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Baby Daddy: Alimony
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BABY DADDY Part 1!
TW: Toxic!Rafe. Smut. Language. Degrading language. Breeding kink. Dom!Rafe. Daddy kink. Choking kink. Blade play.
SUMMARY: You believe you've finally gotten a step ahead over your toxic baby daddy. Foolish you…
WORD COUNT: 3000
*REQUESTED*
Anonymous asked
could there be a part 2 to baby daddy w rafe? 
Alimony 
He always had a way of winning. Poker. Business. His way into your sheets yet again. At least he had until lately. Excuses and appointments on your end had allowed you the chance to form some sort of dominance over your toxic situationship. And somehow beyond worry and former threats, your heels came to a click through his office on your most recent expression of altered submission. 
"Excuse me, you can't go in there-" His assistant called from behind her desk, desperate for you to obey or risk his wrath. For a moment, you couldn't help but wonder if she had been a replacement to some complaint her predecessor made against Rafe for misconduct. 
"Just a piece of advice…he's not worth the expensive perfume…" You explained as she blushed, the clear unbuttoned decolletage set in such a way to garner his focus as her intentions had been spoiled. Too much in shock to your audacity, you were allowed into his meeting without any further protest. 
"If we focus only on the west-" His words ceased immediately once his eyes fell to you. If not for the look of pride across your face, he would have believed that something happened to your shared offspring. For the absence of this, he simply tightened his jaw to wait for the reason for your presence. 
For the years he had bombarded you and infiltrated your life, you finally had the chance to return the unpleasant favor. Without a second thought, you set down the collection of bills before him with a glare of challenge cast in his direction. 
"If you weren't so busy buying expensive and inappropriate dinners for new assistants you'd know that you're three months late in alimony. Money needed to take care of your son." You spat as he didn't wear an expression of embarrassment, maybe awe, even arousal, but you hadn't been allowed the reaction you sought out. Because of this, you continued. 
"A lifestyle you demand he has. A private school. Expensive clothes and toys he'd be fine without. But since you won't let me raise him modestly…you pay for these…things I could without you…but you won't let me." 
"Excuse me, but this isn't the time or place to exercise your hormonal-" You narrowed your eyes towards the man who spoke against you. One Rafe told you enough about to offer a stain against his reputation amongst fellow colleagues. 
"How's your wife?" He cleared his throat before fixing his tie. 
"What does-"
"Does she know you have a proclivity for your assistant? Your male assistant-"
"Enough. My office. Five minutes." Rafe apologized on your behalf as you left the bills at your back before moving to his office. 
Set at the rim of the desk, your palms rested on the wooden edge as you were left in wait. Pictures of your son lay in pride on his desk along with one of you and him closer to his closed laptop. You couldn't help but feel warmth when on observation of the simpler time. A time before you really knew him and the poor excuse he had for a heart. 
"I've ruined men's lives for less than what you did…" 
"I'm not afraid of you, Rafe. I am tired of all of this…You dictate every aspect of my life with our son even though I am the one with him day in and day out. All of his doctor's appointments. Teaching him to read. Playdates. Sick days. When he broke his wrist last summer from being at the park with the nanny YOU were too busy eye-fucking to to notice!" He clenched his arms, your eyes drawn to the strain of fabric caused by his muscles. 
"So you're mad because I showed interest in someone else?"
"Are you really THAT much of a narcissist? Your son got hurt because you were reckless and put him as anything but a priority!"
He took a step closer to you, the entire collection of oxygen around you seemingly thinned as he drew a finger to his bottom lip. The signet ring on that leading finger forcing your focus to his lips. Those damn lips that held talent no man should be able to possess. The same talent that made you forgive him so many times before. At least long enough to give you both an orgasm. 
"I wasn't "eye-fucking" her-"
"I don't care what you call it Rafe, he got hurt because you were-"
"I was trying not to fuck you in the middle of that park in that goddamn sundress you know makes me hard enough to split you in half." He explained behind clenched teeth.
 "Looking at her was the only thing that kept me from looking at you. The only person I'll ever eye-fuck Because nobody compares to you. No matter how many girls I've tried to test that theory on…" He was now only a foot or so in front of you. 
"I told you you ever needed anything, you just ask. But you made a scene…" His hand was suddenly in the back of your hair. 
"So now you're going to make sure they hear what happens when you rival me." You were taken against the desk, palms forced at the surface. 
"Don't hurt my reputation, baby…scream for me like you always do and I might just let you come…" His hands were feverish and gluttonous to a competitive degree. Harsh but through as he reached within your house and directly beneath your bra. It took only one repressed moan and shuddering breath before he smirked at your cheek. He knew you wanted him. And he was shameless to broadcast the same need to you. 
A single scoff felt at your back and he pulled the straps to your shirt downwards until exposing your bra to him. 
"Now you didn't come here in my favorite bra just to talk…" You hesitated, unaware you had subconsciously dressed in his favored piece of lingerie. When you didn't respond, he turned you to face him, a letter opener set as a threat to your jaw. The life suddenly behind his eyes was frightening as it was only born from your fear. And yet, you were aware he wouldn't bring true harm to you. Not anymore than what he'd already done, anyhow. Your thighs aching at the thought of that very thing. 
"Anyone else were to talk to me like that and they would…" He paused. "Let's just say he wouldn't find it as pleasurable as I could make it for you…"
"I didn't come here for-"
"If your panties match this bra then you came here for exactly this." But as his hand rode into your pants, a violent unbuttoning of the closure and you gasped to the feeling of his fingertips against your naked clit. Not an ounce of fabric separating you. 
"No panties?" He scoffed. "Making it a bit too easy for me, baby…" He lowered the edge of the blade to your chest, teasing your nipple with its cold tip. First the left. Then the right. Circling it until lowering still. In the meantime, your breathing was sporadic to the crusade as your body shifted in accordance to the cold edge making contact. 
"Maybe it wasn't for you." You shot, some random surge of courage allowing you to rival him. 
"Don't ever say that shit to me again. YOU are for me. You can try to fuck anyone else and I promise you'll always be left wanting me. You know why, baby?" He suddenly took hold of the middle section of your bra to pull you closer to him. A gasp leaving your lips as he set the edge of the potential weapon to the fabric. 
"Because you love this." He sliced the fabric, exposing your breasts that he was quick to apprehend. But the blade continued lower until it teased the line of your parted jeans. 
"I-"
"Guess I need to prove it." Lowering to his knees, he pulled your pants to your knees before drawing the blade at an angle so it didn't cut you. 
"One wrong move and you'll bleed for me…You know I don't mind ." His eyes flickered with mischief as you breathed sharply. The contact of the blade at your sex made you shift. 
"You ever let anyone know how sweet this is…" He explained while pulling the blade to his tongue, a single lick of your excess removed, and rolling his eyes to your familiar taste. 
"I'll fuck you with this very blade so you can only be with me." You tensed at the thought. It was a threat. Not some attempt to entice you with dirty words. And he meant it. Every ounce of predatory dominance was always exercised with that promise. But this was sharper. Deeper. A vow of sorts, spoke on his altar of domineering existence. 
"Every time I want to be sweet to you…you open that pretty little mouth and make me want to come in it instead…Making you cry and plead…But today, you made a fatal error, baby. And now you're gonna make it up to me." He rose back over you. 
"You know you belong on your knees here in my office."
"I'm not fucking you, Rafe." He smirked and nodded. 
"You're right. I'm fucking you-" Distracted by his words you were taken aback by the sudden lift of your leg over the desk and his cock penetrating you with a cruel eagerness. And yet, you cried out for him as you always had. Only to return to that familiar hesitance. 
"I don't want you on your knees looking up at me, because I always forgive you too quickly. I want you to earn it. For embarrassing me. So it's only fair I do the same to you." He was harsh with his focused touch, exercising your erogenous zones with fervor as you refrained from rewarding him with any sound. Instead, you held your breath to suppress those moans so desperate to be released. 
"You can try to fight it all you want, baby. But your body is telling me just how much you missed me. How sorry you are-'"
"I'm not-" He silenced you by turning you into his mouth. His left hand came around your cheek, pressing you deeper into him as his tongue wrapped around yours. 
"The more you fight it, the harder you're gonna come. You're edging yourself baby…doing my work for me…" He spoke against your lips as he continued to pump you against the desk. The gift of his successes shook before you until a specific statue came to the floor to break. He smirked, falling into the illusion of your submission as he loosened his grip on your hand. 
It was just the window needed as you pushed him away from you and took the letter opener in hand. 
"I'm not some toy to you anymore! You don't get to decide anything."
"You gonna stab me? Yeah?" He tried for you but you only cocked your jaw. 
"Knees, Rafe. " You surprised him. "Make me come on your desk like you used to…" You smirked as you played with the tip of the blade. 
"All over those contracts you used to get so made you'd have to print again…only to fuck me over the copier…counting each page out as punishment…"
"You think-"
"Your name might be on that door. The lease to my apartment. Even following our son's name. But you don't own me, Rafe. You don't decide where I go or who I see. When I come or with you. I want this for me. So knees. Or I'll leave right now and you won't-" He rushed against you, a kiss to your lips as he gathered your face between your palms. The letter opener, thrown across the floor, where it became lost to some bookshelf as you watched him pull away just slightly. 
"There's that fire…"
"Shut up and make me come." He smirked before taking his hand to your neck. In the attempt made to keep dominance, you could only wrap your hand around his wrist as he pulled you to him. 
"You're right…" His middle finger came to your sex. "I might now own you. God knows you have your own opinions. But I own your body. Your moans. Your orgasm. Even the denial you have after you regret giving in to me…again…"
"You-"
A second finger set at a curve made you gasp in relief. 
"I own sex. With you. And I'll always make you mine. Make you come. Every time. And you show your ass like that again…I'll let them see it as I make it the darkest shade of red I can until you can't even sit." He scoffed. 
"How will you explain that to our son? Hmm? His mom's a whore who can't learn to keep her mouth shut but keeps her legs open for daddy? Mmm…I like the way that sounds…" 
He gripped your throat harder. "Call me it. I'll let you come. Just like you want. But call me it."
"Bastard." You shot as he kissed you sharply. 
"That's fine. I'll just take you how I want…" He pinned your back flat against the desk before thrust you down onto him. The fulfillment of his cock sending your eyes to an immediate roll as your back arched from his depth. 
"Not so dominant now with my cock deep enough to remind you how much you need it, yeah? Then fucking take it, baby…" Your fingers wrapped around the edge of the desk as he bowed into you. One harsh grasp to the back of your neck brought you into him as another held himself up from crushing you. It would only take until the third thrust before your reservation turned into the need for more as you wrapped yourself around him. Feet tied over his waist and your fingers pulling at his hair, he moaned into your kiss with approval. 
"Rafe-" 
"I know you're about to. Think I need to be warned after how many times?"
"No…I…I want more…" He smirked, kissing you once more before pressing your calf into his chest and holding you tightly. 
"That enough for you, yeah? Feel me that deep inside of you?" He hit his hand on the surface of the desk beside you. 
"Answer me!"
"Oh my God…" You only kissed him, softening his anger, but not his passion. "You feel so good…fuck me, Rafe…" His eyes rolled to your command. 
"Daddy…" you teased directly into his ear before nibbling on the lobe beneath as he unleashed himself into you. The desk at a threat to break as it even cried out beneath you. But as you moaned shamelessly beneath him his hand came around your mouth. A slip allowed by losing himself in the greed of your lower lips. 
"I thought you wanted them to hear me…"
"Nobody gets to hear you come but me." He lifted you off of the desk and onto the couch across the way until you straddled him. Without the need for guidance, you began a lace of bouncing and clenching as his fingers ate sharply into your hips. 
"Yes!" He belted behind clenched teeth. "My girl never forgot how to ride me…" You diverted the grip over his shoulders into that of the fabric behind him as he corrected you back to his skin. 
"It will hurt you."
"I want you to." He confessed, allowing you a chance to read beyond the lines of your toxic relationship, where sex governed and compassion was sparse. But in this moment, he became gentle. If he could even be such a thing, this was the closest you'd ever seen him. 
"I don't want to hurt you."
"I do. I want you to. Because I want to hurt you…" He explained with tears in his eyes as you kissed him sweetly, surprising him. 
"Then hurt me." He clenched his jaw, turning you onto your knees before pulling you back to face him. A smack to your ass and a vice if s grip made you wince as he repeated it twice over. 
"Just say it once. You don't have to mean it…just say you're mine…"
"I'm yours, Rafe…So fuck me like it…" He pounded into you, your body pinned between him and the arm of the chair as only his hand through your hair pulled him back. 
"Yes!" You chorused. 
"Oh shit…" He moaned for you, the desperate groan making your eyes roll in approval. 
"I wanna fuck it so deep inside of you that you get pregnant again-" Your eyes shot open. 
"Rafe-"
"Just one more time…You let me use every part of you to come…you were more horny than I was…" You hesitated. 
"Yep…one more time…"
"Rafe, no-"
"Yes baby…you're gonna be so fucking good again…so beautiful, so full…tits so fuckable…"
"Raaaaafe!" You whimpered. "Please!"
"If you don't want it, are you you clenching so hard? Hmm? Why are you so close to coming for me?"
"Because you're so deep…"
"Deep enough for you to give me another baby…come on…take it baby…" he pulled you back against him. One arm wrapped as a sash as he used the other at your clit. 
"You can come…I know I am…"
"Oh fuck!"
"Good fucking girl…oh yeah…oh you want it…say it…say you want my cum…say it!"
"Ah! I want it! Cum inside me, Rafe!"
"Yeah? Why?"
He smiled as you faced him. "Oh…tell me before I come…I'm close…you're too fucking tight…"
"That's fine…you're still gonna take every drop…" he thrust violently into you, as you belted and stiffened for him. 
"There…Now I'll forgive you for acting like such a little bitch…" he moved to kiss you but you moved away. 
"Don't be that way. You could have said no."
"I did…"
"Your body wanted it…I bet it still does…"
"Rafe…" He moved to his desk, pressing the intercom to his assistant. Pulling up the sleeves of his dress shirt you left loose and stretched, he kept his eyes to you. 
"Cancel the rest of today."
"Mister Cameron-"
"Thank you." He moved back to you. 
"Looks like you're mine for the rest of the day…" 
TAGLIST: @hopebaker @drewspisces @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4tangerine @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @jjmaybanksangel @phildunphyisadilf @mashdan0916 @belcalis9503
MASTERLIST
RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST
2ND RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST
BABY DADDY MASTERLIST
MARCH MADNESS MASTERLIST
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mochiswifey · 2 years
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FOR YOUR SMILE
Wakasa Imaushi CW: ANGST
"N-No. I don't fucking get it! Why are you breaking up with me?" Wakasa slams his fist on the expensive table he just bought a week ago.
He was never the one to be emotional. Always composed and cool. But you suddenly asking him to break up was something that pulled strings in his brain.
"I-I I just don't love you anymore." You barely manage to spit out.
"You're fucking lying! I know when you lie. I've known you for a very long time now!" He rages grabbing the nearest chair and slamming it to the wall creating a dent in his penthouse's expensive wall.
You didn't fear him because you trust him enough to know no matter how furious he is he'll never lay a hand on you.
"W-waka."
"Baby. Please." With a pained voice he walked towards you and knelt, wrapping his arms that have made you felt secure for the last four years.
"Y-you're going to be better off without me. I-"
"Please tell me why are you lying. You love me. I can see it in your eyes but why-" You pry his hands off and left. You didn't want to. Your heart was against it but your brain knew it was the right thing to do.
You broke his heart but to you it's better. Better to make him hate you. Resent you for breaking his heart without an explanation.
Wakasa had your belongings burned. He wanted to hate you so bad but he simply couldn't. He wanted to see you so much but- He stopped trying when he saw you happier with someone else.
Little did he know, you knew he's been watching you. You purposely invited a friend to make him loathe you even more.
Wakasa loved you so much that's why he needed to drown himself in liquor and other women just to forget you.
He thought he wouldn't find someone he could love like he loved you but after a few months he finally replaced you.
She has long healthy hair, a curvy figure, and eyes that have no eyebags underneath. She looks absolutely stunning.
You'll never beat her even if you were yourself a few months back.
The first time you saw them it hurt a little. But it was also a relief as Wakasa was once again laughing. They were talking in the cafe you two used to go eat at.
Wakasa was eating his usual and she was eating your favorite food which Wakasa might've recommended.
You smiled.
Because even after you're gone Wakasa will never be alone. You continued walking with visible tears in your eyes.
It's better this way.
You tell yourself as you let them fall to the ground. It's what you wanted for him.
3 years later.
Walking around the hospital dragging your IV with you. You saw a familiar blond-haired man carrying a child no older than two. He was with his now wife. The same woman you saw him with 3 years ago. She's pregnant and glowing. She looks so much prettier.
While you look lifeless.
You stare at them and imagined yourself in her position. You know that if you weren't diagnosed with a terminal illness you would've certainly been in her position.
