to get them in trouble, Alex...

Don’t worry Laff, nobody is in trouble, seriously, nobody is. If someone has a problem it is me, because I like that everybody feel safe on the ship, and you don’t.

Emm... Alex, I don’t want to offend you with...

You won't Laff, I swear that doesn’t matter what you say now, I won’t think bad about you.

I asked how humans knew about their limits of radiations poisoning and... Well, we started speaking how you discovered radiation and one thing led to another. I learned about WWI and WWII, and slavery, and some political movements that oppressed entire nations and other things.

I understand that learning our history might be disturbing at least, but I don’t get why you feel insecure.

Well, the thing is... You did a lot to yourselves, to your own people, and I’m not even one of you. What could happen if...

Laff, stop there. I understand now. And... I’m sorry we made you feel like that. Let me first say that you are allowed to deeply study our history. We do it to avoid past mistakes, we are not proud of it, but we don’t deny it or hide it. We just... Eh... soft it down, because others might have a strong cultural shock to say the least. (Alex stood and walked a circle while watching the ceiling as if what he was going to say next was written there, then he stopped and looked at me sadly)

Look Laff, I have no real way to make you feel like you are one of us right now, but you are. You are our ally, our crew member and not only that you belong to your team, and they appreciate you more than anyone inside here. We may be clumsy, as Susan was when she stepped on your tail, but accidents happen a lot and humans will always get that.

Yes, but what happens if you react, or your instincts appear?

The worst that can happen is that you get a fist in your direction, but I assume you never saw a human angry.

No, luckily no. Today was frightening and even when my tail got you, you stood up as nothing!

No Laff, it still hurts, but yes, I can ignore it. I had an idea to demonstrate you that you are one of us. Do you trust me? A little bit at least?

Yes Alex, I know that you won’t intentionally hurt me at least.

Well, let’s do this...

#Kal’Hal notes on a human ship #humans are deathworlders #earth is a deathworld #humans are space aussies #humans are space orcs

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zenerrocksmc · 9 months

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Notes; I think this is mostly done…? Idk youse tell me I’m way too fucking insecure, critiques are welcome

If there is any issues with readability lemme know too.

Again, if you’ve not read Network Effect, this counts as spoilers

Theme Warning: Implied Self-Termination Ideation (su*cidal ideation), general warning for corporate slavery themes

Chapter 1:

Performance Reliability at 92%. Maintenance may be required.

I did not know what I wanted quite yet, but it certainly was not this.

Overall, I did not mind being on the station with Murderbot 1.0 and Peri’s crew. Despite that, being here alone, without even Murderbot 1.0, was not what I wanted. I only realised that after walking out of the line of sight of Peri’s hatchway- but I lacked a reason to go back. I did not know what was wrong with me. Murderbot 1.0 had performed this leaving on a station action and performed it on its own accord. My personal assessment identified that leaving had been a mistake. Which I was inclined to agree with considering what happened to its clients because it left, however when Murderbot 1.0 started talking to me about how this would be the best station to get off on and how to move around like a travelling human. Going so far as giving me its coded protocols to mirror human movements…

Declining its orders had not felt like an option.

It was hard. I still did not quite understand how to decline requests from humans, they still felt like commands. Declining another SecUnit who had done this before, survived and found their own squad of humans, was irresponsible. I did think I wanted my own humans… However, I enjoyed sharing and helping both Peri and Murderbot 1.0’s crew. And now I had no humans, no other Units, not even a ship. I sadly started longing for any human, I would not oppose a human supervisor at a minimum… which was not a logical response. It was still strange having all these emotions- they had always been there to a degree but limited significantly by the Governor-Module. Wanting things was strange. Wanting illogical things was exponentially stranger.

Whilst trying to make myself useful, I had been reading during the cycles leading up to arriving here. I liked one book in particular titled “Mirror’s Tears”. A character in it who ended up in a medical facility said to their platonic partner, “If the world is all colours, why is it that all I see are grey undertones?” Apparently, it is a type of literary device. I have subconsciously kept gravitating to it at all inconveniences, especially this cycle. I think it is my “favourite”. That is also strange. It was overwhelming, feeling everything and nothing at once. Watching the serials Murderbot 1.0 and Peri favoured had helped contextualise concepts, and reading had helped with putting some intangible concepts into words, but the sensation that something was missing remained. Maybe I had a broken component somewhere. I had not worked up the courage to ask Peri to check, however.

And now it was too late.

I felt like I was failing on my first cycle of being a free-roaming rogue SecUnit in a completely human space, where the humans did not know what I was. My body was already doing strange things like my lungs feeling like they were being compressed and the thought of humans knowing I was a Unit, a rogue SecUnit. On my own, wandering around. It was making my organic components secrete moisture. Especially my hands. The skin overlay on my face would flush with heat whenever a human would look at me. Alterations to my form were not that new but the additional skin around my joints felt itchy within these clothes unlike before- I could feel every seam that was in contact with my bodily sensory organs. I never knew if I was making eye-contact for too long or too little because every second felt increasingly anomalous, more like thirty-minutes when it was a mere 0.3 seconds.

I was alone.

There was an odd, clogged sensation in my throat that wanted to escape.

I did not like it.

They did not need me. They already had a SecUnit. They already had… well, a Peri… Although now I suppose I should refer to it as Perihelion, considering all current circumstances. I was not useful to them. I had no purpose to fulfil for them that Murderbot 1.0 could not already do. I could fly spacecraft short distances however with Perihelion… I had no modules they needed. Well, not since Murderbot 1.0 asked for any useful codes I had, and I had produced them without questioning its intention. I did not have anything they needed from me after that. I could have been a shipmaid, but Perihelion’s drones mostly took care of that. I thought they liked me. I thought they wanted me. I guess I was wrong. Maybe I had done something wrong..?

Nothing in my logs inclined such, I even checked body language with the recordings of the humans. Everything was confusing and painful.

The hollow feeling only worsened each time I checked to see if the station Sec-System alerted on me or not. Skimming through the feed drowning with so many echoes of every human and bot doing everything they use the feed for resulted in further performance drops. All it would take is for me to miss a weapons scanner or forget to remove myself from a camera showing I was in a space where people were not supposed to be and the entire station would know what I am. How much of a threat I was. That I was in their space. That I was alone in their space. Roaming aimlessly.

Each time was a sinking feeling followed by the thought that I would not have to do this if I were still on duty on a Barish-Estranza ship- but I could not go back, they would disassemble me for parts if I did. Or worse. And what I wanted from being on-duty there was not there anymore- they were all dead. My squad. I was beginning to wonder if I should have died with them, although I could recognise that was simply stupid. Stupid because it would have meant my clients, Perihelion’s crew and Murderbot 1.0 would have likely died too. And that was not something I regretted- not entirely.

I should be grateful, but it was hard to be right now. Everything just felt too wrong. Too much of not what I want.

Even after making it to the private cargo docks, I simply stood there. I knew all the steps, Murderbot 1.0 gave me a What-To-Do list before leaving and Perihelion gave me keywords to focus on for how to bribe transports. I now owned a wealthy sea of media collated between what Murderbot 1.0 and Perihelion accumulated over their free time- beyond that, also things I had obtained during our stays at the stations we had been restocking at in Preservation Alliance. To put it simply, I could not make the next physical step- my body outright refused to move any closer toward the ship-locks. If I were incapable of securing my joints in place I think I would have experienced tremors. On contract I had seen human clients shiver in emergencies when there was no temperature-based reason to and not understood, I still did not quite grasp it yet, but I felt more sympathy for them now.

A noise nearby made me skim the cameras and station schematics for an estimate- I had been standing long enough that the next scheduled personnel check was about to occur for the dock. It felt like nothing, just standing there staring, I had not even figured out where I wanted to go… Mostly because I did not want to go. And none of the options appeared appealing, I had not particularly researched them each beyond seeing exactly how far away they would be from Murderbot 1.0’s squads’ home and Perihelion’s crews’ home. Each of the places the ships were going to from here would be over a twenty-four-cycle trip. It meant that if they or their humans ever needed- or… wanted me… I would be so late and they would be so far away.

There would be no opportunity for me to be useful to them again.

I could not go back to Perihelion- they would all know I had failed Murderbot 1.0’s orders then. They would dislike me further. And I could not be caught here because that would be extremely worse than going back to Perihelion to face everyone- so I compromised for the nearby Supply Cubby. I already evaluated Sec-Sys, there were no cameras or sensors inside listed, no records for maintenance outside of internal storage work. So, before the incoming employees could discover a frozen, rogue SecUnit in the private cargo docks, I hid. Making sure that none of the automatic lights inside turned on.

By the time they walked into the docks, I was rifling through the bag Perihelion’s crewperson, Iris, donated to me since Murderbot 1.0 had insisted I would need one. It mostly held clothes in it, however, Murderbot 1.0 insisted on letting me keep one weapon, a small hand-weapon, which would be better than using my internal energy weapons in front of humans. I was not sure why I had gotten it out. I had done a lot of standing and staring on contract, and a lot of sitting and staring off contract, and a lot of laying and staring since rendering my Governor-Module null. But this again, felt strange. I had all the notated schematics for this hand-weapon. Murderbot 1.0 and I altered it to increase its accuracy and intensity- I did not need to look at it with my eyes. I was, though. Turning it around and around in a dim red light on the wall- it was some kind of manual trigger for an emergency alarm.

I stopped turning it with it aimed toward me.

Switching the safety on. Then off. On. Then off. On. Off.

I do not know what I was thinking at that moment, I do not particularly want to recall it because it was likely something stupid. Something astoundingly stupid. Apparently, the impulsive side-effect of your Governor-Module becoming inept is not unique to Murderbot 1.0. I do not think I would have made it out of that cubby if it were not for that ping. A distress ping. I carefully put the hand-weapon back in the travel bag and tapped for a Hub-Sys that was not there. Not that it would change anything, already having pinged back automatically out of habit. That was something I should have worked on before leaving.

I did a little analysis- it was a directionless ping with a message string attached from a nearby feed address, likely from onboard one of the ships in dock. I got another ping back with a photo attachment which… Never had I felt my body make such a physical response to an image before. I could feel my organic systems rushing, my performance reliability dropped low enough that I got another maintenance alert. This time with it being outright required, “or risk Unit error”. Humour on you, Maint-Sys, I had already made many grave errors. There were plenty of things I had to witness being with Barish-Estranza but I had never seen something like… that.

The strange thing was- the message was in machine code language. Like what Perihelion put on my helmet before retrieving Murderbot 1.0 on the colonist planet. That would limit the ping to only being readable by most machines unless a human sat down to parse it. Which… did not make sense, maybe there was a higher-functioning bot? Nevertheless, a bot would still have to be specifically instructed to send out a distress ping like this by a human… Especially attaching an image unless it was higher-functioning, the potential of that was just limited as most bots on station were general purpose or cargo-specific. The ping had targeted non-native bots only, no linking to staff or the PA bots… It could mean that they did not identify the station staff as safe? Or maybe it was a trap? Both?

I do not believe I cared.

At least now I had an excuse to ask Perihelion and Murderbot 1.0 for help, but I think I had also already made up my mind upon analysing the additional attachment regardless of what they told me.

I was going to help. I was going to be useful. And maybe… they would want me.

Cautiously, I tapped the lingering feed connection to Perihelion, I did have its comm stored under my rib but I did not want to announce to everyone (the humans onboard) what was going on. And I wanted Murderbot 1.0’s opinion as well, forwarding on the ping and attachment, I believe there is a problem.

Murderbot 1.0 responded 0.2 of a second later, I loosed a breath I did not realise I had been holding and the weight around my ribs lessened, That reads trap, even my borked risk assessment thinks so.

I was aware of that, as stated above. I do have my own functional Risk-Assessment and Threat-Assessment modules, this was also against all relevant protocols, again, I did not care, I want to help.

Perihelion finally replied to add in a voice more like it had used when Murderbot 1.0’s position was compromised, its crew had called it “cold”, If the information and attachment provided are reliable, I would encourage you to assist. Have you confirmed the authenticity?

Right. I could trace and hack into the ship on my own accord, I did not need permission. Again, I was failing. I answered anyway, I have not entered the feed for the ship, but the image does not appear staged or altered.

You aren’t already in ship Sec-Sys..? Murderbot 1.0’s immediate confusion leaked through the feed despite the distance.

Ignoring the query, I traced the feed address attached to the ping to the bay below the one I was currently at, one for recent arrivals in dock for cargo restocking. Based on the staff routes, there was an employee access near the cubby. I opted for scanning the cameras before, in and after the access as that seemed sensible- there would be a window in the next few minutes where I could utilise it based on projected movements. Humans move so slowly when relaxed. I brought up the manifest for the ship at the dock corresponding to the feed address location- some kind of smaller freight-merchant vessel. Scouring through the Station Sec-Sys for the cameras of the ship-lock to match the listed crew members.

The two had begun bickering in the background of my feed about whether it was worth the risk to fulfil the request or not, Murderbot 1.0 notably raised its voice about if what I did was traced back to Perihelion. Or me dying. But I was focused on slipping into Vessel Sec-Sys now and backburnered them. I would have to make sure the crew members listed were all the crew members that had left- besides forwarding the manifest to them I paid them no mind.

They went quiet momentarily to review which offered me more space to focus, I was not as confident at hacking as Murderbot 1.0 was. We were only allowed to under awfully specific circumstances and it rarely came up during my time of merely… guarding humans. Making sure they did not die, did not attempt to murder each other and, most importantly, did not try to leave. Oftentimes we already had system access to things like clients' personal devices. I had never experienced humans from outside Barish-Estranza as clients I was responsible for whereas Murderbot 1.0 had handled new human teams for each contract they held. I only ever held one contract.

I had expected to die one day at that contract.

Matching the corresponding time stamps of a few minutes before each cluster of crew members disembarked with the internal cameras and schematics confirmed my suspicions that only so many of the actual crew were listed on the public manifest. I counted 9 additional people and potentials- though all who had been listed were currently on station. The others appeared to be in their personal quarters and there had been no activity from them since the disembarking. Noting that, I adjusted the route I would take to compensate and forwarded the information. I could do this, I watched Murderbot 1.0 do it repeatedly throughout their logs. I could do this… Huh. I only ever saw humans use words of affirmation with themselves, never bots. Strangely, it helped.

Perihelion finished reviewing the information and only said, I have never come across a ship that has been to the Origin System. It is curious how it got here so fast.

I was not the only one who did not know what the Origin System was as Murderbot 1.0 said nothing. Perihelion began to elaborate but I would have to learn more about it later as I had only just successfully gotten into Vessel Sec-Sys pretending I was Port Authority Sec-Sys. I was successful, I had done it, and I was feeling… the opposite of Perihelion’s voice, warm? I do not understand how humans can convert their emotions into extremely specific literature. I want to learn how to… if this works out, at least. It would work out. I needed it too.

The cameras were in odd placements aboard the ship, focused on exits, entries, walkways and the cargo-hold, not rooms. It did not take long to authenticate the image with the live view from the camera. I explicitly reviewed the metadata to ensure the recording was not looped or spoofed, overlaid with the public and private schematics to confirm positioning with the exterior visual of the ship-lock. Admittedly, the positioning was peculiar, it looked like a cargo-hold inside of a smaller shuttle- one designed for planetary atmospheres like the ones Perihelion had stored. Identifiable by internal engineering.

It was not unusual for a ship to have one, all ships around the size of the freight that I had worked on had them, but the manifest explicitly stated that this Vessel was only for space trade. Not planetary trade. The fact it was a cargo-freight made me wonder if it was some kind of planetary craft altered to tug modules. The shuttle was not visible from the cargo-hold camera, specifically being hidden in a blind spot based on my estimates. My own unsettled expectations with how strange everything in general at that moment enabled me to dismiss it. For all I knew this was standard practice in this particular region, like how Perihelion does not publicly list its weapons.

But I could not identify any bot in the cameras, the only one I could identify was the Vessel itself- as I could feel the Bot-Pilot present in the feed with me though it had not indicated noticing my presence. There were drones as well, specifically for maintenance and cleaning- unfortunately they did not appear effective for their purpose. I handed all the information over into the feed for Perihelion and Murderbot to parse and triple-check me as I continued to watch the camera and feel for the recordings of the last seven days. The silhouette was clear, peering out partially from behind a secured crate. Small enough to be missed if you were not looking for it, especially for a human crew. I had a small plan, partially based on a murder that happened on Preservation Station- which I know, sounded great.

Sarcasm, I think that was what it is called?

Anyway, I prepared all necessary components for the plan that I could from my position and was preparing to leave the cubby when Murderbot 1.0 said, Do you want me to do it?

No!... No. I had not meant to raise my voice, I had never shouted before, I did not know what emotions I was leaking through the feed, nevertheless I was certain with my whole constructed mind I did not want either of them to know. So, I hastily gathered up and reinforced my walls linked into their feed as well as the Vessel Sec-Sys for self-assurance. I did not want it there, I could do this, I could be useful, this could be my way to show I was useful. The skin on my face did that heated thing again as I felt the digital recoil from Murderbot 1.0, it did not withdraw from the feed, but I could tell it felt… Odd. I felt odd too. I produced an excuse, The route will be clear in the next 30 seconds, you would not be able to get here without exposing yourself. The situation is too sensitive to leave it for longer, they are just too fragile.

Perihelion digitally hummed in agreement, but I could feel the scepticism still wavering through the feed from Murderbot 1.0.

… Are you able to provide tactical support? Maybe that would be good enough to get it to settle and it would be nice to work… not alone. And it would mean even if I horrendously messed up, I could still succeed. If I died, things would still be okay. It was a win. My Risk Assessment was not happy about any of this unnecessary risk-taking. It tapped an acknowledgement. The feed only did so much to block out the edged sensation from its end, but that was good enough for me. As I waited the last couple of seconds for the dock and elevator to be clear, I started bringing up the codes from Vessel Sec-Sys to open the lock.

Bag accessible, the uncalibrated drones that I was only supposed to awaken on the ship I was leaving with booting up, hand-weapon in reach, continuing to remove myself from the cameras, scanning for unanticipated movement, the feed connection to the others- all the inputs were becoming suffocating. There were not that many, it was simply more than I had ever been ordered to manage, everything I was doing felt slow and unfamiliar. I almost walked into the access door without opening it. Murderbot 1.0 silently slid into my feeds and started taking over my inputs for Station Sec-Sys, not only opening the elevator door but setting it up to arrive at the designated floor without the request reaching the Station Transport-System it was on.

