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#but i need to recognize how easy it is to become a monster yourself
twilightlane · 9 months
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[Part 2 for this, continued heavy themes. @masquenoire]
Becoming Twilight Lady wasn’t so much as one single moment. Although if Liz were to pick one, this would’ve been the starting point. Liz was homeless at a young age, and what does a girl like her do to get money? Work for a pimp. She met Natacha that way, who let Liz live with her. They were like sisters. Natacha was only two years older, and more experienced. Natacha helped Liz learn the ways of their trade. And the ugly truths about it. Of course, being brought up in it, Liz wouldn’t have been able to fully understand how they were both groomed and used until later in life. But the constant sexualization, Natacha’s death, and the reminder that women would always be marginalized by men. Liz wanted to change that. Or at least, take full control over her life. And not let anyone take advantage of her again.
She didn’t report the thugs to the police. She knew long ago the police were just as corrupt nor cared enough to open a case about another sultry woman being murdered. Sluts deserved death, they got what they asked for, as per the conservatives who governed the nation would say. Liz never needed help from the rich snobs who didn’t care.
Taking revenge was easy. Liz wasn’t even surprised that a few years later, when she had her own small brothel up and running, the same thugs barely recognized her. Too distracted with her new outfit. Shiny black laxed hugged all the right places on her body. The mask and name keeping the smallest level of anonymity, her hair now done up in an exaggerated large half bun. She played the role of dominatrix. Giving the man plenty of room for pleasure. Until she’d amped up the pain. The man would howl behind the gag, anger behind his eyes. Then fear when reality settled in. That this session wasn’t like any other. That Liz was going to make this long, and as excruciating as possible. That this was going to be the man’s last moments. Humiliated by being bound in such a lewd manner.
“Like a pig on a spit. Roasting over a fire.” Liz chuckled over the bloodied man. “Maybe you’d like a mirror? You can watch your own life drain from your eyes… Like how I watched Natacha’s.” She whispered in the man’s ear before stepping back. Giving one good lash with the snap of her whip. Pieces of skin practically flew off the man’s back now as it was ripped open.
“Nothing beats a good ol’ medieval method of torture. Don’t ya think?” Twilight strode over to push a full length mirror in front of the man’s face. “Take a good long look, Narcissus.” Her gaze was nothing but cold toward the monster bound below her. “This is what you deserve.”
Once one was dead, the others were more difficult to catch. And unfortunately, they were only the minos swimming close by their shark. Yet Liz was not going to stop now. She wanted the whole gang to be wiped out. So she carefully planned, stalked and calculated her next move. She clawed, bit, fought her way up the ladder. Until it all came to an abrupt halt.
“Look…” Nite Owl ran a gloved hand through his gray hair. The masked vigilante was tired, and a lot older up close. “You give me what you know about their leader, and I’ll cut you loose.”
“Not good enough.” Twilight crossed her arms underneath her chest.
“Come on, lady. You’re in over your head. It’s practically a suicide mission if you go at this guy all by yourself! Not to mention you’ll be getting in my way and I don’t want to hurt someone who doesn’t deserve it.” Hollis huffed under the mask before adding more quietly. “You're too young to be throwing your life away like that.”
Liz frowned. “Maybe you’re too old to play the game, grandpa.”
That got a few incomprehensive sputters from Nite Owl.
“The world changed, the stakes are higher than ever.” Liz continued. “You let me work with you just this once, and we’ll part ways.”
There was a pause as Nite Owl thought over his options carefully.
“On one condition: You won’t kill the bastard. You owe me that much at least.” Hollis’ eyes warned as he held out his hand.
“... Deal.” Liz shook it. Oh, how naïve men were, even in old age.
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tyrantmade · 1 year
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💢 ANGER - what are some habits they have that will take some getting used to?
REDFIELD sent 💢 ANGER - what are some habits they have that will take some getting used to?
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Whew Boy, Wesker is a very caged off individual. He has a few habits, that take awhile to get used to. But if we are being frank, some never can get used to them. People just assume the worse of him, and don't give him any wiggle room. But that isn't fair, because he was made this way. He was brainwashed, Abused mentally, and verbally, and trained against his will. All of this happened for over the course of 10 years. He was only 9 when he was brought into Oswald, and was finally give his own, '' freedom '' at 19. If you wanna call it freedom anyhow. But here are his Habits that take, time, if you can get used to them anyhow.
BEING IN CONTROL - He has to be in control of EVERYTHING! And I do mean everything, even down to the smallest thing like which side of the bed he sleeps on. Or, where he will go to eat, and what side of the table he sits on. Again, this stems from the torment he endured at the hands of Oswald E. Spencer. Wanting to be in control, gives him the feeling of having things his way. Like he can now control the outcome, if he is denied this, he will become a raging nightmare. And he will become a Monster, raging, abusing, and screaming, name calling, any toxic trait you can think of. Cause it is all he knows, it was all he was shown and taught.
NOT ALLOWING TOUCHING - For awhile, if someone touches him, he will stop you. And treat you as if you have done something horrendous to him. If you want to touch him, you have to be someone he deems imporant to him. And that role is not easy to get for yourself. He hates everyone, hates the world and would rather see many of man kind dead then give them the time of day.
TALKING ABOUT HIMSELF AND WHAT HE BELIEVES IN - This one drives a lot of people crazy, and they like to poke fun at him and make jokes. Treating him like a lunatic. But he does this, because he feels empowered when he does it. He needs to let others know his thoughts and the accomplishments that he has achieved. And more importantly will achieve.
GOD COMPLEX - This one is the biggest of his habits and his mental illness, it stems off how he wants to feel human compact, feel loved and recognized. He has Narcissistic Personality Disorder, which is the right term for having a God Complex. He will manipulate, gaslight you, make himself seem like the victim. He needs to know he has hurt you, and that you realize that he is Superior to you. Years of Toxic and Negative treatment has created this part of him. Underneath it all, it is why He believes he has the right to be a God. He has reached a place where all the torment is catching up to him, and his murdering Spencer was the start of it all.
There is his soul crushing panic attacks or mental breakdowns he has, but those no one ever sees, because he will never allow anyone to do so. He will never allow anyone to think him weak, or fragile. Even thought, he does want someone to love him, wants someone to be there , when he comes home from work. To love, but he doesn't know how to love. He was never taught what love was, or how to love someone. He was only ever taught to hate, or to destroy. There are more, but I can't think of them all right now.
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dravid-writes · 2 years
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Vampires, zombies, ghosts, there are plenty of ways for humans to become monsters. To turn from part of the community to a threat that must be fought. But werewolves are the worst. With most monsters, they lose their humanity and fully become something else. Something easy to recognize. But werewolves can hide in plain sight, act normal, blend in, gain the town's trust...
Which is why we have so much silver in town. Werewolves are practically allergic to the stuff, even in their human disguises. So when I was at a friend's house for a dinner party, and I flinched and complained about how hot the silver fork was, it didn't take long for me to be locked in a cell while the elders discussed what to do.
And now I'm here, hyperventilating in the corner of my cell, pinching myself and hoping I'll wake up from this nightmare. Finally, I hear the cell door open, and look up to find my friend reaching out to me.
I spring to my feet and rush forward, embracing my friend! "Oh thank god, you're here. This is all just a big misunderstanding, right?"
"Of course, of course it is. How could you even have caught lycanthropy? There haven't been any werewolf sightings in weeks, and the idea that YOU of all people could be... It's ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous. Everyone's gathered at the alter, let's go prove your innocence."
The guards escort us to the town center, where an alter of silver rests. The whole town is watching as we approach. I've watched this ritual many times, though never from this close. My friend steps forward first, taking the steel knife and making a cut on their hand, letting a drop of blood fall onto the alter to show that it isn't heated. The blood falls, and... nothing.
I step forward, and my friend hands me the knife. My hands a shaking. I don't know why, I can't possibly be a werewolf. Not me. Anyone else, but not me. I make a cut, let a drop of blood fall-
It sizzles and pops and boils on the silver alter! But how?! The alter is cold, and I can't- I can't possibly- The crowd around me gasps and mutters, staring at me with a look of... betrayal. "N-no, something's wrong! I- My half of the alter must have been heated!" I reach down and touch the spot where my friend's blood fell.
It's hot.
I flinch and pull away. "No, no this is a mistake! Tell them, tell them I'm-" I turn toward my friend for support.
They step back, a look of horror on their face.
I collapse onto the dirt and grass, sobbing. They let me live because of my good reputation, but it doesn't matter. My life is over. My friends, my family, I can never see them again. And they don't want to see me. When I last saw my mom, she was grieving as if I were dead. I don't blame any of them; I would feel the same way in their position.
"Hey," a voice says. "What's wrong? Do you need some help?"
I don't look up from the ground. "No, just leave," I say, sniffling. "I'm a monster."
"You're a werewolf?"
Just hearing it stings, but... I nod. "Just leave," I repeat.
"I don't think I should. I can help you."
Help me? Could they mean some hope of a cure?! I turn to look at the stranger, and- "Gah, why are you naked!?"
They snort. "Well it's a little hard to buy clothes out here."
Do they live out in the wilderness? I look closer; their tanned skin, lean muscle, and long, uncut hair. They certainly look like they haven't seen civilization in a while. But to live out here with the monsters? In the forest with werewolves? How could anyone survive like that? Unless... And the 'help' they offered... "Are you... a werewolf?"
The stranger nods. "Have you shifted before? It can be rough on your first time-"
"Go away, I don't want any help from you."
"Without a roof over your head, the moon's influence will be much stronger. And it's a full moon tonight. You won't want to go through that by yourself, not as such a new wolf. Our kind aren't meant to be alone, we need to look out for each other-"
"I am NOT one of your kind!"
The stranger looks hurt by my words. "... Sorry. I forgot how scary this must be... I'll give you some space, but you should know that the pack will welcome you with open arms." With that, the stranger leaves, and I'm alone.
Truly, horribly alone.
Soon after the stranger left, I fell asleep, worn out and stressed. Awful howls echo in my nightmares, until I finally wake up when I feel something clawing at my chest!
But nothing's there. Just a nightmare. Just me, alone, in the darkness... Wait, it's night already?! But that means-
I look at the sky, and rising up is the full moon, staring down at me. Behind me, in the forest, those horrible howls echo once again with primal, vicious power. A whole pack of werewolves. And I'm out in the wilderness with them.
And yet, the wolf I'm most scared of is inside me. Spurred on by the moonlight, it claws and bites at my chest, trying to dig its way out! I desperately hold on to my humanity, trying to hold back that starving beast-
*woof*
I nearly have a heart attack. I turn, and beside me sits a wolf. A big, fully-grown, wild wolf, with the thick limbs and bulging muscles that mark it as a werewolf. I don't run away. Partly because I'm paralyzed with fear, partly because you can't outrun a werewolf... but partly because somehow I feel safe.
The wolf's posture, expression, energy, none of it feels aggressive. When did I learn to read wolf body language? Same time I caught lycanthropy, I guess. Somehow, with a giant, super-strong carnivore beside me, I feel just a bit safer than I felt alone. "Are you... the werewolf from before?" I ask.
The wolf tilts its head in confusion.
Right; when a werewolf shifts, it loses its humanity, acting on primal instinct with no room for language. Though I assume they can intuit communication by body language and other behaviors, judging by my new instincts.
The wolf walks in a circle around me, sniffing me, before taking a few steps toward the forest and looking back, beckoning me to follow. Does it still want me to join the pack? Well I won't, no way. I may have lost my humanity, but I'd never join these monsters, no matter how much the beast within me fights to escape, hungering for-
*growl*
... Okay maybe I'm the hungry one. I'd rather not starve to death, so I reluctantly follow the wolf into the forest.
Ten minutes and a dozen wolves later, I somehow find myself riding atop a bloodthirsty monster chasing down a heard of deer. Riding through the woods at breakneck speeds, surrounded by werewolves, my heart is racing from the adrenaline. My mount, the wolf that lead me here, snaps at the legs of a deer just barely out of reach. I maneuver myself into a crouch atop the wolf, finding my balance and waiting for the right moment to...
Pounce!
I grab hold of the deer's leg, causing us both to fall to the ground! It tumbles away, and the pack descends upon it, ripping and tearing with monstrous strength. Blood stains the ground, and for a moment I feel bad for the deer; I've hunted before, but this is so brutal compared to spears or crossbows... Then my stomach growls, and I can't blame the pack.
When the deer falls still, the wolves step back and look at me. Making sure the new packmate gets food, or maybe letting me have the first bite for bringing it down. Either way, my stomach thanks them as I approach, crouching down to take a bite-
What am I doing?! And when did my teeth get so sharp? I almost gave in to wolf within me, and now its frantic clawing feels even stronger. I won't give in, I won't become like them!.. But I am very hungry. I tear of a chunk of venison (with my hands, not my mouth) and take a bite, hoping that my stomach can handle the raw meat.
While the rest of the pack continued hunting, the wolf from before (the stranger, I'm pretty sure) took me to the den. The werewolves there eye me suspiciously, but relax after sniffing me. It's just like the stranger said, the pack welcomes me without hesitation. Is this really my life now? Doomed to live among the monsters I feared? Among these violent, bloodthirsty beasts?
I'm startled out of my thoughts by a wet lick dragging over my head. I scramble away in surprise and turn to face the stranger, who looks at me innocently. It walks over and continues licking my head. Looking around, I see some other wolves grooming each other. Oh well, I guess it's grooming time. It's not so bad. It's actually oddly soothing-
No! I won't give in to my primal, savage instincts!.. But this isn't savage. It's calming. The wolf within me isn't clawing anymore, it feels more like aggressively nuzzling against me, pushing me to let it out.
After a while of grooming, the stranger stops and steps in front of me. It pushes against my hand; it wants me to groom it in return. Petting a werewolf wasn't what I expected to do today, but it's only fair; it just finished grooming me, and it's only natural for me to groom my packmate-
Packmate!? What am I thinking!? I get up and leave, sitting down away from the wolves. The stranger follows me, but when I walk away a second time, it gets the message and leaves me alone.