You imagine you and Wakasa having children. Having a life. Enjoying beaches, campings, and- You shake your head stopping all the silly imaginations.
It will hurt you more to think of such things. Turning around you started to walk towards the rooftop wanting to get fresh air.
The sky was cloudy and the sun was hidden from sight. You sighed even the weather was not in your favor.
You closed your eyes and let the wind blow to your face. It was cold and your fragile bones were rapidly chilling.
You've always loved cold wind even though after your diagnosis you were prohibited from going to cold places to avoid the risk of infections.
But your illness has taken the man you love, your time, your joy, your life. You only have god knows how long. And you're tired of letting it dictate your life.
"Fuck you. I will enjoy this cold wind and I won't fucking care!" You yell. And your voice caught someone's attention.
Wakasa was casually strolling around after leaving his baby girl and wife in their room. Like you, he didn't like clouds so he was about to walk back inside but miraculously he heard your voice- he wasn't sure if it was you but... He needed to see for himself.
You-
You sat on the bench. Hair gone. Bones sticking out... Your body looks so tired but the eyes you use to stare at the distance have the same determination to live a happy life.
Wakasa's eyes waters as he slowly understands why you left him.
"H-Hey." You snapped your head to the familiar voice. Shock and embarrassment consumed you rapidly. You never have wanted him to see you in such a state of madness.
"I-I I"
"Do you mind?" You averted your gaze from him and you returned your eyes into the distance not answering him. He chuckled before taking a sit beside you.
Wakasa wanted to scold you for not telling him. To yell at you for being so stupid. For letting him live happily while you suffer alone. He wanted to...
He wanted to tell you that he never stopped loving you.
"W-Why... Why didn't you tell me?" No scoldings, yelling or speaking of his hurt happened. He simply questions you.
You wanted to act tough and ignore him. But, his voice was filled with pain. Filled with sorrow and regret for not trying to understand you.
He felt that he gave up. And because of that, you suffered for the last three years while he built a family to replace you.
"P-please. I deserve-"
"Leave me alone." You whisper as you quickly wipe your tears.
"I did that three years ago and look what became of us-"
"You did the right thing. You're happy now and that's all I've wanted for you to be. That's why I did what I did."
Wakasa shook his head and covered his eyes not believing that you suffered alone for his happiness.
"I don't wanna die Waka. But I will. I wanted to build a family with you. To live happily. Gosh... It broke my heart. It really fucking broke my heart but when I saw you happy with her? Happy without me? All of the pain of leaving you was worth it. My pain was worth it because you became happy. For your smile? I'll pick the same choice a million times."
Wakasa bit his lips as his tears uncontrollably fell from his eyes.
"I love you. I never stopped loving you. And I'm happy you found her." With that you stood up but not before meeting his gorgeous purple eyes one last time.
"Goodbye, Waka."
The next day even thought his wife was already in labor he decide to visit you. He could've done it after his wife gave birth but- something is telling him to visit you.
He knew it was unfair to his wife, but he needed to be with you. To see you smile when he cracks jokes. To see you laugh. And just to admire you.
He had your favorite flowers in his left hand and your favorite dessert in his right. He paid off the nurses to make them tell him your room.
He was nervous but excited to spend time with you. He knew you were having a hard time. He knew you were insecure about losing your hair because you kept talking about it shredding before you broke up with him. He knows he needed to tell you how beautiful you are.
He was ready to tell you you're still the most beautiful woman-
Your bed was no longer in the place the nurses told him you would be. A white flower was placed on the vase of the nightstand that was supposed to be yours.
His eyes scattered around the room. Everything was neatly folded aside and the room smelt of disinfectant.
"Mr. Imaushi! Your wife has just given birth! She's searching for you!" A nurse shows up out of nowhere informing Wakasa. ee
"W-where's the patient-"
"I uh... The patient died this morning sir. She caught an infection-"
Wakasa didn't let the nurse finish and left the room. Tears weren't seen anywhere. But his heart was shattered to pieces.
"Hello, pretty girl." He says to his wife faking a smile as he sniffs.
"I have your favorite." He says as he lifts your favorite dessert.
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Replies&Reblogs Are Greatly Appreciated. Plagiarism is a crime.
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byakuyasdarling · 8 months
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『 ᴀɴᴅʀᴇᴀɢᴀᴍɪ ᴄᴏɴꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ {ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ} 』
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𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎: First childhood friends, to a one-sided rivalry, and now close once more.
It’s been almost a year since Freya and Byakuya fell in love at their former high school, Green Hills, and are now attending Hope’s Peak Academy. And yet, they still cannot admit in words what they feel for one another.
❝ 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. ❞ — 𝘍. 𝘚𝘤𝘰𝘵𝘵 𝘍𝘪𝘵𝘻𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘥
。゚•┈୨♡୧┈•゚。 — Short Fic
[ Okay to Reblog — reblogs are appreciated :) ]
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Two sat within a nook of a wide expanse, obscured by the metaphorical labyrinth of intertwining bookcases and the shadows they cast from the warm glow of dusk. There was an intimacy in the dimly lit and confined space, as each shallow breath became audible as the sound reverberates around the nook. The two read silently while indulging in their quiet affection, being engulfed in the plush fabric of bean bags — the young female’s idea, of course. Her other half, the taller male, pulls the chain of an antique lamp situated next to them — the light’s warm hues flooding the secluded space.
The girl places her delicate hand atop his, causing him to tense slightly before clumsily grasping at her fingers with his, letting his thumb rub against the side of her palm.
“Freya…” he murmurs, before gripping her hand tighter, “this… we can’t have this.”
Freya makes a soft sound, almost of pain. “No… no… we can. Don’t be like that, Byakuya.”
He exhales somewhat heavily, shaking his head. “It’s not just about your desires, Freya.”
“— Our desires, Byakuya.” she corrects, as he consequently sighs.
“Our desires.” Byakuya repeats rather reluctantly. “I’m sure you need no reminder of our positions, regardless. We can’t have this.” He squeezes her hand tighter on that last word, almost painfully so, yet the passion his gesture communicates is blatantly for her.
She mulls over her options, but decides on a rhetorical to force him to articulate and justify his position, “Why?” she asks.
“I’m not playing mind games, Orator,” the coldness is apparent in his tone. She looks at him a bit wistfully, though he avoids any eye contact and vulnerability, guilt, or regret that may ensue by merely looking at her hurt expression.
“Byakuya… talk to me, look at me… please…” the desperation triggers his protective instinct for her, snapping his gaze to hers instantaneously; his eyes can’t help but soften. Damn it.
“I cannot go against my family and it’s traditions that have lasted generations. This is how we’ve survived, this is how we stay in power. This? Us? It holds no benefit to my family. It is weakness.”
“Is that what 'us' is to you, Byakuya? Merely a point of weakness?”
“If that will stop your pointless dribble, then yes.” he cuts. Silence follows his remark as Freya blankly stares at him, knowing that was an obvious cop-out. With a dismissive “Tch”, he continues, “Even if I chose to pursue you, do you really think I could actually escape the shadow of my family? Or the expectations of society? So what if it is all archaic and outdated? It works.”
“Yes, actually. Byakuya, you’re the heir, they rely on you now. They can’t get rid of you, they can’t replace you, and they can’t dismiss you. You make the rules now. Do you even hear yourself? You’re letting them dictate your life, you’re acting powerless!”
“Powerless?” A hint of venom slithers its way off his tongue. “I’m not powerless.”
“Stop acting like it then.” However firm Freya sounds now, there was an undercurrent of care in her voice. She dials back to a softer tone — it’s hard for her to be so angry or even argue. “They control and abuse you like a tool. You owe them nothing. If they don’t like it, they can deal with it because they’re the problem, not you.”
“Abuse? That a rather bold claim, I hope you can back it up.” he scoffs.
“They never parented you, they never treated you with kindness. What did they actually do for you except giving you wealth? They use you and you know it.”
If it were anyone else, he’d demand an apology for such accusations. But this is Freya, he can’t falsify some conjecture about the grandness of his family — or that cold hard discipline was a gift to make him a dedicated, efficient man. Byakuya wants to say that, wants to think that, wants to believe that… but such is cognitive dissonance, which goes against his principles of honesty to her. Because she’d see through it in an instant; she would never believe it, hence speaking lies benefits no one.
So instead, they stare at one another in a perpetual, solemn silence. Their deep, exhausted breathing and her whimpers bounce around the nook, echoing and magnifying the sound of heartbreak. He can’t stand the look in her eyes, the tears obscuring her starry eyes he has looked into over many years… over many iterations of herself; yet she always remained soft and kind, yet he always loved each and every version of who she is. And in that moment, he isn’t the man his father groomed him to be, he was a lost boy longing to be found, and wanted to hold the hand of the little girl he called his first friend, his only friend, and his only love. He swallows a lump in his throat, breaking the minute of quiet.
“What do you see in me?”
Part of her wants to lash out and run, distancing herself from the situation. Part of her wants to frame it as ineffectual with pretty conjecture with words like glass diamonds — but when faced with the hard malice of reality, a counterfeit diamond shatters and the beauty along with it, leaving only the hurtful truth. Freya meets his eyes with her own, the steely blue of his has lost their lustre. In that brief instance, she finally realises he’s hurting too… and badly. His eyes resemble that of a wounded animal far more than the predatory gleam he usually possesses.
“Everything… I see everything.” Her voice is reduced to a gentle whisper, weak and fragile — passionate still, yet destitute of the oratory prowess that cemented her speaking talent as ‘ultimate’. “But what I see most, is a loyal, principled man who will always do what’s right. But I also see a lonely man, and a man who never got the chance to grow outside of his family. I see a man who still needs to find himself and come to terms with the fact he isn’t a machine. And I know you, Byakuya. Because I’ve always known you, ever since we were children. I still see that boy in you, and he is crying.”
Byakuya sits in the quiet left after she spoke, perhaps for a little too long judging by her pleading eyes — but he starts gently rubbing his thumb up against her palm again. Finally, he forces out an answer.
“We first met here, in this library…”
Freya nods gently in an encouraging manner and a gentle, small smile, “Yes, of course.”
“We were so different.”
“Not really.”
Byakuya takes a moment to think, “Perhaps not.”
“Freya?”
“Yes, Byakuya?”
“I'll make sure we always stay together, I promise.”
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Wa a know what George bush not sr but George bush jr did I would have preferred if mr bill Clinton’s vice presidents right hand man won the presidential election bush one a narrow squeaker election in flarida paper ballots jbodh not st but jr gose in to iraq and Asante’s gose to wall for Arabian oil and bush owns a oil gas business hemself a nother guns in butter got no gut no glory tough root in totem te Ian like Lyndon herald names Jonson was who escalated the veitnnam war and go a hundreds aboun hundreds opinions thousands of our innisent troops killed and left thir momies with no husband to take of the young kids bush not stbbuy jr from midland s we’ll blue coller town in Texas went in to Iraq thaught he was a tough better man like lbjna guns in butter demionic wicked no good keester who eskalated the 1950 60s cruet nam war and gif hundreds appointed thousand of our innisent shoulders killed for no reason a war I’m a peace loving old school hippie wood stick era a war we should have state out to be gin with it wasent like the japs blamed pestilence garner or sama laden s bomb king 911of the nyc world trade s enter towers we need to reall y to mind our foutain pollacy business bush jr not sr his dad who so defantsly warns him bush jr not to go in to Iraqi and to go after s Adam Husain the evil Iraqi dicktatar but bush jr de died him any way and went in
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yuyu-bi · 2 years
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finally finished elite season 4 and i can’t believe guzmán actually (finally) killed someone lmao i’ve been expecting this since season 1 the boy is literally unhinged lmaooo 😭😭😭 this explains why he’s not in season 5 lmaoooo he just had like the serial killer face like he’s so not in control of his emotions even if he did kill someone who was trash lmao but still even before he literally fought samuel prior to this whole debacle 😩 elite really loves just having random people kill or attack someone like wtf bc guzman killing armando i wouldn’t have ever guessed that tbh bc why would he like attack ari like that omg the men in this show are unhinged for sure
overall this season just got on my nerves honestly it was just a lot to deal with and so stupid 💀 the plot points pissed me off honestly but i do like mencia a lot but the other two are just….ugh 💀 patrick is a literal sex demon tore omar and ander apart and then got salty that neither of them wanted him afterwards 💀 ari is just annoying i think they were trying to make lu 2.0 and being someone who hated lu until season 3 this is v offensive to me lmao like how was she gonna try to have both samuel and guzman to herself???? greedy lmao even both of them were like tf is this??? she is not all that to be doing that omfg
cayetana replacing valerio for the one french guy was so dumb i miss valerio 😭😭😭 he would have spiced things up so much wtf happened to him 😭😭 ugh the french guy was literally filming girls he was with and also literally tried to assault cayetana himself and then his mom was literally trying to force them to be together bc she thought cayetana was good for him and his “urges” like wtf is that 💀💀 i’m glad she has more self worth than that bc she was annoying in the other seasons too bc she was def better here ari literally called her a stupid social climber (maybe clout chaser in english?) and she was not wrong about that omg
samu still bagging girls while literally being the most unappealing guy is incredible for me like the both of them actually boggles my mind 💀💀 he must really be putting it down (which he kinda was w ari) bc i really can’t see any other reason why he’s just….so annoying lmao 💀 and guzman is just scary to me like i wouldn’t want myself in that situation whatsoever 💀
and the dad who looks like profe from money heist is so awful he’s literally a dictator and the students quite literally call him a nazi in the show 💀 i watched the first epi of season 5 and he literally puts broadcasts of himself throughout the school whenever he has smth important to say like that is what a pa system is for 😭😭😭 or call the students in to talk w them why did you let cayetana make a broadcast about what philippe did how is that school appropriate 💀 i think he ends up dying in this season him or omar but they didn’t show it in the first epi so idk but i’ve watched enough elite for tonight lmao 4 episodes just to finish the season and start the next one 💀
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Draw your swords, pt. 5
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Summary: A very special dinner brings a very special moment for the Darkling and his wife.
Warnings: angst, sexual innuendoes, swearing, bit of fluff
Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four  
=================================
She felt caught in the riptide, finding it hard to stay upright. As the daughter of a general, Y/N had seen so many evils, so much hurt, yet she never buckled under pressure.
Staring at the empty spot beside her, she laid there while battling shadows in her head. So filled with rage, she wondered who she’s becoming as a part of her longed to feel his touch. Perhaps he was right, she’s a foolish girl who is trying to win a game where the rules are nonexistent.
Having stayed awake most of the previous night, she didn’t expect trouble sleeping. With a heavy sigh, she abandoned the bed they shared – it felt too intimate to remain there now. They’ve only ever kissed and it was never planned nor did it happen in the very bed she felt is so incredibly vast, so lonely and cold when he didn’t stay there with her.
Pacing the room as she saw his shadow do the night before, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if he had trouble sleeping alone too. It was less than a full week since they married and she already cursed the smallest part of her that seemed to care for him.
Men are easy to love. A woman’s heart was made to care and love those near her. Mistaking love and trust is what a woman should never do. Love and trust are separate entities, one is given, the other must be earned.
Remembering her mother’s words eased her self-loathing. If she dared to love the Darkling, it wasn’t entirely under her control. Trusting him was different. She wasn’t as naïve as to allow the echoes of her heart dictate what her mind long acknowledged – he isn’t trustworthy.
And as the stars rise in the sky, she paced the room tirelessly. Arguing with herself, she paid no mind to the night sky she loved so much. If she had, Y/N might have realized a man with dark skies for eyes had trouble looking away from her shadow.
Exhausted, Y/N rose with the dawn. She had barely scraped up a few hours of decent sleep, tormented by his words even in dreams.
“Enter”, she yawned as Genya readily walked inside. The maids rushed to the bed, willing to change the bed sheets they couldn’t last time as Y/N had sent them away.
“Stop!” She exclaims as they reach Kirigan’s side of the bed, a slightly panicked look on her face relaying uncontrollable desires she had no chance of understanding.
Frowning, Genya licked her lips. While Y/N wasn’t sure what caused her outburst, she believed to know the root. “Leave us. You will be asked to change the sheets when Y/N desires it.”
Swallowing thickly, Y/N turned away. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be”, Genya mussed. “We have a dinner to prepare you for.”
“Yes, of course.” Y/N managed a smile, briefly looking to Genya. “I’ll be alone which gives me a perfect chance to find new allies.”
Blinking fast, Genya’s frown deepened. “I’m not sure who could ally with us in the Palace. Everyone’s charmed by our General. If you’d just work with him, they would all be with you too.”
“He works for the emperor.” Y/N reminded her.
Running her hands through her hair, Y/N didn’t know if she could ever trust him enough to tell him the truth. Her plans, her fight, it’s her life’s work. She came into that palace with intention of burning it down. The emperor must die and anyone else who’d fuel the flames of war must perish along with him. The war had claimed her mother’s life, of thousands of humans and Grisha alike, Y/N aimed to end it. And to end it, she had to destroy those who started it, those who refused to implement equality between species, as Kirigan called them. Humans and Grisha must be seen equally worthy, they must ally or they will be exterminated like vermin by surrounding enemies.