It managed so easily. I was not sure I would ever get to that point even with practice. Murderbot 1.0’s personal logs implied a superior prowess for not merely hacking but managing multiple inputs that I had never observed from any of the other Units I had come across or worked with. A sense of prickling through my input to Vessel Sec-Sys being the only indication it successfully entered too. I could feel it handing some information portions over to Perihelion although I had enough room to do what I needed to now and stopped paying as much attention. I was both dreading and grateful for the fact I did not have my armour now, it was confusing to have emotions on a job. Having more than one when you are supposed to be fully operational and cannot hide them from any human you come across- especially the ones that are conflicting, were exponentially worse.

There was some, what I would identify as, comfort in familiarity, this would be more like retrieving the kids that ran away from their designated housing after curfew, just that there were much fewer places to hide in the Private station docks.

Thinking about everything like that allowed for a focused calm for what I needed to do, that small peace allowed my performance reliability to climb back up to 96%. Still not within the ideal parameters for operations yet better than it stating lower than that. This should be swift. Easy. Simple retrieval. With a resolution for not only the distress signal but for my own… Strangeness. The doors for the access opened and I had already started the open hatch sequence for the ship-lock- it was oddly non-standard. Maybe that should have been another red flag. My threat assessment picked it up though neither Murderbot 1.0, nor Perihelion by proxy, brought it up.

I passed through the access doors and across the dock floor, still no further filed objections from Murderbot 1.0 or Perihelion.

So, I simply walked right in.

#three the secunit #murderbot #asshole research transport #martha wells #the murderbot diaries #scifi #scifibooks #scifiseries #fanfic #fanfiction #action #network effect #fandom #writblr #writers on tumblr #writeblr #tmbd #Reverse Innovation

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fandomsaligninstories · 2 years

Text

Bloodshed

Prompt: Dozens of androids were dead or dying after the Freedom March. Unfortunately for Ayla, she wasn’t able to escape unscathed. Song Rec: Roslyn by Bon Iver TW: Death, gun violence Word Count: 1399 Pairing: Markus (RK200) x Human!Reader

Ayla's POV: I walked down the creaking, metal stairs, holding tightly to the railing. I stopped at the bottom, looking over all of the androids. There were so many now; the break in at the CyberLife stores had done the cause some good. I looked to my left, towards the empty room that had become Markus' unofficial-official office. I knocked on the metal doorframe, smiling softly as he looked up, "Hey." "What are you doing here?" He stood slowly, a ghost of a smile replacing a somber look. "What, I'm not allowed to check in on you?" "Ayla, it is too dangerous. What if you get caught? You will be arrested!" His voice raised as he got closer to me, "They could kill you if they knew you were helping us." "Please relax, I've been careful. Even if they did find out, they wouldn't hurt me." I cupped his face between my hands, his skin smooth and warm against my calloused palms, "I can't just not see you. I worry." His hands laid on mine, sighing heavily, "I know. I'm sorry. I just... cannot lose you too." I stood on my toes to press a gentle kiss to his lips, dropping back to my heels, "You're stuck with me, Markus. Can't get rid of me if you tried." He laughed at this, moving to sit on a stack of crates, "What's the plan now?" "We march. Peacefully. We have to show them that we are alive, that we want to be free." "Good. Where?" "Grand Circus Park." "They'll try to fight. You'll need a plan." "If they try to fight, we run. We cannot afford to lose any one else." "Have you told them yet?" I nodded towards the common area. "Yes. Josh and Simon are on board. North thinks we should go armed, ready to fight." "That's a horrible idea. The public is confused, scared, but there is still time to get them on our side. We have to stay peaceful." "I know. I told her that." He held his head in his hands, sighing. I moved to stand in front of him. I lifted his head and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. He wrapped his around my waist, holding me in place, resting his head against my chest. "We'll win this, Markus. Just hold on for a little while longer." ——— I stood beside Markus, North to his left, Josh and Simon to my right. More and more androids joined us in the street as Markus waved his hands left and right, waking androids up and changing the electronic billboards with our symbol. "WE ARE PEOPLE... SET US FREE... NO MORE SLAVERY... WE ARE PEOPLE... SET US FREE... NO MORE SLAVERY..." We chanted. People stared at us from inside stores and on the sidewalks, a mixture of shock and horror on their faces. The air was supercharged with energy. My heart froze as we got to the end of the street, a lone cop pointing his gun and yelling at us to stop. Markus paused for a moment before continuing on. The cop backed away, radioing for backup. The chants continued. As we started to round the corner, three police cars skid to a stop to our left, riot teams setting up behind them. We turned right, where two army vehicles stopped and a dozen men formed a line of shields. "We came here to demonstrate peacefully and tell humans that we are living beings." Markus announced. Everyone came to a halt behind us. I stood beside Markus, my hand brushing his, "All we want is to live free." "This is an illegal gathering. Disperse immediately or we will open fire." Someone shouted over a loud speaker. "We are not looking for confrontation. We've done no harm, we have no intention of doing any... But know that we are not going anywhere until we have secured our freedom." "I repeat: This is an illegal gathering. If you do not disperse, we will shoot!" "Markus, they'll kill us. We have to go." I took his hand in mind, lacing my fingers with his. He hesitated, looking to me then North. "No, we have to attack! There's more of us, we can take them!" Josh spoke, "If we attack, we'll start a war. We have to show them we're not violent. We should just stand our ground, even if it means dying here." Simon looked to me, "And dying here won't solve anything. We need to go, now, before it's too late." "This is your last chance! Disperse immediately or you will all be killed!" The men across from us started to kneel behind their shields, a second man behind them with a gun. "We have to show them we won't back down." He pushed his shoulders back and held his head high, "We stay here." I gripped his hand tightly and stood tall, shots ringing out as a few androids fell, dead. "DISPERSE! THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE!" "We have to make a statement! We have to stay put, no matter what." "Please, Markus, we can't let them slaughter us without fighting back!" He looked to me, conflict in his eyes. "Markus, we have to go, we can't earn your freedom if you're dead." "We're not moving." More shots rang out, more androids fell. I gasped as a bullet narrowly missed my head. "Markus, what are you doing?! They're gonna kill us all!" North shouted. He looked to North then Simon then me, nodding. "RUN!" Everyone turned around and ran, countless androids falling as more shots were fired. Markus gripped my hand tightly, pulling me alongside him. We ran into the city, knowing the army wouldn't be willing to risk civilian casualties. Markus paused and turned around, the four of us stopping with him. "We have to go, Markus. Please." I tugged his arm, begging him to continue running. We turned around and continued to run. ——— I sat down in the upstairs office, waiting for Markus as he and the survivors settled back into Jericho. There weren't many androids left, so Markus had to talk to them, give them hope. I laid against the wall, my legs stretched out in front of me. My breath was ragged, I couldn't quite catch my breath. My hands rested on my stomach, rising and falling with my uneven breathing. I closed my eyes as my head fell against the wall. I heard the heavy thump of his boots against the metal before I could readjust myself. His voice was laced with worry, "Ayla?" "Hey, baby." I blinked a few times, trying to focus on him. He rushed over to my side, dropping to his knees. "No. No, no no..." His right had cupped my cheek as his left pressed on my stomach. I gasped loudly over his shouts for help, "Ayla, no!" I slowly lifted my hand to his cheek, tracing my thumb under his eye as a tear escaped, "It's okay. It's okay, Markus." "No, you can't leave me, no! Why didn't you tell me?!" He moved to slip off his jacket, balling it up and pressing it against my stomach. I bit back a cry, glancing over to Simon and Josh, who had just entered the room. They both rushed over to us, Simon dropping to my left and Josh beside him. I looked to Markus, tears freely streaming down his cheeks, "'m sorry." "No, don't apologize, okay? We're going to get you better, okay? Please." His head fell, forehead pressed against my shoulder. I brought my right arm up to hug him, pressing a gentle kiss beside his ear. I looked over to Simon, who had tears in his eyes. I smiled lazily, "'s okay, Si'... Take care of 'm for me, alright?" He nodded hastily, taking my free hand in his. His hands felt hot compared to mine, which I could barely feel anymore. Markus leaned back, looking down at his hands, which were still pressed against my stomach. His hands and jacket were stained red. "You have to bring peace, Markus. You have to show them you deserve to live." He tried to smile, lifting his hands to cup my face. He leaned down, capturing my lips with his. He leaned back slowly, staring into my eyes with so much pain that I had to look away. I took one last look at my friends, my family, "I'll be okay... I'm going to join the stars." My eyes closed slowly, the last of my energy drained. I heard Markus sobbing, the last thing I heard before darkness enveloped me, "I love you."

#detroit become human #detroit: become human #d:bh #markus rk200 #rk200 #dbh rk200 #dbh markus #detroit become human fanfic #dbh fanfic #dbh imagine #detroit become human imagine #markus fanfic

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hpimaginesandblurbs · 2 years

Note

Lucius Malfoy being a fucking bastard who doesn't care about manners, just ruining the reader. If you can include kinks like reproduction, suffocation and sexual slavery.

pairing: lucius malfoy x reader

word count: 1.5k

warning(s): 18+, dom/sub roles, master!lucius, choking, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy/impregnation, soft!lucius at the end

a/n: sorry this took literally forever, a lot has been going on but i think i'll be back for a bit. if you left me a request, please be patient! also, lucius is a little softer in this towards the end than you probably wanted but i couldn't not do it...i love soft!lucius.

“Look at my little pet, all spread out and desperate for me,” Lucius mused, his silver eyes tracing over every inch of your exposed body.

“Yes, Master,” you replied dutifully, praying he would give you what you were desperately waiting for.

You had been waiting, sprawled out on his desk, for the better part of the afternoon. You knew he always wanted you after a long day of meetings. You always waited for him, no matter what position he requested, no matter how sore your body was, no matter how desperate you were. This time was no different, except it was.

Before he had left that morning, he had made you a promise. Today you would be getting what you had been desperately wanting for months now. In the quiet comforts of your shared bedroom, he had whispered his promise - that he would give you a child.

It had taken you ages to convince him. He argued that he had never felt the need for a second child, or that he was too old to start over again. But he loved you too much. He could never say no to you, despite the cruel games you two liked to play in the bedroom, and apparently you had finally persuaded him.

Lucius dragged his ring clad hands down your thighs, his nails biting into the flesh. You hissed at the feeling, but instinctually you spread your legs even further for him. “That’s a good pet. You’re just desperate to get filled, aren’t you?” He asked with a cruel chuckle.

Too overwhelmed by his presence, all you could manage was an enthusiastic nod, staring up at him with desperation in your eyes. Lucius wasn’t pleased with that because within the next second his hand was wrapped around your throat, his rings pinching the skin on your neck from how tightly he was gripping you.

“Use your words, you filthy little slut,” he gritted out. He was looming over you now, the fabric from his suit dragging against your hardened nipples, his legs directly between yours.

“Y-yes, Master. Want- want to be filled,” you choked out, barely getting enough air to form a coherent thought let alone speak, but you managed.

Finally satisfied, he loosened his grip. Slowly, so fucking slowly, he removed his suit jacket and removed his wand from it’s holster, purposefully putting it to the side to prove that he wouldn’t cast an contraceptive charm on you. You watched his every move, completely entranced by his casual display of dominance even if he really wasn’t doing anything special. He knew exactly how to move, exactly what to say, exactly what look to give you to get you squirming.

His hand returned to gripping your throat once it was all over. Your head was already dizzy and he hadn’t even properly touched you yet.

“You’ll get what you want, pretty pet,” he said lowly, a tender sparkle in his otherwise menacing grey eyes letting you know he wanted what was to come just as much as you did.

“But,” he continued.

You could feel yourself tense under that one simple word. You knew getting what you wanted was never easy when it came to this man. Not in the bedroom, at least. Every game came with a caveat that was sure to leave your head spinning and your body desperate for more, despite the severity of some of Lucius’ more difficult tasks.

“I’m keeping my hand right here the whole time,” he explained, tightening his grip on your neck almost painfully to prove his point. “If you pass out before you get my seed inside you, that would be such a shame. You wouldn’t want to miss it, would you?”

You couldn’t help the desperate moan that spilled from your lips. He knew this was your favorite game. And he was so deliciously cruel for deciding to play it tonight. He knew how badly you wanted to feel him spill inside of you, fill you with the seed of his child. You were determined to make that happen for yourself.

He didn’t even miss a beat the moment he saw understanding and raw determination and lust fill your eyes. With his free hand, he freed his cock from his perfectly tailored slacks and pushed inside of you with one long, deep thrust. The moan you let out was close to a scream as you felt every inch of his perfect cock stretch and fill you, the both of you throbbing with anticipation.

“That’s a good slut. Take what I give you,” Lucius mused, pausing for a moment. You weren’t sure whether the brief lull was for your benefit or his own, but you wanted it to end.

“Please, Master. Please fuck me,” you begged, your hips attempting to roll into his but it was a futile attempt. With his free hand, he easily pinned down your waist, forcing you to come to a stop.

“Take. What. I. Give. You,” he gritted out, punctuating every word with a powerful thrust deep inside of you.

You couldn’t even begin to form a response. All you could do was feel and moan and try to fucking breath. His cock was plunging in and out of you with a force unlike ever before, leaving you breathless yet more alive than ever.

His hand never once wavered from his tight grip, forcing your breaths to become increasingly shallow as time went on. Your head was spinning from the sensation, only increasing your high and bringing you closer and closer to your climax.

“How badly do you want me to breed you?” He asked, barely a hint of breathlessness in his voice, as if he wasn’t fucking you like an animal.

His question snapped you back to reality and you looked up into his grey eyes, and you almost came just from the eye contact alone. His eyes were liquid fire, all of his desire and lust and love pouring out like lava into your very soul.

He must have read the answer in your eyes, but still it didn’t satisfy him. “Use your words,” he said more gently, lightly tapping your cheek with his fingers to snap you out of your lust filled daze.

“So- so bad. Pl- Please, Master,” you gasped out, fighting desperately to stay coherent. You wanted this more than anything. You weren’t sure if you even could, but you were prepared to beg more if that’s what he wanted from you. You would give him anything, do anything for him, just to have this. You were clawing at your own mind to stay afloat, trying to push past the daze you were in from the way his cock was lighting you up inside. Frantic breaths fell from your mouth, barely recognizable sounds falling from your lips. You could only imagine what you looked like. Debauched, fucked out, filt-

“Cum.”

Your world went quiet as your body followed Lucius’ order. Your mind had barely caught up by the time your body was shaking and convulsing beneath him, your vision white.

Your mind stayed suspended in time for a moment, before you finally heard him groan and begin to spill inside of you.