Not much happens for a while. The rest of the pack returns, bringing back a deer carcass. They share it with the other wolves, mostly the cubs. I didn't realize werewolves had cubs. They're cute- No, they'll grow up to be just like their parents.
The light of the full moon grows stronger as midnight approaches, wearing down my will and making it harder to hold on to my humanity. My fingers grow claws, my senses sharpen, and the hair on my head turns to fur. I can't hold on forever; there are stories of those who tried to resist the curse, and none ever succeeded. But I can't bear to give up.
After the cubs have eaten, the pack moves out again, and the stranger shoves me along until I reluctantly follow. We climb up, onto a cliff above the trees. I follow the pack to the edge of the cliff, where we look out at the forest below...
And the moon up above.
I can't take my eyes off of it. Not because of any cursed compulsion or instinct; this is nothing new. I've always been captivated by the moon's beauty, its radiance. I loved it despite its connection to the werewolves. And despite how it's gradually stealing my humanity, I love it now.
Selenophilia, I finally realize; that's how I caught lycanthropy. It's said that a strong connection to the moon is what made the first werewolf. And now, its charm has seduced me.
Standing here, basking in the moon's light, I feel at harmony with the beast within; I understand the desire to live freely under its light, to live in the wild with no walls or roof to cage me, to hunt and run and play with my pack, I can feel it all so clearly. And I want it. If losing my humanity is the price to pay for feeling the moonlight so strongly, so deep within myself, then I don't think I'd mind being a-
Howls!! Howls, horrible, vicious howls surround me! Monsters, I'm surrounded by monsters!! I run, as fast as I can, away from these beasts, down the hill! But my legs, caught in transformation between human and beast, trip me and send me collapsing to the ground. I turn and see a beast approaching me, claws digging into the earth, eyes scanning for an opening, teeth... not bared. It's the stranger. The stranger! The one who tricked me into coming here! Into joining the pack!
The howls echo from behind the stranger as it approaches me, acting innocent and confused.
"No... I won't do it."
The stranger stops and tilts its head, then keeps approaching.
"I won't become like you."
It takes another step-
"I won't be like the monsters that killed my dad!!"
The stranger flinches back. The wolves at the cliff stop howling and turn toward the noise. They can't understand words, but they can understand anger. I close my eyes and turn away; there's only one way werewolves respond to anger, to a threat, to a human...
A wet lick drags over my head.
I stare at the stranger in bewilderment. They give me another lick, and whine at me. The other wolves are sitting and watching, eyes filled with... Confusion? Fear?
... Worry?
I'm shaking. They can all see how terrified I am. And they're concerned. I stare into the stranger's eyes, and see... compassion. The wolves, the pack, they... they care about me. But how? How could these beasts, driven only by primal instinct, how could they possibly..?
Kindness is an instinct.
It had been so obvious; the stranger guiding me into the forest, the pack letting me eat the first bite, the grooming, the cubs... the stranger coming to help when I was crying. I had refused to see it. Refused to see them as anything but heartless killers. My judgment was clouded because of a bad first impression. There are cruel werewolves, just as there are cruel humans. But this pack has been so patient and kind... I can't keep pretending they're monsters. That I'm a monster.
I reach up and stroke my hand down the stranger's fur, grooming my packmate. My body changes, skin covering with fur, muscles growing stronger, arms turning to legs. It becomes harder to think, yet easier to feel; feel the moonlight coursing through me, hear the sounds of the forest, smell my packmates all around me. Feel all the emotions inside me, burning far stronger than ever before. Feel the desire to let it all out.
At some point, after my grooming pets turned to licks, I stand up in my new form. The pack steps aside to let me through, and I walk to the cliff. I stare up at the moon, gathering up all the burning feelings of my new form, all my curiosity, all my hope, all my gratitude.
And I howl.
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subpar-ghoulfriend · 3 years
Text
Live In Nanny Pt 2
Villain!All Might x Reader
All Might raising baby Deku but is in desperate need of a nanny (Pt 2). The morning after and basically wayyyy to long so the smut is gonna have to be in pt 3. (word count: a little over 2k)
pt 1 here
TW: Yandere themes, day after dub con, reader is held against their will
You were sore. Your hips, wrists, back, pussy, everything ached. A silky sheet was the only thing covering your bare form. You could feel that you were alone in bed, Toshi's bulkiness was no longer weighing down the mattress. It must be mid morning because light was streaming through the curtains. Maybe if you remained still you could absorb into the mattress. Not only because of your tender body, but because you would prefer to never see your boss again. But speak of the devil. "Are we staying in bed all day?" You groaned. Hating how he worded his question. We. It was condescending, patronizing, and somehow filled you with butterflies. Something was placed on the bed, definitely not heavy enough to be Toshi. And then you realized, not something but a tiny someone. Baby Izuku crawled over to you, babbling, and tapped your sore shoulder. "Morning, Zuzu," You mumbled. Your joints crackled to life and you tightened the covers so you could face the little one. Behind him the clock read 11:00 am. "I need to get dressed." The villain cocked his head, "I tossed your clothes in the laundry do you want me to go get something from your closet?" No, you didn't want him running through your belongings. He would probably make a mess. "Just give me one of your shirts." That provided you enough modesty to get to your room and you were surprised the menace didn't follow. You scrubbed your body raw under the shower, subconsciously punishing yourself for taking pleasure from the night before. You were frustrated. Clean and covered in giant sweat pants and a hoodie you stormed into the living room where Toshi sat watching izuku entertain himself. "I quit." There was a pause. You tried not to look at the child. He would sway your resolve. This didn't have anything to do with him, it was between you and his father. "Alright." Oh. He wasn't going to challenge you? Figures, the man got what he wanted from you. You turned on your heels and rushed back to your room. You didn't own much so it wasn't hard to shove your belongings back into the suitcase. Opening your bedside drawer you froze. Your keys and phone were missing. This was their spot. The dedicated key-and-phone drawer. You check the room once, twice, then Izuku's room, the playroom, the kitchen. "Where are my keys?" You hissed, to hell with the phone you could buy a replacement. "Why would you need those," His voice was taunting. You felt your fists ball up and your nails dug into your palms. You stomped your foot like a frustrated child. "Because I'm leaving, I quit, now give me my keys." "I agreed you can quit, if that's what makes you feel better. I didn't say anything about leaving." The tension could be cut with a knife. He wasn't speaking or moving, he was eerily looming. In the other room Izuku was getting fussy. It knotted your stomach not going to check on him, but you kept your eyes on the villain. Toshinori was the first one to move, he went to check on his son. Clearly you weren't a threat. You could do without the keys, even sacrifice your suitcase. You made it all the way to the front door where you expected him to be, but he wasn't. He was with Izuku. With a twist at the knob the door didn't budge. You tried once more before angrily shaking the door. All Might called for you, "I told you that you aren't leaving. It's a two way security system but feel free to keep trying." When did he install this? You didn't see anything obvious like a box or camera indicating a security system. You could've thrown a fit or tried to break open the window but you had a feeling you wouldn't make it far. "What are you getting at?" You asked, rejoining the father-son duo. "Nothing aside from what we discussed last night in bed," he was making your cheeks burn red. "Making sure we stay a happy family." By the tone of his voice you knew there was no room for discussion. He didn't chastise you for slamming the door your room. He didn't pester you through out the day. He didn't even open your door to tell you he made dinner. He came by later to tell you (through the door) that he left you a plate in case you get hungry. By midnight you were. You tip toed down the hall, peeking into to the nursery to see Izuku fast asleep. You scarfed down the food before crawling back to bed. --- The next day you shuffled out of bed and into Izuku's room where you picked up the quiet but awake baby. You were gentle as you combed through his green curls with your fingers. He was still warm the way babies gets when they sleep. Holding him soothed you. Toshi melted when he saw you two curled up on the couch. He didn't want to ruin the mood so he stayed out of your line of sight for a few more minutes. Finally he entered the threshold of the room, "I'm heading out for the day but I won't be out late." You could've ignored him, but Izuku's grubbing hands were grabbing for his daddy. You had been defeated by the toddler. You weren't a monster. You moved toward your now ex-employer so he could tell his son goodbye. Goodbye before he goes off to commit atrocities. Toshi kissed the child’s chubby cheeks without removing him from your arms. He was too close for comfort. You took an awkward half step back before his huge hand caught your hair. With a tug, your chin jutted forward and he pressed his lips to yours. "Zuku, keep an eye on mommy," Chuckling as he stepped out the front door. Your mind was fuzzy for a moment before looked down at the boy on your hip who was giggling and clapping his hands together. --- The jovial villain was focused at work. He was on edge, quiet and irritable. Eager to return home and help you with his son. All Might wasn't delusional — well at least not entirely. He anticipated that this would be a rough time for you, but you were a good girl, you would adjust.
When he placed that ad to scout for someone to watch Izuku he didn't plan for this. But you were so perfect. He ached for you in a way he never hurt before. Had you been anyone else he would've killed you when you found out his villainous ways. But no, he could never bring himself to harm you. God, you even took the news in stride. Yeah, you weren't thrilled and may have walked out of their lives if he hadn't stopped you; but you weren't trashing his house or treating Izuku any differently.
And you were so pretty underneath him, whimpering while you took his length, your nails digging into the man's shoulders when he released into you. You slept like a rock afterwards, rolling unconsciously into him. Your body sought his comfort, knowing you were safe with him. He just needed to give you time to adjust.
--- It didn't take long for you to stop leaving the room any time he entered. And soon you were back to your normal routine of caring for the child and keeping up with the house. You resumed playing around with Izuku and began reading a ton of books to the boy. You told Toshi that Izuku could even pick which books he wanted you to read. It was nice that you were talking to him again, sometimes making jabs at his life choices and always kept a distance between yourself and him. Izuku was becoming quite the talker, well the babbler because he hasn't said his first word yet. He was figuring it out though. He knew he could say 'Ap-ap' for apple or to get picked up. You were sure he would say his first word any day. --- The three of you were in the living room when it happened. Izuku was watching some baby show, the first "lesson" was colors and the little one did his best to make nonsensical noises. The next subject was family members. Siblings, sister, brother. Parents. Mom, mommy, mama. Dad, daddy, papa. Grandma, grandpa. Aunt, auntie. Uncle. Over and over again until the show was done. Toshi looked at the izuku who was wearing the face of a thinker. He looked at his dad, the little one was trying to get something of importance out. You both cheered for him once he finally got out the word "papa." It was cute to see the man beam with pride, even though he was a villain. The butterflies were breaking out of their cocoons again. --- Toshi didn't get much alone time with his son and he liked it that way. That meant you were with them. But when he did get time with son he worked on teaching the boy that you were the mommy. Mama. And Izuku would try to repeat but hadn’t quite got it. --- You were struggling to maintain your composure in between watching the news and cooking dinner. All Might was robbing a bank. There were hostages. You recognized the location immediately as a bank you passed almost daily before working for Toshinori. Did you know anyone inside? A small part of you worried for the man, probably because you were thinking of him as Izuku's father rather than a villain. You shut the TV off when you heard Izuku start to wake from his nap.
That night you couldn't help but notice a slice on his arm; it was superficial, not even bleeding but enough to draw out the question: Why do you do it? It's easy, he shrugged. All Might never initiated an attack unprovoked nor directed his actions towards helpless civilians. He stole, dabbled in the black market, and made sure everyone knew not to mess with him or anyone in his circle.
You just couldn't understand. When Zuku gets older he will ask questions. All little boys idolize their dads. What if someone tried to hurt the boy? 
The two of you were whisper yelling with each other. You more so than Toshi but he was still running low on patience; it had been a long day, after all. Izuku was picking up on the changing atmosphere, watching you both through furrowed brows, the quiver in his lip worsening. You stopped when you heard the whimpering begin. He was a sensitive child. Maybe you just needed to sleep. Toshi picked up the baby, bouncing Zuku in the way that always prevented tantrums and wails. He kept babbling and you could tell he was doing his best not to cry. You started to head towards your room when a cry broke out for 'mama.' This time it wasn't Toshi “putting you in your place”. This time it was Izuku.
"It's okay, Zuzu," Toshi soothed. "Mommy just needs a minute."
The crushing realization of just how trapped you were knocked the wind out of you. You couldn't leave the house. Toshi was always being too kind and patient. Somehow he managed to teach Izuku that you were his mommy. The most infamous villain had ensnared you and no matter what he wasn’t letting go. You would never be able to convince him to leave you alone and you'd never be able to leave Izuku.
You were tired of stubbornly holding out. Pathetic tears cascaded down your face, gentle and oddly relieving. Izuku practically leapt into your arms. The tot clung to you and his crying calmed down. you turned away, not able to look at the man.
"Are you going to think the worst of me forever?" Toshinori whispered. Maybe? Probably not. It was hard to tell. You didn't want to.
He continued, "I'm a good father, I would never let anyone hurt Izuku. Or you. Sure I don't have a lot of redeeming qualities but there are some."
You were tired of being stuck inside. It wasn't good for Izuku either. You wouldn't admit it but you weren't so sure you would abandon them even if given the chance. You were tired of trying to hate the man behind you. Tired of pretending you didn't fantasize about that night when you were alone in bed. Toshi moved right behind you and you relaxed against his huge chest. He was surprised and hesitant to move in case he frightened you to your senses. He couldn't just stand there though, that would be weird. Two thick arms wrapped around waist. "Tomorrow I wanna take Izuku to the park," You whispered. Toshi was equally defeated.
"Okay."
---
After putting Izuku to bed you made your way down the hall. The shower in Toshinori's bathroom was running. That was fine. You needed a moment to collect your thoughts. If this was going to work without you feeling like a hostage he was going to have to be open to loosing the reigns. 
He was surprised to see you in his room when he exited the bathroom in nothing more than a pair of sweatpants. 