She grieved for her mother every day, even now as a decade had passed. Grief is really just love one cannot give to the other. It’s all the unspent love, gathering in the corners of her eyes, the lump in her throat and inside the hollowed heart that’s trying to beat in her chest. If her sorrow was but snow that could melt with coming spring, she’d shake it off her shoulder and be done with it. It doesn’t just disappear or heal with time, she could not just let it go and forgive. Y/N survived the loss of her mother by making a vow, one she was closer to fulfilling.
“Should I prepare your usual kefta?” Genya asked, holding the blue one over her forearm.
Shaking her head, Y/N turned to her with a smile. If she wants to succeeded, she must use all weapons at hand. Being the General’s wife is one of the weapons at her disposal.
“I was thinking about a different color for tonight.”
“How different are we talking?”
Smirking, Y/N’s eyes flickered to Kirigan’s kefta. “Black.”
“No one wears black but Kirigan”, Genya reminds her.
“Until he married. I believe I’m allowed to wear his color.”
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Genya sighed heavily. “Alright. As long as you allow me to make a few modifications.”
Anticipating the dinner, Y/N felt like a goddess in the kefta Genya had crafted for her. It fit her perfectly, adjusted just above the waist as it properly accentuated her curves. The closed collar wrapped around her neck, fallen stars creating a golden woven blaze as a necklace, while moondust adorned the long, skin tight lacey sleeves. The bottom acted as a floor length dress with a long slit revealing skin up to middle of her thigh.
Entering the room with her head held high and Genya on her hand, Y/N felt even more confident about the eclipsed sun stitched across her heart. It was bound to attract attention if the rest of her makeshift kefta inspired dress didn’t.  
The moment she took a step inside, everybody’s head turned. The chatter died down, replaced by astonished gasps of pure awestruck admiration.
“I believe you’ve created a masterpiece”, Y/N whispers to Genya whose smile widens.
“You are what makes it so spectacular”, Genya winks.
“Don’t be modest. We both know it’s not in your nature.”
Giggling, Genya nods, “You’re right. I’m brilliant and this”, she steps aside to give her a once over again, “You are proof.”
Pursing her lips, Y/N felt her cheeks darken. Her plan was to draw attention so any potential ally she speaks to would be more inclined to accept her request, but she didn’t expect for everyone to stop and stare.
Tugging her by the arm, Genya pulled her closer. “You’ll never guess who is here”, she spoke in a hushed tone, looking to the left as the rest of the guests began speaking again and the music played softly in the background.
Following her line of view, Y/N’s heart came to a near stop as her eyes locked on his.
“Wasn’t he supposed to leave last night?” Genya whispers, but Y/N could hardly speak.
Breath caught in her throat, Y/N stared back at Kirigan who seemed to be just as breathless. She looked like a dream, a golden bird that carried all the happiness of the world on its wings.
“He didn’t”, Y/N looked away, knitting her eyebrows. “Why didn’t he”, she tried to finish her initial thought, but she couldn’t. If she spoke of the sudden ache that settled after the initial shock of his presence dispersed, she’d hate herself more. She’s weak if her feelings are hurt by a single night spent alone in a bed. She was certain now. She is foolish.
“You won’t be able to network tonight”, Genya’s frown made Y/N chuckle.
“You’ve been frowning so often since we met.”
Shrugging, Genya leaned in discreetly. “I can afford a few worry lines. I’ll just erase them later.”
Playfully rolling her eyes, Y/N smiled brightly. She would not allow Kirigan to dampen her mood. He can stay on his side of the room and she won’t spare him a single glance.
“I’ll test the waters”, Genya promised, “If I find anyone that we can work with, we can test their loyalty later.”
Glancing over Y/N’s shoulder, Genya’s eyes widened ever so slightly.
Frowning lightly, Y/N glanced at what has her so perplexed only to huff in frustration.
“Black suits you”, the Darkling compliments her. Holding out a hand for her to take, he glances at his open palm before raising his brow. He’s challenging her.
Looking around, she realizes everyone’s waiting for her reaction. As he told her once before, they may not be a love match, but their arrangement must seem successful to the unsuspecting eye.
“Dance with me and pretend they don’t exist”, his voice softened and she couldn’t believe this is the same man who so cruelly baited her, branding her as foolish earlier. How can he act as if nothing happened when she was still reeling from it? Not that he’d know, she always put care in every move she made around him.
She placed her hand on the palm of his, holding her breath as she chained her gaze to the abyss in his. There’s no going back, she thinks, nearly shuddering as he places his free hand on her hip.
“I thought you were gone by now”, she mussed. Choosing to take control of the conversation, she kept her neck straight as it secured a proper distance between their faces.
“We had a slight delay”, he said, “I’ll be gone tonight.”
Humming, she swallowed thickly. Avoiding looking at others, she remained in a staring match with her husband.
“How did you sleep?” The Darkling smirked, watching her eyes narrow at him.
“Quite well. Did you enjoy sharing your bed with someone else?” While her voice seemed cold and unattached, her words were anything but.
“Do I detect a hint of jealousy there?” Pursing his lips, he nearly laughed as she stepped on his foot. “I’ll take that as yes.”
“I’m merely concerned how it would look if word of you sleeping elsewhere got out. I prefer my pride and honor untouched and if you choose to find a lover, I should assume you’ll be discreet.”
Licking his lips, the great general didn’t laugh at her or sneer. There was no angry squinting or vile words. For once, he had a serious expression on his face that had nothing to do with the army or their arguments.
“I’m not the kind who would seek a lover while married. Even if the marriage is a mere arrangement.”
Scoffing, she clenched her jaw as he pulled her waist closer to him. 
“How many lovers have you taken?”
He raised a brow, “That’s a horrible question.”
“Because you lost count?” She narrows her eyes, the lips he found himself so fascinated with formed a thin, red line.
He doesn’t respond, so she tried again, “Why have you not married before?”
Now he looked amused, “That’s even worse!”
Shrugging, she smirks, “Well, ask me a question then! If all mine are so awful, let me hear yours.”
“Do you think I’m a very good liar or a very unlovable being?” Slowly pulling her body flush against his, Darkling looked deep into her eyes. “I’ve never loved anyone and I’ve manipulated everyone who has fallen in love with me. So?” Inhaling sharply, he watched a disarray of emotions cross her face as he asked again, “Liar or unlovable?”
“A liar. Because you are lying, not just to me but yourself.” Her breathing is shallow, strained even. “You have a heart, General, but you’re cowering like a scared little boy instead of just facing the facts.”
“And what are those?” His voice is darker as are his intentions.
If they were alone, she was certain he’d be kissing her lips now. For some reason, it seemed he enjoyed their arguments. He liked it when she fought him almost like he didn’t know any other form of affection.
“That you care. You care and you hate yourself for it.” Stopping their dance, she managed a faint smile. “But don’t worry, I’m not spending my time waiting for you to accept it.”
Brushing his fingers across the left side of her face, he cocked his head ever so slightly, “Is it possible you’ve got this all wrong? From where I stand, you’re the one who cares – perhaps a bit too much? Let me remind you, this marriage is a sham. You are my wife, but I do not love you, I do not care for you and if you were killed right in this very spot, I would avenge you but solely for the arrangement to remain unsullied.”
Nodding, more to herself than him, she took a step back from him. For the first time ever, she drew back. “For once, we’re on the same page of the same book.”
The music stops. Looking to the man clinking his glass, Y/N’s lips part. She didn’t even realize it, but too often she entirely forgoes breathing in Kirigan’s presence.
Taking a deep breath, she nearly laughs. Kirigan…General…The Darkling. She even called him husband, yet she never even heard his first name. How odd is it to marry a man whose first name is a mystery to you, she thought.
“If you’ll excuse me”, she nods curtly without sparing him a glance. 
Her seat at the dinner table was beside Genya, while Kirigan was placed all the way on the other side of the room. She smirked, satisfied she’ll have some peace during her meal. She never quite liked the table formation in a wide U form before, but she blessed the ones who created it on this evening.
Studying him from afar, she couldn’t deny the attraction she felt for him. It wasn’t some cosmic connection that she hoped she’d share with her husband, rather wishful thinking. Longing for him is out of the question. He may be the most handsome man she had ever seen, but it’s not at all something she’d thank the saints for. If he were less appealing, she’d at least be free of torment his looks bring. The devil is real and he’s not a goat like man as humans believed. There are no horns, no tails – he’s beautiful, a fallen angel, but an angel nonetheless.
“You’re staring at him again”, Genya speaks in a hushed tone, her smile audible.
“I’m not”, Y/N replies, “I simply looked over in a direction and he happened to be seated there.”
“Then why was that look on your face?” Genya raises an eyebrow.
“What?” Y/N asks, incredulous. “What look?”
“You have a certain way of looking at him”, she informs. Letting out an tired huff, Genya explains, “You look at him and it’s like you’re staring at the night sky littered with stars.”
“So?”
Genya looks down before whispering, “You love night skies littered with stars.”
Rolling her eyes, Y/N stared at her food for the rest of the evening. One bite after another and her plate was quickly emptied. Her stomach felt like it would burst, but she didn’t care. Most people claim they can’t eat under stress, but she was the opposite – her appetite only grew.
“He’s standing up”, Genya informed her and despite wishing she remained impassive, Y/N’s eyes shot up to where he was sitting.
With a lump at the back of her throat, she watched him as he headed to the door. A part of her hoped he’d be decent enough to bid his farewell, to acknowledge her at least. That part of her needed to be destroyed, she decided. It’s the part of her that would ruin her mission and for what? If she truly wanted to, she could have him on his back and under her. If she wanted him, he’d be hers – at least his body would. The principle she held onto was more important and so, she swallowed thickly and looked to her empty plate in order to stop her weakness from showing.
As she looked away, the Darkling looked back at her from across the room. He felt a strange tightness in his heart and once he saw she didn’t follow him with her gaze, his heart dropped. Furrowing his eyebrows, he kept his gaze on her for a while longer – her beauty was unmatched by anything he had ever seen. White looked good on her, every color did – but black fabric hugging her curves could bring a dead man back to life.
With a heavy heart and frown etched on his face, the Darkling turned his back and left the room, the Palace, the strangest, most beautiful creature he ever laid eyes on.
He carried her in his thoughts ever since. It aggravates him how quickly she’s gotten under his skin. Most of the month before their marriage was finalized was spent in petty comments about their armies or their distaste for one another. She was insufferable, maddening and entirely different from what he expected.
And yet, even then, the Darkling hoped she’d lose her patience and either leave or tell him she loves him. If she left, he’d be free of her and the shackles of an undesirable marriage, but if she told him she loves him, perhaps he’d believe her. If he knew there was ever a possibility of her loving him, he’d dare assume he might be deserving of love – because she may have dubbed him a liar, but he believes himself to be unlovable too. He never saw the point in allowing himself to feel a thing for her when it would be futile, wasted emotions on a woman sworn to hate him.
Once he was done chasing a rumor of a stag up north, the Darkling had to accept it too was a futile. Going after a legendary animal wasted so much of his time that he couldn’t even believe how foolish he’s become too. The stag must not be real after all.
Approaching Little Palace, he felt almost eager to run up to their shared chambers and see her. Even if she’d likely have a few choice words for him, he hoped he could make her blood boil just to hear her speak. He’d never admit it, but he missed someone he could converse with without dying of boredom.
“General”, Genya rushed to Kirigan who nearly growled at the distraction. However, Genya seemed distraught, panicked enough to draw his attention.
“Yes?”
Swallowing thickly, she wiped a stray tear slipping down her cheek. “It’s Y/N.”
His heart stops at the sound of her shaky voice, his jaw clenching before speaking. “What happened? Is she alright?”
“She went for a ride this morning and she hasn’t been seen since.”
Darkling’s gaze hardens as he grips Genya’s arms and shakes her lightly. “What do you mean?!”
“We sent riders after lunch, because I was worried she missed two meals already”, gasping for air, Genya’s tears made tracks, “The snow covered her tracks.”
She left me, he thought. She deemed me unlovable, unworthy. She left.
“They managed to find her mare”, Genya continues through tears, “It was decapitated and left in the woods.”
“Woods?” He frowns, wondering why she’d stray from the meadow and then he realized. He’s the one she rode into the woods with. She must have thought the woods were safe. They were at the time, only because he was with her and he’d never let any harm come to her.
“There were signs of struggle, but the snow is making it hard for us to track them.”
Releasing a visibly shaken Genya, he grunts. Biting his lower lip, he paced before her as his hand ran through his hair. She never saw him so worried, so mad before. He looked like a man walking a fine line – a line between madness and sanity.
“Call everyone”, he orders, “We must find her.”
Exhaling in relief, Genya smiled as Ivan emerged, having heard everything.
“Why would we do that?”
A pause ensues as the Darkling takes a step toward Ivan. “I haven’t made a promise in so long”, he spoke but in truth, it’s been hundreds of years since he made anyone a promise. “I promised her I’d protect her.” His voice was ragged, but controlled. “So I’m making a new promise right here, if they harm a single hair on her head, I will end them all. I will do it with a smile on face and I will bathe in their blood!”
They took her from him and he had every intention of ripping the world apart with his bare hands and for once, the thought of how far he’d go for that insolent woman didn’t frighten him. He barely knows her, he certainly doesn’t love her, but Saints help those who touched his wife.
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Part 6
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angsty-omi · 3 years
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you get jealous of their manager
suna rintarou; sakusa kiyoomi
angst to fluff, hurt/comfort.
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suna rintarou
when rin told you about the new manager, you didn’t expect her to be blonde, curvy, and absolutely gorgeous. honestly, just looking at her made you insecure. the way all the boys gawked at her everytime she walked by. you didn’t care about the boys though, you only cared about a boy, your boyfriend rin. she’s with him longer than he’s with you. practices take up most of his day, so you only saw him once he got to your shared apartment where he was too tired to do anything that exterted energy. to be fair, you were fine just staying in, but imagining him with her during practices made you uncomfortable.
it was even worse when he’d go out to dinner with the team and her. you couldn’t remember the last time he’d even ask you on a date. you hated the way he stopped trying once you started dating. starting to reach the AMs when you called him.
“y/n?” his slurred tone showed that he was drunk.
“suna? where are you? it’s almost 12 am.” you scolded. how could you not? he’s drunk and with a girl that you were very envious of.
“first of all, can you chill? i literally told you that i’d be out with the boys, i don’t understand why you’re getting so upset,”
“upset? you’re literally out with a girl who’s very attarctive” you frustrated.
“oh i see what this is now, you’re jealous and you don’t trust me.”
“it’s not a matter of trust, it’s just i fe-feel uncomfortable and i oh i don’t know wanted to talk about it?” you started to raise your voice. the attempt to set a boundary has failed, and rather was replaced with you being the enemy.
“she’s my friend y/n, get over it because you’ll be seeing a lot more of her,” rin hissed.
“i’m not telling you who you can be friends with or not, but you have to understand where i’m coming from” you murmured.
“just leave me alone, i can be friends with whoever i want, and the last thing i’m going to do is let a bitch dictate that.” suna argued loudly.
it was followed up by silence, with a girl voice cutting in, “rin-rin let’s do this song together!” in a high pitch squeal caught the mic.
“oh so you’re rin rin now huh? i can’t be surprised considering how much time you spend with her!”
“well maybe i like hanging out with her. did you ever think of that y/n? it’s nice to have someone who wouldn’t nag or bitch about me, she doesn’t pry for me to open up,” he attempted to justify his actions.
“okay fine then, if she’s soooo perfect than just date her” words just started spilling out of your brain, and it was too late to take it back.
“maybe i will!” he roared. after he sunk in what he was saying, he followed up with “w-wait i didn’t mea-” trying to save his relationship.
“do whatever you want suna, whether you’re with her or not it’s not my problem anymore, i’m done.” you ended the call, tears freely flowing down your face.
you couldn’t sleep that night. pathetically, you’d hope that suna would at least give you a call back, or any sign that he still cared for you. but he didn’t, and you assumed that was your answer. you would reevaluate the relationship after a good nights sleep on the couch. you couldn’t sleep on the bed due to suna’s lingering scent.
when 4am rolled around, the door opened as quietly as possible. suna assumed that you were asleep in bed, and was prepared to join you. when he walked in the bedroom and saw the bed still made, he panicked. did you really leave? were you actually done with the relationship? he checked everywhere, the bathroom, kitchen, the basement, and not the most obvious place ever. he dialed your phone, and heard loud ringing from the living room. he slapped his forehead in stupidity and made his way over to you. his heart broke at the sight. the way you tried to fit your body with the throw blanket, unaware that you were shivering at the cold. your face was also pale, with dried tears on them. you looked so broken and so drained. immediately, suna carried you off the couch bridal style, and tucked you into the soft king sized bed. he then, moved onto his side and slid under the sheets. it’s only when he grabs your waist is when he feels safe enough to sleep.
five hours later, you awake with dried tears still in your eyes. you wiped them with your arm, and felt weight around your waist. once your eyes were cleared, it was suna. you let yourself comfort in his warmth for just a bit more, knowing that there’s a huge argument to come.