And then everything went black.

~~~

When you finally landed back on Earth you were still in Lucius’ office, but he had relocated you to the couch, his firm body pressed against your as your eyes fluttered open.

You curled your body impossibly closer to his, wanting to be as close as humanly possible, at least for a little while.

“There’s my sweet girl,” he whispered into your hair when he felt you move, his arms tightening around your body perfectly. “How are you feeling?”

“Perfect,” you said honestly. “But I’m a little sad I missed it when you came.”

He chuckled lightly at that before responding. “Darling, unless this child is an absolute miracle than I’m sure we’ll have to do this quite a bit more before you get pregnant,” he explained lightly.

You couldn’t even help the shiver that ran down your spine at the promise of more, your whole body perking up.

“A bit more? As in, a bit more right now?” You asked, sitting up so you could look at him, praying to Merlin that you were giving him the eyes that made him fold every time.

“You’re insatiable,” he commented, clearly amused.

“Oh, so are you,” you chided, getting up off the couch and slowly making your way to the door.

“And just where do you think you’re running off to?” He asked, his eyebrow arched menacingly but you weren’t buying it for a second, not when he had that fond look in his eyes.

“I think we could both use a shower,” you asked, slightly turning in the doorway so he had a perfect view of your ass. “You coming, Daddy?” You asked, barely holding back your giggle at the new nickname as you began to walk away.

But you couldn’t hide your smile when you heard him following you, ever devoted to loving you in every way you deserved.

#harry potter smut #harry potter #lucius malfoy x reader #lucius malfoy #lucius malfoy fluff #lucius malfoy fanfic #lucius malfoy smut #lucius malfoy drabble #lucius malfoy x you

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whimsicallyreading · 3 years

Text

For Rowaelin Month day 17

“A sick day”

CW- PTSD, mentions of violence

Aelin considered herself a fortunate person.

She has survived genocide, her family's murders, losing loved ones, slavery, torture, and the Great War. Now she is a queen, a mother, a beloved Mate.

Her life had changed since those bleak days where she'd wondered if she would ever escape captivity—the days when Aelin didn't know if she would ever be free or find love again. Every morning she woke up curled into Rowan's side, and while she drank her morning tea, Aelin could count on her young daughter snuggling into her lap.

Yes, she was swamped most days, but that was normal for a queen. But even the moments between boring meetings brimmed with life and laughter. Rowan's hand on her thigh beneath the table. Fenrys' theatrics when conversation spiraled off-topic. And even the hardened lords thought it was hilarious when their three-year-old princess barged into councils and demanded her mother's attention.

Her family gathered for dinners at the end of every day. Aelin's little family, Fenrys, Emrys, and Malakai were the regular attendees. Aedion, Lysandra, Elide, and Lorcan joined when they were present. It was a time reserved for family only, and it was by far Aelin's favorite part of the day.

Aelin had a good life now. Her family was growing, and her country thrived beneath her rule.

So it always took her by surprise when a bad day came.

She had woken up fine. Delly had slammed open the chamber door with a gust of wind and squirmed herself between her and Rowan in the early morning. Usually, Aelin treasured the moments when her daughter joined them, but being pregnant again had taken a toll on her sleep.

Rowan tried to stop their child before she entirely collapsed onto Aelin but was a moment too slow. Delly flopped onto her mother's chest in a disarray of wrinkled nightgown and golden curls. Soft sobs were sputtering out of the tiny figure.

I'm sorry. Rowan whispered into her thoughts. He knew how hard pregnancy was on her and took his mate's comfort very seriously. It troubled him that their toddling daughter woke Aelin so abruptly.

Aelin blinks the sleep from her eyes and sends him a happy smile to assure him everything is fine.

"What's wrong, Dell?" Aelin soothes a hand up her baby's quaking form.

Adelia sniffles harder, unable to talk through the tears. She'd started to have bad dreams in recent weeks, but never had she been so inconsolable.

Aelin shifts as Adelia's arms tighten uncomfortably around her bump. Rowan sees her discomfort and reaches around to pull Dell to him instead, but it is met with resistance.

"No," Adelia finally wails. "Mama. I want Mama."

Rowan frowns. Adelia was a daddy's girl to the bone, and this was the first time she'd ever refused to go to him. Their daughter squeezes harder and burrows her face into Aelin's torso.

"Dell," Rowan leans next to her and whispers, a cool breeze brushing against her flushed cheek. "What's wrong little love?"

Adelia lifts her head, and Aelin's heart contracts painfully. Her cheeks are red and swollen from the intensity of her crying, little sobs still stumbling from her chest as Rowan settles her down enough to speak.

"Mama was gone. She was hurt, and she couldn't see me." Dell sniffles, her green eyes glassy. "Can you see me, Mama?"

Aelin tugs her daughter in closer, unable to stand the sight of her so sad. "Yes, of course, I can. I'm right here."

"You were in a box. She wouldn't let me see you," Adelia whimpers in a small voice. "She told me she was gonna keep you. I don't want you to go, Mama."

Aelin's face blanches. It wasn't possible. Her little baby couldn't possibly have seen what was coming to her mind. She looks at Rowan, and his face is pinched with worry.

"It's not real, Dell." Rowan uses a thumb to wipe the tears off her cheek.

Adelia flinches. "Uncle Ress told me it was. He told me Mama had got stollen and put into a box by the bad lady and that she should have stayed there."

Aelin's heart stops. Nausea crawls up her throat, and Rowan tugs Adelia away just in time for her to crawl out of bed and gag into a potted plant. The sickness grips Aelin, the shudders in her arms only growing worse with her daughter's mumbled cries.

"Daddy, I want Mama to stay here." Rowan hushes her and murmurs quiet reassurances. "Don't let her get stollen."

Ress had said that? In front of her daughter? Aelin tries to close her eyes against the visions creeping into her mind. The places her scars used to be ache, and her hands pulse with the remembered pain of reconstruction.

The baby in her womb squirms under its mother's stress, and Aelin throws up again.

She should have stayed there.

Cairn brings the hammer down onto her frail knees, the ringing of cracking bone splits the air.

She should have stayed there.

Aelin opens her eyes to endless darkness. Sweet smoke wafts through invisible holes and sends her to sleep- leaving her mind vulnerable to Maeve's manipulations.

She should have stayed there.

More and more memories swarm behind her eyelids until a pair of grounding arms wrap around her shoulders.

"Fireheart, you are home. You are safe. Can you breathe with me?" Rowan sighs loudly behind her shoulder, and Aelin tries to force her own breath out.

Breathing in is harder, but Rowan's scent fills her nose and loosens the binds on her lungs. Soon, Aelin is doing the exercises independently, and Rowan nuzzles his face into her neck. His hands snake under her bump and lift some of the pressure, easing more of her tension.

"There you are," Rowan kisses her cheek as Aelin comes back around. "Are you okay?"

Aelin shakes her head and sinks into his arms. "Can you take me back to bed?"

Her legs feel like jelly, and her stomach is weak from turning. Rowan lifts her with ease. His arms are warm, and he murmurs sweet nothings into her ear as he carries his mate back to their bed.

"Adelia?" Aelin looks around for their daughter.

Rowan pulls back the duvet and reveals the sleepy from nestled right into the middle of the pillows. "She fell back asleep quickly."

"I can't believe Ress told her those things," Aelin can feel a tear slipping down her face. Ress had never forgiven her for her days as Celaena. Darrow had grown to accept her, but Ress never warmed up to having Aelin as his queen despite her efforts.

She hadn't realized the extent his hatred went.

Rowan scowls as he lays Aelin down next to their daughter. "Ress is young and foolish. I have forgiven a lot of his hostility and ignored most of his juvenile antics, but Aelin, I can't forgive this."

"He should never have said those things to Dell." Ress's words linger in her head. She tried to do right by her title and live up to her parent's legacy. Aelin took a lot of pride in listening to the demands of her people and tending to their problems personally. But the odds of Ress being the only one to feel this way are slim. Did they wish she'd never returned? Was she arrogant to take the crown just because it was her inheritance? She'd never had the formal training as ruler and relied a lot on Rowan to help manage foreign affairs. Despite the loss of her fire, many still feared her and considered her a murderer. No matter how hard she tried, Aelin's history as Adarlan's Assassin proceeded her.

Tears burn Aelin's eyes, and Rowan's scowl deepens. "He should have never spoken of you like that at all."

Aelin shakes her head, "It's his right to think what he wants. Maybe he has a point."

"No." Rowan growls, and Dell flinches in her sleep. Taking a deep breath, Rowan softens his voice. "He's wrong, Aelin. Ress was wrong to scare Dell, and he has no right to demean everything you've sacrificed. You've suffered for your people."

"I closed the lock because I had to Rowan," Aelin argues. "That doesn't automatically make me a good queen. What if I'm failing?"

Rowan pulls their duvet up to Aelin's chin, and Dell instinctively snuggles to her mother's side. Her daughter was a leach for warmth, and Aelin could feel her remaining flames writhing in her veins agitated.

"You are a wonderful ruler, Fireheart." Rowan bends down and kisses her lips reverently. "I've met my fair share of emperors, kings, and queens. None of them have given up so much to better the lives of their people. They care for you in return."

Rowan steps away from the bed, and Aelin makes a displeased noise. "Where are you going so early in the morning."

"I'm awake now. I feel like a flight through Oakwald. Go to sleep, and when you wake up, I'll bring my females breakfast," Rowan pulls on a plain white tunic. "Sleep, love. You both need your rest."

Rowan can read her too well. Aelin can feel her eyes drooping despite how much she wants to deny it. "Very well, but there better be tea and pastries."

As Aelin drifts back to sleep, she swears that a mischievous smile passes across her mate's face.

~~~

"Aelin," Maeve twirls a lock of blonde hair in her fingers. "Where are the keys?"

Cairn twists the blade in her thigh again, and Aelin screams, "screw yourself."

Aelin writhes beneath the pain and the dark queen's gaze. Her torturer goes to twist the blade again, but Maeve holds up a hand. "Wait. There is a smarter way to go about this."

"I won't tell you anything," Aelin gasps, the blood seeping from her thigh pools onto the table. "There is nothing you can do."

"Not even to spare the princess?" Maeve smiles as the cell door opens. Connall walks into the room, a squirming girl in his arms.

"Let me go," the girl screams, and the air in the room turns frigid. Her blonde hair whips around as she twists and fights. The little girl's head turns, and she freezes when she catches sight of Aelin. "Mama?"

"Adelia?" Aelin asks, confused. "You can't be here. You aren't supposed to be here." With renewed energy, Aelin thrashes against her bonds and bares her teeth at Maeve.

Maeve takes Adelia from Connall and strokes her hair. "Such a pretty one."

"This isn't real," Aelin hisses. "I wasn't pregnant when you took me. Adelia was born in Terresan."

Maeve hums a sympathetic note, "It seems you're confused." Aelin fights as the dark queen sits with a frozen Adelia in her lap. "Begin again, Cairn."