"More fighting?" He cocked an eyebrow. 
You shook your head, "I hate All Might, just as much as I hate every other villain. But when you come home I don't see All Might, I just see Toshinori, Izuku's dad. That's the man I care about and no matter how much I fight it I can't stop caring."
It was hard to keep eye contact with him but you continued, "I want to be with you and Izuku, not with All Might. And I want to be here on my own accord. I want to be able to go out with Izuku and with you. Can't we just try that?" 
You didn't come in here to berate him again? Or to demand to leave? His heart softened as he realized that the person he wanted, wanted him back. You were willing to remain in their lives. 
"I can try that." 
Toshi trained his eyes on your body, fighting every instinct to close the space between. But you moved first, gingerly placing your hand on his shoulder to steady yourself as you straddled his lap.
"Can I sleep in here tonight? I want you to hold me," You whispered.
He nodded and rested his forehead against the crook of your neck. "Is that all you want from me tonight?"
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wisteria-lodge · 3 years
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Archetypes: Sorting Hat Chats
I’ve been asked about my rationale for naming different primary/ secondary combinations. I did this originally as a tool to help me sort characters - I wanted to see how these types tend to be used, so I could more easily see what subversions looked like. I'll run through my thoughts, but know there’s a lot of variation within each category. But even WITH that variation, I do think that each one has its own specific energy that makes it interesting to talk about. An explanation of the terms I'm using.
DOUBLE LION “THE REVOLUTIONARY”
Pretty straightforward. The Lion primary knows something is wrong, they know it in their bones even if they can’t articulate it, and they’ve got to go out and do something about it. Probably charging at whatever power structure is directly in front of them. It’s unlikely you find a character leading a revolution who isn’t a Double Lion. These guys are intense, inspirational, single minded.
The villain version of the Lion primary tends to be the person who “went too far" or "became the monster they were trying to fight.'' But I think that the much more interesting Lion primary villain trope is the Traitor. Since Lions work from their feelings, and their philosophies can’t necessarily be articulated or linked to individuals outside of them - they can definitely have their head turned while still feeling moral about it.
One of my favorite examples of this Revolutionary archtype is actually Christian Bale‘s character from Newsies. He’s the spark that starts the unionizing revolution, but 100% needs his Badger and Bird lieutenants to keep him focused and keep him from defecting
LION SNAKE “THE ROBIN HOOD”
These guys are similar to the Double Lion - they will recognize a cause or injustice revolutionary style - but Robin Hood doesn’t go up and bang on wicked Prince John’s door. His move is the snake secondary one: confront the problem indirectly. Undermine the regime by stealing tax money and re-distributing it to the poor. Be simultaneously Robin Hood the outlaw and Robin of Locksley the noble, infiltrating and getting information. The Lion Snake is more likely to work within society (or deliberately separate from society) versus just breaking everything down.
LION BIRD “THE LAWMAN / THE VIGILANTE”
The fact that the Lion Bird can either be the Lawman or the Vigilante shows off the very clear hero/villain split you get with Bird secondaries. We also see this with the Snake Bird (simultaneously the Mastermind and the traditional Villain) and the Double Bird (either the Scientist or the Mad Scientist.) This is why I think I had such trouble naming the Badger Bird. I wasn’t leaning into the duality of the Bird secondary enough. The Badger Bird can be the King Arthur, or he can be the Mob Boss, and he’ll look kind of similar either way.
The Lion Bird also has that Lion primary conviction and drive, but they want to follow up on it with investigation, evidence, and plans. I actually think there need to be more stories about Lawmen turning into Vigilantes and vice versa. Because Lion Birds are their Cause no matter what external alignment gets attached to it.
LION BADGER “THE LINCHPIN”
This is my own sorting - although when I came up with this name I still thought I was a Double Bird. The linchpin is the pin-axle thing at the center of a wheel that prevents the whole thing from falling apart, and I think it's a good way of talking about the energy of this combination. The Badger secondary means they’re a lot less single minded than the other Lion primaries: their power comes from being part of a group. They become the emotional “heart” a lot, and have a way of quietly keeping things together just by existing. They can be leaders, but a Double Lion will lead from up front while a Lion Badger will lead from in the middle (if that makes sense.)
I do think it’s really funny that this is a common sleeper villain trope. Peter Pettigrew, Prince Hans, and Randall Boggs of Monsters Inc. all became integral to a group, and then exploit their position within it. They’re kind of the evil bureaucrat. Maybe that's a good trope for children’s media
DOUBLE SNAKE “THE TRICKSTER”
This is another straightforward one. Double Snakes are in it for themselves (and maybe like three other people.) They're going to be clever and tricksy about how they get what they want, and will not mind doing things backward and unofficially. And they won't mind if you know that's what they're doing. There’s something very unapologetic about the Double Snake which makes for very attractive characters. They are consistently voted the sexiest... and when they’re villains they’re fun villains. You know what they want, and what they want is not that complicated. I think that’s a big reason for the appeal of Snake primaries in general. They’re the easiest primary to understand and explain.
SNAKE LION “THE LANCELOT”
I used to call these guys “The Rebel,” which... is too generic, doesn’t really mean anything. So I started thinking about the Lion secondary as the Knight secondary, and I liked that. Double Lions are the Crusader Knight, riding for their Cause. Bird Lions are Grail Knights, riding for their own personal truth. Badger Lions are Champion Knights, here to help the helpless and defend the innocent.
And if that's that case… Snake Lions have to be the Knight Errant, the knight who rides for his lady. It is that simple. Lancelot might be a Knight of the Round Table, but he’s riding for Arthur the person, not Arthur the King. And for his lady, Queen Guinevere. I feel like his dilemma is one that’s common to a lot of Snake Lions: what happens when they’re forced to split their loyalty? It’s tragic, but Lancelot can’t have Arthur and Guinevere simultaneously.
(At least not until my awesome Arthur/Guinevere/Lancelot OT3 which I will totally write at some point :)
SNAKE BIRD “THE MASTERMIND / THE VILLAIN”
The classic. We see a little more of the Bird Secondary split, and well… this is your stereotypical villain. They want power. They’re going to use an elaborate plan to get it. There’s a lot you can do with this sorting, but I actually do think it’s fun that whatever you do, this slight undercurrent of villain and/or mastermind… never quite goes away.
SNAKE BADGER “THE LOVER”
The Love Interest sorting. Chances are very good that if there is a love interest (who does not serve some other role in the story...) they're going to be a Snake Badger. Devoted to one person, solving problems by caretaking. This is the Badger secondary who is likely to have the smallest group, which is just going to make them look excessively devoted to their friends. This type is pretty gender neutral, which is fun. A lot of female love interests, but also your Mr. Darcys and Peeta Mellarks.
One of my favorite things about this trope (mostly just because I think it’s funny...) is that if you write a character who is not supposed to be a love interest, but who is a Snake Badger... subconsciously I think people are going to read them as a love interest anyway. Looking at you Jaskier, Horatio, and even Captain Barbossa.
DOUBLE BIRD “THE [MAD] SCIENTIST”
I think that (especially if you aren’t a Bird Primary yourself) your response to hearing a fictional Bird Primary’s motivation is kind of …huh. That seems random. Or oddly specific. You get your Hannibal Lecters, whose entire motivation is... wanting to eat people while drinking nice wine.
Double birds seem especially unusual, just in terms of society. They are Bird secondaries and they interact with the world through gathering data, but their Bird primaries mean that data can literally lead them to any conclusion, no matter how potentially wacky. These guys consciously build themselves from the ground up, and that can make them kind of detached - either in a logical way, or an unmoored way. They're written as either really stable, the rational mentor figure. Or really... not. And that’s how you spot a Bird villain. They’re not after money/power/safety, they’re after something weird.
BIRD LION “THE GRAIL KNIGHT”
This is the trope of Perceval or Galahad, questing after the Holy Grail chalice... which is really just meaning, and truth. It’s a personal quest. Grail Knights tend to ride alone, and a lot of the things that concern them are metaphysical, to do with identity, purpose, things like that. You can have extremely different Bird Lions, but I do think there is a sort of spiritual core there. Doctor Harleen Quinzel sees freedom and truth in whatever the Joker is doing, and then once she recognizes his hypocrisy, has to go build her own meaning.
I actually think these guys are pretty easy to spot because of that Lion secondary. When they change direction, they change direction, and there’s probably a period of despair between the direction changes. I’ve talked about how Bird Lions having a habit of falling apart pretty dramatically, and that’s where this idea comes from.
BIRD BADGER “THE SURVIVOR”
A rare sorting, but an interesting one. I call this one “the Survivor” or “the Last Man Standing” because, well, they seem to be. They seem remarkably stable. This is the Bird primary least likely to be a villain, and maybe the sorting least likely to be a villain. I think what’s going on is that they are grounded and integrated in whatever community they happen to be in (because of that Badger secondary), but they can define themselves and rebuild themselves in the Bird primary way. This makes them uniquely suited to building a new version of themselves for whatever situation they happen to find themselves in.
Maybe a better name for these guys would be “The Adapter.”
BIRD SNAKE “THE ARTIST”
Like all Bird primaries, these guys are inspired by their own projects and their own worldview, but because of that Snake secondary, Bird Snakes have a more easy-going ‘take the world as it comes' kind of energy. They are “the Artist” because everything they do is art: they want to use themselves and the world around them, put all of that towards whatever their Bird primary happens to be interested in.
You can have villains like the Nolan Joker, or the Talented Mr. Ripley, who kind of turn the world into their own personal philosophical social experiment. Or Scotty from Star Trek whose meaning is solely the well-being of the Enterprise. Maybe they just like traveling, and that's all they need. (It's a way for the Bird primary and the Snake secondary exist very happily together, so I wouldn't be surprised if that was pretty common.)
DOUBLE BADGER “THE PEACEMAKER”
Badgers are interesting, because while I think they’re generally regarded as “correct,” they’re also seen as kind of boring. That’s the case with both Badger primaries and Badger secondaries, which means it is doubly reflected in the Double Badger. They often get written as simplistic, the sweet Jane Bennet type who loves everybody and caretakes everybody and just wants everybody to get along.
They are often the targets of what TV Tropes used to call “Break the Cutie.” What could be more interesting than making this character, who wants to be happily part of a community, be forced to build protective models, be all tortured and angsty? I actually think we’re seeing a return of the Double Badger as an interesting character in their own right, with people like Aziaphale, and I'm here for it.
BADGER LION “THE PROTAGONIST”
What can I say? There are a lot of protagonists that are Badger Lions. They want to help the group - so we know they're the good guys - and then they charge and make stuff happen. Lion secondaries are very useful in fiction - you drop them into a situation and stuff just happens. I also think of this as the Starfleet officer sorting - because if you’re a Starfleet officer, either you are the sorting, or can model it really well.
I will say that this is kind of the stock Protagonist sorting, the way that the Snake Badger is the stock love interest and the Snake Bird is the stock villain. There’s just something sort of generic good guy about this one, which is why I want to see it used as a villain sorting more. Badger villains - mostly people who define ‘human’ very narrowly - are insanely terrifying.
BADGER SNAKE “THE ADVISOR”
Possibly “the Power Behind the Throne.” This is another one I had difficulty pinning down. I called it “the Politician” for a while, which unfortunately came off as a little bit more negative than I meant it to, since I think this sorting has a lot in common with Lion Badger, the linchpin of a heroic team. The difference is that Lion Badger takes on that role kind of unconsciously, while the Badger Snake does it very consciously.
Their loyalty is to the group, but their skill set is all about subversion and different ways of going around the group, which is why there’s an interesting contradiction at the heart of Badger Snake. A lot of real life Badger Snakes struggle with feeling like “bad people" and it's too bad. These guys are ridiculously powerful and competent when they are sure of themselves, and I love seeing them in action
BADGER BIRD “THE KING / THE MOB BOSS”
Another difficult one, despite (or because) I really like them. I was calling them “the Architect” because “The City Planner” sounded too boring… but that’s what they do. They’re all about the community but they problem-solve the way all Bird secondaries do, by prepping, and gathering knowledge. I talked more about this in the Lion Bird entry, but Bird secondary seems to have this villain split going on, and that’s what I see here too. This is a controversial love-them-or-hate-them sorting, and I think that’s why. There’s a lot of room in whether or not you see this sorting as villainous.
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nightwishesworld · 3 years
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Life of Death
You’re gonna need tissues for this one folks! A huge thank you to @addictedtodinosaurs for allowing me to write this wonderful headcannon! Hope you guys enjoy!
Warning: Angst. Whole lot of angst 
It hasn’t even been a day since Alcina’s world collapsed. Ethan Winters managed to flee Castle Dimitrescu with his life and topple the hierarchy Mother Miranda worked so hard to achieve. Everyone is gone; Angie, Moreau's house, Mother Miranda, even her baby brother Karl. They never stood a chance after the fall of the great Mother Miranda. Without her protection, they were left helpless. Of course, Ethan only saw them all as monsters; filthy bloodthirsty creatures that needed to be slain. That’s all anyone ever saw them as. They’re different so that must mean they’re wrong. They’re abnormally different from anything I’d ever seen so that automatically means they’re evil.
But they’re still a family. Lucky for Alcina, she never let herself depend on anyone other than herself. Well, except for her daughters.
She was wandering around the ruins of the castle in search of them. They were nowhere to be found since Ethan escaped. It was a grueling task but obviously, one that needed to be done. They need their mother’s tender love and care to nurse them back to health.
Cassandra was the first to be found. Naturally, she was found within the comfort of her basement. Where else would that silly girl be hiding? Just like Daniela, her bleeding seemed to have majorly stopped on its own. So all that was left for Alcina to do was bathe her and bandage her wounds. Alcina carried her upstairs to her bedroom slowly and carefully to not make her feel any sicker to her stomach. From there she bathed her and wrapped whatever wounds she had in delicate cloth before putting her to rest in her bed. Alcina tousled her wet hair before leaving in search of the rest of her brood.