“suna we can’t just not talk about this,” you whispered into his ear, knowing he was awake. he hid in the crook of your neck, “i’m sorry. i’m so so sorry, please take me back.”
“i can’t just accept your apology blindly, we have to set boundaries or else we’ll never move forward.” you sighed while tracing circles on his bare chest.
“i’ll never even look at her again,” his face deadpanned. your laugh vibrated against his chest, “that’s not needed, it’s not really her fault anyways. how about, we spend more time on dates and devote days for each other?”
“anything, princess.”
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sakusa kiyoomi
sakusa hated physical touch, the spread of germs with a single handshake grossed him out. that’s why he built a cold exterior to prevent many from getting close. however, when he met you, you happened to be the exception and you took pride in the fact that he was only comfortable with you. he’ll never admit it to you though, and claims he only ‘endures’ your hugs. although, you knew your limit, you would never show affection in front of people. if there’s one thing sakusa hates, it’s PDA.
so you couldn’t really blame the new cute manager for flirting with him, because it seemed like he was single. listen, you trusted sakusa with your whole heart, but you just wanted to see how he would react with a girl flirting with him.
you hid behind the door, eavesdropping behind the door.
“sakusa-senpai, can you please help me up?” the cute manger whined.
“can you not get up yourself?” sakusa groaned.
“no i think i twisted something,” as a girl, you knew exactly what she was doing and her execution was poor. you rolled your eyes, assuming sakusa too would know what she was doing.
but he didn’t.
“thank you, sakusa-senpai!” she squealed, and then what you can assume, she hugged him. because then it caught him by suprise, and they both fell together, with her on top of him. you didn’t hear him scolding her, rather he was laughing. he was happy with her presence when he wouldn’t even physically show it with you. you decided to just walk in and stop this.
amidst of their laughter, both heads looked up at you. “sakusa, don’t you have to get home soon?” with an eyebrow raised.
“uh actually sakusa-senpai it’s getting dark, mind if you could walk me home?” she babbled.
“fine, y/n you can walk yourself right?” he said casually, while packing up his things.
“y-yeah i guess” you stammered.
on your walk home, you were reevaluating what just happened. no longer did you feel special anymore. your brain started to overthink itself, why did they look better as a couple? and why was he so relaxed around her? was i just not the right person? has he found his true love? all these scenarios made you start to tear up. you were in love with the germaphobic man, for god sakes.
when you got the shared apartment, you immediately took a shower, knowing that sakusa was going to nag you anyways when you got home.
then, you started on dinner and chopping up some vegetables when you heard the door open. he nodded at you, acknowledging your presence and was waiting for the hug you gave him everytime he came home. but you didn’t, and he awkwardly just stood there for good minute or two. to your suprise, he was the first one to make the move. he wrapped his arms behind you and resting his head on your neck. immediately, you shrugged him off.
he furrowed his eyebrows, “is there something wrong?”
“i don’t know, is there something wrong?” you repeated his question.
“i wouldn’t know, that’s why i asked.” he bellowed.
you put the knife down and faced him, “you know i love the double standard of how i have to shower before i get to touch you, but that whore gets to touch you whenever,” you ranted.
“our new manager? you can’t be serious. we fell, it was an accident.”
“maybe you thought it was, but i know what she was doing because i, too am a girl. if you guys just ‘fell’ why did it take so long for you to get back up? why’d you let her touch you for so long?” you questioned.
“i wasn’t thinking about it, not everything i do in life is rotated around germs-”
“except when it’s with me” your voice cracked. “right? it’s when it’s with me, that must be it. that’s why you never show any affection, but it’s okay for you because you’ve gotten tons from me and her!” you raved.
he tried to wrap his around you, but you moved out the way.
“don’t touch me with that whore’s filth,” you muttered, turning off the burner and stomped to your shared bedroom, slamming the door. your insecurities were roaring on the inside. sakusa chose to sleep on the couch, thinking you needed space. but, that was the least thing you wanted. you wanted him to beg, or to at least apologize.
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over the following days, you didn’t wait for him outside of practice. in fact, the only time he saw you was in the morning before classes and at night when you left leftovers for him in the kitchen. after the argument, he pushed everyone away, especially with the new manager. he only wanted one person’s touch, yours. and to achieve that, he had to put in some effort. that night when he got home, he went straight to the shower. you assumed it was just a normal silent treatment day, so you went to bed scrolling.
you felt the weight on the other side of the bed. knowing who it was, you continued to aimlessly scroll on tiktok. sakusa abruptly grabbed your waist and coddled you, drowning you in pecks all around your face.
“mh.. sakus.. sa.. mh..” continuously getting cut off with his cute pecks on your lips. you decided to let go of the whole manager situation, and let yourself to just be happy. you wrapped your arms around his neck and put him even closer to you. he then pulled away and you dramatically groaned.
putting his face close to yours, “i love you y/n l/n.” before continuing.
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a/n: if you like this series please request some characters you’d like to see!
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hobidreams · 4 years
Text
march 1858.
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a visitor you never expected; a day you will never forget.
pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: fluff words: 1.3k contains: historical au, child!yoongi, softness historical context: korean tradition dictates that people age up at the start of the new year (Jan 1), not on their actual birthday. traditionally, they also add an extra year as they consider the baby 1 year old at birth, not 0 years old.  a/n: this drabble is sponsored by a donation to Black Lives Matter.
moonlit throne index. this is drabble four. start from the beginning?
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For the entire week leading up to March 9th, as it has been for the past eight years, the palace lights up with an anticipatory hum, a buzz of excitement. Queen Jeonghui is in especially high spirits as she oversees the thorough cleaning of the grand hall and the preparation of the customary celebratory dishes, made with lavish ingredients especially imported from foreign traders. For the eunuchs, the guards, and all the palace occupants, it’s a relief to see the queen so pleased after what had happened a few months prior. Even as she cradles her left arm, hidden by a swath of silk, the smile never leaves her lips as she thinks of the prince and his impending, official tenth birthday.
You don’t pay much attention to the festivities. Or to be more accurate, you don’t have time to. As much as you’d like to pretend, the decorations aren’t for you. Anyhow, your mother has been overwhelmed with work lately as one of the few uinyeo in the palace, and as the head of them all. You are but a fledging apprentice, still learning how to diagnose and properly treat the illnesses that so easily strike the ladies of the court. If only the male physicians could ease your mother’s burden. But social convention must be followed. Even tonight, on Prince Yoongi’s official birthday, she cannot join the feast even though she has been invited personally by the queen.
“Mom, Da-ri-nim’s cramping has gone down,” you report happily, steps a little lighter as you walk over to where mother is hunched over an assortment of herbs. She’s crushing ingredients together with a mortar and pestle.
“Oh? That’s wonderful.” Mother brushes away a few strands of hair from her face. “She should be stable for the rest of the night, but we should keep an eye on her.”
“To make sure she doesn’t bleed too much?”
She smiles. “That’s exactly right.”
“Is the new medicine done yet?”
“Almost there.”
You lean against the desk, watching how the small pot of water simmers above the fire. “I reeaally hope this one works.”
“Me too. The extra amount of mugwort should be effective. Do you remember its effects?”
“Hmm. Most useful for thinning blood, increasing circulation, and…” You look hopefully at her. “Relieving muscle pain?”
Much to your relief, she nods, pride swelling in her chest. “Smart girl.”
The music outside does a crescendo then, notes floating through the cracks of the doors with sounds of laughter. The drums pound out a practiced beat, seeming to shake the ground itself with revelry. You’ve seen the dancers practicing out in the courtyard a few days earlier, and you can only imagine how lovely they must look now, all dressed up in handcrafted skirts and gauzy scarves. You wish you could see it! You’ve always loved to dance. Used to try on mom’s only fancy pink hanbok even though it was much too big for you, then spin round and round and round in front of the mirror to watch the skirt float. She’d scolded you harshly after: how could you possibly dirty or ruin a present from the king himself?! The first gift she had ever earned for her essential help with delivering the precious crown prince. But there are always more dances and performances. This is more important, and that’s okay too.
“We’ll go next year.” Mother says as if she can read your mind (or maybe you’re just bad at hiding your disappointment). “I promise.”
Before you can respond, the door slides open.
“Su-uinyeo-nim!”
“What’s wrong?”
One of the newer eunuchs stands in the frame, his face pale. “A dancer has collapsed! We didn’t want to move and bring her here, so please come with me!” He bows quickly, fingers twisted in the long folds of his sleeves.
“Understood.” Mother reaches aside for the parcel she keeps for emergencies. “Let it boil. Take care of the patients. We’re still going to celebrate after I get back, okay?” she says to you, then disappears with the eunuch.
You do as you’re told, checking on the women who lie on the beds. You replace the damp cloths on their foreheads that have become lukewarm with sweat, and help those who can up, so they can have some water. Many of them are recovering well from the ruthless winter sickness that swept through a whole group of maids; their fevers are mostly subsiding and coughs calming. Still, anything could happen.
When another noise comes from outside, you turn your head. Standing, you put one hand on the door handle and pull.
“Mom, did you forget—”
Your mouth drops slightly as you meet a dark gaze, one at your eye level and marred with a thin scar.
“W-Wangseja-jeonha!” You immediately drop into a bow, ninety degrees, with your back as straight as you can make it. You hold it for five long seconds. He’s still staring at you when you come up again. “M-May I ask why you are paying a visit here…?”
“I made Eunuch Kim sneak me away.” Despite his age, he sounds composed and mature, befitting a future king. He gestures casually beside him to where an exceedingly tall man stands, holding something covered with cloth. “Tray.”
Eunuch Kim steps forward, his cheek slightly indented from his polite smile as he takes away the covering to reveal a bowl, with silver utensils lying aside it. Steam rises immediately, transparent as it curls into the air alongside a comforting smell.
“This is…”
“Janchi guksu.” Celebratory noodles, which must have been brought directly from the feast. Undoubtedly prepared with the highest quality ingredients, and delicious. “It’s your birthday too, isn’t it?”
That was probably one of the last things you thought he’d say. Your heart squeezes; it’s a sort of weird, nervous glee at being unexpectedly seen. “T-That is—Yes! Oh, yes, it, it is!”
While you always thought it was fascinating coincidence to share the same birth date, you’d also long resigned to be overlooked by most in favor of him. Mother always brings you a new hairpin from town, and makes you savory seaweed soup in your own private celebration, and that’s enough. But now, to have the crown prince himself here! You haven’t seen him since that November night, and never this up close.
While his face remains impassive, it seems to soften at your smile. “Good. Then take this.”
You accept the tray that Eunuch Kim offers with grateful hands. You stare into the bowl with your heart pounding. “Can I ask… how did you know, seja-jeonha?”
“Mama told me.”
Your grin grows wider. Next to your mother, the queen has always been your role model. Kind, beautiful, and endlessly caring. Even that night, she had been willing to sacrifice herself for her son. And it seems the prince has learned compassion from the very best.
“I don’t know how to thank you. You didn’t have to trouble yourself, coming all this way.”
“Seja-jeonha. We only have a minute left,” the eunuch reminds in a soft voice.
The prince nods his acknowledgment. You expect him to walk away immediately, but he stays. “A king must protect and take care of his people. And… it’s a thank you. For that night.” He shifts his weight from one foot to another, almost nervous. “Eat well.” Only then does he stalk off with a swish of his opulent navy robes.
You stand there for a minute longer, watching him with admiration in your heart until your grumbling stomach makes you turn in.
Tonight, as the delicate noodles and light soup warm your body from the inside out, you make a promise to yourself. As you renew your fealty to the royal family, you add a new caveat, a second, private oath: unabridged loyalty to the crown prince, to the future king, to Min Yoongi himself.
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shhhhsh · 3 years
Text
About Tim’s New Story….
I just really hope they address Tim’s mental health. Like, DC just been ditching really good plot lines in favor of being “woke” or pandering. Just look at all the live action shows.
Now I’m not saying they can’t make Tim queer/bi/gay, but (as someone pointed out to me) Tim’s previous story writer was bi and he still chose to write Tim as straight & in a healthy romantic relationship with Stephanie Brown. I’ve seen several people who identify as queer/bi say that to have Tim go “ ooooh I’ve fooled myself into thinking I was straight, but now I’m freeeee” sends the message that Tim’s previous relationship failed b/c he was with a woman and not because of Tim’s poor mental and emotional health.
To go back to my previous statement; by him not writing Tim as bi tells me that he didn’t want or care for Tim to be bi, but instead saw Tim as, or preferred him to be, straight. The writer had free control to write Tim how ever he wanted and yet he chose to keep Tim straight. And he actually liked & wanted Tim/Steph. Again, I’m not saying Tim can’t be queer/bi, I’m just saying I find the motivations for this possible change very fishy. Almost as if the new writer is trying to get brownie points for pandering to a portion of the fans.
I think this way b/c in every other media where a character is revealed to be LGBTQ they just did it. They didn’t beat around the bush or do any queer coding/baiting. They either announced it, just made the character that way right out the gate, or just dropped the bomb w/out warning (as seen in Netflix’s Voltron, Amazon Prime’s Invincible, and Nickelodeon’s Legend of Korra respectfully).
DC currently has a bad habit changing things to be “woke” and bragging about it or shoving it in our faces. DC is becoming the “pick me girl” of superhero media. If you want to do it, just do it. Again I just get the “look at me, look at me” & “carrot on the stick” vibes from them now. If you truly feel in your heart to do something you would just do it without the need for recognition or to be so dramatic about it.
Now what I much rather see & think it’s a natural progression for Tim:
I personally believe that if Jason, Dick, & Damian can get a story that attempts to give them character development beyond romantic relationships (romance was more of a B-plot to the character driven A-plot anyway) I think they can give it to Tim as well.
I know that the Bat-Family all struggle with some form of mental health problems (most commonly paranoia and PTSD). However, I would like to point out that trauma is was what brought the others into the vigilante lifestyle, while Tim & Barbara became traumatized because of the vigilante lifestyle. Yet, Barbara was shown overcoming her trauma and using it as motivation to get better. Tim is yet to have this moment.
We all know that Tim struggles with depression, self-esteem, and suicidal tendencies. I mean heck, him becoming Red Robin only happens because of Tim’s degrading mental health. I hate to say it, but Tim is very psychologically broken and has been show to get so depressed that he can’t even get out of bed some times. To my knowledge, Tim is the only one in the Bat-Fam that struggles in his head with the idea of not being needed, useful, or forgotten when in reality that is furthest from the truth (Steph, Jason, & Damian also feel like the black sheep periodically, but that is because they have been presented with real evidence that would lead them to logically believe this. I.e being actually forgotten or dismissed for past mistakes despite great efforts to better themselves).
While yes, Dick did Tim dirty by replacing him without having a proper conversation first, the motivation was because he saw Tim as his equal and not Damian. He thought highly of Tim, but Tim couldn’t see that over his offense. Tim is so beat down by life that he see’s everything with negative lenses. Everyone came to check on Tim’s mental health but Tim took it as an insult instead.
And even though now Tim has reached some form of “peace” in his life, that only happens because the people he lost came back (Bruce, Conner, Bart, Cassie, etc). Tim never fully learned to handle grief, to handle his emotions, instead he represses them. Again in the Red Robin run, the main reason he doesn’t believe in any form of God is because he can’t logically justify the pain he has gone through. He is hurting and doesn’t know how to deal with that. In his original Robin run, when he tried talking someone out of committing suicide……the words and comfort he gave….that wasn’t something that was just inside Tim, this is something that was told to Tim. This is followed by him calling Dick to get the same pep-talk he just regurgitated to someone else.
In short: Tim is hurting. Deeply. And having been someone who’s emotional & mental sanity was pushed to the brink and attempted to jump off several times, I think it’s really sad that DC just ignores it. Now as someone who’s gotten the help they needed & now helps other people who struggle with the same issues as myself & Tim, I think that they’re going to say a lot of Tim’s problems come from him not being “aware” of his own sexuality, which is just sad.
In the story in question, Barbara talks about Tim not having a solid identity. People are more than their sexuality. People are capable of making future decisions for themselves without it hindering on their sexuality. If Tim was real, I would brake down his struggle as so:
Tim refuses to go to college and do something more with his life because he cannot see anything beyond his current circumstance. And the only reason why Tim cannot see anything beyond his circumstance is because he has no internal sense of purpose, identity, and acceptance beyond the cape & cowl. And when Tim finally found that in being Robin, Tim held onto it as a lifeline. There’s a reason why everyone says Tim is basically Bruce 2.0: it’s because he is Robin/Red Robin/Drake & Tim is the mask. At a young age, he did not grow up having these things instilled into him due to his parents neglecting him at a very important age in his development. Tim raised himself, and for a lack of better terms; an idiot cannot teach themselves to be smarter, an idiot becomes smarter by learning from the intelligent. A child can’t teach themselves to be an adult, they have to learn from others to grow & better themselves.