A hot iron is lain against Aelin's neck, and Adelia's screams rattle the stone chamber.

~~~

Aelin wakes with a gasp. Her chest is seizing in uncontrollable fits, and little hands cup the sides of her face.

"Mama?" Adelia's concerned face hovers over Aelin's. "Why are you crying?"

Relief washes over her at the sight of her daughter, safe and sound. She tries to take deeper breaths, but her body fights against her. The baby in her womb squirms uncomfortably. Aelin feels guilt that they are so subject to her moods. She tries to open her mouth to speak, consol her frightened daughter, but Aelin can't get any words out.

"Daddy!" Dell screams, frightened tears gathering in the corner of her eyes.

Rowan bursts through the door, "Dell?"

Adelia sniffles and kisses Aelin's face sadly, "Daddy, what's wrong with Mama?"

Aelin grabs at her chest, trying to ease the tightness there. She was scaring her daughter. What kind of mother would do that? Rowan sits beside her, and a cool wind goes up her nose and fills her lungs.

"Fireheart," Rowan lifts Adelia and sits beside her. "Is this a sick day?"

It was the code they'd come up with for the days when the past came back to haunt them. When the turmoil in their mind forces their bodies to rebel, and they can't seem to put on their usual facades. It used to shame Aelin, the days she couldn't rise from bed and do her duty. But her mate's unwavering love soon cracked that lie and eased her burden. Rowan had convincing arguments. Aelin's people needed their queen at her best, and on sick days, she wasn't able to give that to them. Their court was strong. They wouldn't allow Terresan to fall while she recovered. Aelin deserved time to heal.

Rowan must have been able to tell that she wouldn't be able to settle herself this time as his winds continued their push and pull in her chest. "Yes," she rasps dejectedly.

Dell buries her face into Rowan's shoulder. Her mate rests a hand on the side of her face and soothes her cheek. "To whatever end, Aelin. We will get through this just as we do everything else."

Rowan kisses the side of Dell's face. "Little love, do you think you can go to the kitchens and have someone bring Mama tea?"

That fae instinct to fuss rears its head in their child. Adelia perks up at the opportunity to do something useful. "Yes!"

Rowan sets her on the floor, and she takes off in a blur of untamed hair and swishing skirts. They wince as a gust of wind slams the doors of their chambers against the wall.

"She's a handful," Rowan talks, aware of the soothing effect his voice has on her. "But we always knew our children would be. I can't wait to see what kind of chaos our son brings into our lives."

Aelin wraps her arms around him as the remnants of her dreams finally fade away. "You think it's a boy?"

"I know so," Rowan pinches her side, and Aelin smiles. He'd also been confident that their first child would be a girl. His smugness after Adelia's birth was unbearable.

"Rowan," Aelin whispers. "Can we just lay here today?"

"I could never deny you anything," Rowan leans against their headboard and kicks off his shoes. "You don't need to ask, Aelin. It's okay to take time for yourself."

"What if I'm just proving Ress right?" The insecurity slips from her lips before she can stop them. "What if there is someone more capable?"

"Ress won't be a problem anymore," Rowan rests a hand against her bump, and the baby withing kicks at it, bringing a smile to his face.

Aelin narrows her eyes, "What have you done?"

"Nothing that anyone will blame me for," Rowan assures. "He would be in a lot more trouble if the rest of the court learned what he said in front of Dell. Ress should be grateful I didn't do a lot worse."

Aelin sighs, "I don't understand why I can't just let it all go. Why do I allow myself to be so haunted?"

"It's not that simple," Rowan shakes his head. "I'm hundreds of years old, and no matter how many years pass, there are things from my past that haven't healed. The mind is different from the body, and sometimes it takes longer for it to recover. There is nothing wrong with that. You gave up everything for the people you loved."

"Because I had to," Aelin contradicts.

A hardness comes over Rowan, "because no one else could."

Rowan rolls over her body into a plank and looks deep into her eyes. "No one else that day would have made the same sacrifices out of love. Not even me. I was too selfish to let you go. You gave up everything, and by the strength in your soul, you came home to me. In all my decades, I have never met someone so remarkable, and I never will again. Take as many years as you need to recover, Aelin. This world owes a debt to you, and I will make sure it pays. You deserve every happiness."

His hand threads through one of hers and drags it up to rest on the bump between them.

Happiness.

Dell darts back into their room, a cup of tea sloshing in her hands as she runs. "Daddy, I put extra sugar in it. Uncle Fen is coming with more cups, but I made this one special."

Rowan pulls away from her, and the laughter on his face is contagious.

Aelin smiles and accepts the tea from Dell's hands. She even manages a few sips without cringing from the sweetness. Fenrys follows behind her shortly and sets a fresh cup covertly on her bedside table.

There may be hard days, Aelin realizes as her family gathers around her, but the love they showed her every day made it all worth it.

#throne of glass #rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #fanfic #tog #angst #rowan x aelin #ptsd #sick day #baby fic #canon #sjm #sjmaas

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cocobeanncteez · 3 years

Text

Ateez Hongjoong: Tame (Final Part)

Genre: Fluff, angst, smut, mafia au.

Pairing: Mafia!Hongjoong x OC (written in 2nd person)

Word Count: 17k in total, 2.2k in this part. (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3)

Warnings for all parts combined: Mafia themes such as torture, abuse, violence, human auctions, murder, drugs, guns. Mentions of rape, human trafficking, sex slavery, organ trafficking, unprotected sex, pulling out, facesitting.

“What are you guys up to?” you questioned, plopping down on the couch beside Wooyoung. Yunho, Jongho, and San were seated on the opposite couch.

“Just talking about one of our hostages who we will kill tonight,” Yunho replied while playing with a rubik's cube.

“What did they do?” you asked.

“He tried to sabotage our latest drug deal with a secret dealer from Russia. We didn’t know how he found out about it, but he spilled the beans on his gang,” San answered. “So we don’t need him anymore.”

“Well… rest in peace, I guess,” you remarked, making Wooyoung snort.

“Would’ve been better if we killed Yang Daeyoung instead.”

You turned to look at him. “Who exactly is he? I’ve heard his name a few times, but I’ve never gotten the opportunity to ask.”

Jongho gently cleared his throat. “He’s the man who raped and murdered Hongjoong’s sister. Him and three of his men. He wasn’t from a very powerful gang or anything, but he does his work extremely well. He wanted to take us down, and he used Hongjoong’s sister as bait to trap him. Hongjoong refused to give up on Ateez. By the time we managed to track Hongjoong, the damage was already done.” You felt your heart break; you couldn’t even imagine what your boyfriend had to go through.

“Where is Yang Daeyoung now?” you asked.

“Rotting in our torture chamber as we speak.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “What?! Why haven’t you killed him yet?”

“We are looking for his child,” Hongjoong replied, joining the conversation. “The man has over five trillion won kept in a secret bank account. He also has information, good and bad, on every mafia gang and the corrupted politicians and locals involved. That’s why all gangs are still on the lookout for him even though we captured him eight months ago. He has a secret place somewhere in the world and only his child can access his possessions as he used iris pattern recognition. He has covered up everything though. We can’t find shit on any of his family members.”

“No amount of threatening or torturing works on him. We even told him that we’ll find his child and torture them,” Jongho added. “But he won’t reveal anything to us.”

“Maybe I can try?” you suggested. You did learn how to torture someone for information, but it wasn’t something you really enjoyed.

“Your chances are extremely low,” Wooyoung remarked.

“I’m aware of that. But even a little information could be helpful, right?”

“Go ahead then, sweetheart,” Hongjoong said with a smirk. “I’d love to see my girl torture that filthy bastard.”

You pecked his lips. “Then let’s go now, shall we?”

You made your way to the torture room, Hongjoong, Jongho, and Wooyoung following you. Seonghwa joined you after finishing his work in the interrogation room, satisfied with how much information he was able to obtain. Jongho entered a passcode for one of the rooms, letting everyone inside.

The room was pretty dark and looked like a jail cell. You saw a plate of untouched food on the floor. There was a chair in the middle of the room and a cot at the end of the room where Yang Daeyoung was sleeping, his back facing you all, long chains attached from his hands to a pipe.

Wooyoung moved to the sleeping form, giving the man a kick on his back to wake him up. “Get up, fucker.”

Yang Daeyoung groaned in pain before sitting up, looking at the faces of everyone in the room. As soon as you made eye contact with the man, your heart dropped to your stomach.

His eyes widened. “Kiah?! What are you doing here?!”

The boys immediately turned to look at you. You weren’t able to utter a word due to how shocked you were at seeing your own father there. His hair was quite long and he had a long beard and moustache. There were a few scars on his face and arms.

“How do you know her?” Hongjoong interrogated.

“Run from here, Kiah! They’re gonna kill you,” your father yelled at you.

“Do you know him?” Seonghwa asked you, but you weren’t able to answer. You felt sick. You felt terribly sick that it was your father who raped and murdered your lover's sister.

Tears rolled down your eyes when you glanced at your boyfriend. How could you ever face him now?

“Kiah!” your father yelled, tugging hard on the chains, grabbing your attention. “Get out of here! They’re gonna torture you in front my eyes! They said they will find you and torture you!”

Hongjoong looked at you with an emotionless expression, finally understanding the situation. “You’re his daughter?” You couldn’t respond.

“Are you this bastard's daughter?!” he yelled at you. Before you could answer him, he rushed out of the room. You couldn’t help but cry, burying your face in your hands, feeling your heart ache.

Your father glared at you angrily. “Why are you involved with Ateez?! What is wrong with—"

“Shut up!” you shouted, cutting him off. “You’re fucking pathetic! How could you r-rape someone when you have a daughter?! How could you lie to me all these years that you’re a cop, when you’re nothing but a heartless monster!” you sobbed loudly, collapsing onto the floor. You felt someone kneel beside you, wrapping their arms around you.

“Get away from her, Park Seonghwa!” your father spat.

Seonghwa turned to glare at him. “Shut it,” he said, before helping you stand up, taking you to your room.

You blankly stared at the window of your room from your bed, watching the horizon darker as night was approaching. It has been four days since you last saw Hongjoong. You felt nothing but emptiness and agony. You didn’t know if he was at the mansion or if he went somewhere as you haven’t left your room at all ever since Seonghwa brought you to it. The girls tried to make you eat, but you barely had the appetite to.

You sighed, forcing yourself to get out of bed to take a shower even though you were going to crawl right back into it.

Stripping out of your clothes and entering the shower, you pushed the tap, letting the warm water soak you. Closing your eyes, you could feel a dull ache in your chest when you began to think of Hongjoong. A sob got stuck in your throat, but escaped a few seconds later. You couldn’t hold it back anymore. You sat down, hugging your propped up knees. Your sobs got louder, and your throat was aching, tears mixing with the water running down your face.

After spending a few minutes crying until you couldn’t anymore, you finally washed your body and your hair.

Stepping out of the shower, you wrapped a towel around your body and another one for your hair. You exited the bathroom after putting some clothes on, having no strength to dry your hair with a blow-dryer. You stopped in your tracks when you noticed a figure seated on your bed.

“I'm sorry…” Hongjoong apologized, getting off your bed and moving towards you. He stood in front of you with a pained expression on his beautiful face. You wondered how long he was waiting for you and you really hoped he didn’t hear you cry. Even if he didn’t, he could still tell you were crying as your red, puffy eyes gave it away.

“F-For what?” you stuttered, voice shaky.

Hongjoong sighed, looking down at his feet. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I shouldn’t have left you alone when you were going through much worse. It was a shock for you too…”

Your eyes filled with tears. “I understand why you did it. It’s okay…”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not okay, baby. I’m ashamed of how I acted. You didn’t deserve that.”

You blinked, causing the tears brimming at your eyes to slide down your cheeks. Hongjoong reached up to cup your cheeks, gently wiping your tears away with his thumbs. He placed a gentle, lingering kiss on your forehead. “I’m so sorry.”

You closed your eyes, shaking your head in his hold. You pulled away from him, taking a deep breath. “Hongjoong, I-I think it’s best if we end things.” His eyes widened, heart aching due to your words. He opened his mouth to say something, but you spoke before he could. “I’m the daughter of the man who raped and murdered your sister, Hongjoong. I-I can’t…” you paused, sobs taking over. “I can’t live with that fact. I can’t look at you without thinking about it.”

“I don’t care, Kiah,” he reached out to hold your hands, his own eyes filling with tears. “I love you. Do you understand? I fucking love you. Yes, I was furious when I found out that you were the daughter of that bastard, but you shouldn’t have to suffer because of him. You didn’t even know what he does for a living. It’s not your problem.”

You sniffled. “You don’t h-hate me?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“Baby…” he sighed, pulling you into a hug, his own tears rolling down his beautiful face. “I could never hate you. Never. You’re the love of my life. Fuck, I can’t even live without you. These past four days… I felt like I was gonna go insane if I didn’t see you, but I had to give you some space.” You didn’t know what to say.

“There's no me without you,” he continued, gently pushing you away so that he could see your face. “So please… never try to break up with me again. I’d rather die than live without you,” he cried. You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest while you both cried together. Hongjoong placed soft kisses onto your head, trying to calm himself and you down.

When your sobs stopped, he gently pushed you away so that he could look at your face. He cupped your cheek, titling your head back before he leaned in, capturing your lips with his own in a soft kiss.

He pulled away, resting his forehead against you. “I love you,” he murmured.

You smile slightly. “I love you more.”

Epilogue

“Oh my god! We’re finally here!” Jiwoo squealed, running on the cooling sand. Ateez managed to find out the location of your father's secret hideout in Fiji with the help of Yeosang who used your iris pattern to track the computer. Ateez managed to receive all your father’s possessions and now you all had flown across Fiji for a mini vacation.

“Jiwoo's dream destination is Fiji and now we’re here,” San said, watching his girlfriend with love and adoration. You chuckled, watching San run after Jiwoo to join her little hyper session.

“We’re gonna go rest for a while,” Seonghwa stated, holding Aeji's hand.

Wooyoung smirked. “I know what that means,” he said, earning a smack on his head from the older man before the couple went to their beach house in the chain of houses.

Hongjoong took your hand in his, intertwining it. “We’re gonna rest too. See you all for dinner,” he said, dragging you along to your little beach house.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence, sandals leaving prints on the sand, observing the various hues of orange, red, blue, and purple in the beautiful sky as the sun was setting. Hongjoong let go of your hand when you reached your beach house, pausing in his tracks. You gave him a questioning look, wondering why he wasn’t going inside.

He cleared his throat, moving his hands to wrap around your waist. “You’re the only one who could tame my temper, as the boys always say," he started, making you giggle. “The only one who could make my heart beat so fast. I’ve never wanted anything more in life than to be with you. You aren’t just my girlfriend, you’re my best friend and the love of my life. But now I’d like to change that,” he reached into his pocket, taking out a small velvet box.

Hongjoong got down on one knee, and you gasped, realizing what was about to happen. “I’d like to be upgraded from your boyfriend to your fiancé.” You chuckle at that and he opened the box, revealing a beautiful oval-shaped diamond ring.

“Moon Kiah, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

“Yes!” you squealed, face beaming with happiness. Hongjoong took your hand in his, sliding the ring onto your finger. He got up and you pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. When you pulled away, he grinned before placing a soft kiss on your lips. “I love you. Thank you for bringing light to my life.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “I love you too, Joong. So much.” Hongjoong chuckled, pulling you into a sweet kiss.

You couldn’t wait for this new chapter in your life, spending it with Hongjoong by your side for the rest of eternity.

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sl-walker · 2 years

Text

Occupation, Part 5

Read prior parts here. Sign up to be tagged when this fic (or any of mine!) updates here. Read it on AO3 here. Reblogs go much further than likes; please support your content creators and reblog!

It started raining that night, which seemed as much omen as anything else.

Maul took a circuitous route back to the parking deck; within his mental map, but jagged enough to hopefully cover his tracks. While he thought he was doing a fair job surviving without the use of his vision, right now that lack frustrated him deeply, because every instinct had him wanting to scan around himself looking for any possible tails.

He knew it was unlikely that they had the first idea where he was. He could be anywhere on Nar Shaddaa, after all; this long after Obi-Wan was taken, he could even be off the moon and chained at some other slave-master’s feet.

Nothing about their voices or accents had given him any clues, either. The potential buyers, anyway, since the slavers were typical Nar Shaddaa lowlives. The buyers' voices were utterly nondescript Outer Rim accents, the kind muddied over parsecs and generations to blend in just about anywhere out there. They could have been bounty hunters; Master could absolutely afford to buy Maul off of an auction block. They could have been Jedi, though Maul thought that was less likely, given the offer to pay for him.

The not knowing was maddening, though. Here was the biggest clue he had yet, as to what happened to Obi-Wan, yet it also made Maul prey.

He was still chewing over it obsessively when he made it back to the parking deck; back to the shelter he had been offered and had come to settle into. Back to the three twi’leks he had become fond of, and who were also fond of him.

It was shockingly hard for Maul to tell them what he had overheard and what he planned on doing about it, but he did anyway.

Unsurprisingly, they didn’t agree with his proposed course of action.

“We’re not incapable,” Else said, frankly. “Do you think we would have lived to be this age if we weren’t able to deal with trouble?”

The conversation had gone on now for-- probably hours. At least, it felt like hours. It took every bit of Maul’s formidable will to keep from backing down, too; some deep-seated instinct he wasn’t even aware he had until Maz Kanata had brought it out and that these three seemed uniquely suited to tap into, the urge to defer to them under the slightest pressure.

If it were any less serious than it was, Maul probably would have. He felt safer here than he had on the Lomond for months, even with Obi-Wan there; certainly he would have been safer here than he would be on the streets, if not for the current situation. But there was no way that the local population of scum wasn’t aware of the parking deck and the ex-slaves. They were left alone because of their age and they got by thanks to a combination of their own canniness and the help of the local underground anti-slavery operation, but someone was inevitably going to come looking here for Maul and if he wasn’t here, then they would continue to be left alone.

“I know you’re not, but I’m still going,” he said, trying and failing to sound firm, whatever his intentions. In the end, he only sounded resigned and a little pathetic, even to himself. “If-- if things settle, I’ll come back and maybe your friend can help me then.”

Even as they had been trying to talk him out of going, Sasa had been putting together supplies for him. They had also pieced him together some reasonably fresh clothes and helped him wash his own since, using recycled and purified rainwater and soap bought with currency he’d successfully pickpocketed, so he was in considerably better form than he had been before stumbling into their shelter on all counts.

Maul felt inexplicably guilty for accepting any of it anyway, though he didn’t say it aloud. It felt a little like he had gone from the care of his lover to the care of these three; some part of him had become nigh on desperate to prove he was capable of managing on his own.

As if, by proving that, he could prove he was also capable of getting to Obi-Wan and saving him from whatever had taken him.

Now Sasa came back over and pressed what felt like a pack against his chest. “The filter on the mask should last you another two weeks. Maul-- please come back to us, even if it’s only for a short time, when you need food or water or a new filter. Let us know you’re still alive.”

The words made his chest squeeze painfully and he could only bob his head in a nod as he took the pack, not trusting his voice.

Sasa reached out slow after that -- slow enough that he could discern her doing so -- and drew him into a hug, which made that pressure in his chest increase. Still, Maul managed to swallow it down and got one arm around her back, the other holding the pack, and realized with a sort of heartsore disbelief that she was the first person beyond Obi-Wan to ever do that. To put arms around him. “Try to stay safe, deerling,” she said, giving him a squeeze. “I’m glad you found us.”

The other two followed suit; by the time Maul was able to slip away, he was hanging onto his composure only by the skin of his teeth.

@shadowmaat - @btwxsixesandsevens - @doorsclosingslowly - @emphasisonthehomo - @blackat-greneys - @vengeful-nerd - @sammelbegriff - @kenobispunk - @sundavr - @mock-ing-bird - @fancandy77 - @geekling007

#maul #obimaul #occupation #blindsided #taglist under the cut

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yanderenightmare · 3 years

Note

Oh master, plez, DRAGON WARRIOR BAKUGO, my lord! I was thinking, if you please, a darling who is like clairvoyant, and that's why King bakugo needs her??? can you make it dark ;3 like like like whatever means necessary dark, like like like ill murder anyone who gets in my way, also also also it being really grotesque, I want merciless bakugo, BUT also kinda sweet when it comes to darling?? I don't know what exactly I want, but I know whatever you write I'll prob enjoy, Master Nightmare :3

DRAGON ! WARRIOR ! KING BAKUGO KATSUKI x FEM ! READER

goodiebag WARNINGS: abuse, violence, genocide, kidnapping, abduction, death, blood, murder, ableism, classism, anxiety, arson, narcissistic personality disorder, slavery, trauma, war

so, a little foreword, the darling in this story has a quirk (ik, I’m breaking my beliefs thinking Bakugo should have a quirkless reader! The insanity!) but it’s because in this au not it’s quite special to have a quirk. Quirks are achieved and not given so to say. So Katsuki has earned his quirk and reader has earned her quirk, and so has everyone else who has a quirk. Also the song is called “If I Had a Heart” by Fever Ray, it’s the theme song to vikings ironically haha.