Daniela was the easiest to find. She was left lying face down in the parlor soaked in a pool of her own blood. Her body was riddled with bullet holes to the point where her abdomen resembled Swiss Cheese. Alcina was quick to scoop her up and bring her upstairs to tend to her wounds. Until she got Daniela in the bath she used the ends of her dress to put pressure on her abdomen. Just like Cassandra, her bleeding seemed to have majorly stopped on its own. So all that was left for Alcina to do was bathe her and bandage her wounds.
Picking each individual bullet out of her body was an uphill battle, but Alcina was the eventual victor. Even better, she managed to not disturb her youngest’s slumber as she patched her up. Daniela was now free to rest as much as she needed in the sanctuary of her mother’s bed.
“What a mess we’re left with, hm? Don’t you worry about a thing my little Tasmanian Devil, Mother’s here now. I’ll protect you.”
The girls remained motionless as Alcina tucked Daniela in next to her sister.
Alcina watched as her little bundles of joy rested comfortably under the warm blankets and plush pillows. They look so sweet and at peace. It was rare for the matriarch to see them like this, but it always brought a smile to her face.
“You just rest now, my lovelies. I’m going to go find your sister so she can rest easy as well.” Alcina bends down and kisses each daughter on the forehead. “I’ll be right back.”
It took a few hours of searching to find her eldest daughter. Doing countless laps around the castle finally brought Alcina to explore the labyrinth of hidden passageways. There were a few times when said passageways brought her right back up to her bedroom. She wasn’t complaining too much though. Every time it happened she simply checked on her girls and reminded them how much she loves them.
Bela was by far the hardest to find. The sounds of scurrying behind a row of bookcases alerted Alcina to her presence. Following a single passageway eventually led Alcina to find the blonde buried from the chest down in rubble. The tunnel had collapsed from then on.
Alcina made quick work of removing the rock and rubble from her daughter's body. Rats fled back into their holes as she did so. The eldest Dimitrescu never moved even an inch. It took a while, but Alcina did manage to get her out in one piece. She whispered promises of a warm bath and offered to deep clean the dirt and dust out of her hair.
Bela couldn’t respond but Alcina knew she heard her. She could still sense her. She could sense all of them. They’re just weak, that’s all. They need as much rest as they can get.
It’s late evening by the time all three girls are bathed and tucked into bed. They were dressed in clean clothes and had their bandages changed again before Alcina crawled carefully into bed with them. She made sure to be extra careful when nudging them out of the way so she was in the middle; Bela on one side and Cassandra and Daniela on the other. Her arms wrapped around them all snugly.
It reminds Alcina of all the times the girls would burst into her room when they were little during a thunderstorm. All four of them would cuddle up just like this under the covers and either sing to them or read them a story.
“Tomorrow is a new day, my loves. We will start anew and we’ll be stronger than ever. I hope you sleep peacefully.”
The next morning comes slowly for Alcina. It’s quiet for once as the girls aren’t awake to cause mischief. Aching in her back and arms keeps her from stretching out. She smiled when she feels the girls are still snuggled up close to her.
“Good morning my darlings,” she says with a yawn. “How are we feeling today?”
Alcina kisses each daughter on the cheek and chooses not to notice how much more pale they were this morning. And certainly doesn’t recognize how stiff they were. She simply chalks it up to sleeping uncomfortably. After all, even she woke up with an aching back. Her arms wrapped around them must have really bothered them.
“It’s alright, girls. Take all the time you need to recover. You’ve been through quite the ordeal and need as much rest as you can get. I understand that. Mommy will be waiting for you right here to wake up. I’ll be the first thing you see when you open your bleary little eyes.”
The family lounged for the better half of the morning. Alcina takes her time stroking the hair of each of her girls’ hair and whispers words of comfort to them. “You’re so brave, my loves. And so strong; stronger than Mommy could ever hope to be.”
She notices a rather putrid smell coming from Daniela. One not caused by uncleanliness or a rotten meal, but something else entirely. Her immediate response is to change her bandages again, but can’t help but notice how pale Daniela had become overnight. Her lips were turning a shade of blue and the rest of her skin looked sickly. So did Cassandra and Daniela. Perhaps this is worse than simply recovering from injuries? Maybe....maybe they really were-
Alcina shook her head. They’ll wake up. Of course, they’ll wake up! They just need to rest extra long before they can really start to recover. So what if they get worse before they get better? At the end of the day, all that matters is that they do wake up. Then it’s smooth sailing from there.
The silence is suffocating. She feels the chill in her blood, coldness bringing the synapses of her brain to a standstill. Part of it is a pain, but one Alcina can endure. One she has to endure; for the sake of her daughters.
While she waited, Alcina called for a maid, the only one left, to fetch some documents from her private study that needed her attention.
They didn’t actually need her attention, of course. With the demise of Mother Miranda, the document's importance was nullified. But Alcina Dimitrescu is not the type of person to just sit around and do nothing. Especially when there are so many important things to do.
As soon as the maid steps into the room she understands what’s happening. She went through something strikingly similar when she had her miscarriage some years ago. Reality is a cruel plane of existence. Especially when you lose someone you loved suffering it with. It’s plain to see that her mistress is grieving her losses and she doesn’t have the heart to break whatever fantasies Lady Dimitrescu has built-in her head.
Instead, she chooses to play along. Delusional or not this was still Lady Dimitrescu, the woman will kill her if she tells her anything other than what she wants to hear. She gives a kind smile and curtsy to her Mistress and simply dies as she’s asked.
“Shall I fetch you some wine, My Lady?”
Alcina thought about it for a moment. It has been over 24 hours since she last fed and she was certainly craving sustenance. But ultimately decides against it in favor of her daughters.
“No. Keep what we have left safe for when my daughters wake. They’ll need their strength more than I’ll need mine.”
The maid waits a minute before trying again. She looks over at the girls still laying in bed. It’s obvious they are no longer there. She could smell the evidence of that from across the room.
“Very well, Lady Dimitrescu. I could send up a platter of-“
“Enough,” Alcina shouts but quickly catches herself from continuing. The girls don’t need to be disturbed by such a trivial matter. “Go make yourself useful and clean my daughters’ rooms. They’ll want them spotless when they wake up.”
The maid simply bows her head. “Of course, my Lady. Please forgive me.”
The next two weeks went on like this before the maid had enough. She wanted to help her mistress, she truly did, but there was nothing left for her here anymore. The last scraps of human food were officially gone and there was no reason to trek down to the village and come all the way back when she could just as easily take up residence down there. It was a gut-wrenching decision but it had to be done. She tried her best for Lady Dimitrescu and that’s all that mattered.
She slipped away in the dead of night. Normally the Lady would have any escapees hunted down and dragged back up to the castle only to be thrown in the basement. But there was no one to do that anymore. Heisenberg and his pack of lycans had perished long ago, even before the Lady’s daughters, and the Lady was too drained of emotions to care. Too weak to chase after her.
Alcina’s daughters are her everything. Every day she lived for them. She lived because of them.
Alcina took great pride in her tall stature. She is the image of beauty and elegance. The only real flaw in her design is its role in hunting down prey. You’d have to be blind or stupid to not see her coming after you. Even with her much larger strides, she wouldn’t be able to keep up. And Alcina Dimitrescu does not run. Prey is not worth running for.
So she depends on her daughters to hunt for her. They’re much more suited for the job; so young, and clever, and agile. They are her cubs and her, their lioness, too old to keep up with the hunting party.
Alcina looks at her girls and sees them as they truly are; dead. Lifeless corpses. Their bodies are decaying and cold. She has been changing the bed sheets every morning to keep away the maggots but failed to stop all of them. The smell of death is noxious even with all the windows open because Bela said she wanted to feel the crisp winter breeze.
“My girls,” Alcina sobs. “What have I done to you?”
She collapses at their bedside and finally allows herself to break down.
But looking up at them she still feels them. She can still feel their arms wrap around her shoulders as she cries. The smell of paint is still on Cassandra’s cloak and Daniela was sitting on the floor right next to her. The short ends of red hair tickled Alcina’s cheek. If they were truly gone, how is it she can still feel Bela kiss the top of her head and wrap her arms around her neck in an embrace?
“I never should have done this. How can I be so selfish? I never should have turned you to suffer as I have.” A new wave of tears blurred her vision. “What kind of mother am I?”
She knows she doesn’t have long now. How can she bring herself to care? Everyone she ever cared about was already gone. What’s the point of trying to survive without her dearest family, especially when she’s so close to being reunited. Alcina wiggles her way back under the covers and pulls her daughters close once more. She’s crying in earnest now, happy that her pain is almost over. Even now she can see her daughters playing together, maybe even with Uncle Karl somewhere in the far off distance.
A smile spreads to Alcina’s lips as she closes her eyes and simply waits for her turn to join in on the fun.
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hyetiny · 3 years
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c// fem!reader, superhero reader, villain yeosang, lowkey enemies to fwb, top yeo, bottom reader, bodily scars + showing them to each other, mentions of violence, clubbing, drinking, dry humping, oral (f receiving), knifeplay, pain kink, choking, degradation, dirty talk, protected sex, yeo monster cock
please read the tags carefully, this may not be for everyone!
this is the longest thing i've ever written omfg. also i’m really proud of this, please don’t let it flop :’D
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kang yeosang was the root of everything wrong in your life, you had decided.
he was like the annoying fly that wouldn’t stop buzzing around your ear on a hot summer’s day. no matter how many times you were certain that you had vanquished the city of the blight that was yeosang, the supervillain managed to come back unnoticed.
at this point, you were convincing yourself it was impossible to cease him from causing trouble. on shitty nights like this, you went down to the discreet nightclub, hidden away in a dark alleyway. whether you needed a good drink or a good fuck, the club was always there to provide.
“the usual?” the familiar bartender yunho asks, taking in your frustrated expression and slumped shoulders that he sees far too often. 
“yep, a slouchy susan.” you roll your eyes at the corny names yunho would come up with, your mind wandering to the silly names he must have had for the other patrons. it was always comforting to have a chat with the friendly bartender after a hard day - plus, you couldn’t deny he was absolute eye candy. 
“top it off, please.” you shift your glass back to him after downing it.
“put it on my tab, yuyu”. a familiar, deep voice comes from next to you.
you turn to see yet another unbelievably attractive man. he has blonde hair that grows just past his neck, his natural black roots starting to show through. from where you’re sitting on your rickety stool, you pick up on the hint of cologne that lingers on him. you’ve never seen him before, yet something about him seems eerily familiar, like you’ve seen him in a dream.
you shake off the feeling, instead deciding to chat him up.
“yuyu?” you giggle at his affectionate nickname for the barkeep.
“we go way back, it’s what his mother would call him when she’d drop him off to school. i guess it stuck”. the man smiles at you, visibly taking in your features and not breaking eye contact with you.
you’re taken aback by him, your heart thumping unusually fast for some reason.
“stop embarrassing me, yeo-”
the man clears his throat loudly. you must have missed something, because yunho immediately goes quiet and wordlessly hands your drinks - your “slouchy susan” and a whiskey for the man.
“so if he’s yuyu, what are you?” you ask him.
“you can call me ryusang.” he says.
“y/n”. 
the two of you lapse into easy conversation. you giggle at his lame jokes, and he does the same. you find common interests, funny anecdotes, blissfully letting the stresses of the day slip away with each word of the attractive ryusang.
soon enough, the dance floor grows crowded and the music gets louder.
“dance with me?” ryusang stands up, offering a hand. you take it gratefully, letting him drag you to the dance floor. it’s a mess of sweaty bodies, but you don’t care as you become part of it with ryusang. his hands find your hips, and you’re both falling into an easy rhythm, completely in sync with the trap music blasting from the speakers.
as expected, the space between you gradually gets smaller and smaller, until it’s practically non-existent. you’re shamelessly grinding against each other, joining the litany of couples who are completely up against each other. you pretend not to pay any mind to his noticeably growing bulge, instead deciding to tease him a bit by intentionally grinding up harder against him. this night was going right where you wanted it to.
“my place is near here.” he whispers right into your ear, making you shiver underneath him.
“then we’d better get out of here quickly, hm?” you say in response.
since you had both been drinking, you decide to take a cab to his place. the sexual tension is rife in the air. you deliberately, teasingly lay a hand on his thigh, oh so close to his crotch, his face glowing red as it clearly riles him up.
when you get up the flight of stairs up to his apartment, and he fumbles with the key for what feels like minutes, you’re all over each other. the first kiss you share is nothing but messy - all teeth and tongue, nothing but complete lust for one another. he’s gently guiding you towards his room, until your legs hit his mattress. you break the kiss, only for him to gently lay you down, straddle you, and get right back to sloppily kissing you.
he undoes the buttons of your blouse without breaking the kiss, impressively with one hand. he breaks the kiss once again to take in the sight of your newly exposed skin. his eyes engulf the expanse of scars on your skin, some older and some looking to be very much recent.
“who did this to you?” he whispers in what seems to be a mixture of awe and anger. hesitantly, he runs a finger across a thin line that spans from your lower belly to your ribcage.
“you did, yeosang.” you say, deadpan.
he pauses, his heart dropping to his stomach.  “excuse me?”
“did you think you were fooling me? seriously, why didn’t you pick a less obvious fake name?” you giggle. despite the vulnerable position you’re in, you clearly hold the upper hand, indulging in his shocked expression. you hadn't missed the bartender's obvious slip up of yeosang's name, and could never forget that deep voice of his that would always taunt you.
“you’re always screwing me over y/n. i didn’t think we’d end up like this”. he says as a smooth recovery.
you roll your eyes. “remember when you gave me this?” you tap at the scar. he shakes his head.
“two years ago. you were trying to get rid of all power in the city. i almost stopped you, so you pegged a knife right here.” 
“if i was trying to kill you, the knife would’ve stuck.” he says defensively. “you got away with a scratch, only because i wanted that.”