Now a parent doesn’t necessarily have to sit down and give a lesson about how to be an individual, but children learn how to live life by watching their parents. A good example of this is the rest of the Bat-Fam; they all grew up with some form of parental figures that taught them how to behave (for better or worse). Of course children have their own personalities, which is why two kids can go through the same type of trauma but come out differently, but it is a battle of nature vs nurture. Steph, Jason, Cass, & Damian grew up in abusive/unstable homes, while Dick, Barbara, & Bruce grew up in loving homes, but their personalities & character dictated how they responded to trauma. They took what life gave them and decided what to leave or take.
Tim had nothing to work with & is basically playing catch-up with the rest of his peers.
In a weird sense, Tim is like Zuko from The Last Airbender: only living to serve their father’s purpose. Anything outside of that they don’t know what to do. They’ve been trained to be something externally without been given a chance to figure out who they are internally.
Again you are not your sexuality, your sexuality does not determine who you are as a person. When a person struggles through life, it is due to the conditions of thier soul. Everything starts internally and shows it’s self externally.
I want to make that very clear because I am truly scared that in DC’s attempt to claim “clout” they are missing the bigger picture. Tim doesn’t have identity problems simply because he “doesn’t know” he likes boys, but because DC never gave him is own identity to begin with. Robin was never his own identity, Red Robin was never his, & Drake was his first attempt to make his own but he quickly gave it up so that he can be Robin once again. What is Tim going to do once Damian gets back? Is Damian going to get his own identity before Tim? Or is Tim just going to go back to one of his old identities?
I would like for Tim to personally move on from being a vigilante and rejoin civilian society for a while. Go to college, do something for himself and only for himself. Give Tim the self-discovery story, let him heal, and grown to be his own person. Besides you can never have a functional romantic relationship if you are not a functional individual. Self love > romantic love.
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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years
Note
the nie sect is known for strong, angry sect leaders and strong, angry women; nie mingjue is just the first to be both. she refuses to let this burden fall on her little brother, who is far too young for it (he's barely old enough to understand that their father is dead, and still sucks his thumb at night)--she can swing a saber like the best of them, and, well... it's not like there are many nie elders to object anyway
also on ao3
The stories said that Nie Mingjue’s mother was a goddess.
They said she descended down from the mountains, crisp as a winter breeze and tall as a temple statute; they said Lao Nie fell in love with her the first moment he saw her and married her the next; they said that the heavens were jealous of their love and summoned her to return –
It was a little nicer than saying that Nie Mingjue’s mother was a rogue cultivator that lingered in Qinghe just long enough for a marriage ceremony and a baby before remembering that she preferred living alone.
Still, as Nie Mingjue grew up – and she did grow up, up and up and up – people started passing around the old story more and more. Lao Nie rolled his eyes but didn’t stop the rumors, which Nie Mingjue interpreted to mean that he thought they were useful somehow, though she never quite figured out the reasoning there. What difference did it make if she were the child of a goddess or a mortal woman?
Either way, she was still a girl.
Oh, Qinghe was famous for its indifference to such things: in Qinghe they don’t care if you’re a man or woman, the story went, as long as you can swing a saber, and it was even mostly true. No one would raise an eyebrow if you shared your bed with a man one night and a woman the next, no one cared if you said you were one for a week and the other for a month…
Still, for all of Qinghe’s indifference, the Nie sect had never had a female sect leader.
At least, not officially – there were a number of sect leader’s wives who were terrifying enough to have deserved the title – and officially was what mattered, in this case. The sect leader was the fulcrum on which the sect turned, the core of their fearsome cultivation: if water ran downhill, then evil flowed up, and the sect leader’s saber spirit was always by far the fiercest in the sect.
That was why Nie Mingjue’s ancestors died so much more quickly than her cousins – why she had plenty of great-uncles and great-aunts, and a family consisting of only her father, herself, and her younger brother.
“Do you not want me to be sect leader?” she asked her father once, because he had deliberately gone out and gotten himself a new wife to have a child with, showing great relief when it turned out to be a boy. “Is it something I’ve done, or haven’t done?”
“It’s not that,” her father had said at once, with such surety that her fears of inadequacy had been relieved. “It’s only – there are sacrifices that must be made, if the sect leader is a woman. A saber spirit powerful enough to support the sect cannot be allowed to escape.”
She hadn’t understood it at the time, being too young, but then she got a little older and started bleeding, and an old auntie came and told her why the bleeding mattered.
The sect leader’s saber was too strong, too fierce, too alive: full of resentful energy, almost like a ghost, hateful and vicious, and their bond with their master was too close. Normal swords could be used by anyone; only the powerful refused any hand but their masters – the powerful, and the Nie sabers.
A sect leader who was a woman could never have a child, lest that child’s soul be stolen away in the womb and replaced with something else.
“So I won’t have children,” Nie Mingjue said, when her father died before his time. “Easy enough.”
There were elders enough in her sect, those that had been lucky enough not to be part of the main clan line and to escape the burden of being sect leader; they looked at each other with concern.
Nie Mingjue wasn’t about to let them put the title of sect leader on Huaisang, then only a child of seven, not when there was her father to avenge, and so she reached up behind her back and brought Baxia down on the table in front of them, cleaving the old wooden table in half.
“I have the bloodline, and my saber’s strong enough to bear the strain,” she said while they stared: that table had survived more than a few of her father and grandfather’s strikes, only to yield to hers as if it were nothing. “If you want to protest, challenge me now.”
In the end, they didn’t.
And so she became sect leader.
The sacrifice of any future children turned out to be the easy part.
Jin Guangshan stared at her breasts whenever she sat across from him, and tried to stumble into her to take advantage of the fact that the top of his head only reached her chin; she made sure never to accept any invitation to ever be alone with him, especially when he was drunk. His wife glared at her as if it were her fault that her chest and hips had grown proportionate with the rest of her, giving her curves that were relatively rare among her countrymen.
Jiang Fengmian might have been all right, she supposed, if his wife hadn’t hated her nearly as much: Madame Yu had been childhood friends with Madame Jin, Nie Mingjue vaguely recalled, but she suspected the real reason was the Jiang sect’s inclination to keep women away from politics no matter how high their cultivation.
“How are you supposed to ‘attempt the impossible’ if you refuse to let half of your population even try?” she asked Jiang Fengmian once, and he just shook his head and tried to pat her head (she glared death at him until he retracted the offending limb before it could be chopped off), and said she wouldn’t understand, that Qinghe was too idiosyncratic, too indiscriminate, that other places were different.
(His daughter gave Nie Mingjue a flower after that meeting, blushing red to her ears, and followed it up with a bowl of soup, and to this day Nie Mingjue still didn’t know if it was because of what she’d said or if everyone in Yunmeng was just as indiscriminate as Qinghe and they just didn’t admit it to themselves.)
Even the ever-polite Lan sect wasn’t friendly.
The irritating part was that she was sure they would have gotten on well if she had been born a man, or at least presented as one, as she would have if she’d been a misaligned reincarnation; alas, she wasn’t, she was a woman, and the Lan sect rules dictated that men and women could not grow too close or intimate. Lan Qiren guarded his nephews against her as if they were treasures, and it took quite a while before she finally met Lan Xichen face to face.
“Wow,” he said, blinking at her. “They weren’t kidding when they said you were a goddess.”
“No, that’s my mother,” Nie Mingjue said automatically.
Lan Xichen smiled, his eyes turning into crescents. “No,” he said. “I’m sure I meant what I said.”
Nie Mingjue felt something jump in her chest, which had never happened before. But she had fought long and hard to be taken seriously as a sect leader despite her youth and her gender, and she wasn’t willing to give that up by falling, like every other female cultivator her age, for the man ranked first on the list of most attractive young masters.
(Nie Mingjue was ranked seventh. She’s not even sure how she got on the list, but apparently there were plenty of female cultivators who were happy to vote for her no matter her gender.)
Besides, even if her heart did beat a little faster whenever Lan Xichen smiled at her, and even if he indicated through some hints that he might be inclined to feel the same, it didn’t matter. She knew, even if he didn’t, that she wouldn’t bear children in this life – she loved Baxia dearly, she did, but her willful, vicious saber would make a terrible child – and she couldn’t impose that on anyone else.
Anyway, she’d figured out pretty quickly that Lan Xichen’s younger brother was a cutsleeve – whatever Lan Qiren might think, pornography was a perfectly reasonable gift for a teenager, especially given how successful Nie Huaisang’s side business was – and that meant Lan Xichen had to be the one to have descendants.
Nie Mingjue had heard all the stories about what happens when a man marries one woman who can’t give him children and another who can, and she wasn’t interested in that.
So they were friends.
She wasn’t sure if it got easier or harder when she met Meng Yao, who was small and delicate and scheming in a way that she found ridiculously endearing.
He wasn’t expecting her to be a woman, she thought: he’d set himself up on a mountain path, buckets of water at his side and a pitiful expression on his face as he chewed on hard bread without even taking a sip of the water right beside him to wet his throat, and when she’d stopped right in front of him to ask him about it he’d looked up at her and his eyes had gotten to be half the size of his face.
Nie Mingjue might’ve fallen for the gambit if it wasn’t for the way she could almost see the way he was rapidly reevaluating his entire strategy in real time – it almost made her nostalgic about listening to her cousins teach each other the warning signs of a white lotus seductress selling misery and purity.
Still, in the end it didn’t really matter if he was deliberately exaggerating his misery to sell it to her – the responsibility for good behavior was on the bully, not the victim, so she went and scolded the people inside the cave.
Afterwards, she took him out to walk with her.
“I’d already spoken with some people about you; it seems like you’ve established your merits in the battlefield and off,” she told him. “You don’t also need to be pitiful to get my attention.”
Meng Yao smiled self-depreciatingly. “I find that men have a soft spot for people they think need them.”
“Well, I’m not a man, am I?” she pointed out in return. She thought about it for a moment, then decided, as always, to be blunt. “I might spend most of my time now with men, but I spent my childhood with women; a woman’s tricks don’t work that well on me. What is it that you want?”
He looked at her with raised eyebrows.
“Do you want to be my deputy? I’m willing, since you seem competent enough,” she said. “But if your goal is to get back into your father’s good graces by reporting on me, don’t bother. He has spies enough for that – he doesn’t need a son to do it.”
“Perhaps I just want to show him what I’m capable of,” Meng Yao said.
Nie Mingjue laughed. “At my side? If you’d like to try, I’m not going to stop you, but I’ll tell you now that the merits that Jin Guangshan values may not be to your taste.”
She made him her deputy, and he lived up to her expectations – he was efficient, capable, competent. He was good at understanding people, which she wasn’t, and he could figure out within moments what any given person wanted.  Just as importantly, he lived up to the principles she prized, valuing the lives of the common folk as well as Nie cultivators; he did what she asked of him, and he did it well.
It would be a shame to lose him, she thought, but she still brought him with her to a wartime meeting with the Jin sect.
Afterwards, she made her excuses to leave early, as she always did, and when Meng Yao showed up later that evening to drop off the usual round of spies’ reports, Nie Mingjue could smell blood from where his nails had pierced his palms.
“He asked you if you were fucking me,” she said, accepting the papers. It wasn’t a guess. “You can tell him that you are, if you think it would help your standing with him.”
Meng Yao seemed repulsed by her suggestion, which amused her.
“Don’t you mind that half the camp thinks I got my position by climbing into your bed?” he asked her, a wrinkle in his brow suggesting that the question mattered to him. “Most of them can’t decide if I’m your boy-toy or merely stupid enough not to notice that I’m deliberately seducing you for my own ends, but either way the implication is highly unflattering. Don’t you care?”
“…not really?” Nie Mingjue said. “I’ve been sect leader since I was fifteen and more than half the sect leaders that currently report to me have been treating me like I’m a walking collection of fuckable female body parts since then; they get extremely irritable any time I open my mouth and remind them I’m not. Keeping a boy-toy is positively tame compared to the rest of it…you must have heard the one that says that I’m a frigid bitch that can only be satisfied by fucking my saber? That one’s a perennial.”
Meng Yao’s expression suggested he had, in fact, heard that one.
“My father always told me that the more people talk behind your back, the harder you have to work to leave them with nothing to say,” Nie Mingjue continued. “But I’ve found that they’ll find something to say, and if there isn’t anything, they’ll make something up. There’s no way to stop gossip.”
Meng Yao was frowning. “That seems unduly pessimistic. Not to borrow our enemies’ words, but if you shine like a sun in the heavens –”
“I’m the sect leader of one of the Great Sects,” Nie Mingjue said. “I’m a war hero. I have a reputation as a upright and righteous person. And yet between me and Wen Ruohan, who’s to say whose name is dragged through the mud more? They curse at him as the man who ordered the rape of their wives in one breath and talk eagerly about how much they’d like to rape me the next…Meng Yao, don’t take insult when I say this, but you could be as wise as a sage, as powerful as a landslide, as beneficent as a buddha and they’d still ask each other behind their sleeves what you learned from being a whore’s son.”
His expression was rather ugly – nothing at all like his usual calm smile.
“I usually get over it by associating myself with better people,” she added. “Have you met Lan Xichen yet?”
It turned out he had, and that they were rather fond of each other, too. Very fond, to judge by Meng Yao’s starry-eyed expression, and wouldn’t it be just her luck if the two men she was attracted to – and which she’d refused on the basis of not wanting to cut off their family lines – ended up pairing up together, which would also cut off their family lines?
Of course, Meng Yao was off limits for other reasons as well…
One day she overheard them talking about Meng Yao possibly leaving, probably intentionally on Meng Yao’s part, and she walked inside rolling her eyes already. “If you want to go, go,” she said. “I’ll write you a recommendation letter, for whatever it’s worth – he’s got a thick enough face that it might not do you any good, but he’s already noticed you, so hopefully that’ll be something.”
“Sect Leader Nie –”
“I didn’t promote you out of a sense of gratitude,” she said impatiently. “You’ve always wanted to get back to him, for whatever reason; I’m not going to hold you back.”
He smiled at that, and Lan Xichen smiled with him.
Really, there were limits to the sort of things you could expect a person to resist, even with willpower like hers.
“Have you decided that you will go?” she asked Meng Yao. “Is it your final decision? Let me know now.”
“It is.”
“Good,” she said. “You’re fired as my deputy. Also, I’d like to take the two of you to bed, if you’re similarly inclined.”
They gaped at her.
“What?” she said, crossing her arms. “He’s not my deputy anymore, there’s nothing immoral about it. Besides, nobody will get any stupid ideas about marriage if there’s three of us involved. It is only if you’re interested, though; I won’t be offended if you say no –”
Lan Xichen was kissing her before she even finished the sentence, so she assumed the answer was not, in fact, no, and Meng Yao’s reaction was equally enthusiastic – though perhaps equally wasn’t the right word, given how both she and Meng Yao ended up tied up in Lan Xichen’s forehead ribbon before the night was done.
“I knew it was a kink,” Meng Yao said, inspecting it with an expression of satisfaction, as if he hadn’t just demonstrated a fair share of his own. “Something so prominently displayed, Xichen-gege, for shame…”
Lan Xichen didn’t show so much as a hint of shame about it. “We’ll have to do this again,” he said. “I’m not even a fourth of the way down my list.”
“There’s a list?” Nie Mingjue asked, stretching out her legs to see how they felt after all that tossing around. “Tell me this is written down somewhere – no, tell me your uncle found it.”
Lan Xichen shuddered. “Thank you, da-jie. I didn’t need that mental image – it’d be like the time you gave Wangji pornography, only worse.”
Meng Yao decided the best way to muffle his laughter was in Nie Mingjue’s shoulder. With his teeth.
Nie Mingjue gave him a half-hearted shove. “Get off,” she grumbled. “I need to go drink some medicine to prevent contraception before we encounter disaster – this wasn’t planned, you know. I was intending on dying a virgin.”
“Da-jie, for you to die a virgin, that would mean – uh – that would – you were…? Mingjue!”
Nie Mingjue gave them both a glare. “Don’t tell me you two listened to those stupid rumors. I don’t take just anyone to my bed.”
“And you decided on two of us?” Meng Yao said, blinking at her. “Da-jie is very ambitious.”
“Not as much as you,” she said, rolling her eyes and pushing away their grasping hands. “What’s your real plan, anyway? You know Jin Guangshan won’t accept you as a son just because you show up and volunteer.”
“I don’t need to be his son, I just need to wear his colors,” Meng Yao said. “It’ll make for a better story when I defect to the Wen sect – as a spy, don’t look at me like that. You know I’d be good at it. And if I get close enough to Wen Ruohan, I can kill him. I’ll give you his head as a present, da-jie.”
“Unfair, A-Yao! I can’t compete with that,” Lan Xichen complained. “You have to let me help.”
‘Help’ turned out to be Lan Xichen allowing himself to be captured and Meng Yao stabbing Wen Ruohan in the back when he was about to start torturing the First Jade of Lan – Nie Mingjue had a headache and a strong desire to kill them both.
Even if they did bring her Wen Ruohan’s head.