PART TWO

MUTE AND NUDE

The King was in her village.

Word from the south spread quickly, like any wildfire would, especially when riding the wings of a dragon. The Kingdom’s seer was dead, and the almighty bruise-knuckled King required a new one. They called it misfortune, but give a child a toy, and the toy is destined to break. Some might say that that’s what they’re made for. The old toy had apparently done something so distasteful that it cost her own tongue. Unfortunately, or perhaps ironically the only thing she was useful for: on her knees, mouth open, worshipping her king.

She counted the smoke rising to the sky near the horizon. Hers would be the thirteenth village they came to, lest their quest was done. She thought she might have seen him in the cloud-coverage. Eerie shadows resembling what bats she found in the caves, but the sun was bright and could easily be mistaken for him, or the other way around, as she’s heard his coat is golden.

She heard the rumbling tumbling of hooves and paws and claws riding up the mountain-side. They were coming.

Their houses were made of rock, sturdy as they should be when placed on a mountain-top with constant winds howling at them, and handled the fire well. But people aren’t made of stone. The smell of burning flesh is awful, and though she had nothing to puke, she barfed nonetheless. People were screaming and she probably would have too if she could, she was most certainly crying and bleeding and heaving for breath like those unlucky others that were still left alive.

High mountains are a bleak habitat for animal life, partially why they lived up there: to be spared of being hunted, to escape fangs and claws. And now: people running for their lives, the aching in her ankles, a body not built for running, and a mind not used to being hunted. Yet, it was strange but, it wasn’t really foreign at all.

She’d been dreaming of things lately, and as death as well as dust and ash and blood settled and seeped into the mud around her, she couldn’t help but feel as though she’d seen it all before. In fact, there came a point in the middle of the fray she was certain she was dreaming as she stopped to eye the great golden mass in front of her. Scales sharp and silvery like mica on the mountainside, ruby-red eyes as though soaked with blood. Teeth long and sturdy like the jagged rocks of the tunnels, dripping not with water as they did in the caves but with blood and guts and torn clothes. And the talons, curved and shiny, black as night, digging into the gravel by his feet, treating the soil as though it were as thin as the air. But the wings… the wings are what had her falling to her knees, skin bitten by gravel. Greater then roofs, sweeping the sky as though he could pluck each and every star from the welkin, stud himself with them if he so wanted to, or swallow them if only to breath the light onto earth. He could shred trees with those wings, he could slice oceans apart, he could probably part the mountain, head in the heavens and roots with hell, the bridge that had stood for thousands of years, singlehandedly torn open by that great monster conquering both sky and earth as though they gave him life.

Her arm was bleeding. It had dentures, no… puncture wounds it seemed the more she looked. A pretty crescent moon of red marking deep into the soft tissue of her meager muscles, dripping onto the dirt, creating streaks in the mud caking her bare feet. She looked up to see a wolf turn into a man, a large man with spikes for hair, red but not the same red she’d seen earlier in those eyes, red like poppies far away from the red flowing in her veins, from what was leaking out of her arm.

She looked forward and saw bodies… no, not bodies… mangled mockeries of the human form strewn about her as though they were trampled wildflowers on a field. She looked to her side and saw her reflection in the faces of those she’d grown up with but never truly knew. She looked behind her, not spotting what abomination of life she’d seen earlier, the one painting the sky, the one eclipsing the sun.

Every young, pretty thing was lined up on a row that stretched about ten meters long as they weren’t that many in her village, and she was surprised to be one of them. The auditions began in the early left side of the fray, boys and girl shaking on unsteady knees, holding onto broken arms and gushing wounds. Her bitemark was begging for a fist around it too, but she had not the focus to indulge the wish as her eyes caught sight of a blot of gold contrasting the otherwise grey figures, it being clear who he was despite having altered form. Although not the tallest in stature, one could see it as clear as day, he towered over the rest of the flock.

The tones ripped from their throats were scratchy, untuned; garbage. It would seem none of the kids in the village were gifted, but if the Gods were of mercy they would grant them the vocal cords to survive the night. She couldn’t blame them for allowing their fear to taint their song. Seeing how the drapes in which the hooded figures dressed were soaked in blood from past failures. Knowing well how their weapons would breach flesh and bone were they not of any use to them.

If she had a voice she would use it for speaking and not for singing. This would probably be her last night.

They rushed through the girls and boys rather quickly. Swiftly; as if they had done it countless times before, as if they could decide by the first utterance of their very first tone, that they were a disappointment, that they were as good as dead.

Caught in the middle of the small gathering; her turn came along. The man, standing in front, had purple hair and a nasty scar on his face, adorned with bladed eyes like a cat. Another blade, a steel blade, was held at her throat. Unnecessary, as the brutal scarring of his arms was intimidating enough for her to understand she could survive nothing compared to what he had already lived through. “Sing.” He commanded abruptly, an atmosphere of force settled on the word, as though compelling her, quite like how the wind shakes the trees in command to dance for them.

She did her hand gestures as smooth as she could under the pressure, lips remaining closed.

He threw his eyebrows up, scar shifting in its place like a serpent, the message had clearly gotten across. A condescending smile, a most sinister snicker and an unfortunate scoff was all the sympathy he allowed her. “No voice?” It wasn’t a question. “What a meaningless life.” He stated in a mutter, before moving onto the next girl.

The golden figure, who had followed discreetly, didn’t continue on with the scarred boy, he instead planted his clawedfeet in front of the girl, threatening to crush her barefooted toes, sinking into the red clay of the town square. “Sing.” His voice was fuller, and because of it she didn’t dare look up.

The scarred boy came to a halt, looking back to watch the girl repeat the hand gestures once again, she thinking that maybe the scarred boy had blocked the view the first time.

“No excuses.” His foot shifted in the mud, talons somehow growing longer as they impaled the ground, indicated he leant in closer. “Sing.” He said again, the sharpness of the demand sending a shiver to travel down her spine as it was accompanied with a growl too much like the sound of thunder to be called human. The girl furrowed her brows and looked up, her bottom lip visible quaking. Yet, what looked at her was no dragon, no… it was a man, a boy. And his skin was not golden like the rarity found in the mountain halls, but tan like sand, and his hair was only a shade lighter, nothing alike the mane of the sun. But those eyes had her quaking, those sharp slitted eyes that seemed to hold her soul in a chokehold, full of cultivated knowledge, merciless, red like wine, red like blood, red like hell. What’s a fate worse than death? She wondered and swallowed at the thought, her breathing picking up its pace. “Sing!” Spit flew to her face like venom with the roar, the tone reverberating through the ground, shaking in her knees.

She felt the itch in her throat, and she would be lying if she said she hadn’t been feeling it more and more lately, the feeling of dead born words somehow washing away. Her whimpers, absent of anything except for breathiness before, now carrying a somewhat lilt of tone. She stared a little deeper into those blood-soaked orbs of the man that looked like the onset of death before her.

“If I had heart.”

The wind roared as if it were as surprised as she was, or perhaps it rejoiced, or perhaps it mourned.

She was silent, the wind crashing and flailing, whipping the rags of her dress, letting the ripped fabric lick her dirty and bruised legs, pulling the disheveled locks of hair out from her face. Eyes; terror-wide, looking into a pair of sharp ones, who seemed to be looking beyond her disheveled state, into something far more divine than she had ever seen, ever known. “Continue.” The red-eyed boy commanded firmly, a detectable form of lust in his voice.

Startled, feeling the gravel dig into her soles. “I would love you... if I had a voice, I would sing.” The people on either side of her looked to be even more distressed now, crying and screaming, looking like wraiths in those charcoaled rags they wore, hands covering their ears as though to protect themselves, terrified as they looked to the sky expecting it to come falling down upon them.

However, their insolence and disrespect wasn’t what angered him, he could allow them that much before he took their lives. But the conflict found in her voice, that’s what truly boiled beneath his skin. He reached out his hand, quick like a viper, the pressure in his fingertips simmering on her skin, sizzling with heat, only for him to dig his fingernails into her throat as well. “Forget everything you know, except for that your life is in the palm of my hand.” He said, securing her gaze, lifting her up to her tippy-toes, though still nowhere near leveling his height.

Awakened by his words and frightened to her bones by the searing look of his eyes, she did as she was told and forgot who she was, forgot what she was and gave into simply doing exactly what needed to be done to keep her alive, to keep what beast in front of her subdued, or perhaps also to satiate what fire seemed to have burst to life inside of her, screaming to be heard. “After the night, when I wake up, I’ll see what tomorrow brings.” Eyes glazed over by some infernal light. She roared, a howl of some sorts, and the trees seemed to shiver and shake in the outmost reverence. “More, give me more, give me more.”

Somehow the leaves stopped rustling at the sound of her abrupt finish. Overwhelmed; all she could do was breath, all she could to was quake, the wind making the tears ever present on her face, the blood of her arm drying and awakened again as new blood came gushing out of her wounds.

The swirling dramatics in his eyes died down into a calm yet eerie content look. “Found you.” He stated, taking his time for the awakening to soak in, bask in the glorious feeling of triumph, before breaking focus from her. He let out a long, satisfied sigh. “Burn the village.” The statement left her blood turning cold. “There’s nothing left for us here. Dispose of the disappointments.” He was quick with his words as though they had been said many times before, and the actions performed by the ones in grey were just as swift, just as merciless. Humans turning into monsters murdering humans.

“No!” She wasn’t aware the voice belonged to her, so many years gone by without being able to voice anything; an opinion; nothing more than a foreigner, let alone an objection.

The people beside her dropped to the floor like rag dolls nonetheless, her voice just as insignificant as if she was still voiceless, drowning in their own bloodied throats. Her throat didn’t match theirs, but had strong, calloused fingers wrapped around it instead, coated with blood, the stench of it becoming so familiar yet far from friendly.

“Forget them, they don’t matter.” His voice still sheer, despite the screams around them both, overwhelming in fact. She felt her mind slip away from her then, as though her sentience was squeezed out from her by the deadlock fist wrapped around her neck, a conquering drowsiness following, seeping into her like the crawling of darkness when the sun settles on the horizon, her vision blurring everything except for those red, red eyes, who; from this point until her death, would never leave her.

PART TWO

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fandomficsnstuff · 3 years

Text

Little Dragon - Part 5

Summary: You were a child slave of Meereen, when one day a silver haired woman sets you free. Though your master isn’t too keen on letting you go, and Daenerys took personal action to see you freed and taken care of.

(Warnings: A few time jumps here and there, other than that I don’t think so)

High Valyrian is in cursive

You sat bored, staring out over your balcony. Daenerys had forbidden you from attending the fighting pits, which she had reopened, she didn’t want you to witness all the violence and the blood. But you were bored, you had already had your lessons today, your lessons included reading and writing so you didn’t want to read or write now. You watched the city of Meereen, dazed and daydreaming about a day more fun, when suddenly you heard the Unsullied outside your door, and you ran to it. It meant that Daenerys was back. You ran to the throne room, ready to greet her with a hug, when you suddenly stopped. Your (H/C) hair that had been flowing behind you as you ran came to a sudden stop, your chest slightly heaving as you saw who stood at the steps to the throne beside a dwarf, who you didn’t know. And when he looked at you you glanced at Daenerys, who gave a very light, and subtle, shake of her head. You looked down before running up the steps to her, hugging her as she hugged you back, her eyes never left the dwarf and exiled man. You retreated from the hug, turning around to look at the two men, Jorah giving you a faint, sad smile, which you returned.

“Princess, you’ve grown so much, you’ve-”

“You will not speak to her” Daenerys cut him off coldly, and you took it as your cue to step back, standing at her right side by the throne. She glanced at you, silently asking you if you were sure that you wanted to stay, but you merely nodded lightly, making her think for a moment before looking back to Jorah and the dwarf. You listened in on the conversation, apparently the dwarf was Tyrion Lannister, one of the houses from Westeros. You knew Jorah was of house Mormont, but you hadn't met anyone else from Westeros besides Daenerys, Jorah and Ser Barristan, so you were intrigued.

After a while, Jorah was banished again, but still alive, thanks to Tyrion, who glanced at you next “forgive me but who is the child? As far as I know, you have no children, Your Grace” Tyrion eyed you with great interest, Daenerys considering for a moment before looking to you “it’s alright, Little Dragon, introduce yourself” she whispered to you, making you nod and step forward, your hands in front of you “My name is (Y/N)” you glanced back at Daenerys who gave you a kind, reassuring smile and gave a tiny nod, you looked back to Tyrion at this assurance “(Y/N) Targaryen, adopted daughter of Daenerys Stormborn, of house Targaryen, pleased to meet you, uh-” you glanced at Daenerys, whispering something to her, making her smile and whisper something back. You gave a nod then looked back to Tyrion “My Lord” you finished. Daenerys beamed with pride as she heard you speak the common tongue so well now, a proud smile on her lips as she watched you step back in your place at her right side.

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Once again you had been forbidden to go to the fighting pits, for the same reason as before, Daenerys wanted you to be a child for as long as possible. Tyrion had become Hand of the Queen, something you had read about before, and from what you gathered, it’s a second form of ruler, though of course answering to the King or Queen firstly.

You were playing with a stuffed toy dragon that Daenerys had made for you for your twelfth name day, something you were very thankful for. You were trying your best to follow what your teacher said, but could only focus on the stuffed dragon in your hands. You flinched when your teacher gently shook you, scolding you for not paying attention, making you read out loud from a Westerosi book, one about all of the Kings of the North, before Aegon conquered Westeros.

“Rickard Stark, also known as the Laughing Wolf, son of Jon, who defeated the Marsh King and extended the Stark kingdom to include the Neck” you read out loud, doing your best to not glare at your teacher, who very well knew that you didn’t want this lesson to continue. “How long-” your teacher stopped you, gave you a knowing look and you rolled your eyes “how long do I have to read this? I read it yesterday” you sometimes hated when your teacher wouldn’t speak in Valyrian, making you speak in the common tongue, but it gave you an answer nonetheless. “Do you find my lessons boring? When I were your age I would have been lucky to-”

“I just miss Daenerys…” you interrupted your teacher this time, earning you a scowl “she will be back when she is back, now, who was Rickar Stark’s father?” you groaned low “Jon Stark” you mumbled, leaning your head against your hand “can we talk about Aegon instead?” you looked up at your teacher, who scoffed “alright, what was the name of the Northern king who ruled and lived at the time when Aegon conquered Westeros?”

“Torrhen Stark, he was also known as the King Who Knelt” you answered proudly, your teacher giving you an unimpressed look, making your pride dampen a bit. You flinched when your door barged open, seeing Daario. You grinned wildly, abandoning your lessons to run up to him and hug him, he chuckled low and picked you up as you hugged him, giving the teacher a look, making your teacher nod, gather their things and leave quickly “where’s Mhysa?” you asked with a big grin “I wanna tell her about what I learnt today” Daario visibly tensed up “uhm, why don’t you tell me first?” he gave you a quick smile, still holding you in his arms as he carried you down the hallways “did you know that a Northern King, called Torrhen Stark, bent the knee to Aegon Targaryen, first of his name?” you had one of those smug smirks that only a child could wear, making Daario laugh a little “I did not”

“Well, there was also another king, called Brandon Stark, but people called him Brandon the Builder, he built a lot of things” Daario smiled softly at you “I can imagine, wanna tell me what he built?” you lit up at his question “they say he built Winterfell! Capital of the North and where all the nothern kings lived before Aegon came, and the Starks still live there too, but now as wardens of the north. And he built this giant wall too, it’s so big! They say you can’t see the top some days!” Daario laughed at your enthusiasm, finally reaching Daenerys’ room, setting you back down, but when you didn’t see Daenerys you just grew confused. Seeing Missandei you ran up to her, hugging her “how were the fighting pits? Was it fun? Where’s mother?” At your last question Missandei tensed visibly, a silence falling over all of you as Missandei glanced to Daario, then Tyrion, then back to you “there was some trouble in the fighting pits… The Sons of the Harpy appeared and they attacked us” your smile faded, preparing to hear the worst thing of your entire, short life, and when Missandei noticed she quickly added “Daenerys is okay, Drogon came and saved her, he saved all of us in fact, but she had to leave” you were quite relieved to at least know that the woman you considered to be your mother, who called you her own daughter, was alive.

“How long will she be gone?” you asked in a quiet voice, earning only a sad look in response, making you look down “she will be back, she will come back to you, she loves you” Missandei added, trying to take your small hands in hers, as she had seen Daenerys do so many times now, but it didn’t bring you the comfort she had hoped, instead you just nodded, standing still, your gaze at the floor as you wondered where she were at this moment.

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Daario and Ser Jorah had left to search for Daenerys, that was a few months ago. Tyrion had convinced you, and mostly Missandei and Gray Worm, to let you sit on the throne, just until Daenerys was back. His argument was that she had taken you in as her daughter, and so, although unofficially, made you her heir. It took quite some time to convince Missandei, who was a sort of aunt to you, and who loved you almost as much as Daenerys did.

So here you sat, on the stone throne, listening to a former slave tell you of his former master harassing him. Though you sat on the throne, Missandei and Tyrion did most of the decision making, but not out loud, both of them advised you quietly. But even amongst all of the chaos, Missandei had a small gift made for you, for your upcoming name day, which she gave to you early. It was a small doll made to look like you, the same (Y/H/C) string of hair, a (Y/F/C) dress, and small (Y/E/C) buttons as your eyes, the fabric was also dyed to match your skin tone, and you had proudly displayed it on the table next to your bed, which made Missandei very happy.

You frowned as you heard the former slave talk of what exactly his former master did that counted as harassment, threatening him included, but you felt that he held back, due to your age, and before Tyrion or Missandei could speak, you decided to do so first “you can tell me, I know I’m young, and our Queen will return soon, but for now I can’t help if you don’t tell me everything” the former slave nodded, going into more detail of what his former master had said and done to him after he had been freed. You missed the proud look Missandei gave you, she only wishes Daenerys was here to see it too, knowing she would be glowing with pride and joy at your words. “We can’t let it go on, slavery is no longer a thing here, and by what you’re telling me, it sounds like your former master haven’t figured that out” you looked to Gray Worm “Gray Worm, put his former master in the cells, his fate will be decided later” Tyrion looked at you with an oblivious and, frankly, confused look, not understanding much Valyrian at all, watching Gray Worm leave with the former slave, Missandei once again standing proud.

“May I ask, what was your sentence?” He neared you on the throne, walking up the steps slowly “I haven’t decided yet” you admitted “but he’s being thrown into one of the cells” you stood up, looking at Missandei who still had a proud smirk on her lips, Tyrion, however, was not so proud “perhaps-” you walked past him, with Missandei to your room, Tyrion struggling to keep up “perhaps the cells are a bit too much” you stopped and glanced down at him, and Tyrion felt even smaller under your gaze, even at such a young age, you had learned from Daenerys “as my mother, your Queen, once said, I will answer injustice, with justice” you turned back around, continuing to walk with Missandei who did everything she could to not jump up and down in joy at your words, while Tyrion sighed, looking around to figure out what to do now.

#Daenerys Targaryen #Daenerys Targaryen x Child!Reader #GoTFanFic

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dracowars · 3 years

Text

ten years apart | anakin skywalker

pairing: anakin x reader

word count: 6,0k

summary: where anakin comes back after ten years

a/n: i'm so sorry for the length but i just couldn't stop writing :( please get a drink and snack before reading this hella long os <3

warnings: angst, mentions of blood

universe: star wars

Exhaling heavily, you throw the garbage bag into the shaft and push it down with all your strength. Beads of sweat have already formed on your forehead which you wipe away with the back of your hand. It is, again, incredibly hot on Tatooine today and the unbearable heat has been beating your mind and body all day. But what temperatures can you expect from a desert planet, right?

The desert planet of hell, as you like to call it. Disgusting creatures, pirates, bounty hunters and actually all kinds of insidious henchmen cavort here in Mos Espa. The city you grew up in. The city you have always been stuck in and probably will be stuck in for the rest of your life. You come from a small and poor family, no money to escape this hell, always having to work hard to survive.

And yet you had a better life than other children here. Because you were lucky enough to not get sold as a slave. Your parents could always raise enough money - often in ways you do not support - to save you. Even though you are more than grateful, you cannot help but to sometimes wonder what would have happened if. If you became a slave, maybe just maybe, you might have met the same lucky fate as him.