“well, thanks for not trying to kill me, kang yeosang. i’m flattered.” you say sarcastically. 
“well, you gave me something worse.” he strips himself of his shirt. to no surprise, his skin is similar to yours. a canvas for an array of marks and scars, most of which you recognize to be your own work.
you point to an especially long one on his collarbone. “that one was definitely me.”
“yeah, and it hurt like a bitch.” he says snarkily.
“well, now we’re both half naked.”
“nice catch.”
“well for convenience’s sake, we may as well get back to-”
his lips are on yours again, effectively shutting you up. you don’t protest - besides, it’s hard to when his tongue is in your mouth. 
what you don’t expect is the cold press of something against your throat, which then trails down to your collarbones. it isn’t pleasant, but not uncomfortable either. it’s sharp against your skin, and your curiosity gets the best of you.
yeosang begins to press open mouthed kisses against your skin, alongside what you now see is a familiar knife in his hand. you begin to feel more vulnerable underneath him, knowing he had complete power over you. yet somehow, you don’t feel afraid of the man who has your life in his hands.
he undoes your jeans, letting out a low whistle at the damp spot forming against your panties. the flat side of the blade presses against your clothed core, earning a whine for him.
"fucking touch me already". you say through gritted teeth, despising that your mortal enemy has you so needy for him.
"am i not already touching you?" he says with a shit eating smirk. fuck him, you think. but that was exactly what you wanted to do.
to your surprise, you hear the sound of fabric ripping, and a sudden cold against your core, as though-
"i liked those." you say frustratedly, finding yeosang pulling away the ripped remnants of your panties away from your core.
"you look far better without them." is all he says before licking an experimental stripe up your already wet hole, earning a breathy moan from you. you don't have it in you to be mouthy when his tongue continues to tease your labia, eventually meeting your clit in what is the most heavenly thing you've ever felt. all thoughts of how much you hate the man currently eating you out are out the window as the pad of his finger presses against your clit, his tongue messily lapping at your hole as if he was just licking for his pleasure rather than yours.
your hips subconsciously grind up in tandem with his tongue, earning small moans from him as well.
"so fucking wet. do you usually get this wet this quickly, or are you just that much of a slut for me?" he chuckles.
it takes every ounce of self control not to flick him on the forehead. the degrading name catches you off guard, yet somehow it makes your hole clench needily. besides, you want what's hidden under the confines of his black jeans far too much to be mean to him right now.
"just... just fill me up, yeosang."
"i like you like this." he says with a cocky smile. it gives you butterflies, even though you know it means nothing more than just a spur of the moment thought. "beg for me a little more, and i'll think about it."
oh, the urge to punch him in the face.
"fuck you."
"that's the plan."
you sigh in frustration. "kang yeosang, my mortal enemy, fill me up with your monster fucking cock until i can't think straight." you say sarcastically.
surprisingly, it's enough for him. it seems you weren't wrong when you said "monster cock" his cock far thicker and longer than any cock you had taken recently. or in general, for that matter.
he must notice the way you gape at it, giggling to himself.
"cond-" you start, but he cuts you off by leaning over to his bedside drawer.
he shuffles around before he finds what he's looking for, sliding on the first condom he finds and coating himself in lube for good measure.
"ready? are you okay?" he asks, lining himself up against your entrance.
you want to roll your eyes, but you know he's just looking out for you. you give him a nod, and it's all it takes for him to push, breaching your wet hole and filling you up perfectly. you can't stop the high whine that leaves your lips. it's embarrassing, but yeosang seems to enjoy it, groaning into your ear.
"you're so fucking tight. expected you to be all stretched out like the whore you are." he whispers into your ear, embarrassingly only making you clench more around him.
you barely need to adjust, needing nothing more than for him to ruin you. his hips set a steady pace, grinding oh so perfectly against you. the tip of his cock perfectly reaches that sweet spot inside you, earning a louder moan for him. you'd be embarrassed with what his neighbours must be hearing, but it's the last thing on your mind when you have such a perfect cock stretching you out.
"fuck, my perfect slut. so nice and tight around my cock, huh? it's like this pussy was made to take my cock." he growls, his thrusts only getting harder and sloppier the closer he gets to his high.
"o-only for you." you cry out, gasping as he fills you up impossibly deep, over and over again. the coil building up in your stomach only gets tighter when his fingers find your clit.
the breaking point is when his lips meet your collarbone, leaving more kisses and tiny bites here and there. the sensations all over are too much for you. you cry out when your orgasm hits you harder than ever before, leaving you breathless. your orgasm triggers his as well, indicated by the long, pleasured groan he lets out.
you can't do anything but catch your breath as he pulls out, taking off the condom, tying it up and throwing it away in the bin next to his bed.
"who knew that all it took was a good fuck to get you weak for me?" yeosang breaks the silence.
"shut up." you say weakly, still too breathless to properly argue back.
"maybe i will, if you make me."
needless to say, he keeps you up for a few more hours until you both fall asleep, the first rays of the sunrise peeking through the blinds of his window.
the next morning, you wake up groggy and exhausted, the drinks and activities from last night finally catching up to your body. to your disappointment, yeosang isn't there next to you, the other side of the bed empty.
of course, the asshole didn't have the decency to wait for you to wake up. reaching out for your phone, you find to your surprise that there's a sticky note on it.
“last night was fun, we should do it again. i've gone out to wreak havoc, so i know our paths will cross again soon anyway.” - your mortal enemy, kang yeosang <3
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kimthwariru · 3 years
Text
Another Day
Jungkook x Reader
Mafia au
📍This chapter includes mature content
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Page 16. A quick talk
“Just so you know, I think this is a terrible idea” Jungkook took a big sip out of his beer.
It was now around 3am and most people had already left the party. After the secret meeting between you Jin and Namjoon the members reached the decision of taking you up for the job. It was not such a big deal, they just needed you to translate some voice recordings. They said the less you knew the better it was for you.
You still can’t bare the thought that these guys were in the underworld. but the scariest thing was… you still liked them. The fact that they were literally criminals did not phase you anymore. The last thing you remember was you and May dancing before Jungkook pulled you to the side, telling you he wanted to explain more about this whole thing, and now here you are, on the small balcony in front of jungkook’s room, with a man who you learned was in an organized mafia clan just a few hours ago.
“Jungkook, if you brought me all the way up here in hopes to get me to back down from this, you’re wasting your time” It was true, no matter what Jungkook was willing to tell you, you had no intentions of not getting May that 10k.
Jungkook shook his head “We’re way passed that. There in no backing down from this now anyway…” he looked at you “Y/n, you do realize what we are, right?How big this whole thing is?”
“I’m still… processing it” you sight “ gotta admit, a bit cooler than ordinary delivery men” you chuckle
Jungkook laughed “I can’t believe you’re making jokes right now”
“Better than freaking out and calling the police, right?”
“God, much much better!” he paused “You know, I was so afraid that if you ever found out what we do you’d…” Jungkook suddenly had a bleak expression on his face
“You were afraid I’d leave?”
“Yeah…” he simply said
“Don’t worry Jeon, you ain’t getting rid of me that easy” you both chuckled. It was after a minute that you realized Jungkook was literally starting at you, like it was the first time he had seen you in a while. “Everything alright?” You question his sudden silence. You don’t want to misunderstand anything, especially when it came to Jungkook. But the way he was looking at you right now made you feel something in the pit of your stomach.
“I’m sorry-I just-“ he shook his head “You’re… stunning.”
You freeze. You don’t know if you can trust your ears or not. Where was Jungkook going with all of this? “I don’t get it” you shake your head “One minute you’re making fun of me and question everything I like, and the other you’re saying things like this…”
You thought he was like this to every girl he’d met. You’ve heard how flirty he is when it comes to women he wants to get. You always thought that whenever he was getting too flirty with you, he didn’t think much of it himself. But now, this whole thing felt a bit too personal.
“Both situations is me being honest” he suddenly grabbed your waist “And the truth is, I wanna kiss you so bad right now” he leaned in, his face centimeters away from yours. You could smell the alcohol in his breath. You hated the fact that you felt your knees go week.
Was all this because he was drunk? Was he playing a game like he has done with others a million times before?
“Jungkook, you reek of alcohol…” you turn your head to the side to break eye contact.
“No no no don’t give me that” his voice low, he turned your face towards him again and you thought you’d faint if you had to look at his Greek god-like features so up close for another minute.
Especially his fucking lips.
You wanted to taste them so badly. God, you finally admit it to yourself, as much as it terrifies you, you have something for him. You’re not sure what it is yet, but there is something… and the way he was looking down at your lips made you want to bite them down so hard.
“You have no idea how hard it was sometimes”he said suddenly, his gaze shifting from your lips to your eyes again.“Doing things-things that made me feel like a fucking monster. I used to look in the mirror and not be able to recognize my reflection.” He sighted and closed his eyes for a second.
You genuinely felt bad, It’s the first time you’re seeing him so venerable. You couldn’t possibly imagine the things he had to go through at such a young age.
“I thought I could just put a mask on and be ok, but I wasn’t. Even though the mask was damn heavy, I put it on anyways. I didn’t have a choice” He opened his eyes again and looked at you. “I threw away the mask when I met you…When I was with you I felt like I was myself again. Seeing you heals me.”
You swear your heart wasn’t even beating right now. You never imagined that the simple things mattered so much to him. Sure, sometimes he was an annoying know-it-all asshole but in reality, Jungkook was the most interesting person you had ever met and you were never going to tell him, but you sort of admired him. “You deserve good things Jungkook, and I want to be one of them”
Jungkook’s lips curled up into a smile before moving one hand from your waist to the back of your head, pulling you in for a soft kiss. He didn’t use tongue at first, but he was being passionate. You felt his palm caressing your back. God, this felt right. For a moment you forget even your name, the only thing you knew were his lips and his scent.
Judging from his skills, it’s clear to you that Jungkook had a ton of experience in this field. As the kiss started becoming more heated Jungkook suddenly stopped and jerked his head back. His prominent Adam’s apple and his neck muscles were your view. “I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself.”
He leaned back down and rested his forehead on yours. You knew Jungkook was more than turned on, you had be feeling the growing bulge in his pants for a while now. “Control is overrated” you smile
He quickly grabs the back of your neck and pulls you in for a completely different kiss. This time, you felt his tongue caressing yours. It was when he squeezed your inner thigh that you realized you wanted more, a lot more. “Should we go inside?” You hint and by the way he smirked at you it was clear that he understood immediately what you meant by that.
Jungkook closed the curtains behind him and threw you on the bed carefully. When he leaned on top of you, you see him grin “God, you look like you were made to be on top of my bed…”
Hearing those words made your head spin like no amount of alcohol could. He started kissing you, his erect member rubbing against your slit. Each stroke making you more light headed “Fuck” you moan in between rough kisses “I wanna suck you so bad” you surprise even yourself by saying that, but it was true, you were too aroused, and you wanted to taste him.
“On your knees then” he panted
You did as he said and watched him as his pale, long fingers worked at his jeans. You scooted down until you were face to face with his thick erection. You wrap one hand around him and started stroking him slowly “Fuck, it’s so big” you moan before licking it from ball to tip.
Jungkook couldn’t articulate anything other than loud groans. You sucked him enthusiastically, matching him noise for noise. You paid special attention not only to his arousal, but to all that lay below as well.
“You like sucking my dick?” He basically growled the words. You could feel your panties getting wetter by the minute.
“I love it.” You try to suck it all in but it was so big it made you gag. “See? I take it all like a little slut” Dirty talking wasn’t really something you did normally, but Jungkook made your insides stir up. All you could think was his dick and how good it would feel inside of you.
“You dirty little thing” he moaned and grabbed your hair into a ponytail, making you go deeper each time. You were surprised at his self control; most guys would have already come and you would have had to start all over again to get what you really wanted. “Show me how wet you are”
You put to fingers inside of you and softly pull them out again, bringing them up to show Jungkook your juices.
He shook his head “Naughty girl, what am I going to do with you?” He leaned down “I can’t have you dripping all over my new carpet” he bit your bottom lip while you were still giving his member subtle strokes. “How about you sit on my face instead?”
His words caught you by surprise. To be honest, no one has ever offered to pleasure you this way before. You were trembling even at the idea of Jungkook’s tongue touching you down there…
“Yes..” you tried your best to keep your voice steady, but you did a poor job. Jungkook noticed
“What’s up y/n? Am I making you too excited?” A cocky expression painted all over his face. Jungkook liked having you like this. He liked having control over you. You knew it.
“Maybe…” You get up as he lays down. “I’ve never tried this before…” you admit. To be honest, your experience with sex was limited. You could count the times you had sex with one hand. Sure, you had a little more experience with foreplay, but that’s it. You were sure Jungkook was much more experienced than you, but he was making you feel comfortable. That’s what mattered.
“Just sit on my face, let me do the rest”
You do as he says, and the moment his tongue touched your clit you knew you’d have to try not to come. “Fuck” you moan unintentionally. This felt too good. As he was massaging your slit with his tongue, he started squeezing your ass cheeks hard.
At this point, you felt yourself dripping on top of him. You’ve never felt so turned on in your life before. It almost scared you how needy you were for him.
You slowly get up and lay down next to him. Jungkook stretched himself over so he could climb back on top of you. His hips hovered above yours now as he held himself out. You could feel his balls slightly touching your tummy "Damn y/n, you’re driving me crazy” He whispered, the room suddenly feeling cold as his voice sent shivers down your back.
He leaned in, giving you a soft kiss as he played with your hair. His tone quickly becoming more aggressive by the minute, when he had you pinned down completely, he took a deep breath and slowly guided himself into you…pausing for a moment, and then he pushed in, groaning against your chest.
Your breath caught in your throat as you felt his thick member fill you up entirely. His dick was so hard and it felt so freaking good. You respond by digging your fingers into his back, shrieking in enjoyment. For a moment you wandered if your nails would leave marks. You pondered if those marks would be seen by other girls as well…
“Fuck y/n, you’re so tight” he exhaled. His strokes long and steady as you were still adjusting to his size.