“Stop looking so pleased with yourselves,” she scolded them – both Lan Xichen and Meng Yao, now officially Jin Guangyao (thanks to a bit of pointed haggling over which clan got what war merits and how that applied to the division of the spoils of war), looked positively smug. “What if you’d died?”
“But we didn’t,” Lan Xichen pointed out. “And now we’re here to claim our reward from our goddess.”
“Did I promise you a reward?”
Two sets of puppy dog eyes…and they did help her avenge her father.
“Fine. What do you want? If I can give it to you, it’s yours.”
They looked at each other, and Nie Mingjue immediately started to worry: they’d had time to think about it. That was dangerous.
“We want to marry you,” Lan Xichen said.
“Both of us,” Jin Guangyao said. “To avoid any jealousy.”
“That’s…not how that works,” Nie Mingjue said blankly. Men married multiple wives, not women multiple men: they had words for women who did that, none of them complimentary. Or legal, for that matter. “And anyway, I’ve already told you, I can’t have children. Huaisang’s my heir, and he always will be – you deserve to continue your family lines. Both of you.”
They exchanged looks again.
“That’s fine by me,” Jin Guangyao said. “Jin Zixuan’s the heir anyway.”
“I have plenty of cousins,” Lan Xichen said. “Can we go to bed now? I was injured in the line of duty –” He had a scraped knee and exactly three bruises, she’d counted. “– and I need some care and attention.”
“And an agreement of marriage from da-jie,” Jin Guangyao said, because he had a lawyer’s eye for such things.
This was almost certain to cause some sort of political disaster.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t settle for sworn brothers or something?” she tried.
They wouldn’t.
(The stories said that the leader of the Nie sect was a goddess – a war goddess, a goddess of the blade, sharp as the saber she carried and tall as a temple statute; they said that her two lovers fell in love with her the first moment they saw her and fought a war that upturned the entire cultivation world just to win the right to claim her hand; they said that they served as her right and left hands, and that when the three of them were together, the venerated triad, they could never be defeated.)
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tiaragqueen · 4 years
Text
Good Boyfriend
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✂ Pairing: Yandere! Pro Hero! Bakugou Katsuki x Reader
✂ Word Count: 1,2k+
✂ Trigger Warnings: Manipulation
[Edited]
Do not re-upload my writing to another website or use it without my permission.
***
If you like my writing, please support me on ko-fi!
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“You're always pestering me to do impossible things. ‘A boyfriend who does that is bad for you,’ all my friends tell me, and they were against you.” - 100 Meter Conbini [AKB48]
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“A boyfriend who pressures you to do the things you don’t want to do is bad for you.”
You remembered what your friend said to you a few days ago when you recounted the story of Bakugou forcing you to quit your part-time job. You understood that he did it with your best interest in mind – at least, that was what you hoped – because he saw just how fatigued you were. He’d told you that he’d help you pay your bills and everything else; his salary as a famous Pro Hero was enough to cover the necessities and even another stomach.
“Just focus on your study,” he said, waving a dismissive hand when you inquired about his reason. As appreciative as you were with his help, you didn’t want to rely on him more than necessary. Sure, he was your boyfriend, but he had no responsibility to cover your bills. He wasn’t your husband, for God’s sake!
However, you knew that if you complained about this to him, he’d most likely dismiss you again or yell for you to just shut up and accept it. The unpredictability of his response was always daunting; something that you never told him in fear of his reaction. He might’ve grown a bit calmer in adulthood, but traces of his less than pleasant attitude would always remain.
And that meant his observation was still as keen as ever, possibly even sharper than in the past.
“Oi, what’s with the long face?” he inquired gruffly, calloused hands gripping the guard rail that separated the road from the cliff. He liked to bring you here on nights where you both weren’t able to sleep, driving around the city aimlessly and enjoying the nippy air. The road was quiet and empty, saved for the distant chirps of crickets. It was probably your favorite spot now.
You snapped out of your thoughts and blinked repeatedly. Bakugou patiently waited for you to gather your bearing, noting that you’d spaced out a lot lately.
“I’m fine.” you tittered. “Just thinking about… stuff.”
He quirked a brow. “And what is this ‘stuff’?” he prodded.
“Nothing important.”
“Were you thinking about your job again?”
You fell quiet. He wasn’t wrong, you did think about it occasionally. You wondered what your boss had reacted when Bakugou texted them that you wanted to resign, or whether your colleagues missed you at all. Bakugou never bothered to answer your questions further except for a simple ‘it’s done’, and you found out that he’d deleted their contacts under the pretense of keeping your attention to college.
Oddly enough, none of them ever attempted to contact you, either. It was like they’d vanished from the face of Earth, or maybe that was just you. Honestly, you couldn’t blame them for being mad at you regarding your abrupt resignation. You would be mad, too. And it wasn’t as though you had enemies in there, anyway. You always tried to maintain friendly, or at the very least, professional relationship with them.
Still, it hurt to be forgotten that easily. Did you even mean something to them? Or were you just another worker, a mere blip in their lives?
You’d never know the answer because Bakugou always prevented you from leaving beyond going to the campus. During his day off, he liked to accompany you to the grocery store or wherever you wanted to be. Sometimes, he even bought you groceries himself. It was a stroke of rare luck – almost a blessing – that you managed to reunite with your friend without his knowledge, either.
Maybe he really was bad for you.
At your silence, Bakugou sighed. “Told you to stop thinking about ‘em. You’re not working for them anymore, so why do you still bother?”
“It’s not that easy, okay?” Running a hand through your slightly messy locks, you frowned almost frustratingly. “I’ve been working in there for so long, and then suddenly I quit–” you sighed woefully, staring down at the dark wisp that blanketed the cliff below. “Do they even miss me?”
“They don’t.” You snapped your head towards him. Bakugou merely gazed forward, his apathetic face served to burden your constricting chest. “Visited them a month ago, didn’t look like they missed anyone at all.”
“O-oh, is that so?” You couldn’t keep the tremble from affecting your voice as you looked away, tears pricking your eyes. “That’s quite... disappointing.”
It was heartbreaking, but you opted to stay silent. You had a feeling that he’d hate you to cry over them. You couldn’t bring yourself to question why he told you now, either.
“Told you already.”
You bit your lip at his condescending remark. Well, how would you know? It wasn’t as if he allowed you to go anywhere unsupervised, anyway.
A surge of exasperation flowed through your veins as you balled your hands against the railing. Your friend was right; he was bad for you. That’s why you couldn’t let this continue any longer. You needed to stop him before his tendency worsened.
“Bakugou, maybe we should just break up.”
You jolted a little when he snapped his head towards you. Gone was the nonchalance that smoothed over the wrinkles on his face, replaced by frigid acrimony that congealed your blood.
“What? What did you just say to me, [Name]? Care to repeat that?” he inquired through ground teeth.
You gulped, trying to keep the shiver at bay. Suddenly, the night felt a lot colder, not even your jacket was enough to give you any warmth.
“I… I said we should break up,” you replied somewhat meekly.
Bakugou said nothing for the next couple of minutes. He merely glared daggers at you as the wind howled in the background, filling the tensed silence between you.
“… It’s that girl, isn’t it?”
You froze, dilated eyes transfixed on nothing in particular. And yet, you still had some courage – or stupidity – to fool him. “N-no, of course not. I–”
“Don’t lie to me, [Name],” he growled, earning a flinch from you. “You think I didn’t know that you went out with her without my permission?”
“That’s exactly it, Bakugou!” You skillfully directed the focus on him, just like it should be. “You’re always trying to control me. That’s not how a good boyfriend is supposed to act.
“What do you know about that, anyway? Am I not your first boyfriend? How do you know the difference between a good and a bad boyfriend?”
“W-well, that’s…” Damn it, he caught you there. He truly had a strong memory. “That’s because… a good boyfriend wouldn’t try to dictate his girlfriend.”
“What makes you think I’m dictating you?” he retorted smoothly, though his darkening features suggested otherwise. His patience was wearing thin, you realized. “You do realize how dangerous the world is, don’t you? There’s always danger in every corner, and with me as a Pro Hero, the chance of you being attacked is high. Isn’t it a ‘good’ boyfriend’s job to protect his girlfriend?”
You opened your mouth, trying to counter him with anything – even if it was a petty insult – but you couldn’t even form the right words. He already defeated you at your own game, and there was nothing left for you to do other than anticipating his next strike.
Bakugou spared you a sinister glance as he turned his body towards the cliff. “If you say that nonsense again, I won’t hesitate to lock you in your own house.”
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moonflower-31 · 3 years
Text
I Won’t Forget You - Spencer Reid x Reader
Masterlist 
Part 11 
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader 
Warnings: Basically all the shit in the readers history that hasn’t been mentioned up until this point. (Anxiety, mentions of abuse, stalking, arranged marriage) 
Tags: @dra-reid, @eevee0722, @ceeellewrites, @anotherr-fine-mess, @ssahoodrathotchner 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
"Are you sure about this?" 
You take in a heavy sigh as you adjust the tan trench coat around you. You nod, holding back bitter tears. 
"This is for the best, Arthur. I can't marry him. If I stay as a Grant any longer than I have to, he'll kill me. Or use you as leverage to make me change my mind. I can't let him do that." You insist, your (h/c) hair flowing in the wind outside the Atlantic City Airport. 
Your brother looks up at you with tear-stained cheeks. Being only 6 years younger than you made him 14. But he was wiser than he should be. He shouldn't have to lose his sister like this. But it was for the best. That was what you kept telling yourself. 
"B-but… what about Mom? A-and Dad?" He asked worriedly, his hands picking at the expensive leather jacket that you had passed down to him once he had turned ten. "Don't you want to at least say goodbye to them?" 
You grit your teeth as a few choice words threaten to surface. Thankfully, you swallow them. He didn't know. You made sure he didn't know. All he ever knew was that Mom and Dad were always 'busy'. He didn't need to know anything else. 
"No, Artie. I don't want to say goodbye to them. They're busy. I don't want to interrupt their meeting. It's just you and me right now." You explain as calmly as you can, giving him the most genuine smile you've ever given someone. You put a gentle hand on his shoulder, pulling him into a hug. He immediately reciprocates it, squeezing you as tight as he could.  
"I'm gonna miss you sis." He whimpers into your shoulder. For a kid his age, he was pretty tall. You softly let out a chuckle. He would be taller than you in a few years. 
"I'm gonna miss you too, little man. If things calm down, I'll reach out. I'll call you. Promise." You say, holding out your pinky. Arthur sniffles and wipes his tears with his sleeve. He then extends his hand and intertwines his pinky with yours. 
"You better not forget me." He insists, letting out a soft chuckle. You laugh softly back, cupping his cheek motherly and wiping away the fresh tears. 
"That's impossible, and you know it." You tease, gently pressing a finger to his nose. "Be good. Do what you're told. And follow your dreams, okay? No matter what Mom or Dad say is your destiny, make your own." You beg, squeezing your brother's hand for the last time. 
"I will. I love you, (Y/N)." 
"I love you too bud."  
○●♡●○ 
"Your what?" Spencer asks in disbelief, his weathered hands never leaving yours. His naturally focused eyes were now confused and frantic, trying to make sense of the words you just uttered to him. 
"M-my… my stalker. The part of my past I...I didn't want to get you into. I didn't want to put you in danger." You repeat a little quieter. Most of you wanted to curl up in a ball and die. At least then Peter would stop. 
"You had" Spencer stopped himself, letting in a small gasp of disbelief. "--have, a stalker, and you didn't think this was important?" He asks, his voice raising a notch. You flinch and try to pull your hands back on instinct. 
Spencer widened his eyes and immediately calmed his voice, taking your hands back into his. "I-i'm sorry, (Y/N). But please… why didn't you tell me?" He asked gentler this time. You let out a nervous breath and close your eyes, attempting to open the file in your brain you so desperately wanted to erase. 
"It… it might be better if I just tell you everything. I-if you'll listen to my sappy life story…" you insist, squeezing his hands for comfort. His touch was keeping you grounded for now. At least you had him. 
"O-of course, (Y/N). B-but you don't have to. I-I mean… if this is going to hurt you then I don't want you to feel like you have to-" Spencer began to ramble, his hazel eyes weighed with worry. Just like Arthur's. 
You stop him with a squeeze of your hands and take a deep breath. Here goes nothing, you think. 
"7 years ago, I-I turned 18. My parents are very old fashioned. And they believed that since I was already going back to college and trying to be my own woman since I graduated with my doctorate in psychology that year, that they would arrange me a marriage." The words tasted foul in your mouth, almost making you want to spit them out. Spencer still listened, though he did look at you with a look of concern. 
"His name is Peter Calvin. The real-estate broker and investor. At 22 he was vastly rich. And he had everything he wanted. Except a loving wife who doted on him hand and foot. He's a narcissistic bastard who believes he deserves everything he wants. So as you expect, when I turned the proposal down instead of listening to my parents, he was livid. It began with letters. Like this one." You explain, gesturing towards the almost identical envelope next to you. "He would send me gifts, trinkets that I always threw away. No matter how many times my parents arranged for us to meet and try to get along, I always pushed him away. So then after three months, he escalated. He began to call my phone 27 times a day. Blew up my phone with texts. Filled up my email box with 10 or more a day. After that didn't work he began to threaten me. All the while he sent me letters. He would… detail our future together. He even detailed how I would bear him a son first. That we'd name him Oliver. Then I'd bear him a daughter. Name her after his mother." You felt your chest beginning to ache and your heart to pound as fast as a locomotive. 
All the while Spencer listened on in the horror of the past you had gone through. This stalker of yours was easily just like many of the unsubs they'd apprehended. Spencer had never had a personal connection with them till now. His eyes were opening to a different side of things. But he stayed quiet, wanting to let you finish your story before he made any attempt to say his piece. 
"Eventually he resorted to threatening my brother. Said that he'd kill him and my family if I didn't say yes. So… I said yes." You bit your lip, looking down as tears and a sob came tumbling through you. Spencer pulled you closer to him, embracing you in his arms to allow you to cry. You clung to his cardigan, not caring as much about replacing it this time. 
After a few minutes of ugly sobbing, you sniffled and pulled back, wanting to finish the rest of the story. "A-after a year o-of engagement and physical abuse from him I couldn't take it anymore." You let out a half sob, your voice breaking like glass. "S-so I stole a bunch of his money with his credit card and bought myself a ticket down here to Virginia. Gabriel lived down here, and I called him. He offered me a place to stay as long as I went to school and got the education I deserved. So I came here, changed my last name, number and even my social security number. Never looked back." You insist, squeezing Spencer’s forearms where your hands had fallen after he had held you to let you cry. 
You let out a long sigh, the tears drying up and tired hiccups were all that remained. "After a while, Gabriel qualified to go into training for the bareau. And I found out I was too. So we both applied. The rest doesn't matter. Just… know this is all sealed stuff. You're the first person other than Gabriel and my other roommate, Iris, to know. I put myself in witness protection to get away from this man. And now…" you trail, unable to finish your own statement. 
"(Y/N)..." Spencer spoke, barely a whisper. He didn't know what to say. You just shared with him yet again something no one else on the team knew about you. You trusted him with this. 
"I-I know… an FBI agent afraid of some real estate guy. How unique." You laugh bitterly, slowly pulling your knees closer to your chest. 
"Actually, I think you were actually brave for making the right decision for everyone, not just yourself." Spencer expressed, still looking at you in shock. The probability of what was in that letter couldn't be good. If they touched it, their DNA would be on it. This was evidence. If they could only find his and you're DNA on it, they could say that you both forged the note to frame Peter. And Spencer wouldn't allow that. 
His blood felt hotter than melted iron and his face felt stiff. His jaw locked in place as anger began to fuel him. He had heard this man's name before, when your mother said it to you. If only he had known the impact just saying it had on you. He was angry at Calvin. But also at himself for not deducing that something like this was happening. 
"(Y/N)... you kept everyone else safe at the cost of your own comfort. This-This isn't right. He should be in jail for ever touching you like that!" He exclaims, being careful not to raise his voice. 
"Yeah, except his lawyer is the best. His lawyer was able to convince the judge to revoke three protection orders I had filed against him. If I even tried to prosecute him, I'd just get thrown in jail instead. I… I'm just gonna have to change everything again. I'll change my w-whole name this time. Change my hair, move again. I don't think I'll even be able to afford one let alone lease one…" you began to ramble, panic quickly rising into your voice. 
It was Spencer's turn to silence you with a squeeze to the arms. You look him in the eyes, tears beginning to start another cycle. He reached a hand up and cupped your cheek, wiping away the stranded tears. You stared into his eyes, gazing up into hazel hues. 
"Hey… I'm not gonna let you lose everything you've worked so hard for. You are not gonna let him dictate your life. We're gonna bring this to Hotch, okay? Then for now, you'll live with me." 
You snap your gaze back towards his eyes after they drifted. Was he serious?! 
"Y-you can't be serious, Spence. You shouldn't have to-" 
Spencer placed a gentle thumb over your lips and shushed you. "I want to. You need to find a place to stay for now until we get him in custody. So... I'd say my place is safest."