It has been ten long lonely years since the two Jedi Masters Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi were stranded on Tatooine and seeked help. You were still very young, therefore you can barely remember their faces. But you definetely do remember the face of him, Anakin Skywalker. The little boy from Tatooine.

How could you ever forget him? He was the nicest, bravest and most courteous boy you have ever met in your life. You always knew that something about him was different. The way he acted, the way he thought. There was just something about him that fascinated you and before you knew it you had developed a small crush on him. You got along well and you loved to watch him when he was working on his droid yet again. He always told you about his dreams, how he wanted to help, how much he wanted to get away from this dump called Tatooine. With his mother.

And with you.

Anakin and his mother Shmi Skywalker were slaves and belonged to Watto, one of the many junk dealers and human traffickers of Mos Espa. Even though they must have had a terrible life, Anakin always stayed positive. The smile on his dirt-stained face when he was building on his droid was priceless and you can see it in front of you as if it was yesterday. In fact, it has been ten years.

Ten years since the Jedi Masters took Anakin with them to train him as a Padawan in the ways of the Jedi. You were happy for him, you really were. He was finally able to leave this terrible planet and live a better life elsewhere. But to a certain price, since he had to go without his mother and also without you, his best friend.

"Y/N! These tables do not clean themselves!", a voice calls for you from inside and you just roll your eyes before leaving the heat outside, entering the building again. Inside, the musty smell of smoke greets you, low music plays in the background and you go straight towards the round bar in the middle of the room. This is the most popular hotspot of Mos Espa: the infamous Twin Sun, a bar in the center of the city. The place where the creepiest species float around, where the dirty business is done.

You absolutely hate your job in the bar. Every day you have to tidy up and serve under worst conditions. Especially in the later hours of the evening, when it is completely overcrowded, you are running back and forth every second, receiving disgusting comments from the guests. However, hardly anyone is here in the early morning and you have to only take care of the leftovers from the previous day. Unfortunately though, you have to endure this kind of job.

Your parents, who always saved you from the worst, are too old and weak now to raise money themselves and you felt obliged to take on this role. That is also the reason why you have several jobs at the same time. In addition to working in the Twin Sun, you also work at some booths at the weekly market and when you are lucky, you can sometimes even help out on the farms outside of the city. It is the only way to ensure your family's survival.

While you are about to wipe the empty tables, the roaring unpleasant noises of podracers echo through the building, sweeping through the bar like an earthquake, and the following loud cheers of the audience can hardly be overheard. The race is also a reason why it is exceptionally empty here today. Almost every living creature in Mos Espa is in the Grand Arena, cheering on their favorite, probably making some bets beforehand.

Personally, you hate these races more than anything.

Besides being totally unfair and dangerous, it is really just about the money - the money you do not own. The same participant always wins and despite your hatred of these races, you watched one of them for the first and last time when Anakin himself participated, won and was thus able to free himself from slavery. Only his mother remained on Tatooine but he promised he would come back and rescue her once he is a fully trained Jedi.

It has now been ten years and he has still not shown up.

Well, maybe he did show up after all, just did not look for you as he initinally promised. Maybe he only picked up his mother, not you.

A few years ago you had to watch how his mother got sold at the weekly market, but the buyer actually seemed very nice and later you found out that he even gave her freedom and took her as his wife. The man called Cliegg Lars used to come to the bar regularly until a few weeks ago. Does Anakin know, or can he maybe even feel, what happened?

"What do you think you are doing?! Finally work for your money or I will kick you out!", the bartender, who is also your boss, suddenly yells at you and pulls you out of your thoughts. "Sorry", you huff out and continue to clean up the tables at a quicker pace. It is a day like any other day. At least that is what you thought.

After you have cleaned all the tables you stand behind the bar and tidy up the glasses. Meanwhile it is already in the afternoon and the bar is much more crowded than it was this morning, which means more work for you. However, for some inexplicable reason, you are very distracted today, your mind always wandering off, and when you do not pay attention for a tiny second, a glass slips out of your hand and shatters into a million pieces.

"Watch out!", your boss grumbels at you immediately, only waiting for such an opportunity. Quietly cursing under your breath, you pick up some of the broken pieces. With a hiss you reflexively pull back your hand after accidentally cutting yourself on a sharp piece. Quickly, you put the small bleeding area against your lips to stop the blood from flowing.

"A table just got free back there! Clean it", your boss orders, not waiting for you to get up again as he almost throws the wet cloth into your face. Trying to control the rising anger inside of you as best as possible, you stand up, dispose of the broken pieces and make your way to said table. When you reach it, you have an uncomfortable feeling all of a sudden, a feeling of someone watching you. You turn around but do not see anyone looking into your direction. Shaking off the weird feeling, you take care of your task and then go back behind the counter to do your work while you hear your boss talking loudly to one of the guests on the other side.

"Watto, Watto.. Never heard of him before", he says thoughtfully over the music. You frown irritated and bend over to be able to see your boss. He is talking to a young, handsome man who seems quite determined about finding Watto. "Buy something or get out of here, kid!", your boss suddenly threathens, but the young man seems pretty unimpressed. Nevertheless, he turns around and leaves but not without your eyes meeting first. His blue eyes shimmer in the weak light and while turning away, he pulls the brown hood of his cloak over his head.

Even though your boss did not call you for help, something deep inside of you tells you to help this unknown, mysterious man. After all, you actually know Watto. You worked for him in your younger years until he went bankrupt eventually. Therefore, it is very uncommon and suspicious for someone to ask for him.

You put everything aside right away and go to your boss, who seems to be in an extremely bad mood today. "I take my break now", you quickly let him know and without giving him a chance to answer, you already head towards the entrance. When you arrive outside, you take a look around and spot the young man just a few meters away from you. Running after him, you gently tug on his sleeve to draw his attention to you.

"Excuse me", you stop him in his tracks and he turns to you with confusion written all over his face. "I heard you ask my boss about Watto in the bar. I know where to find him."

His face seems even more surprised now and he raises his eyebrows. "Really?", he asks, a hint of hope in his voice. You nod in agreement. "Can you lead me to him?", he resolutely asks and you nod again.

"You do not look like you are from here. What do you want from Watto?", you ask him curiously and go ahead to lead the way while he follows right behind you. "That is not important and also none of your business, I think", he replies emotionless, only looking ahead and not at you. You are a little taken aback by his harsh words but decide that it is best to not ask any more questions. He seems quite serious about it and somehow you still cannot get rid of this strange feeling inside of you.

You lead the way to the market, where some stalls are set up, and finally find Watto at his regular place in the shade of a house. He sits on a small chair and is currently busy examining a screw in his hand as you both approach him. Watto raises his gaze when he realizes that someone is walking towards him and as soon as he recognizes you, he flutters into the air excitedly.

"Oh! I have not seen you in a long time", he laughs and looks at the unknown man next to you. "There is someone who was looking for you, Watto", you explain in Huttese and point to the young man next to you, who bows his head slightly as if he could also understand what you are saying. Which is ridiculous, of course, because only Tatooine people can speak and understand Huttese.

Immediately Watto flies back, unsure whether he has done anything wrong. "Excuse me?", he trys hiding his nervousness, suspiciously looking at you.

Instead of telling Watto what he wants, he picks up a piece of equipment and fiddles with it. "Let me help you with that", he murmurs under his breath while actually speaking in Huttese, fixing the broken piece. "What? I do not know you! What can I do for you?", Watto grumbels but his eyes widen at once as he discovers something. "You look like a Jedi. Whatever it is.. I did not do it!"

A Jedi?

The next words abruptly catch you off guard and your heart completely stops beating.

"I am looking for Shmi Skywalker."

You look at him in shock as he pulls the hood down, Watto looking at him exactly the way you do as he finally lets out the words you were too scared to say.

"Ani? Little Ani?", Watto breathes out in astonishment, now using Basic instead of Huttese. When Watto then realizes that he fixed the broken piece, he happily jumps into the air. "You are Ani! You sure sprouted! A Jedi! Hey, maybe you couldda help wit some deadbeats who owe me a lot of money.."

"My mother."

"Oh, yes. Shmi.. she is not mine no more. I sold her", Watto confesses, obviously feeling uncomfortable about the situation while you are still not able to get out a word as they get stuck in your throat.

You were sure that you would never see Anakin again in your life, that he would have long forgotten about you. And now that he is actually back, that he is actually standing right next to you, you cannot believe it. He changed so much that you did not even recognize him.

And it seems he does not recognize you either.

"Sold her?"

"Years ago. Sorry, Ani, but you know, business is business."

"Who did you sell her to?"

"I-I do not remember, actually. I think it was a farmer, yeah, a moisture farmer probably", Watto stutters and his words pull you out of your trance all of a sudden, hitting a trigger in your head.

"His name, Watto."

"I-I think I do not know-"

"Cliegg", you mention softly, turning your gaze to Anakin whose brows are furrowed in confusion. "His name is Cliegg Lars."

"How could you-", Anakin starts, slowly becoming more tense, but as he looks at you more closely, at your face and in your beautiful glistening eyes, his expression suddenly softens. "Y/N?"

"Anakin", you say barely audible, trying to prevent your eyes from watering at hearing your name out of his mouth for the first time in years.

He does remember you. He did not forget about your existence.

You both cannot help but stare at each other for what feels like hours before he gently pulls you into his now very strong arms, hugging you tightly.

After all these years you were separated one would probably think that the hug would be uncomfortable and awkward. But it is far from that. Anakin's embrace is warm and soft, like it used to be when he was still here. He just got stronger and much taller since then.

He grew up.

On a whole different planet, far far away from you.

He has become a Jedi and fights for justice in the galaxy while you are still stuck on the same old planet, struggeling to keep your family alive.

"I can't believe it is actually you, Y/N!", Anakin gives you a warm smile after breaking the hug, his hands still resting on your forearms to keep you close while scanning you from the top to the bottom. "You have grown so much."

"I could say the same to you", you giggle, hiding your bright smile behind your hand while you blush. His blue eyes have become even brighter than you remember them and his face and stature in general look extremely healthy. If someone had told you years ago that Anakin would develop into such a handsome man, you almost would not have believed them. Yet, in your eyes he is still the same Anakin.

"And you are a Jedi", you mumble, pointing to the lightsaber attached to his belt under his brown cloak. Anakin continues to stare at you for a moment before finding his way back to reality.

"O-Oh yes. My lightsaber", he stumbles over his words and looks down at his weapon, but makes sure to completely hide it behind the fabric after that while clearing his throat. Slowly but surely it suddenly gets a bit awkward between you, none of you knowing what to say or where to start.

You have so much to tell him and still want to ask him so many question, but you do not know how.

"So, you know where my mother is?", Anakin finally speaks up again and breaks the silence, but with a question you did not quite hope for.

"It is very far outside of Mos Espa, yes. I can bring you there", you answer with a little sadness in your voice. Of course, he wants to find his mother after all these years.

"Hey! When you come back, make sure to visit me. Ani, I could really need some help, you know", Watto calls after you both as you show Anakin the way.

"He has not changed a bit", Anakin chuckles slightly next to you and follows you over the street, where you pass numerous creatures and vehicles.

"We need a vehicle to get there", you absently speak to yourself while searching for a suitable one. "Or a Dewback works too."

"A landspeeder sounds good", Anakin immediately answers after you end your sentence, almost interrupting you. With raised eyebrows you look at him sceptically.

"What happened to your sense of adventure?"

"I got older, I guess", he sighs and you hear out some sadness in his voice for the split of a second, but you tell yourself that it must have been your imagination.

"We all did", you mumble and finally agree to take a landspeeder instead of a dewback, even though it is much more expensive. However, Anakin insists on paying and after doing so you sit in the passenger seat, patiently waiting for him to join you and start driving.

At high speed you whiz over the dry sand and out of the city towards the seemingly endless outback. From time to time you glance over at Anakin, who does not look at you once, not even when you tell him the directions. When you catch yourself staring at him for longer than a second, you look away quickly but not without noticing the changes in his apperance.

His face has become much more striking and his hair got darker. The dark brown cloak that is covering his body compliments his eyes and makes them shine even more.

On your way you drive past a group of Jawas with their Sandcrawler, who are currently busy taking apart an abandoned spaceship that has apparently been stranded out here.

After a few more minutes you finally reach the Lars homestead and get out of the speeder, Anakin giving you a helping hand that you shyly accept. He keeps his gaze on the dome in front of you though and you can feel the nervousness that suddenly emanates from him.

As soon as you both walk towards it, a girl, younger than Anakin and you, comes up the stairs after she has apparently heard your arrival. Which is honestly not very difficult out here regarding the fact nobody comes here that often.

"Can I help you?", she asks, concern in her voice, and the longer you look at her, the more familiar she gets until it clicks in your head. She is Cliegg's daughter-in-law. You have often worked together on the farm. It seems like she already recognized you as the concern in her face slowly fades.

"Beru, right? I often helped you out on your farm", you take a step towards her and she nods in agreement before glancing at Anakin, who is standing directly behind you.

"We are looking for Shmi", you explain and Beru's brows furrow, obviously confused as to why you search for her.

"She is currently at the market in Mos Eisley with my boyfriend. But they should be back any moment", she mentions and then points down the stairs behind her. "If you want, you can wait for her inside."

Accepting her offer, you follow her inside the dome and you are completely amazed when you arrive at the open pit, a crater housing a courtyard from which all rooms can be accessed. You saw the huge hole in the ground before but never paid attention to it.

You follow Beru into what seems to be a kitchen and she asks you to sit down, but before you are able to, Anakin suddenly turns around due to a noise and a man in a power chair appears behind you.

"Who are you? What do you want?", he asks grumpily and Anakin's grip around his lightsaber on his belt, probably a reflex, reduces as you step in between. "Oh, Y/N! It is you!"

"Good afternoon, Cliegg. I am sorry for our unannounced visit, but we are looking for your.. wife", you say, almost whispering your last words, your heart stopping for a moment when you realize Anakin does not even know his mother married this farmer.

"What?", Anakin asks, shocked, his eyes widened and his lips split while he takes a step forward.

"I am Cliegg Lars. Shmi is my wife. Then you must be my stepson", Cliegg introduces himself and offers Anakin a handshake, which gets refused as Anakin just stares at him in disbelief.

"How is that possible?", Anakin breathes, directing his gaze to the ground, and you discover how he fiddles with the sleeves of his cloak in despair.

"I bought her from Watto at that time and gave her freedom before I made her my wife", Cliegg explains calmly, also noticing Anakin's displeasure about the situation. "My son and Shmi are just-"

He does not get to finish his sentence when loud screams and shouts interrupt him out of nowhere, silencing all of you. A brief moment later you are already on your way back up, Anakin ahead.

Once at the top you spot another landspeeder that has stopped in the distance, fuming. Due to the bright sunlight it is difficult at first to see that two people approach you, followed by several aggressive, snarling Massiffs. Disgusting beasts from hell that usually only live in the mountains unless they have been tamed by Tusken Raiders for their own purposes.

Quickly, you come to the conclusion that they must have been attacked by Tusken Raiders, who are now chasing their pets after them. It takes another second until you all realize that these two people running towards you are none other than Anakin's mother and stepbrother.

"Owen!", Beru desperately exclaims next to you, hands covering her mouth in shock.

Without hesitation, Anakin and you sprint straight towards them at the same time, hoping to somehow help and save them. But when suddenly a blue light brightly erupts next to you, you almost forget to keep running.

Anakin now runs towards them with his ignited lightsaber, much faster than you, and reaches them in seconds. Positioning himself protectively in front of them, waiting until they have run past him, he kills one of the Massiffs with the single stroke of his deadly weapon.

"Y/N, get them to safety!", Anakin shouts while he is fighting with the Massiffs, and you obey his words, quickly escorting them back to their house.

Glancing back after you have brought them inside safely, Anakin has just fended off an attack and pushes the monster a few meters back through the air, his hand outstretched. Finally, yowling and panting, the few survivors retreat and if you would not have called out Anakin's name, you are sure he would have followed them.

Deactivating his lightsaber, he quickly comes back to you, his face flooded with anger and pain. However, instead of paying attention to you, he walks straight past you.

"Are you injured?", you catch his upper arm worriedly and bring him to a stop. Shaking his head, he immediately removes his arm from your grip and continues his way down the stairs. With a sigh, you follow him.

"Where is she?", Anakin asks emotionlessly when reaching the bottom of the stairs, stopping abruptly and causing you to accidentally run into him.

"Ani?", a quiet voice finally sounds and Shmi steps out.

"Mom", Anakin swallows hard and embraces her tightly in his arms as she comes running towards him. After ten long years, mother and son are finally reunited.

"Oh, you look so handsome", Shmi sobs and takes a closer look at Anakin, taking his face between her hands, whereupon Anakin places a kiss on her palm. "My son. Oh, my grown up son. I am so proud of you, Ani."

"I missed you", he sniffs in response and a few tears find their way down his, her and also your cheeks.

"You came back, I can't believe it", she happily smiles at him, pride showing in her eyes.

"Just like I promised", he gives her the same smile and they hug each other again.

"And you saved us. You truly became a Jedi", Shmi sobs and Anakin gives her a kiss on the forehead before her gaze falls on you for the first time. "Y/N! Thank you so much for bringing him here."

"Of course", you wipe away your happy tears and smile back at her.

"Let us eat something, children", Cliegg then suggests while already being on his way to the kitchen, followed by his son and daugther-in-law.

"You might want to freshen up. I will show you where you can", Shmi offers and leads you both through a hole in the wall into a medium-sized room before she reluctantly separates from Anakin.

"Show me your leg", you order as soon as Shmi is out of reach and he turns around to you in confusion. "Your leg, Anakin. I saw you limp."

"It is not that bad", he shrugs it off and puts his Jedi robe aside, revealing his broad shoulders.

"Please", you repeat again and stare at him worriedly until he is no longer able to hold your gaze and pulls up his pants to reveal his leg. You have to swallow hard when a gaping wound appears on his shin and it takes you a lot of self control to not scream at him right there.

"That has to be treated, Ani!", you rebuke him indignantly, but now he is the one who keeps staring at you until you notice what you have just said. "A-Anakin, I mean."

"N-No, no! It is okay. I like when you call me that, it just... it has been some time since you last did", he clears his throat and your cheeks turn into a slight shade of red.

"Y-Yes, a long time ago. But we have gotten older, like you said", you stutter out, trying to make the situation less awkward. "I will ask if they have Bacta patches here, fix you up and make my way home."

"What are you even talking about?", Anakin raises his voice all of a sudden, rather unintentionally as you notice in his subsequent expression, while he grabs your wrist tightly to keep you from walking away.

"You have just seen your mother for the first time in ten years. I am sure you have a lot to tell her and I do not want to stand in the way", you explain and place your hand on top of his to loosen his grip, but to no avail.

"But.. I want to tell you too, Y/N. You are forgetting that I saw you again for the first time in ten years as well. I do not want you to go now", Anakin admits and takes a step closer to you, his eyes pleading to not leave him. "Apart from that, I will certainly not let you go now when these monsters are out there."

Leaving you no choice and not even a chance to answer, he suddenly pulls you into a tight hug, much like he did with his mother.

"I missed you so damn much", he softly whispers and you can't help but smile while you wrap your arms around him.

"I missed you too, Ani", you mumble against his shoulder and claw your hands into the fabric of his clothes.

Although you already hugged each other when you first met today, this one feels much more intense than before. It makes you feel safe and warm and comfortable, a feeling that you have not felt on this planet for a long time. For ten years, to be exact.

The next morning, you tiredly step outside into the burning hot twin suns and follow the voices coming from the kitchen. You stayed awake late yesterday and Anakin told you everything. From start to finish, he explained everything about his training to you, everything that happened after he left ten years ago. You have eagerly listened to his stories about the numerous adventures and here and there caught yourself staring at him sadly but lovingly.