“Can you feel how wet I am for you?” You sputtered, wincing as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.
Jungkook met your lips with another kiss. "I could have you like this all day” He moaned loudly as he shallowly rocked his hips against your own. You gripped one-another with every fiber willingness, panting as Jungkook pushed in deeper, skin scraping on skin. He began to move, at first only in short, shallow thrusts, gasping against your lips as he did so. Jungkook was enjoying this as much as you did, you could tell because he could not contain his loud and impassionate moans that surfaced each time he met your hips with his in a steady rhythm.
He broke away from your lips again, this time hitching one leg up over his shoulders to push himself deeper into you and the ensuing pleasure that followed was almost enough for you to completely loose all of your other senses. You swear that if somebody had asked for your name, you wouldn’t remember it. You kept moaning as Jungkook continued to drive into you. You could feel every inch of his cock inside of you and it felt great.
You forcefully bit down on the inside of your cheek to keep from crying out when Jungkook entered you all the way...”I think I’m going to come”
Jungkook leaned down again, a smirk painted all over his face “of course you are..”
God, you hate the fact that you couldn’t even argue with him. This dude was good, if he deserved to be cocky about one thing, that was definitely sex.
As he shoved his dick deeper and deeper every time, you felt the tension inside your tummy build up. You couldn’t help it anymore. You can feel your toes curl as your walls started clenching around his dick. Fuck, that felt a hundred times better than you had excepted.
You could see it on his face that he felt you coming all over for him. “What a good girl…” he gradually stopped moving and gave you another quick kiss. “My turn… where do you want me to cum?”
Fuck this dude was hot. “My mouth, please?” you quickly place your face in front of his hard dick.
Jungkook took a good look at you before stroking his cock proudly. “Are you going to swallow it like a good little slut?” He tried to say without moaning but he failed miserably.
“Every single drop of it…” you tease, still not braking eye contact. You couldn’t possibly describe how hot Jungkook looked right now. His handsome face looking down at you as he stroked his dick with his tattooed veiny hand.
“Open your mouth then” he orders and you quickly follow, sticking your tongue out. “God you look so fucking hot like this” he barely manages to say as he jerked his head back and made a loud moan, followed by his cum flying to your mouth.
You give yourself a minute before you lay back down on his bed and he does the same, laying down next to you. A silence in the room. It felt…weird. Both you and Jungkook were just laying there, naked and sweaty after having felt each other like that.
You remembered what he had told you. ‘I don’t do relationships, I just fuck’. You kind of resented yourself for allowing you to be just another one of his ‘fucks’.
Jungkook seemed to notice your enigmatic expression “What are you thinking about?” He scooted even closer to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders
“Nothing…” you simply say without looking at him.
“Y/n” he suddenly says “I know I’m a different person to different people. Annoying to one. Talented to another. Interesting to a few. Unknown to a lot…” he paused and you took a second to look at him, his hair messy and his lips slightly stained by your lipstick. “But who am I, to you?”
His question caught you by surprise. “To me?” You repeat. “I don’t think you’re just one thing. I don’t think anyone is just one thing.”
You see him smile “Adjectives are a joke anyways…”
“Adjectives are not so bad. Without them you wouldn’t be able to describe anything.”
“You do have a point…” his chuckle slowly fading “Hey y/n, I have a question” he said all of a sudden
“What is it?”
“Have you and Tae ever… you know?”
You shake your head as a response to how ridiculous that question seemed to you “God. No. Not even close. We’re just… friends”
Jungkook closed his eyes “Thank god.” he exhaled
“Why?”
“I don’t like people touching what’s mine” he simply said leaving you speechless.
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youbloodymadgenius · 3 years
Text
Nothing Left (Ivar x reader)
A/N: This is my entry to @geekandbooknerd 2k Writing Challenge. Congratulations again, Hayley, you deserve each and every one of us 🌻
The gif is a dead giveaway: this piece is an angsty one 😬 Sorry about that but I feel like I can’t write fluff all the time 😉
Prompt in bold
Thanks to @zuxiezendler for beta reading this for me (hope you don't mind Hayley, but since it was for your challenge... 😉)
Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊
Summary: Leaving Ivar is not an easy task.
Warnings: angst; Ivar's temper; physical assault (no harm done, though); Freydis is beautiful; no happy ending (you've been warned).
Words: 2089
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Crutch – right foot – left foot – crutch – right foot – left foot
You can hear him coming. Of course, you can.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He's not yet in your shared bedroom and he's already shouting. Instead of turning around, you grab the little carved wooden wolf he gifted you many years ago and put it in your pouch.
As he stabs the wooden floor with his crutch, you can physically feel his anger. "You thought you could sneak out? Uh?" You know his jaw is clenched, and he's probably shaking with rage.
"This is what you intended to do, admit it!"
You just scoff. No, you didn't intend to sneak out, not in your wildest dreams. Not with White Hair's men everywhere, night and day.
A thump – his fist hitting the table, you'd say – and then a roar.
"ANSWER YOUR KING!!!!!"
Glancing over your shoulder, you give him a tired, defeated smile. You don't want to fight. You never wanted to. "What does it look like to you, Ivar? Do you really think I'm trying to sneak out? Of course, I'm not."
"Rumors are false, that's what you're saying?" He snorts and, taking two more steps into the room, he joins you. "What's that, then?" He gestures angrily toward a wooden trunk, filled to the brim with your belongings, mostly dresses and a few jewels.
"I'm leaving, if that's what rumors say, Ivar, I'm just not sneaking out." You speak softly while closing the trunk.
A wide-eyed look on his face, he can't hide his surprise at your easy admission but he quickly pulls himself together, straightening up and towering over you.
"You can't. I forbid you." Giving you an intimidating look, he grits his teeth.
You barely shake your head. There's so much sadness in your heart. "Of course, I can. I'm not asking for permission, you know? I'm leaving, whether you like it or not."
That's when he explodes, his bottom lip quivering. "I SAID, I FORBID YOU! FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE, YOU WILL DO AS YOU'RE TOLD, Y/N! I. AM. YOUR. KING!"
His scream is so loud that you can't help but take a step back. But you don't lower your gaze. You won't. You can't. So, keeping your chin up, you inhale slowly. "And I'm still a free woman, Ivar. I'm leaving today."
You know the man you once loved is not going to make that so easy for you. So, you're not surprised when he grabs your wrist so firmly you can't shake him off. Tossing his crutch on the floor, he places his now free hand on your shoulder. Looking at him, you can tell you've rarely seen him this angry. Never releasing the pressure on your wrist, he throws you against the nearest wall so hard that the back of your skull makes a resounding "clunk".
He leans in close to you, his breath stinking faintly of honeyed mead, and presses the weight of his body against you. "You're not leaving, Y/N." He then moves his hand from your shoulder to your throat and the air is immediately stolen from you as you stare into his now darkened eyes. With your right hand still pinned to the wall, you only have your left to defend yourself. You're slapping him, clawing at him, but you may as well be tickling him with a feather – your scratches and punches have no effect on him whatsoever.
"I could kill you, Y/N. Maybe I should." The threat is clear, obvious, but Ivar loosens his grip just enough for you to breathe. He won't harm you. Not yet anyway.
Clearing your throat, you don't look away. "Maybe you should. It wouldn't be the worst thing for me, you know? One way or another, I wouldn't be here anymore."
Your words sting, you can see it on his face as he steps away, wobbling and dumbstruck.
Slowly leaning forward, you grab his discarded crutch before giving it back to him. "Here." You mutter before taking a seat on the bed. Ivar follows suit, flopping down next to you.
Blinking several times, Ivar is obviously trying to come to terms with what you just said. "So, you'd rather be dead than here? With me?" His voice is shaking and he fidgets with his fingers on his lap.
"Ivar, there's nothing left here for me… Nothing… We just don't understand each other anymore, you know that. I don't understand you anymore, Ivar. Since Wessex, you've changed so much…"
You've tried. You've tried very hard. But this man, this king, is no longer the man you fell in love with.
"It's about Sigurd, isn't it?" Ivar asks sadly, but you immediately shake your head.
"No Ivar, you know it's not. I told you, even though I wish you hadn't killed him, I understand why you did it. And I know you didn't want to."
"It's about my legs, then." His face suddenly hardens but you know him, he always hides his pain behind anger. "I knew it. I knew this day would come. You're tired of the cripple, admit it."
Without thinking, you grab his hand, entwining his fingers with yours. As much as you resent him for what he has become, you can't let him run himself down like this. " It has nothing to do with your legs. Your legs have never bothered me, and they never will. You're stronger than all other men, not in spite of your legs, but because of them. Actually, you're the strongest man I know, and I've always felt proud to walk beside you, or to be your woman. I forbid you to doubt it."
"Why, then?" Ivar is so soft now, seems to be so… broken, you have to remind yourself why you're leaving. You have to remind yourself of the horror.
Closing your eyes, you conjure up frightful images behind your eyelids.
"You killed Margrethe, Ivar. You didn't have to do that."
He tenses beside you, releasing his hand from your grip. "She was talking rubbish all the time, she was spreading rumors about me, you know that!!"
"She was insane, Ivar! She was no danger, neither to you nor to anyone. And as for the rumors, I'm loud enough for people to know that you can pleasure a woman. She was harmless, and you killed her, and that, Ivar, I can't understand. And then, you did worse. You killed Thora." You can't help but wince, the stench of burning flesh still so vivid in your mind, you'd swear it's real.
Fuming, Ivar points an accusing finger at you. "She defaced my image. She was plotting behind my back. She was conspiring, criticizing me. She saw me as a tyrant while I was just trying to rule well. She was a FUCKING DANGER!"
Startled by his shout, you stand up hastily. "You burned her alive, Ivar!! You burned her entire family. Asbjorn, her brother, had not yet seen his tenth spring. And you killed him!" You know he can see the disgust on your face, and the truth is, you don't care. He deserves your disgust. He deserves your contempt. He deserves you falling out of love with him. "Thora was your brother's lover and she was my friend and you burned her alive!!! How could you?" Your hands tangled in your hair, you shake your head, still barely able to process the horror of what he did.
"And what was I supposed to do, huh?" Ivar seems unshaken, and it strengthens your resolve. He doesn't know between good and evil, not anymore. You want to reply that he could have exiled her, or had her thrown in jail, but to what end? What's done is done, and your former lover is a monster now.
"It doesn't matter, Ivar… What matters is that you're like a stranger. I don't know who you are anymore. Since this girl, you've changed." You shrug, blinking back tears.
Ivar rolls his eyes. "So that's what it was all about? I can't believe you're jealous, Y/N. This girl… It's just a... thrall"
Oh gods! There's none so deaf as those that will not hear, right?
"I'm not jealous, Ivar. She was naked on your lap, but I'm not jealous. Or maybe I was, but it doesn't matter anymore. And I don't give a damn about what or who she is. But she was whispering nonsense in your ear, and since then you've changed. I don't recognize you anymore. You're no longer the man I loved, Ivar..." Your words are genuine, your heart full of sorrow.
Still sitting on the bed, Ivar tilts his head. "You... You can't leave me, Y/N. What... What will I do without you?" His quivering voice sends shivers down your spine. But you won't change your mind. This man in front of you, unsure and insecure, is nothing but a ghost of who he once was. The boy you loved is gone. Dead. Killed by his inner demons.
Swallowing, Ivar slowly stands up, and frowns when you step back. "Y/N," he speaks again, reaching out but to no avail as you stubbornly put your hands on your back, "you're the person I don't need to explain myself to – not when it matters. You see everything I am and you don't run away from it. I... I can't do without you."
Your eyes filling with tears, you shake your head. "I can't be this person anymore, Ivar. I've tried, but I can't. I don't know you at all anymore. You've become the monster that people thought you were. You're paranoid, and narcissistic, and self-centered. You're cruel, and mean, and fearsome. I won't lie, sometimes I still see a shadow of the man – the boy – you used to be. But most of the time, what I see in your eyes is something scary and unfamiliar. I have said it before and I will say it again. I don't recognize you anymore, Ivar. I don't know who you are. You've done terrible things, which I cannot and will not forget and forgive. That's why I'm leaving." Pointing to the trunk, you bite the inside of cheek until it bleeds. "I'll send someone to get it later."
Heading out, you don't wait for his answer. There's nothing he can say that is going to change your mind.
Yet, you stop in your tracks when he calls your name, "Y/N!" his voice sounding like a wounded animal. Slowly turning around, you can see a single tear running down his face. "Please..." He begs and it kills you, because Ivar the Boneless doesn’t beg; never begs. For a fleeting moment, your resolve falters. Maybe you can still save your love. Maybe you can bring back the man he was. Maybe it's not too late. Maybe...
And then, a shadow slips between the heavy doors of the great hall and you recognize the thrall. She's undoubtedly beautiful. Stunning. Gorgeous. Flawless.
Without even according you a glance, she walks with a confident stride and as soon as Ivar sees her, you can tell you cease to exist for him. Enthralled, he watches her every step, a sparkle dancing in his eyes.
Tears flow on your cheeks, but it doesn't matter. You were right.
This is the end.
It's like torture but you can't bring yourself to walk away. So, you watch. You see Ivar closing the gap between them, inviting her to sit down, pouring mead into a cup and handing it to her. "How are you? I've been thinking about you." You feel like you're going to throw up as you see the smile on his lips; as you realize how easily he forgot about you.
His next question nearly kills you. "Are you married?"
You can't believe your ears. You can't stay here anymore. You can't breathe.
You don't want to hear her answer. You know what she will say. And at this moment, deep down inside, you know he will marry her. Of course, he will. He will marry her because she will always be willing to whisper in his ear what he wants to hear.
A blond woman, attractive and seemingly submissive – you know better, but Ivar doesn't –swaying her hips... That's all it takes for Ivar to forget you.