You sniffled a little more, swallowing a lump of gathered excuses in your tightening throat. "A-are you sure about this, Spencer? You don't have two bedrooms, sure I can sleep on the couch…" you began to ponder. "But I'm messy sometimes. Annoying most of the time. And I am most definitely not the most pleasant person to be around in the mornings." 
Spencer chuckled and pressed a kiss to the creases in-between your eyebrows. You blush like a cherry as you stop in your tracks and stare up at him in shock. "You were pleasant to be around when you stayed over last time. Even if you end up a grouch who doesn't like socializing before 8, I still want to help you with this. You're… You're my friend." 
At this, you threw yourself into his arms, hugging him tightly. You knew deep inside that you really shouldn't be letting him help you. He could get killed, or even kidnapped because of his involvement. But right now, some help was better than no help at all.
"Thank you…" you whisper, squeezing your arms around his neck. Spencer hugs you tightly close to him, slightly burying his head in your shoulder.
"Anything, (Y/N)." 
○●♡●○ 
Hours later, the two of you sat in front of the letter, staring at it and pondering whether or not you should open it. Spencer had grabbed a paper towel and moved it to the coffee table. 
You had already called Gabriel and let him know of the situation. He said he called a few of his buddies from his job to watch over the apartment building for the night. 
You were now leaning against the tall doctor who was hunched over next to you, equally pondering the same question as you. But probably better than you. 
You were exhausted and tired of all the fear and panic. Your eyes were still puffy and you found yourself sniffling every few minutes. 
Spencer seemed to notice this however once he moved his gaze from the letter to you. "The handwriting, although made to be elegant, is bold and erratic. He wrote this in a hurry." He attempted, looking back up at you for approval. You took in a heavy breath and nodded, sucking in your bottom lip as you sigh it out. 
New approach, Spencer thought. 
"(Y/N/N)... I-I think you should get to bed. Try to sleep. We think our best when we're well rested, even in situations like this." He suggests, placing one of his broad hands on your back. 
You feel like crumbling underneath his touch from all of the stress. "I don't think I can even try to sleep…" you whimper, leaning closer to him for comfort. "Not alone…" 
Spencer frowned down at you. He rubbed your shoulder as he'd seen Morgan do to Garcia. You were hurting. And he didn't know how to fix it. And he was a damn profiler. A doctor. Where was all his knowledge now? 
"W-well… what if I came in and laid with you. Would that help?" He asked, turning to look at you. 
You thought the suggestion over. Having Spencer Reid in your bed would have normally made you blush like crazy, and made you insist that life was kidding you. But this was different. And as much as you loved Gabriel, he wasn't the type to stay and comfort someone. He cared, sure, but he didn't know how to truly sit and listen to your problems. He was usually the one who offered you a safe place to cry. And wouldn't judge you for it. Spencer, you knew was different. 
"Yeah… yeah I think I'd like that…" you reply, biting the inside of your cheek. Spencer smiled at you warmly, sprouting a couple butterflies. 
Spencer then stood up and helped you to your feet. His arm wrapped around your middle as he guided you back towards the bedrooms. 
"Now your going to have to direct me to which one is which." He comments, looking ahead at the three doors at the end of the hallway. "I think I'd rather not walk into someone else's room and see something I'm not meant to see." He teases, smirking at you. You let out a small chuckle and smile gently, getting Spencer to squeeze you closer. 
"It's good to see you smile." He says. Although it got darker the further into the hallway you both ventured, you could still clearly see the love in his eyes as he looked at you. 
"It's the door on the right." You instruct, gesturing to the door to your bedroom. The room you would soon be abandoning. 
Spencer took out the edge of his shirt from underneath his cardigan and used it to open the door, making you stifle a giggle. Spencer then helped you inside, easing you into your bed. He turned around and closed the door, leaving you to get comfortable in bed. 
When he turned around he was met with you curled up in a coocoon made of your comforter. He couldn't help but chuckle as he came over and sat next to you. "I don't suppose you'll be sprouting any wings any time soon, will you?" He teases, scooting closer to you. You huff, some of the blanket falling off your shoulders. 
"Shut up, Genius." You tease back, smiling at him as you do. 
"No, I don't believe I will. Especially since I just got you to smile." He reveals with an eyebrow raised and a smirk, as if it were a game changing thing. You roll your eyes and nudge him, yawning softly. 
"Yeah? Well I think you're gonna get me to fall asleep with jokes like that." You playfully retorted. He laughed and hugged you closer. 
"Then my job will be easier than I thought." He teased back. You shake your head and lean it against his shoulder hesitantly. You feel him tense up for a moment, almost too long of a moment. But just as you were going to lift your head up, he loosened up, letting you completely rest your head on his shoulder. 
"I...is this okay?" You ask softly, taking in a hard breath. 
"Yeah, definitely. You just get the rest you need. I'll be here." He promised. It was then you finally decided to let your guard down and begin to sleep. 
You feel his warmth radiating from him, lulling you to sleep along with his gentle touch. He had found a way to hold you through the blankets, and you didn't mind. His thumb caressed your arm as you felt yourself drifting off, easing your fears even more than they already had been.  
You had every right to be scared. To be utterly terrified. And you still were. But he made it easier. You began to second guess your own decision not to tell him how you felt. He was here with you when you knew that not that many people would do this for you. Hardly anyone on the team. Garcia and Prentiss might be good for a good cry and pep talk, but that wouldn't have eased you any more than just talking about what your plan of action was with Spencer. Morgan would probably hold you if you asked. But the bedroom was a no-go. JJ was a mother, so she would probably just offer you something to eat to get your mind off of it all. Hotch and Rossi were different people, but you didn't peg them to be cuddlers like this. Spencer was out of his comfort zone with you. And he made no attempt to make it known that he was uncomfortable with it. 
You didn't know where you wanted to go from here, other than heading to the BAU tomorrow and asking Hotch for help. But for now, you needed to relax.  
So instead, you eased your breathing and began to focus on the quiet hum of the air conditioner, and the gentle kiss to the forehead that you felt just as you drifted away.
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jinkieswinkies · 3 years
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Broken doll
"Watch yuh tone, big boy." She ordered
He spat back, "Or what? you'll kill me?"
A metal wrench found its way upside his head.
He growled, "Fucking bitch, if you weren't useful i'd-"
"Or what? you'll kill me?"  The young medic mimicked.
"ugh, cheeky bitch."
Again, The metal wrench found its way banged upon his head. Its sound reverberating throughout the medical bay or known as Ajay's clinic.
"Watch yuh MOUTH!"
Ripping his hand away, He grabbed onto the young woman's neck. "You watch it, remember you're just a skinbag-a replaceable one at that."
She growled, "SO ARE YUH, YUH JUST A MACHINE WIT SOME CODIN AND WIRES. NUN SPECIAL!"
Kicking him in his stomach, he doubled over in pain.
she coughed out, "Don try me, I fuck witcha wires, let's remember."
His dry laughter had reached her ears, "That makes you special? News flash girlie, so can other repairmen."
"But yuh come to me, and as long as yuh do yuh respect, I'm not obligated to fix yuh."
As if. He can honestly care less, She comes to HIM for repairs, not the other way around. It's her job to fix him, she doesn't have any other purpose for him. She knew what he was thinking, fucking saw it on the diagnostic screen.
"Tuh, yer not my priority, don get it twisted. Either respect or go someplace nice and quiet to die."
He scoffed, "Who're you to tell me what to do?"
"Ajay che? honestly didn't know yuh were this stupid, to not even remember names? sheesh." She deadpanned, she attempted to grab onto his hand but he ripped it away once again.
Pointing his finger into her face, he shouted, "YOU EXIST TO REPAIR ME, NOTHING ELSE!"
Rolling her eyes, she walked towards her desk where her toolbox sat, opened and contents sprawled all over. She's been dealing with his fowl attitude since pathfinder had returned from talking to him. remembering how distraught and worn he looked when he came into her lab and told her what revenant had said to him about his creator, It made her cringe to see that smiley robot become so sad just from what the angry old bot had said. Now here he is, sitting on the metal slab in the center of her workshop, why couldn't he go somewhere else to be negative. Biting her lip she grabbed the screwdriver.
"Back on the table," she demanded.
"Finally done with your tantrum?"
Brown eyes darted sharply towards the crimson simulacrum. Had to keep it to herself-the comments-her plan.
Humming in response, "hand."
"Say, please." He teased in that sickly sarcastic way.
Looking right back at him again, she tossed the wrench she whacked him upside his head with. Didn't really need it anymore so let's give the child in front of her something to play with.
"Come close and let me check yuh neck."
"hmmph." He obliged, scooting closer towards her.
She knew-had seen it all happen. Seen where he pulled out that long shard of glass in his neck, he didn't know though. Didn't need to know she knew. Her finger traced alongside the edge of his neck, then his Adam's apple or where it would've been. He loathed to admit how he got off to how soft her touch was, and he never will.
"Was it here?"
Confused, he asks, "what was where?"
"Was it here? The shard? When it jammed itself?"
"How do yo-"
The small little screwdriver in her hand was pierced into his neck. Jammed all the way down, so much that the only part that was sticking out was yellow and black-the handle.
Howling in pain, He wailed, "W-W-Wha-T Y-DI-D!" voicebox glitching, unable to say anything.
"Oh? What's wrong? Something wrong with yer voicebox? Maybe Wires?"
Struggling against the table, he glared at the woman standing beside him, "B-B-BAST-A-RD!"
"I, oh, you, I, Spit it out, C'mon you had so much to say before?"
He hacked up blood in his vision, There was nothing there for che.
"Here what if I just twist it?"
"N0-n-NO! ARRRGGHH!" He screamed bloody murder.
As she twisted that little screwdriver, memories of dying entered his vision, Stabbed through the lungs, Bombs melting his own face, Poisoning, Drowning in his own bile. He gasped and sputtered.
"Did yuh gasp like that when you drowned in shit? Maybe try sewerboarding when yuh down there again, I heard it's fun."
"F-F-Fuc-Fuck y-You..."
Huffing, she stared at him once again, "I can take it out, Repair yuh, Make yah feel better again an' everything. All I ask is for respect. Always making our time together so unpleasant."
He wheezed, "I-I-Do-Dont have t-To do shi-Shit.."
"Why do you do this? This is what got you into this mess, Your mouth, your lack of care for your actions. Never even asking for help when yuh needed it most."
No answer from him, not with the pain he's in.
"God things coulda been different, yuh could've lived. yuh dad was neva right and you knew that but still let it dictate yuh life and now look at yuh?"
He wanted to ask, wanted to, wanted to, wanted to. how does she know that. how, how, how, how, how, how
"Now yuh just a broken doll, Kaleb."
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Obsidian Eyes
~~Featured Short Story: Xern~~
[Before proceeding to read, this story will include themes related to child abuse, implied death, cults, corruption and loss of mental autonomy. All will be tagged accordingly.]
Turnback Cave 
It was dark inside this cave save for the dimly lit candles hanging overhead. The faint crimson glow of the lights aligned in a parallel formation from the hallways of the cave. Your vision is a little bit hazy as you walk aimlessly through the dark caverns. 
It feels like a dream or … was it a dream? You keep walking as many thoughts run through your head. After all, you can only go forward. 
More steps further you go, your feet now starting to leave red footprints as it makes squishing sounds as you walk. Only, you feel something strange. You look down where your feet were and see … blood, puddles of blood everywhere even when you turn around. You are also not alone either. 
Two figures, a Plusle, and a Minun watch you from the far side of the cavern. Even when they are far apart from you, you can still feel dread as you stare back at them. Their eyes white and soulless with no pupils whatsoever and they also seem to be drenched in blood. 
They start to approach you, moving faster and faster. Something is off; looking back at them it appears that they are hovering instead of running. Fearing the worst, you start running not minding the puddles of blood along the way.
You keep on running with what feels like an eternity, your body starting to give up and struggling to continue. Those two figures from before are still chasing you in hot pursuit with no sign of stopping. You try desperately to keep running to escape this apparent nightmare until … you trip in a large puddle of blood.
You stumble forward, almost hitting your head into a dead-end … a wall. In a fit of rage, you try punching it to no avail, you are panting heavily at this point and feel like your lungs are about to give out. Upon hearing the wet sloshes of blood coming towards you, you stand up and fall with you back against the wall. 
The two figures have finally caught up, staring at you with those soulless eyes and upon closer inspection, scars all over their bodies. They each raise a rusted bloody knife as they pace slowly towards you. You try shielding yourself with your arms but they feel too heavy to lift as they stab you and … you awaken.
"Awaken, child! The time has come …"
A voice echoes in front of the Riolu, he has barely woken up as he yawns and faces where the voice came from. It was a cloaked figure, clad in red and noticeably tall wearing a gold and silver mask covering their face. 
"What … What do you mean, elder …?" 
He stands up from where he slept, a bed draped in a red cloth without a pillow as he stretches his arms and groggily looks around dazed. 
"Your birth, child. Come, we must hurry. The daughter does not forgive insolence." 
The elder grabs the Riolu with a tight grip as he yelps and flinches. He feels like fighting with the elder's grip but he was too tired to do so. He just whimpers and aimlessly walks with them. 
~~~
As they walk, he can see the blood-stained walls of the cavern. Sharp and earthen stalactites were stained with a scarlet red as it dripped into the ground, forming small puddles. He keeps on walking, looking away from the blood as he paces forward. He tries to close his eyes to avoid the sight of the caverns but something or someone kept him from doing so. 
We were your friends … Why would you do this to us … Betrayer! Liar! Murderer! Murderer! Murderer!
The images of the twins he killed were there in his mind, scarred and bloodied. They were screaming to him in the inside of his mind as their voices gradually became louder and louder. With a scream, he opens his eyes once again. The elder just looks towards him and utters a sigh. 
"Nightmares are just illusions waiting to be forgotten, child. Keep in mind what the daughter seeks for all of us." 
The elder stops walking as they both face a vestibule leading to a dark room. The Riolu can hear whispers and muttering from inside as he gulps in air, he is visibly shaking upon facing the room. 
"Let us go, the daughter is already calling to you." 
"No! Please! I am not ready yet!" 
He now tries desperately to escape the elder's grip as he pleads to be let go. The elder, however, just shakes their head in disbelief and grunts having none of it. The elder lets go and immediately grips the Riolu's neck with their paw, their claws poking at his throat and almost enough to draw blood.
"The daughter dictates when you are ready. She alone decides your fate …"
The elder bellows, his monotonous voice piercing through the Riolu's will as the mere force of the elder's grip made him gasp for air and struggle desperately. 
"Y-yes …elder … I-I … w-will obey …  …" 
The Riolu was on the verge of losing consciousness when he was dropped to the ground with a soft thud and barely landing on his feeble legs. He struggles to get up only to meet with the elder's indifferent gaze and just waits for him to regain his composure. He nods in defeat as he enters the room with the elder following close behind. 
~~~
The room was slightly illuminated with the crimson glow of the torches overhead in aligned rows. A group of masked Pokemon was already there waiting for him, silently staring at the newcomer and their masks matching the elder. 
In the middle was an altar, made of a large stump of redwood and cut into 12 sides. Intricate designs were carved into the wood with what appears to be sigils of different kinds. The center of the altar lay a large pool of black liquid, clear as a mirror and stagnant. 
“Is this the child whom she will breathe new life with?”
One of them asks. It is hard to tell who was talking as their faces were concealed from behind those masks. The elder, looming behind the boy nods and gestures his hand toward the altar. 
"Prepare the mirror." 
He grabbed the Riolu by the hand as he restrained him using some rope. The rope was reeking of dried blood as it wrapped around his body. He is unable to struggle even if he wanted to. 
The elder then carried the Riolu's bound body towards the altar as the masked Pokemon began to whisper a harmonic chant. They were holding hands and forming a circle as their gaze focused on the center of the altar.
The Riolu lay there bound helplessly towards his apparent doom. His pleading eyes were looking towards the faceless only to be answered by more chanting. 
"Kat'ze, the Discordant Daughter 
… I bring you a vessel! He shall herald your purpose in this world!" 
The elder holding the Riolu placed him above the altar's center. The once stagnant liquid started to move in a spiral and glowed a vibrant hue as if to look like a spatial void. Upon seeing this, the Riolu struggled and squirmed with all of his will to live but to no avail. 
"Kat'ze, we invoke you! Hear our calling!"
The Riolu can feel himself losing consciousness and his eyes slowly getting heavy as he can barely open them. The cacophonous chants of the hooded elders around the altar were all he could hear until … everything turns black. 
~~~
Every second felt like hours in this darkness, and it didn’t help that the cacophony of voices he was hearing was replaced by buzzing. The buzzing was worse by a thousandfold, as it was causing a head-splitting headache as he slept. Everything was dark, pitch-black nothingness as he tried opening his eyes again. 
The buzzing doesn’t stop as the Riolu grips both of his temples in an attempt to rid himself of this noise as he tries to get back on his feet. The only problem is, there is no solid ground. He looks around expecting to see pitch black darkness only, there is light … little clusters of light around him. 