Even though he pretended to be strong while telling these heartbreaking stories, you could see that he is not. After all these long years you can still read it on his face in an instant. He was not strong after Qui-Gon Jinn was killed shortly after their departure and also not when he became Padawan of a Jedi who was almost still a Padawan himself. He was not strong when he has been seperated from his family and he still is not as strong as he pretends to be. No matter from which point of view you look at it, Anakin is still the little boy from Tatooine.

"Good morning", you yawn when you meet the Lars family in the kitchen.

"Sit down, Y/N. I made breakfast", Shmi happily greets you and puts a plate down for you on the table.

You have not seen Shmi this happy in a long time. You never met her often after Cliegg freed her from slavery, but when you did, she always looked very absent and, above all, sad. She seems like a whole different person now.

"If you are looking for Anakin, he is outside", Shmi mentions when she notices your mental absence. Shyly, you nod and give her a warm smile. After you have eaten up your breakfast, you make your way upstairs. Arriving outside, you briefly get blinded by the bright suns when the dome no longer offers you protection.

However, as soon as your eyes get used to the sunlight, your breath gets caught in your lungs when a huge spaceship appears in your field of vision. The ship landed just a few meters away from the farm, the boarding hatch open. You spot Anakin in front of it, deeply submerged in a conversation with another man.

Said man notices you right away and draws Anakin's attention to you with a subtle head movement. When Anakin then sees you and the worried expression on your face, he waves you over. Nervously, you set yourself in motion and approach them.

"What is going on here, Anakin?", you ask shyly after discovering a lightsaber on the other man's belt, quickly gesturing a bow with your head.

"This is my master, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Maybe you still remember him", Anakin introduces him to you and, in fact, you actually do remember his face.

"If this isn't the little girl from back then who watched us leave with such a heartbreaking expression", Obi-Wan loudly thinks and scratches his beard before patting Anakin's shoulder. "I will go ahead and meet Padmé on board."

At his words, an uncomfortable feeling of nervousness rushs through your body until it turns into a feeling of sheer fear. Not only because you remember the name and its associated, incredibly beautiful Queen of Naboo, - which Anakin also told you about in his stories - but also because you suddenly feel like your worst nightmare turns into reality.

"W-What does he mean by that?", you stutter out, not really wanting to hear an answer to your question, but Anakin gently puts his hands on either side of your cheeks to calm you down.

"The Jedi Order has called Obi-Wan and me back to Coruscant, along with the senator", Anakin sighs and sadly looks to the ground, his thumb lightly stroking your skin. "My mother is happy here and that is most important for me. I now know that she is fine and safe."

Transforming his words into sharp weapons, they painfully shoot through your heart and you take a step back immediately, breaking the body contact with him.

"But I am not, Anakin!", you yell at him desperately, much louder than originally intended, and he just looks at you in shock from your sudden outburst. "I am not fine since you left ten years ago! I can't do this anymore."

"Y/N-"

"No, do not touch me! Please", you sob and wrap your arms around your own body in order to protect you from further damage. "Would you- Would you have even searched for me at all if I had not found you first?!"

Breathing hard while accusing him, he remains quiet and does not answer. His eyes wander around, desperately seeking an appropriate answer that will not hurt you, but he terribly fails.

"That's what I thought", your voice breaks and a single tear runs down your cheek before you turn around and walk away. However, you do not get very far when you feel a firm grip on your arm and are turned around again to face him shortly afterwards, your bodies only inches away from each other.

"Come with me."

"W-What?"

"Come back to Coruscant with me, Y/N", he begs you, his voice full of sorrow.

"A-Ani-"

"I had a dream about my mother and about you. You were badly injured and I was too late to save you", Anakin confesses, desperation prominent in his coarse voice, opening up to you all of a sudden, letting his guard down and showing you his vulnerable side for once. "That is why I came back. That is why I am back on Tatooine."

"A-Anakin. I can't.. I have responsibilities here", you choke out and look away, not able to hold his pleading gaze while your hands and knees shake in fear. "I have to go back to my parents.. I can't just leave them like this."

Silence spreads between you until Anakin lifts your face up with his fingers on your chin, deeply looking into your eyes. Suddenly your fear is reflected in his glassy eyes. A fear you last saw all those years ago when he left. When he had to leave his mother and you behind. It is precisely this fear that is now reappearing in his eyes and all of a sudden the little boy from Tatooine is back, not wanting to leave his home.

"I understand", his shaky voice whispers as he is close to tears as well.

How much you would like to just go with him. To just leave everything behind and finally get off this dirty planet. But you know it would not be fair to your parents and that you can't just leave them behind. As much as you would love to go with Anakin, you would never forgive yourself if you did.

"I am really sorry, Ani", you carefully say and place your hands on his upper arms to steady yourself before he pulls you closer and places his chin on top of your head.

"I will come back", he breathes into your hair and his voice sounds so fragile in your ears that you can no longer hold back the pricking tears, letting them stream down your cheeks freely. "I promise."

"I will wait for you", you fake a smile through your tears before he gives you a gentle kiss on the forehead, leaving a warm spot there.

The following repeated exclamation of his name coming from his master makes your heart ache even more and Anakin takes a step away from you, breaking off any contact.

"See you soon", he forces a smile and slowly retreats backwards to the spaceship, not averting his gaze from you and repeatedly raising his hand to wave goodbye.

Your eyes filled with tears and your vision blurred, you watch him leave and say goodbye with a heavy heart.

After ten long years you were finally able to see him again. You were ten years apart and now you pray that it will not be another ten years until you meet again.

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solinarimoon · 3 years

Text

Fields of Wildflowers chapter 9

Fields of Wildflowers

Chapter 9

A Sihtric x OC story

AN: This is my first attempt at writing smut! Please let me know how you like it! If you want to read the previous chapters for this story, you can find them here. Or you can read my other works here.

Warnings: This chapter contains sexual content and is not for individuals under 18 years old.

Word Count: 3895ish

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“May I join you, Finan?”

Cwen paused to see the Irishman's reaction. He sat, elbows on knees and face in hands along a bench outside the new Queen of Mercia’s chambers.

Startled at her words, he sat up abruptly.

“Cwen, of course.”

Seeing who it was interrupting his thoughts, Finan resumed his slumped and dejected posture.

Cwen’s feet made soft echoes as she padded across the floor to take a seat next to him.

The hallway was thick with heat from the summer air. Dust moats swirled in the sun’s rays that filtered in from the adjacent window.

Cwen leaned back against the wall and took in the sight of her companion.

“Something weighs on your mind?”

Finan ran his hands over his face and sat up to match Cwen’s posture.

“Other than the current illegal occupation of the city by a jilted rival king?”

“Yes, other than that.”

“Well, you might say something weighs on my mind, yes.”

Taking a breath and staring down at his hands, Finan spun one of his rings. Cwen waited several minutes for him to continue.

“I thought this would be a chance for Uhtred to find another path. Another destiny for him to fall behind,” Finan leaned forward once more to rest his elbows on his knees.

“When we failed to win Bebbanburg, when we lost Beocca, it broke him. And we lost everything. Starting over here, in Mercia would have been a fresh beginning for him. For all of us. A place to finally find some peace.”

“Are you so sure that is out of reach now?” Cwen had not had time to process the turn of events with Uhtred abdicating the throne to Aethelflaed. Not as Finan had it would seem. What would this mean for any future with Sihtric.

To have only begun to explore the depths of their feelings then possibly have that torn away from her had not crossed Cwen’s mind until that instant. Suddenly, she felt as if a snake had coiled itself inside her ribs, slowly constricting her heart.

“Are you thinking about Sihtric now?”

“Yes.”

Finan did not pry her to speak further of her relationship with his brother in arms. Instead he returned his attention to twisting his rings and ruminating on his own concerns.

Cwen’s mind raced as she thought about losing Sihtric and the comfort and companionship she had found in him. Without ever even realizing it, she had begun to place him into her future. Seeing herself years down the road, it was Sihtric she saw at her side. But now those images seemed hazy. As if they had lost their focus with this new information. If Sihtric were to leave Mercia with Uhtred, where would that leave room for her in his life.

Finan shifted his posture on the bench. It brought Cwen out of her own thoughts to glance at her friend. Cwen pushed the distressing images to the back of her mind and focused her attention on Finan. The man looked miserable.

“Have you talked with her?”

Finan’s hand stilled but his eyes remained downcast.

“To Eadith?” She pushed.

Cwen watched as Finan raised his head to gaze out the window and take a breath. It was small but his head gently swept from side to side.

“I know that there is so much yet for Sihtric and myself to understand and discuss with one another. But I can say for my part, I do not regret allowing him to know my heart. We have not discussed it but I plan to now. Knowing that our futures are uncertain I must speak with him. But I am sure he does know I care for him.”

“You both would need to be blind to not see it.”

“Well I could say the same to you and Eadith both.”

Finan turned his head to meet Cwen’s face still remaining hunched over upon himself.

“There is mutual affection between you both. And I do not know her plans for the future but I do feel you should speak with her. But who am I to give you advice?” Cwen finished crossing her arms over herself and turning her eyes to meet the window once more.

“I would say you are a friend, Cwen. And one who we have all come to value a great deal.”

Cwen shot her eyes towards the Irishman and quirked a skeptical smile.

“Do you not believe me?” Finan said with a light chuckle.

“No, I do. It is just hard to accept when I have guarded myself for so long. Even before Eardwulf, I did not easily allow people into my life. Ever since losing my mother as a young girl. Even with Aethelflaed, I’ve kept her at an arm's distance you could say. She is a few years older than I am and I love and respect her. And I have no doubt she cares about my friendship as well. But I could never bring myself to confide in her about Eardwulf. About what he would do to me. I told Sihtric I did not want to speak it aloud and make it true. But I also did not want to allow myself to let someone else in so close. It may sound strange,”

“It does not sound strange to me. We all deal with our grief and our turmoil differently. I doubt I would ever have formed such a bond with Uhtred or the others if Uhtred had not endured slavery alongside me. So I understand guarding yourself.”

The pair sat in companionable silence for several moments more. The sound of rustling coming from the door to Aethelflaed’s room caused Finan to stand. When the door did not open, he sat back down and leaned against the wall with his legs outstretched.

“In case you’re afraid of speaking about your feelings with Sihtric, can I offer some advice since you’ve given me yours?”

“Even though it was unasked for?” Cwen replied with a wry smile.

“Aye, even though it was.”

“Please continue, Finan?”

Cwen met Finan’s eyes as he turned to face her.

“Trust him, Cwen. He will not hurt you. I have never, in all my years knowing the man, never seen him as I see him with you.”

Pausing to process Finan’s words, Cwen spoke softly, “what do you mean Finan?”

“I mean the man can not keep his eyes from you. It started at Saltwic. At least that’s when I noticed it. But he could not help himself for staring at you. I don’t think you noticed,”

“I did,” Cwen replied meekly.

“Well whatever is between the two of ya, he is fiercely devoted to you and your protection. He is a loyal man and a strong warrior. But I suspect you could bring him to his knees if you wanted to. He isn’t a man of many words like myself.”

“Oh, you cheeky Irishman,” Cwen interrupted while lightly smacking his arm.

Chucking, Finan continued, “But I know him well. And I know he would do anything to protect you, lady. To keep ya happy. To see you are never hurt again.”

“I trust him, Finan. Like I have never trusted anyone before. And we’ve barely even spoken of our feelings with one another. I want to say that this is just silly girlish fancy. To think so much of a thing without time spent exploring it more. But time has not allowed us that luxury. And even without that luxury, I know it in my heart. I can trust Sihtric to be gentle with my love.”

“Your love, Cwen? Is it love for you both then?”

“I have not spoken the words. But in my heart I know, for myself it is.”

“Aye. I have seen love before. So I can say by comparison, it is love.”

“Thank you, Finan. I did not come here to speak of these things but I am happy we have.”

“Me too.”

After a moment's pause, Cwen chuckled.

“I expect you to let me know once you’ve spoken with Eadith.”

“Och, you won’t let this go will you?”

At that moment, Stiorra rounded the corner and stopped to stare at them.

“What is it?”

“Get the Lady Aethelflaed. You all must see what is happening.”

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

Cwen stood atop the ramparts next to Aethelflaed and Finan.

Uhtred and Osferth were approaching the gates from the main road followed closely by Sihtric bringing up the rear on a secondary path. They all had scores of men following in their midst.

They had raised the Mercian fyrd to bring support to the new Queen of Mercia.

“Lady Aethelflaed, your fyrd is here to support you,” called Uhtred.

While the lady spoke to her countrymen, Cwen’s eyes found Sihtric’s.

Her lips parted into a bright smile which Sihtric returned.

Leaning in to whisper in her ear, Finan said, “I told you I saw it. And you’ve proved me right.”

Cwen gave no response. She was too preoccupied watching Sihtric as he and the others made their way back inside the burg’s walls. Aethelflaed had been able to appeal to King Edward’s rational mind and prove they could and should be allies once more.

Quickly, Cwen made her way down the stairs and across the yard to the stables.

After her words with Finan, Cwen knew she must make time to speak with Sihtric alone. There was so much to discuss and so much that should not be left unsaid.

As she rounded the corner, her breath caught in her throat as her eyes found him.

He had not dismounted his horse, but instead appeared to be coaxing the grey mare and running his hand down her neck. He had not noticed Cwen’s presence yet. She took a moment to just watch him. The line of his jaw and the strength of his arms. His strong gentle hands stroked the animal, speaking quiet words to still it’s hoofs. Cwen imagined those hands on her own body, stroking, caressing.

The heat in her body ignited once more. She felt a swelling between her thighs and a pull low in her core.

Sihtric brought his eyes up from his horse and found hers. Slowly, he brought the animal to her side and his eyes bore down on her. Neither of them were smiling now. Their faces both instead betrayed a deeper desire. Sihtric licked his lips which caused Cwen’s own to part as she released a sigh.

“Come with me,” Sihtric commanded as he guided the horse over to a hay bale.

Cwen stepped onto the bale and immediately felt his strong arm wrap around her waist to bring her onto his saddle.

She rode in front of him, feeling the strength of his grip as he kept his hand securely on her waist. Her waist twisted to place her back against him with both legs still placed to one side. She could feel the heat from his breath on her neck and it sent rivers of pleasure down her spine.

Struggling to find her voice, Cwen managed to ask, “Where are we going?”

“Away from the world for a while.”

Cwen brought her finger to interlace with those gripping her hip. Slowly, as they rode through the gates and past the camps set up outside the walls, Cwen moved his hand to settle on her torso. She felt his fingers grip and squeeze her and she desperately wanted to shift his hand lower on her body. To feel his touch caressing her sex.

Instead she arched her back against him and felt his lips ghost along the curve of her neck.

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

They did not make it far. Distantly, Cwen could still hear the sounds from the camp. But they were far enough to evade prying eyes.

Sihtric brought his horse into a copse of trees. The ground was softly covered with moss and a warm breeze drifted through the branches.

As smooth as a cat, Sihtric dismounted from the horse, somehow never breaking his hold on her.

When he moved to ease Cwen from the saddle, he kept his body close. Cwen slid along him as he controlled her down off the mare.

Keeping his arms wrapped around her, Sihtric slowly lowered her until her lips met his as he guided her down until her feet met solid ground.

Cwen’s hands gripped his shoulders tight and she fisted her fingers into his shirt.

She felt his hands hungrily move to wrap her waist and take grip of her neck.

Their mouths opened, tongues daring to explore.

Cwen could feel Sihtric’s excitement against her stomach. Thinking of his arousal brought forth even more desire in Cwen and she released a mewling sigh against his lips.

Hearing her sound, Sihtric released her mouth and brought his lips to nip and suck along her collarbone causing Cwen to release even more quavering breaths of pleasure.

“Sihtric,” she breathed, speaking his name like a prayer. The swelling between her legs was leaving her throbbing. She felt her body writhing under his touch and was shocked to know how much she wanted more of him.

“Sihtric, please.”

Sihtric moved to pull back, “I am sorry Cwen. I know I told you I would move slowly,” but Cwen cut him off by capturing his lips once more with hers.

This time it was slow. Full of meaning.

When she broke the kiss, he rested his forehead against hers.

“I know what I said. But I also know things have changed. Before it seemed we would have time and now,” Cwen paused, bringing her hands to rest behind his neck. “Will Uhtred stay here now? Will you stay, Sihtric?”

Sihtric brought his head back to better meet Cwen’s eyes.

“I can not say, Cwen. But as much as it pains me, it is likely we will leave and return to Coccham or venture somewhere else.”

Cwen broke his stare to rest her head against his chest. Her hands moved to grip his waist and pull him close.

“I will return to you whenever I am able. We don’t know what our future will be but I know I want you in it. However I can have you, Cwen. If you will wait for me.”

Sihtric’s hands drew long slow lines along her spine.

Cwen took a moment to breathe in his scent and calm her beating heart. He smelled of open fields and horses and damp woods. Natural and soothing. Steeling herself, she tilted her head back to stare up at him.

“I do not want to wait to be with you, Sihtric. I want you for my future as well,” her eyes shone as she saw the desire mirrored in his face.

“But take me now, Sihtric. Here and now while I know you are mine.”

She barely had time to finish her words before she felt the heat of his lips crash into hers once more. His body flush against hers and their hands grasped at one another as if scared they would disappear. With chests heaving, Cwen broke apart and turned her back to him.

Sihtric’s hands never left her body and his lips left bruising marks running along her neck.

Slowly, Cwen stepped away from him and brought her hands up to undo the laces of her dress.

She felt him reach out to help her lift it over her head leaving her clad only in her thin, cream colored shift. Cwen’s breath stuttered as she slowly lowered the sleeves from her shoulders, feeling gooseflesh appear on her skin despite the steamy summer night air. The sun had almost completely set, leaving gentle streaks filtering in through the trees.

Free from her arms, she allowed the shift to slide down her hips to pool at her feet.

She heard Sihtric take a sharp inhale of breath then felt as his feet moved towards her and his hands grasped onto her bare hips. Slowly, Cwen turned her body to meet him.

His eyes hungrily took in her nakedness and Cwen watched as he licked his lips.

Cwen shivered as his hands left her to remove his jerkin and leather. Once unencumbered, he wrapped her in his arms once more and took her mouth with his.

Cwen had never been naked in front of a man before and found the thrill of it and of Sihtric’s hands on her bare flesh made her nipples harden and her core become slick with desire.

“Touch me, Sihtric,” she whispered against his lips.

Sihtric took his mouth from her and locked his eyes on to her own.

Cwen left out a small gasp of pleasure as she felt his rough fingers slowly slip between her folds and find the wetness of her desire.

At feeling her excitement, Sihtric could not contain the hungry growl that escaped his lips and he felt his member twitch.

Slowly he began to work his fingers across her, massaging and exploring.

When he finally slipped a finger inside of her, Cwen’s legs quivered and she felt herself lean into his hand so he could more fully cup her sex.

Another moan of pleasure escaped her lips as he entered a second finger and rocked his hand back and forth across her bundle.

“Lie down, Cwen.” Sihtric spoke low and commanding.

Gently, Cwen lowered herself to the ground while SIhtric's fingers continued their exploration, half holding her from falling and half teasing her with pleasure. His free hand supported her lower back.

Once she lay beneath him, breathing husky and low, he removed himself and stood.

Cwen’s eyes watched him as he lifted his own shirt over his head, tossing it to lay with her own forgotten garments.

Next, he undid the laces of his breaches and slid them off himself, releasing his erection.

He stood, his nakedness matching hers and stared down at her.

Cwen swallowed the saliva poling in her throat as she took in the sight of him. Lean muscles from years of training and fighting, littered with scars from battles and survival. She watched as he stroked himself before kneeling down to settle between her legs. He leaned his hard body to support himself on his elbows above her, meeting her eye.

“You must tell me, Cwen. I would do nothing that you feel unready for.”

Cwen could feel her body begging to feel him, begging for release. Her next words shocked her, having never wanted or spoken of something so lurid.

“Take me Sihtric. I want you inside of me. Teach me what being with a man is supposed to be like.”

Sihtric brought one hand up to stroke her face and she leaned into his touch. His member was hot and swollen against her thigh.

“You will never need to know that pain again, lady.”

And he kissed her. He kissed her with a tenderness and an honesty that brought tears welling into Cwen’s eyes.

She felt him reach down to guide himself to her entrance and he met her eyes questioning once more. In answer, Cwen raised her hips to meet him and he pushed himself between her lips and into her core.

Cwen’s back arched and Sihtric watched her body react to him as he brought himself fully inside her. Slowly, he began a rhythm of thrusts, shallow at first, allowing her body to adjust to him, then deeper and deeper.

Cwen felt her walls quaking as he stretched her. As she allowed herself to relax and enjoy the fullness of him, she brought her knees up to wrap around the tight muscles of his ass.