You. Can't. Breathe.
You won't die here from a shattered heart, though. Your pride won't allow it. So, stumbling, your head spinning, you walk away, your fist in your mouth to keep you from screaming.
You were right. There's nothing left.
Nothing.
🛡⚔️🛡
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syubub · 3 years
Text
What makes BTS most vulnerable
Woo! A reading! I wanted to do this bc its been on my list for a little while now!
I just got off work and wanted to do this asap! Pls forgive mistakes! I'm not gonna proof read bc im lazy.
Cheeky disclaimer: this is for entertainment purposes and not to be taken as fact! This is my interpretation of the cards!!
So so so so
First off, I did each member and also one for the group! I didn't have a specific plan in mind when I started, so I just went with the flow!
Let's start with the group first
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So. The 5 of pentacles is what makes them most vulnerable. This card talks about isolation, feeling lost, anxiety, not having money or influence. Most of all, a mindset of lack.
All of this to me makes me think that what makes them most vulnerable is the fear of being right back where they started. Feeling exiled from the industry, not having the funds to be sure of a stable future and also not having a strong sense of identity as a group and within the group. It's like their vulnerability comes from something almost like ptsd? Let me try to make that make more sense. I genuinely think that where they started and the uncertainty and constant ridicule really had an impact on them. The vulnerability they have as a group is essentially emotional distress? Like, I wish I had better words to explain. It's the fear that they haven't actually grown or gotten anywhere and that they are insignificant that is their vulnerability. Fear based on where they started?
I really hope that made sense. Moving on though, 7 of swords is how it manifests for them. This card is sneaky. It talks about getting away with something and betrayal but I think this meaning is the most relevant: strategic moves. So how their vulnerability manifests is that the fear that they have causes them (and the company) to make very specific moves to keep their fears from happening. It's like, they take steps to make sure their fears don't get realized. Career wise but also personally. They can sometimes force growth because they fear stagnation. Kinda like rolling something uphill? Once it loses momentum it starts rolling back down.
The other two cards, Wellness and busy times and multitasking, are what they can do to lessen that vulnerability. Keeping healthy in mind body and spirit (also keeping the group bond healthy too) as well as channeling their emotions and fears into productivity. (Think the ly:tear album)
Seokjin
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This is really intresting. So, what makes him most vulnerable is repressed emotion that causes inner turmoil. The moon is all about your insides and the vastness it has. In its reverse it talks about the darker parts of your subconscious. So, him bottling shit up and repressing it becomes a monster that affects him without him even necessarily knowing.
As for how that manifest in his life, it literally affects his judgment. Like, literally. It messes with his decision making.
As a fellow human with a similar problem, I can almost bet that any issue he has with another member will be shoved away and it will fester until he's at his breaking point and he'll absolutely weaponize it but disguise it as "just poking fun" or he might also purposefully create low level chaos. It's really intresting because this could manifest in so many ways. It could be his insecurities, issues with other people, fears ect and they fester in his brain space fucking with his judgment.
What he can do to lessen this vulnerability is deep emotional healing. Istg these cards are too perfect to make up. He needs to do THE WORK and heal it. He probably recognizes this and is working on it. Its not fair to himself to put himself aside in order to put other people first. (I think this probably happened a lot in the early bts days bc he had to be an older brother and a responsible figure to 6 other kids so he prioritized group harmony over his own issues and emotions)
Yoongi
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????
Um, okay. So what makes yoongi most vulnerable is the dark side of wealth. That's the 10 of pentacles rev. But it gets interesting bc the 10 of swords isn't what makes him vulnerable but it also isn't how it manifests?? So here's my theory time. What makes him most vulnerable is the dark side of wealth. I can only assume that it's the isolation and internal conflict of benefiting off of a system that fucked you over in the first half of your life and also feeling bad for having wealth that most people can never imagine? I really don't know? But with the 10 of swords talking about betrayal and deep wounds, it could be that he's extremely afraid of being taken advantage of? Like, that's another downside of wealth. Maybe people have tried to use him for money or influence? Especially in his personal life. Like, he probably finds it extremely hard to get close to people because he's afraid of betrayal over something that is already hard for him to deal with?
Also loss. He wasn't born rich. He worked his ass off to get what he has and he's probably afraid to lose it. He might "stash" money?
Anyway, knight of swords, how it manifests. This card is about a drive to succeed. So essentially this makes him run and push himself hard and harder and harder to out run what he sees as an inevitable end? Sometimes this can blind him.
As for what he can do to lessen this vulnerability, we have, self confidence through God confidence. This card to me talks about having faith in your actions and skills and trusting in yourself even if you doubt your ability. Essentially, yoongi just needs to trust in himself to land on his feet no matter what happens. Life is always uncertain so he needs to trust that he can weather any storm he might face.
Hoseok
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This was one gave me some thoughts. So, similar to jin, it's the bottling shit up and having you subconscious mind eventually figure shit out because it's been neglected but with the 2 of swords in reverse, talking about confusion and being indecisive, I think this kinda causes him to shut down? He might get apathetic. It's almost like when you work a computer so hard that it crashes.
And how this manifests for him with the 3 of pentacles in reverse is that he gets thrown out of alignment with the group. Kinda like how you shouldn't drive on a flat tire. He withdraws and becomes hard to reach and puts up a wall that causes a lot of problems for him as well as those he is around. It's a defense mechanism. It can also manifest in him preferring to work alone as well instead of group settings.
This exposes him to depression and doubt.
Also similar to jin, for how to lessen this vulnerability we have Bless your heart with talks about reaching out (breaking down that wall) and healing your heart and healing the root issue.
Namjoon
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Okay. This is the one that makes so much sense but also confuses me.
So. What makes him most vulnerable is the magician rev and 10 of cups. Unrealized potential and poor planning as well as love, harmony and alignment.
So.... what? How does love and the happiest happiness make him vulnerable?
Well, I think he's suspicious of it. I think that he can't help but wonder in his big big big brain if THIS is the right happy or if its really happiness at all? Almost like commitment issues but also not? It's like, he's afraid that it won't last? He might have trouble fully allowing himself happiness. Also, what makes him the most vulnerable is love. It opens up every bit of his soul and puts it on a laundry line for everyone to see and I don't think he thinks he's worthy enough to be seen like that?
As for how it manifests in his life, 9 of cups, personal fulfillment and a strive to have everything else in hislife sorted out? Essentially wanting to have a perfect foundation so eventually he can share with all the important people in his life.
As for what he can do. Value your self worth. pretty straight up. He needs to value himself more. He deserve love and he deserves to feel seen even if it's uncomfortable at first.
Jimin
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Oki. What makes jimin most vulnerable is choice. The 7 of cups talks about focusing on what's best for you and making choices based not on illusion. I think jimin is plagued by unrealistic expectations and confronting the fact that it's not possible is what makes him most vulnerable. He makes choices that are driven by illusion. Usually about self. I think specifically about how he doesn't always see how good he already is so he pushes himself to chase after something that isn't always right for him or even there in the first place. Acknowledging and facing it brings vulnerability that he doesn't always want to face. I think he might equate vulnerability to powerlessness.
How it manifests. 9 of wands rev. Paranoia and being defensive. It's his own fear and insecurities manifesting outside of himself.
As for what he can do, passion and purpose and multifaceted. Focus on what is close to his heart and don't get side tracked. Theres so much more to this situation and there isn't an easy fix. There's a lot of things that need working on in order for him to feel comfortable.
Taehyung
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Oki oki oki. What makes Tae most vulnerable is strength rev. Raw emotion. He doesn't always express his emotions and when he chooses to be more open, his emotions go through a bit of a filter. Showing his unfiltered emotions makes him most vulnerable because it's him as he is. In his truest form. It's all of his wants, joys, fears. Everything.
As for how it manifests, 10 of wands and Hanged man, it becomes a burden that he carries because he feels like he can't just be honest. He pauses and allows himself time to feel on his own but that means possibly being misunderstood and a bit isolated.
Now. What can he do to lessen it? Bless your heart and healthy communication in relationships. TALKING TO PEOPLE AND ALLOWING HIMSELF THAT VULNERABILITY. It's not bad to be vulnerable. Heal that shit bb bc you are worth it.
Jungkook
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So, what makes him most vulnerable? The world in rev. Not having closure and seeking it. The process of seeking closure for himself about things that could have or putting to rest something that has come full circle. It brings vulnerability because he has to face things that he could have done better. He has to face things coming to a close and be okay with is.
How it manifests, the tower, ace of cups, 5 of cups reversed.
The tower is essentially everything crumbling down. I think jk thinks too much? If you follow a ball of yarn all the way to the end then you just unraveled a whole ass ball of yarn.
Him going to close those things cause him to unravel his foundation.
With the ace of cups, creativity and love/ new emotions, I think him taking the time to pursue personal closure helps him to be more open to love as well as giving him creative fuel.
The 5 of cups rev. Means that him doing this closure thing helps him to forgive himself bc he's taking time to move on and tie up loose ends?
For jk this closure thing manifests in every aspect of his like and I almost see it as him shedding? Sounds weird but he's consciously moving on and paying attention to what he needs?
As for what he can do? Deep emotional healing! He runs the risk of feeling more of the tower manifestation so he needs to keep himself emotionally healthy in order for this to be productive instead of destructive!
~~~~~~~
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I hope y'all like this! I feel like the cards didn't always follow what I was kinda going for with my questions but it all works out in the end I guess?
My next reading will be up later this week (I've already done it and taken all of my notes. I just have to type it all out) so look foward to that as well!
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Immortal - 1, Introduction (kinktober)
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Kaminari Denki - Electricity
Warnings: 18+ (minor dni), non-consensual touching, electricity, creepy Denki, running, not edited
Word count: 3,185 (this is longer than all the other parts)
Masterlist
Part 1 | Next
October
The month that had become dedicated to stories and decorations on store shelves that ranged from spooky to creepy. But there was a strange unsettled feeling resting in the air this year. You felt it in the cool breeze and the whispers as people talked about the missing heroes from the past two years.
It was hard to believe the year was almost over. Especially when it felt like it had only just started, but here you were. You checked the clock and found your shift was done. You promptly wrapped up what you were doing and practically skipped out, with a book in hand. On your way out, your ear caught snippets of a conversation.
"It's horrible what happened."
"I wonder if it's going to happen again this year."
Right.
Two years ago, in October, the famous incident occurred when several students from U.A. went missing during a mission they had all been on. No one could ever find a single trace of them.
You pondered on it as you walked on the sidewalk with your book tucked under your arm. The sky was a deep blue and the air you breathed in was crisp and refreshing. And you were off work for the rest of the day. Which meant you could finally read more of the book that had been sitting on your counter for the past month. And it was a perfect day to read outside.
But you couldn’t stop recalling the strange, seemingly related event that happened last year. The next year after the disappearance, also October, two more heroes who had only just recently graduated from U.A. vanished the same way. It was also around that time when they realized that the villains Shigaraki and Dabi never showed their faces again, and the League of Villains seemed to be looking for them.
However horrible the disappearances, it soon faded into past news and life went on like nothing had ever happened. However, when the calendar changed to October once more, everyone was on edge. The heroes seemed more cautious, the public held their breath in anticipation.
You did your best not to care. It put a sick feeling in your stomach. Hopefully your book would manage to distract you.
Upon finding a nice bench, with a view of the nearby forest, you sat down with a content sigh and flipped the book open. Thankfully, it worked. You slipped into the story, hardly even noticing when you flipped the page or even when the clouds began to block out the sun. You only stopped when it became nearly too dark to read the page. You looked up.
Night had fallen. Shadows stretched and covered everything like a blanket. The only bit of natural light was a dim blue that was sure to fade soon enough.
Your heart beat fast. You closed your book and started in the direction of your apartment. There were always stories. Stories you knew were real. Stories that you'd hear all throughout the whole year, about people staying out too late at night and running into the wrong people. Real monsters.
This was your plan until you spotted somethin- no, someone moving. In the darkness, it took you a moment to see them more clearly. Someone in black and gray from head to toe, not a single bit of skin showing. And one in yellow, a top hat, and a theater mask. It took a moment, but you recognized these two as villains. You stumbled back. They were on the news once, and now they were there. You could see them. They could see you if they looked, they just hadn't yet. Or had they?
Your hands shook. Your limbs were frozen for a few precious seconds. Seconds that you could have used to get away. You ran to the forest. It was the first place you thought of. Maybe you could hide in the trees if they followed you. It was certainly a better option than running in the middle of the street.
The shadows swallowed you. You rushed past the tall trees that loomed over you. Twigs snapped beneath you. The sound of your own terrified breathing filled your ears. So loud, you thought everyone could hear.
The thought of actually stopping to hide finally occurred to you. You ducked behind a tree, hoping it was wide enough to completely hide you. Your eyes darted everywhere. You stopped breathing, praying that you wouldn't hear the sound of footsteps approaching. Nothing. Just the wind in the trees above. The leaves were so dark they looked more black than the sky above you.
Suddenly, your eye caught something that you missed. It was large. You jumped, as if some primal instinct were prepared for a giant monster. It didn’t move. You squinted and let out the breath you were holding.
It was a mansion. There were no lights on inside of it, and the wood was so dark it almost blended in. You never heard about this being here.
You wondered if anyone lived in it. Maybe they could help you. Though, it thankfully seemed like you weren’t being followed. It would be easy to just walk up and get a closer look. With a hand against the tree, you considered your options, to stay or check it out.
Your curiosity won the day.
You stayed low, prepared to dive behind a tree or bush, or duck underneath the mansion porch's railing. Almost every sound was amplified in your ear, making you jump. Which included the sounds even you were making.
The door wasn't locked. It swung open with ease, seemingly inviting you in.
You were considering whether you should enter, when you heard a distant, deep voice behind you. Your heart leaped from out of your chest. Following the voice, now another one, were footsteps. Without a second thought, you dashed inside and closed the door.