Since he can’t walk, he can only sort of glide aimlessly around this place as he looked for some way out of here. It also didn’t help that the buzzing sound didn’t stop as he struggled to maneuver himself while covering his ears.
“Stop right there!”
No sooner than he made a relatively short distance when he heard an echo from behind him. The voice was almost bellowing and loud with authority. The voice had a hint of raspiness and felt distorted like this wasn’t supposed to be theirs, to begin with. He immediately turned towards where the voice came from. 
“Kindly explain why are you here?”
Instinctively, he uncovers his ears pleasantly surprised that the buzzing from before has stopped. He idly looks at the one in front of him, an Origin Form Giratina looking at him with both curiosity and liking. He can’t utter a single word because of both his adoration of the mighty being in front of him and the fear of what they are capable of. The being, however, simply sighed and circled him.
“So my disciples offered me another vessel? Explain yourself, child. Who are you and why are you the one chosen?”
The Giratina coiled around him and looking directly at his face, her black glassy eyes staring directly into him as if it was piercing his soul. The Riolu can see in her eyes clusters of stars being destroyed into a spiral, devoid of light. He gathers enough courage to speak a few words.
“J-jargon … my name’s Jargon … I-I …  was … forced to be here by my elders …”
“Tsk tsk tsk … such incidents happen all the time, child. You are not a rare occurrence …”
“H-how about you … who are you?”
The Giratina grins upon hearing the question, her tendrils holding on to the Riolu’s shoulders as she lets out a hearty giggle. It was clear she was amused by his curiosity.
“I was once known as Xiel’zeun, The Daughter of He Who Crafted the World, I was once pure and full of light … I was once one of the well-known constellations of this realm.”
She holds up a star with one of her tendrils and shows it to the Riolu as if it was a masterpiece she is proud of showing. Her voice became a little softer, you can hear what her voice originally was. 
 “But unfortunately … this wasn’t my calling, to begin with. I saw something from beyond the stars … a vision. It beckoned me towards it …it made me realize what true craftsmanship was all about. I am not Xiel’zeun no more … I am Kat’ze, The Discordant Daughter.”
In an instant, the star that she was holding disintegrated into dark matter, leaving behind a gaping event horizon in its wake as she giggled, her voice being back to normal. She turned to look at Jargon, sensing the absolute fear in his eyes and expression.
“Now, do you see what you’re into, child? Come, let me make you part of something greater ... “
She grabs Jargon by the arm the instant he attempts to escape his sight. She holds his head, making him stare back into her face a little too close as she grins wide.
“Look into my eyes, child … tell me … will you stare into these ebony glassy eyes?”
Jargon struggled to look away but something … something within him made him drawn towards her ebony eyes. He tried fighting back the longing that slowly crept through every fiber of his being. If only his will wasn’t easily broken … if only he wasn’t already weak from everything he had been through. 
“Don’t close your eyes, child … I want you to see. I want you to witness true art …”
His mind went blank for a moment, as his remaining will to break free from the corruption faded away as stardust swept into the emptiness of space. He lowered his head, as he fell silent for a brief moment. His eyes then opened, his left eye was a scarlet red as sanguine as to the blood he had spilled in that fateful murder. His right eye was an ebony black, it mirrored Kat’ze’s eye almost perfectly as some of its corruption branched out further into his right temple. He now had a new vision, he thought to himself. From this new vision, a new identity must flourish.
“Now child … who are you again?”
“I … I-I am Xern, I am happy to be in your presence my queen.”
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tttwbs · 4 years
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Romancing the Stone AU + werewolves are known
Derek Hale is a world renown author of True Mates romance novels (referred to as trash mates by its eye rolling critics) whose heroes and heroines all find ultimate happiness through the simple power of human love. His life, is far less romantic - living with his cat in a small apartment in NYC, his eldest sister is his editor, and his youngest sister is off fiddling around in South America doing god knows what. Cora, meanwhile, has actually stumbled across a hunter cult that has a map that will supposedly lead them to the Corazon de la Luna - a stone said to force werewolves into their full wolf form and trap them there. Learning they plan to find it and use it to justify the murder of werewolves everywhere, Cora steals the map. With the cult on her tail she manages to mail it to her brother to keep it safe, only to fall into the clutches of a third party that also wants the stone for unknown purposes. Derek is shocked to get a call from his sister in Colombia, shocked more when she is replaced by the vicious voice of her captor, telling him to bring the map to Colombia or his sister dies. Hastily flying down there, Derek is completely out of his depth and doesn't speak the language.
As Derek desperately searches for the bus to Cartagena, he asks a wickedly pleased with herself lady by the name of Kate -a member of the cult, who misdirects him to a different bus that carries him up into the mountains. When the bus has an accident on the high winding roads with a beat up old blue jeep full of exotic birds, Kate convinces Derek to stay with the stranded bus despite the other passengers all taking what birds are still in cages and walking down the road with them. Once they are totally alone, Kate nicks him with a wolfsbane blade and tries to get the map from him. Derek scurries under the jeep to hide when a gunshot breaks the sounds of the jungle and a bullet grazes Kate's throat. Withdrawing, Kate vanishes into the dense foliage. Derek hides under the jeep, cursing his sister, cursing himself, and wishing he was home in his apartment with his cat when the rattiest pair of high top sneakers walk into view and stop in front of him. The Lamentations over the jeep and the birds that follow are exuberant, the feet vanishing and just as Derek started to relax he is hauled out by his ankle, teeth bared and claws out - despite having no idea what to do with them. The man -boy?!- no man... Maybe? Snorted at him and started dictating what he thought was going on. Scrambling up, Derek asks how far it is to Cartagena, making the man (Stiles, we all know its fuckin Stiles c'mon) laugh and explain he's hundreds of miles away. Stiles jerks his head towards where Kate disappeared, "Wait, did SHE tell you this was the bus you needed? What kind of lame werewolf are you? Aren't you supposed to HEAR LIES?!" Derek is flustered and bristling as this swaggering smartass but still bargains a deal that will get him taken where he needs to go for the $2,032 in traveler's checks he still has. After Stiles pares Derek's belongings down to the barest of minimums, they strike off into the jungle.
Meanwhile, Derek hasn't shown up in Cartagena as planned so the kidnappers dispatch Scott, the bumbling werewolf boyfriend of their leader, to find him. Kate, who made good on her escape, has hooked up with her father and their cult and are now hot on Derek & Stiles' heels. After a brief encounter with the cult, Derek and Stiles narrowly escape across a destroyed bridge thanks to Derek's werewolfitude. They stumble across a village run by a drug lord. Stiles says to let him handle it but when Derek introduces himself, Stiles discovers that Derek is famous as hell and he writes essentially werewolf true romance books - books the drug lord loves. Welcomed like visiting princes, Derek confides in Alfonso that they are being chased. Alfonso helps them to escape Kate, leaving her stranded. Kate flags down Scott who of course recognizes her and has a lot more on his plate suddenly than just finding Derek. After Alfonso leaves them in a village during a festival, Stiles & Derek enjoy a night of dancing and whirlwind romance. Stiles suggests they find the stone to have more bargaining power for Derek's sister, he agrees and they follow the clues while being tailed by Scott who managed to extract himself from Kate and stumble across the boys while he was checking in with his boss/girlfriend. When Derek and Stiles find the gem, Scott appears to take it from them, declaring Stiles would do the same - he should know since they were best friends. Stiles counters that he should've expected this since Scott ditched him to be Allison's LAPDOG. In the midst of their bitter bickering, Kate shows up, Scott skedaddles and Stiles and Derek in their escape go over a waterfall and are separated on different sides of the river by rapids - Derek has the map but Stiles has the jewel. Stiles promises to meet Derek in Cartagena and with a worried and troubled heart, Derek presses on.
In Cartagena, Derek can't find Stiles but he finds Allison, planning to make the exchange before Scott turns up and blows the deal. He meets her at an old fortress that is a crocodile rescue to make the exchange. Just as Derek is about to get Cora back, Scott turns up and blows the whole deal. Despairing as Allison threatens Cora with a wolfsbane knife, Stiles shows up with the stone. Hot on his heels is Kate who is ready to kill everyone. Kate gets a hold of Derek and demands the stone, threatening to toss him to the crocodiles. Stiles gives up the stone, throwing it over to Kate. Kate catches it, but her victory is short lived when a crocodile bites off her hand holding it. Stiles, still bent on the stone, goes after the crocodile. At the first bursts of wolfsbane bullets, Derek ducks for cover, working his way to Cora who was discarded in the fight. Enraged, Kate goes after the werewolves, she has them cornered with her gun but Stiles lets the escaping crocodile go and stops Kate by disarming her but they struggle furiously until she cracks Stiles' head against a stone - dazing him. Totally enraged, Kate charges Derek but he dodges her and sending her toppling over into the crocodile pit. Derek helps Stiles to his feet as the cops start to arrive, Stiles kisses Derek's face off and winking at him says he'll find him before diving into the water to chase the stone. Stunned, Derek focuses on his sister. Some time later, Derek is back in NYC and has delivered a manuscript to his editor Laura who loves it but is worried over her little brother's lingering heartache after his adventure. Derek brushes it off, mumbling that true mates is just something that happens in books. He returns home to find Stiles sitting in his living room, petting his cat. "How. How...?" Derek asked dazedly. Stiles grinned up at him, still stroking the cat, "I've got my ways yanno." "She doesn't like anyone but me." "I must still smell like you then." Derek blushes super red. "You left. The stone was more important..." "The stone is powder now... I Hadda be sure the guy I love is safe." "I'm sure he's very grateful." Stiles grins hugely, "I dunno if he is, he's looking sorta surly to find me cuddling with his cat." Derek looks up at him, shocked. "Me?" Stiles laughs, "You are a terrible werewolf. I love you stupid." Derek laughs and gently moves his cat before pouncing Stiles and starting to believe in true mates again.
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soulwitch · 3 years
Text
Oppressive Consumption
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“So that’s how it is?” Gluttony stood opposed to a tall woman. She’d just returned from another attempt at subduing, at rescuing the memory weaver. Unsuccessful again, her waist damaged, sparks and fluids dripping out of her stomach. Blood dripping with it, mitigated by the internal controls she had with her body.
Holding her small hatched she knew she wasn’t in any shape to face this woman, standing between her and home. They smelled of her mother’s magic, their body wasn’t anything like a machine, but it didn’t seem alive either. Something was off, and Gluttony was reluctant to strike first or make an attempt at a run yet. “Which model are you? I’ve never seen your type in the collective before.”
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“I’m not a model of any type. Klesia is my name, unlike yours its not designation.” Klesia spoke, stabbing where it hurt almost right away. Pulling her handle free, allowing the thing to extend into a murderous battle-axe. 
The sight of it, and the words she spoke, forced small winces from Gluttony’s already pained visage. The axe reminded her of her Directive Battles, a huge cleaver for killing. And the comments, most definitely this woman was Jeanne’s creation.
It hurt a little to see, to know how much they’d be replaced, and how little hope there might be for Bianca and Flandre to get answers. But nevertheless Gluttony couldn’t just, die here. Surely that was why this woman had arrived, to kill her.
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“You’ll have to tell mother, I have things to finish before she’s allowed to dictate my life again.” Holding her waist, Gluttony paced slowly to the side, the tall woman didn’t seem to be making a move, instead she just stared at Gluttony.
A lifeless stare, scary in a way, like staring into the eyes of Core or a machine without any other purpose but what was given to them. Like looking in a reflection of what she was before, but beyond her was a home. A home that proved Gluttony was more than a designation.
Holding her hatchet in hand, trying to stem any damage from hampering her, Gluttony rushed forward, aiming low, for the other woman’s waist to land her weapon quick before they could move that large axe. With that she could just abandon the hatchet and rush for home.
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“Dread.” Klesia’s voice softly murmured, watching as Gluttony rushed in to crash her hatchet into Klesia’s waist, blade sinking in, but no pain, no reaction at al followed. Instead, Klesia heaved her larger axe upwards, turning fast towards Gluttony who had almost slowed in somewhat of a shock, seeing how little reaction there was.
“What? Not even an impact shake?” Gluttony worryingly commented, pain in her own waist, unable to inhibit the feeling, slowed her down and soon she’d find her vision being knocked to the right. Klesia’s quick turning, allowed her to have the shaft of her axe right into Gluttony’s head, knocking her down, sending her rolling across the ground as Klesia slowly followed after, heaving her battle-axe above her shoulder and swinging it down on the recovering Gluttony.
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“Ugh..” Struggling to her feet, she’d barely avoid the crashing down axe, ground shaking, rumbling. Gluttony would try to strike back, a blade from her wrist being thrust right into Klesia’s exposed collar, and yet despite the strong thrust and impact. Nothing.
Instead Klesia twisted and with the back of her hand, delivered a dizzying blow to Gluttony’s head against. The android’s systems all in a jumbled mess, and her biological side as reduced as it was, couldn’t even handle the strain. She was combat ready still, but after the last encounter with Harune, she couldn’t handle this.
If she was in tip top shape, maybe. “Dammit. Not like this.!” Moving her other hand forward, palm up. She charged energy and delivered a pointblank surge of plasma.
Smoking flesh, the smell of burning, surely that had to hurt. And yet just as soon as Gluttony fired, Klesia’s fist came rushing through, crashing into Gluttony’s jaw, before the sharp feeling of the axe’s blade crashing diagonally into her torso.
It dug into her shoulder, into her chest a little, perhaps the close range of them and the blowback from the shot had stifled Klesia’s momentum, but regardless Gluttony was alive. Her systems were falling apart, and her mind couldn’t grasp what she was seeing.
Like a monster, Klesia’s flesh was ruined, burned, and she kept moving just find. Like a zombie almost, she seemed almost unharmed. “W-what gives.. mother’s sure made a real monster now hasn’t she?” Gluttony asked, weakly trying to push back on the blade that was pushing down on her, Klesia placing her other hand on the battle-axe to apply pressure.
Bringing Gluttony to her knees. The android could feel it getting closer and closer to her core systems, and without those, she’d have no strength to apply to stop it from cutting her in two.
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“Dammit.. not like this. Not before we can fix things.” Gluttony tried to push it back, but she couldn’t. Watching Klesia’s face slowly fix itself, it was like watching that monstrous form of Harune again, incomprehensibly scary to stand in front of, but what could she do. Closing her eyes, she kept trying to push back.
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“Once you’re done, Hope is next. Even now, I’m sure she’s being taken care of.” Klesia spoke, indulging in the cruel side of things. Sawing the axe into Gluttony’s body, watching as the android desperately tried to stop her, even sinking into despair upon hearing what was to come.
“Its time to end this.” Putting her weight into it, Klesia started to push down once more. Only, the pressure on Gluttony’s womb would be suddenly alleviated. Shots ringing out, running through the zombie as they swiftly withdrew their axe to meet with a crashing blade.
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“Threatening a friend of the Mistress’, how shameful. Appears you need a lesson on what happens when you savor a kill for too long.” Bouncing back, the swing of that axe incredibly heavy, Nobu had finally arrived to answer the commotion. Alerted by the shot of plasma, a shot of all things, something Nobu would instinctively know, wasn’t any sort of danmaku or spell.
Taking advantage of her arrival, the suddenness, flicking her fingers, waves of her laser firing muskets appeared behind the demon woman. Barraging into Klesia’s zombie body. Burnng her, bringing the monster to her knees.
With the axe out of her body, Gluttony slumped over and watched, red lasers ripping the zombie’s body, filling it with holes as Nobu raised her sword towards Klesia.
The silver haired woman pushed herself to her feet, the holes in her body not healing right away due to the burned. Angry, teeth grinding, she stared at Nobu. “I’ll eat you. I’ll rip your body limb from limb, and eat you alive. Fear me..” The zombie’s own body started to swell, disform, growing slightly.
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“I know for a fact, from a past life. Zombies... hate guns, and that’s just what you are aren’t you?” Aiming once more, her guns fired off another wave, ripping the growing zombie’s flesh to pieces, bringing them once more their knees as Nobu placed her musket to Klesia’s head.
About to pull the trigger, an explosion from the mansion could be heard over Klesia’s weakened growling. Stealing Nobu’s attention for half a second, just enough for Klesia to bat at her, pushing her away as the monster weakly moved.
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“Mark my words..I’ll come back for you two..” The zombie pushed her hand against the air, escaping as Nobu’s guns trained on her. Planting several more rounds into her back as their vanished.
Rushing over the Gluttony, Nobu would pick them up, and with what little healing she knew, would at least try to slow the damage. 
Gluttony more worried about the explosion than herself, “what happened? Flan-sama? Bianca? Are they okay?” The android gasped, barely still clinging to her own life. Her worries met with a confident and telling smile.
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“Its a surprise, that explosion but its alright. Bianca is safe, because she’s there. The guardian of the Scarlet Devil Mansion. So come on, let’s hurry home.”
“I bet everyone is waiting.”
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