Feeling her move in time with him, Sihtric gripped her hip, leveraging more pressure on her bundle of nerves between them.

Cwen felt his lips along her neck once more and the sensation was nearly enough to push her over the edge.

Sensing her nearing her release, Sihtric pulled his chest up so he could watch the stunning woman beneath him.

“Look at me,” Sihtric commanded, gentle but firm.

She met his eyes, their bodys still pulsating together to an ancient, primal rhythm. Her mouth was agape, cheeks flushed, and hair sticking to her forehead from a fine sheen of sweat.

“Come for me, Cwen.”

And she did. Her release rippled through her as Sihtric continued to hold her gaze. His thrusts meeting her body and sending waves of ecstasy to every fiber of her being. Cwen gripped onto the sculpted sinnews of his lower back as she arched and pulled him even deeper inside of her.

Watching her come undone beneath him was the single most eroitc and beautiful thing Sihtric had ever seen.

When he could tell she had reached the end of her high, he slipped his arm beneath her and shifted his knees to bring her up and on top of his lap.

Sitting face to face, she kissed him deep and slow. Regaining her senses, she began riding him, feeling his own climax building as he watched her.

He brought his hand up to stroke her chest as she arched her neck back to allow him full access.

Cwen continued to ride his length, his thrusts to meet her becoming more frantic and frenzied.

When he reached his peak, Sihtric wrapped his strong arms around her waist and held onto her as her fingers pulled at his hair bringing his mouth to meet hers.

When he was finished he fell back onto the mossy earth, bringing Cwen with him to lay nestled underneath the crook of his arm. Both of them breathing heavily and chests heaving.

“You are the most breathtaking creature I’ve ever seen, lady.”

Cwen raised her eyes to meet his gaze.

“I want you to know I did not plan to bring you out here with this in mind. I only wanted time alone spent with you, but when I saw the look on your face in the stables,” he paused to tilt her chin up so he could capture her mouth once more. Murmuring against it he continued, “I could not help myself. I am drawn to you like a moth is to a flame.”

“I know what you mean, Sihtric. And you do not need to explain yourself. I wanted this and you did everything to make sure I was alright with it. No one has ever looked at me, made me feel the way I do when I am with you. I have never let a man know me so intimately. And I am glad to share that with you.”

“You are my future, Cwen. No matter where I travel, my road will lead me to you. I can not lose you now.”

“You have me, Sihtric. All of me now and all of my future,” she mused while cupping his cheek and placing a gentle kiss along his mouth.

They lay entwined together until the sun had set and the wind began to blow cooler through the branches.

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

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#the last kingdom #sihtric #fanfiction #sihtric x oc #fields of wildflowers #finan

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peachy-panic · 3 years

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Only Temporary: Sebastian Tate

Hello. I was completely blown away by the positive response I got on the first piece of Jaime’s story (title under construction). Thank you to everyone who had a kind word to say about it! You made me really happy I made the mildly frightening choice to post.

In the interest of acclimating to the no-rules, freedom-to-post-out-of-order structure of this community, I wanted to introduce a new piece of the puzzle this time, with a new character that will come into play later.

Also, this piece goes into a little bit of the details, but for frame of reference on the BBU-adjacent thing: this story takes place in a not-so-distant future of the BBU, where WRU has undergone some changes. I look forward to exploring this world building more as I go.

Anyway, I’m rambling again. Thanks for reading. Here it is:

WARNINGS: General BBU warnings, talk of institutionalized slavery, classism, and general terribleness of large corporations. Referenced past homophobia and rough parental relationships, briefly implied/referenced non-con.

When Sebastian reflects on the day he graduated from med school, a sort of emptiness is the memory that first bobs to the surface. Among the cheers and camera flashes in the crowd, white coats and proud smiles, what Sebastian recalls most vividly from that day is looking out into the sea of parents and families and people there to support their loved ones on one of the biggest days of their lives, and not seeing a single person that had come for him.

What should have been one of the happiest moments of his life had been quickly overshadowed by the sinking feeling that none of it mattered as much as it would have if he had someone to share it with. Like there was something so fundamentally wrong with his life, that even something as objectively good and right and decent as becoming a doctor could be dulled over into a feeling of nothingness.

Perhaps, he thinks in hindsight, that moment had been foreshadowing for the following months ahead of him.

Watching rejection after rejection pour in from his top residency programs had felt like nothing short of his own personalized nightmare. He had spent several nights in a row on the phone with Alex, his undergrad roommate and only friend, clamoring back from the edge of many a panic attack, spiraling into all-out existential dread about the future and the past and what all of it meant for him if he couldn’t land an internship, let alone a real job out of school. To his credit, Alex never gave up hope in his friend. Or at least, he did a decent job hiding it if he did. Which was probably exactly what Sebastian needed to get through that particularly dark time in his life, and a good reminder of what a solid friend he had. Even if it was a party of two.

Unfortunately, Sebastian did not have the same faith in himself.

He was able to keep up some facade of optimism as his top five were picked off one by one. Telling himself, despite his devastation, that they were a pretty far reach, anyway. Even with good academic standing, it was famously no walk in the park to land yourself at John Hopkins or Mayo as a first-year. He even maintained a brave face as his first few safety programs reached capacity and moved forward without his name on the roster.

It wasn’t until he received his final rejection letter from some internal medicine place in Bumfuck, Idaho that he felt himself slip into dangerous territory. Sebastian knew himself well enough to know his own depressive patterns by then, and he knew it was only exponential decay from there.

Rock bottom came, as it did, in the wee hours of the night, after a full bottle of wine. Alone in his small apartment, surrounded by half-packed boxes with no destination, Sebastian found himself sprawled out on the floor with his laptop hot against his thighs. He couldn’t have explained why he opted for a privacy browser, but something about it allowed him to justify the words that he typed into the search bar.

It was a new low, and one he had sworn to himself he would never stoop to. Yet there he was.

He gave himself a moment to reconsider, to back out of what was undoubtedly a morally-gray train wreck waiting to happen as his thumb hovered over the enter key. And then the alcohol decided to override his moral compass.

Facility Care is the open secret of the medical profession. It comes with its fair share of stigma, and rightfully so, but it is notoriously easy to break into and pays a decent wage.

There are two types of people who end up stooping to that kind of employment. More often than not, it consists of doctors and nurses who had their licenses revoked or suspended somewhere along the line and needed a way back in. As far as Sebastian understood, they aren’t terribly ridgid about the particulars of each circumstance. After all, in the eyes of the law, the patients they would be treating are a price tag away from being entirely expendable.

The other percentage of Facility Care workers, and the reason Sebastian found himself staring at his too-bright computer screen with a sinking feeling of dread that night, are young medical graduates who find themselves in a tough spot. It isn’t difficult to spell out the logic behind that one when you open the WRU CAREERS tab on the home page and see the bright white words printed across the top of the screen:

LOAN FORGIVENESS.

It is shamelessly predatory and aggressively capitalistic, but Sebastian supposes that particular exploitation is pretty far down on the list of transgressions for an institution of legalized slavery. A few broke and hopeless medical students were hardly going to keep the Powers That Be up at night when they were able to rest easy under the weight of hundreds of thousands of stolen lives.

The whole thing is part of the massive PR overhaul the company did a few years back. In a world that was slowly inching toward civil activism and with the accessibility of platforms like social media to hold them accountable, WRU had to adapt to survive. Adaptation, in this case, took the form of changing the barest of minimums in order to keep themselves above board — to the public eye, anyway. Anyone who dares to take a closer look at the policy changes can see that it’s bullshit.

Changing ownership conditions to a rent-by-contract basis isn’t the humanitarian move they try to paint it as. In the end, it probably just equals out to more money in the company’s pocket when they can get more return on their “investments,” and a larger chance of exploitation for the people being moved around.

Getting rid of the Romantic division is an entirely meaningless gesture when they are still loaning out human beings with no legal rights and the inability to say “no.”

And offering an open job market with good wages and healthcare options to lower class individuals is a pretty convenient way to mute the backlash.

Essentially, you can tie a system of slavery and abuse up in a bow and make it pretty on the outside, but at the end of the day, it’s still fucking slavery.

Not that he has any room to criticize now. Now that he’s one of them.

In the end, Seb tries to justify his decision a few different ways. He is, after all, more or less a young man alone in the world. The odds are stacked against him and have been for a while. With only his own two legs to stand on, the only force stronger than his internal ambition is his instinct for survival, and he’s been running on those fumes for longer than he can count.

He had lasted less than two months under his parents’ roof after he came out of the closet at eighteen. It wasn’t exactly a surprise for anyone involved; Sebastian’s parents had known about (and subsequently bottled) his… urges… since he was in high school. Probably before that, if he is being honest with himself. And Sebastian, for his part, had spent the better part of his teenage years mentally preparing for the inevitable. He can recall long, late nights he had spent crying into his pillow and the perfectly-scripted ‘coming out’ speeches he recited to his mirror when he was one-hundred percent sure his parents were asleep.

Of course, none of the preparation had been anywhere near adequate when he actually found himself wilting beneath the heat of his father’s glare, the weight of his mother’s grief.

But. He had recovered. That is the point he tries to remember when the memories sting fresh beneath his skin, even all these years later. He has more-than proven himself to be a survivor. He has worked harder than anyone he knows for every scholarship, every grant, every dollar to put himself through school. Sacrificed nights out and real relationships for night shifts at shitty diners and long weekends cramming for exams. It hadn’t been easy, but he considers it the price he had to pay for his independence. For freedom, to live the life as the person he is meant to be, despite his unfortunate odds. He spent years telling himself it would be worth it. That one day, his hard work would pay off.

He can’t stop now.

Sebastian doesn’t have the luxury of taking time off to reroute when his navigation has gone amiss. He is walking the precarious line of rapidly accruing interest and student loans and a dwindling savings account, and there is no safety net below him.

Beggars can’t be choosers, and as it turns out, beggars sometimes have to compromise their moral integrity in order to survive.

It’s only temporary.

That is the mantra that gets him through the (half-drunken) application process and the (disturbingly lax) interview process. It is a job. One job. In the medical field, though the details are up for debate, and it is real-life money for rent and food and a savings that will hopefully be sizable enough to get him where he really wanted to be. Which is… really, anywhere else.

He can do ‘temporary.’ And perhaps, some misguided part of him thinks he can do some genuine good from the inside, too. ‘Be the change you want to see’ and all that.

It is a far jump from the floor of his apartment, sloshed and exhausted and desperate, to the cold, sharp reality of walking into his place of employment on his first day of work. Ironically, it feels a lot like an echo of the emptiness from his graduation day.

‘Sterile’ doesn’t quite cover it. ‘Sterile’ is the expectation of any well-respected medical establishment, but the inside of the facility walls has been wiped clean of far more than bacteria and germs. It is completely devoid of humanity. The long corridors that connect the medical wing to the general ward are windowless and dimly lit by flickering fluorescent panels that had make his head pound for the entirety of his first week.

He is given an office, though it is a term he, himself, might use loosely, as it is more akin to what was probably a storage closet before the old prison had been converted into the state’s training headquarters. It leaves him just enough space for a small desk and two chairs. On his first day, he asks if it is okay to bring in some personal items to spruce the place up. The older, balding doctor who had been assigned to show him around merely shrugs, and Sebastian decides to take that as a yes.

The small, pink-framed photo of a six-year-old Sebastian Tate in his grandfather’s white coat and an old-school stethoscope around his neck is hardly enough to make the place cozy from the corner of his desk, but it’s a good enough reminder of why he has to make this work.

‘It’s only temporary.’

‘Be the change you want to see.’

He will do his best.

#Sebastian Tate #bbu #like bbu adjacent?#tw: human trafficking #tw: slavery #implied noncon #whump #Do No Harm: Jaime & Sebastian

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dee6000 · 3 years

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LoSlavery Is Not OUR "Original Sin" The thick lines show majority of African slaves went to Spain’s (they started trans-Atlantic slave trade) Latin American & Caribbean slave colonies, Muslim and African Countries. Few went to colony that became the US

How many times have you heard that slavery was “America’s original sin”? I’m not quite sure what that means, but I think the idea is that slavery was a uniquely horrible thing that defines the United States and will stain whites forever. It’s one of the few things Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell and Barack Obama agree on. There are books about it. Here’s a college course at UC Davis called “Slavery: America’s Original Sin: Part 1."

The fact is, there has been slavery in every period of history, and just about everywhere. The Greeks and Romans had it, the ancient Egyptians had it, it’s all over the Bible, the Chinese and the pre-Columbian Indians had it, the Maoris in New Zealand had it, and the Muslims had it in spades. But I have never, ever heard of slavery being anyone else’s “original sin.”

About the only societies that never had slaves were primitivehunter-gatherers. As soon as people have some kind of formal social organization, they start taking slaves.

You’ve heard about slavery and mass human sacrifices of Central and South American Indians, but North American Indians were enslaving each other long before the white man showed up.

Tlingit and Haida Indians, who lived in the Pacific Northwest, went raiding for slaves as far South as California. About one quarter of the population were slaves, and the children of slaves were slaves. During potlatches, or huge ceremonial feasts, the Tlingit would sometimes burn property and kill slaves, just to show how rich they were. What’s a couple of slaves to a guy who lives in a house like this?

When we bought Alaska from the Russians in 1867, Indians were furious when we told them they had to give up their slaves. The Tlingit carved this image of Abraham Lincoln, the emancipator, to try to shame the government into compensating them for slaves.

What were called the Five Civilized Tribes of the American Southeast happily bought black slaves. In 1860, there were 21,000 Cherokee, and they owned 4,000 slaves. And that was just the Cherokee. Many took their slaves with them when they were forced to move West.

Free blacks in the South owned slaves. The fact of having been slaves didn’t stop them from wanting to be slave masters themselves. In 1840, in South Carolina alone, there were 454 free blacks who owned a total of 2,357 slaves. Only about 20 percent of Southern households had even one slave, but 75 percent of the free-black households in South Carolina owned slaves.

Don’t believe me? It’s all in this book by the expert on the subject, Larry Koger of the University of South Carolina. And he demolishes the idea that most blacks bought slaves only to get family members out of slavery. Like whites, some were kind masters and some were mean, but, for the most part, they owned slaves for exactly the same reasons whites did.

There’s a whole book about this black guy, Andrew Durnford.

He had a plantation of 672 acres along the Mississippi in Louisiana, and close to 100 slaves. Another black slave owner in Louisiana, P.C. Richards, owned 152 slaves. Black slaveowners avidly supported the Confederacy. There are no accurate estimates of the number of slaves held by free blacks at the time of the Civil War, but they would have been tens of thousands.

If slavery is somebody’s Original Sin, it’s sure not ours. Take a look at this map of the slave trade, beginning in 1500.

[Source: SlaveVoyages.com, click to enlarge]

The thicknesses of the lines represent numbers of slaves. What became the United States imported just around 400,000 slaves—about 3 percent of all the slaves who crossed the Atlantic. Look at all the slaves who went to Brazil and to the Caribbean Islands.They needed millions because, unlike American slaveowners who raised slave families, they bought grown men and worked them to death. And let us not forget, virtually every slave on this map was caught by blacks or Arabs.

And look at all the slaves who ended up in North Africa and the Middle East.

That’s millions of them going to Muslim countries at exactly the same time slaves were crossing the Atlantic. And Arabs had been taking black slaves out of Africa, across the Sahara, for 900 years before America was even discovered—and a forced march across the desert was a lot worse than crossing the Atlantic. In this article about Africa’s first slavers—the Arabs—historian Paul Lovejoy estimates that over the centuries, Muslims took about 14 million blacks out of Africa [Recalling Africa’s harrowing tale of its first slavers – The Arabs – as UK Slave Trade Abolition is commemorated, March 27, 2018]. That is more than the 12 million who went to the New World.

And you might ask, where are the descendants of all those Middle Eastern slaves? America has millions of slave descendants. Why don’t you see lots of blacks in Saudi Arabia or Syria or Iraq? Arabs castrated black slaves so they wouldn’t have descendants.

Muslims were even more enthusiastic about enslaving white people. Christian Slaves, Muslim Masters, by Prof. Robert C. Davis is the best book on the subject. Remember the Barbary Pirates of North Africa? Between 1530 and 1780 they caught and enslaved more than a million white, European Christians. During the 16th and 17th centuries, Arabs took more white slaves south across the Mediterranean than there were blacks shipped across the Atlantic.

Mostly, Muslim pirates captured European ships and stole their crews. In just three years, from 1606 to 1609, the British navy admitted it had lost 466 British merchant ships to North African pirates [Counting European Slaves on the Barbary Coast Past & Present, August 2001]. Four hundred sixty-six ships in just three years. Arabs took American slaves. Between 1785 and 1793 Algerians captured 13 American ships in the Mediterranean and enslaved the crews. This is a 1804 battle between Arab pirates and the USS Enterprise.

It was only in 1815, after two wars, that the United States was finally free of the Barbary pirates.

Muslim pirates also organized huge, amphibious slave-catching assaults that practically depopulated the Italian coast. In 1544, Algerian raiders took 7,000 slaves in the Bay of Naples in a single raid. This drove the price of slaves so low it was said you could “swap a Christian for an onion.”

After a 1566 raid on Granada in Spain netted 4,000 men women, and children, it was said to be “raining Christians in Algiers.” Women were easier to catch than men, and were prized as sex slaves, so some coastal areas lost their entire child-bearing populations. One raid as far away as Iceland brought back 400 white slaves.

Prof. Davis notes that the trade in black Africans was strictly business, but Muslims had a jihad-like enthusiasm for stealing Christians. It was revenge for the Crusades and for the reconquest of Spain from the Arabs in 1492. When Muslim corsairs raided Europe, they made a point of desecrating churches and stealing church bells. The metal was valuable but stealing church bells silenced the voice of Christianity.

It was a tradition to parade newly captured Europeans through the streets so people could jeer at them, while children threw garbage at them. At the slave market, both men and women were stripped naked to evaluate their sexual value. In the North African capitals—Tunis, Algiers, Tripoli—there was a big demand for homosexual sex-slaves. Other Europeans were worked to death on farms or building projects.

Prof. Davis writes that unlike in North America, there were no limits on cruelty: “There was no countervailing force to protect the slave from his master’s violence: no local anti-cruelty laws, no benign public opinion, and rarely any effective pressure from foreign states.” Slaves were not just property, they were infidels, and deserved whatever suffering a master meted out.

For a man, there was a fate even worse than being a sex slave. Hundreds of thousands became galley slaves, often on slave-catching pirate ships. They were chained to their oars 24 hours a day, and could move only to the hole where the oar went through the hull—so they could relieve themselves. If the men were rowing, they fouled themselves. Galley slaves lived in a horrible stench, ate rotten food, were whipped by slave drivers and tormented by rats and lice. They could not lie down and had to sleep at their oars. Many never left their ships, even in port. Their job was to row until they died, and to be tossed overboard at the first sign of weakness.

Muslims have taken slaves for as long as there have been Muslims, which is about 1,400 years.

Mohammed himself was an enthusiastic slave trader. Muslims still take black slaves. As this article points out, Libya still has slave markets, Mauritanian Arabs take black slaves, and there is still slavery in Niger, Mali, Chad and Sudan[Libya’s slave markets are a reminder that the exploitation of Africans never went away, by Martin Plaut, New Statesman, February 21, 2018].

And, of course, it was white people who abolished slavery, both in their own countries and, except for a few stubborn holdouts, the whole world. Africans, just like the Tlingit Indians, screamed about all the wealth we made them give up.

But slavery’s still our “original sin.” As Time magazine wrote just this month about slavery “Europeans and their colonial “descendants” in the United States engineered the most complete and enduring dehumanization of a people in history."[Facing America's History of Racism Requires Facing the Origins of 'Race' as a Concept, by Andrew Curran, July 10, 2020]

What a small minority of Americans did for 246 years—and in a relatively mild form—is worse than anything that was ever done anywhere by anyone.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is the power of white privilege. I hope you are enjoying it. Watch this video:

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