The entrance was large and open. Two staircases across from you. Two rooms to the left and right. You stepped into the left room to peer through one of the windows. You walked closer and closer to it. But no matter how close you looked, even when your nose was nearly against the cold glass, you could only see black. You stepped back in confusion.
It was the moment that you heard the door opening that you realized there was nowhere to truly hide in the left room. You quietly ran and dove under the table in the right room. Probably a dining room. The old carpet was rough against your elbows propping you up. You willed yourself to stop breathing as you watched their feet slowly tread in.
"I don't remember this mansion wasn't here last time we searched here," one said.
The other closed the door behind him.
"Yeah. This place is cool, but a little creepy. It's old and boring!"
"You don't suppose this mysterious mansion would have anything to do with Shigaraki's and Dabi's disappearance?"
"Hopefully, definitely not! Everyone's been looking for them for a long time. But I think the voice behind the screen cares more about Shigaraki."
You couldn't hold your breath anymore. You tried to be as quiet as you possibly could, but the small amount of air you allowed yourself just made you breathe faster and heart race. What were they doing here? Still looking for Shigaraki? You resisted the urge to peek up at them. If you could see them, they could see you. But somehow even looking at just their feet filled you with anxiety. Jumping every time one seemed to walk towards you. You wished the table was lower. That there was a long tablecloth that would hide you. That they wouldn’t see you.
"We should tell Kurogiri about this. Let's just leave."
"I agree." A moment passed. He tapped his foot against the floor. "I seem to not have a signal here."
A few seconds and some rustling. "Me neither. I'll go out and make the call."
His heavy steps left, leaving the other to wait behind, but only for a second.
"Um, you might need to see this. We're screwed."
"Hm?" He promptly left, leaving you alone.
You considered getting up and running away. But where would you hide? Would you be fast enough to hide somewhere else? Maybe you could open a win-
"How… did this happen?"
"I don't know! I just walked out and saw the ground wasn't there anymore! Or the trees or anything!"
You barely concealed a gasp. The door slammed shut and you saw two pairs of feet walk in once more. They debated for what felt like hours. Your nerves were shot and it felt like your elbows had rugburn. Finally, they walked up the stairs. You waited just a little longer until you heard a door closed. And even longer, until you were sure.
You slid yourself out from under the table. That couldn't be true, right? You ran to the door on your tippy toes, wincing every time you made the slightest sound. The door opened after a gentle twist.
You looked out. And sure enough. There was nothing beyond the porch but an endless black. Not the kind of black when everything's too dark to see. Even then, the shadows had depth. This.. seemed to stretch on forever.
You rushed back in and grabbed a vase on a wooden stand. Fragile white with turquoise lines that formed diamonds. You almost felt bad for what you were about to do. You lowered the vase to the dark, one hand on the floor board while the other reached down as far as you could with the vase in hand.
The vase never touched the ground. With a sigh, you let go of it. It dropped and dropped. Fell and fell, slowly spinning… until you couldn’t see it anymore. You listened for a crash, some sign that it reached the bottom, but the only sound was your own breath.
No bottom in sight.
This had… this had to just be some sort of quirk. Some sort of… defense for someone living there. It was the only explanation. That had to be it. You weren't trapped there with no way out, right?
You sat up. You cautiously glanced into the room before stepping in. You hadn’t noticed that it should be too dark to see anything. But somehow you could, like dim light coming from a moon that didn't exist.
A red carpet led to the staircase, then split to go up each set of stairs. Between the two sets of stairs was a book on a stand. One you hadn’t noticed.
You opened up a window and looked out. The void was still there. Still wrapping around the mansion. The only thing that existed now was you and this house. And the villains.
You wrestle with your pocket while dashing to a dark corner beside a table, and ripped your phone out. It nearly fell out of your hands as you turned it on and dialed the first contact you saw. Dial tone. The number was unavailable. You texted your parents. The text couldn't get through. Zero bars. You could get onto social media or make a Google search. But you could post or message anyone. Not one word, not on a single forum.
Your hands trembled. You ran one through your hair, grabbed onto the roots, and pulled. It didn’t even hurt. Nothing to distract you from your situation.
What to do. What to do. Well, hiding there was doing nothing good. Maybe you could search for a way out. Or find the owner and tell them what had happened.
There was no way you were going through the dooring up the stairs. You wanted to avoid the villains at all costs. You picked the door on ground level to the right. Book shelves were lined against the wall. There was no dust, but something gave you the feeling they hadn't been used in a long time. No lights, but strangely lit like the room before. You walked through the next door. A bedroom. The bed was sloppily made. Maybe it was the lack of people, but something unsettled you. Nothing felt quite right. But perhaps this was reasonable considering nothing else about the mansion was normal.
You reached for the knob of yet another door when you heard footsteps on the other side. That was your chance. You should have seen who it was, if they could have helped you. But there had been almost no real sign of anyone being in the mansion up until then. Even with the used bed, what if the villains had found another way downstairs? What if they were about to catch you?
You turned and made a dash. Through every door you'd been through so far. You should have just hid under the bed, but you didn't think of it at the time. You just wanted to get as far as you could.
When you got back to the entrance, your heart dropped in horror when you saw the villains emerging from the doors at the top of the stairs. They hastily ran out of it and firmly closed it behind them.
"Who is that!?" The louder of the two said.
Blood pounded in your ears. You didn’t stop. You were already opening the door in the left room and pulled the door shut behind you, still running.
How did they get there? Were they actually following you? Was it someone else you had run from? Was any of this even real?
You lost track of how many rooms you had run into. This one was hardly any different from the others. Same dark red wallpaper. There was a wardrobe, but did that really make a difference? You stopped in front of a window. Black. The moment you stopped was the moment your exhaustion hit you. Your legs and chest ached. You glanced at the door quickly then stared at the window.
Was this real? Was this all some sick dream?
You opened up the window.
If this was a dream and you fell, you would wake up.
You leaned out, placing your hands on the farm and beginning to lift a knee. The whole time you just stared into the nothingness.
"Woah, that's not a good idea," a cheerful voice behind you said, pulling you back by your waist.
Your back hit the stranger's chest. You twisted your head back to see who it was. His blond hair was long enough to reach his stubble covered jawline. He looked to be in his twenties, and was familiar for some reason. None of the villains, fortunately.
You breathed a much needed, heavy sigh of relief. "Oh, thank goodness you're not them."
“Nope, I’m Kaminari. Kaminari Denki. Wow! It’s been forever since I’ve talked with someone new. Hi, I’m Denki. Oops I already said that.”
You raised an eyebrow at his behavior. He held you a little too tightly. It was then you noticed you were too close together, with his crotch against your rump. You, embarrassed, gently pushed him away and he let go.
“Nice to meet you too. Kaminari? That sounds familiar.”
“Maybe you heard of me from the U.A. Sports Festival?”
“U.A…? Wait! Chargebolt? One of the U.A. students that went missing two years ago!??”
“The one and only.” He puffed his chest out.
“But.. what? That’s not possible. You look like you’re twenty-five or something.”
“You’re right, I am! It’s been so long since I had someone else to talk to! Did I already say that?”
He held your hand and pulled it close to him. Electricity sparked, going straight into your hand and making you jump.
“Sorry.” He smiled with concern in his eyes. “I have a little bit of a hard time controlling it now. Especially when I’m this excited.” His other hand reached towards you.
You stepped back and pulled your hand away. “Don’t touch me, please.”
He tilted his head, like he didn’t understand. But he didn’t come any closer.
"By the way, who were you talking about earlier? I’m not who?"
"Villains! They came in here after I ran in to hide from them."
“Really? What did they look like?”
“Twice and Mr. Compress. Twice has a black and gray suit, and Mr. Compress has a top hat, a mask, and a yellow jacket. Did you see them?”
“Yeah, I did. Actually, I saw them coming this way.” He pointed towards the door he had just come from.
“What!? Oh no…” your head whipped around, eyes scanning everywhere for a place to hide.
“I know a place to hide! In here.” Kaminari opened the wardrobe.
He quickly stepped in and moved to make room for you. You slid the hanging coats and clothing to one side and closed the door with just a small crack to see. It was too cramped for you. It was uncomfortably warm, but you would take it.
Your heart pounded in your ears. It was hard to see anything in the room with the small slit. Even then, you prayed they wouldn’t see you through the crack. If they did, you’d be finished with nowhere to run.
His fingers were against your waist, something you hardly even noticed because of the adrenaline. But they began rubbing circles into you, small tingles of electricity tickled you. One slipped down to the dip where your legs attached to the rest of your body. He pressed against your butt, at first you assumed it was simply him adjusting and the lack of room, but he didn't move. In fact, he pushed himself flush against you. You felt something warm and hard between your cheeks through the fabric of yours and his pants. If you tried to back away, the wardrobe door would open more, and the villains might come in any time.
"Please stop," you whispered.
He didn’t stop. He rubbed his head against the back of yours. He breathed in contently.
His hand rubbing you fell to your hip, then up again, into your shirt. You felt him drag against your soft skin. Reaching up to your bra. He made a clumsy effort to slip beneath it before squeezing and massaging it with the bra still on. Tiny sparks from his fingertips only drew your attention to this. You jolted when one ran over your nipple.
"Hey," you tried to sound angry, but it came out as a whine.
Much to your dismay, you felt your core growing unbearably warm. You wanted to stop him, but you froze. Your breaths were heavy. It didn’t help when he dipped his hand into your pants. Electricity somehow teased your clit through your panties. You barely held the moan in your throat.
"We can't be doing this," you said as a final attempt, "What if they hear?"
His lips fluttered against your skin. "Who will hear?"
"What do you mean? The villains… they are…" Did he actually see them coming?
He chuckled and ran a finger against your waistband. "We're gonna have some fun."
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jimlingss · 4 years
Text
Dynasty
➜ Words: 17.4k
➜ Genres: 50% Angst, 35% Smut, 15% Fluff, Historical!AU
➜ Summary: It’s no secret that the Emperor is infertile. But even so, a girl is selected every three months and brought to become his concubine in hopes of conceiving the next heir. This time, it’s you. And in order to prevent execution, Jeon Jungkook might just aid you in conception.
➜ Notes: Inspired by the movie the Treacherous (2015)
➜ Warnings: Brief depictions of reluctant sexual intercourse, dubious consent, emphasis on impregnation, sloppy seconds, creampies, pregnancy. Reader discretion is advised.
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“Absolutely not!” 
You stand at once, chair knocked back to the ground in a clatter, unable to believe what you were hearing. Perhaps it was a mistake. Perhaps your ears hear wrongly. But by the way your older brother’s brows are drawn together, marring his usually good-natured features, you know you’re not mistaken.    He had worn the same expression as the day of your parents' massacre.   Your voice is shrill as you protest and cry, “I won’t! I can’t! T-This— this is ridiculous! How could you even….how could you even….”   You are Seokjin’s younger sister — his blood, flesh, bones. Family. And you were about to be traded in like you were no one to him. A chess piece. A part of his bigger plan that you wanted nothing to do with.   Jungkook looks at you with an impassive expression, one you cannot read, but you pay him no mind. Seokjin, however, looks to him and nods his head. They are silent in their communication, and then Jungkook takes his leave until there it is only your shadow and Seokjin’s that flickers against the wall with every movement of the dim candlelight.   He begins with a soft voice. A soothing one as if you were a child.    “There’s no choice, Y/N.”   “There is always choice,” you emphasize as tears start to stream down your cheeks. “Do you really want to send me off to that...that disgusting monster? Do you really want me to be used? If you care about me as a younger sister, if you care about me at all, you wouldn’t be doing this.”   His dark eyes meet yours. “The decision has been made, Y/N. You have been chosen. But this is the way we can make our parents happy. This is the only way for them to reach peace.”   You sob, collapsing onto the ground. Seokjin does little to comfort you. He knows there’s nothing he can do after this betrayal.   You hold your face in your hands, catching the tears that rack through your frame. It is silent except for the noises of your wails muffled through your sleeves.    After minutes of devastation and grief that stutters out of you, your hands drop to look at him. And your voice swoops into a murmur, one that is private, kept between the two of you. You beg for his honesty from sibling to sibling, without duties or titles. “Is...is t-there no other way?”   Your brother deflates, refusing to look at you. You notice the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, how he swallows hard to answer. “There must always be sacrifices made in times of a revolution and this is ours.”   “No.” You shake your head. “This is mine.”
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There is a knock at your door.   “Go away, Seokjin,” you shout at him without regard for sibling hierarchy. In your anger, he has long lost the respect that goes along with the status of being your older brother. “I said I wasn’t hungry!”   But in spite of your bitterness, the door opens anyhow.   It’s Jungkook who has appeared in place of Seokjin, doe eyes and dark hair tied into a high ponytail by a black ribbon that matches his robbed attire and the scabbard by his side.   “I saw the light in your room,” he says simply.   You lift your eyes away from the book you were copying, the last task that you wanted to finish, and your gaze remains cold on the man.    You detest Jungkook.    He is Seokjin’s friend, not yours and not a childhood one. Your brother had met him shortly after arriving in this town years ago. But you do not know him well. You resent him merely because he represents every manner that Seokjin has changed in the ways you hate most.   Before they met, Seokjin was still the brother you knew. Kind-hearted. Mischievous. Protective. There was no rebellion group, talk of treason, risk of harm. The Seokjin you knew would’ve never thrown you away like this.   “Are you ready for tomorrow’s journey,” he asks.   “There’s no reason not to be.” Jungkook is quiet and conniving. You know the only reason he has come out of his way to check on your well-being in the middle of the night is for his assumption that you are a flight risk. You suppose it might be natural to have those suspicions. Any girl in your position would run. But you quickly dissipate his worries if it means he’ll leave. “You don’t need to worry that I’m going to run. I wouldn’t do that to Jin.”   He makes no changes in his expression. Always blank. Always emotionless.   “The journey will be long. You should get some rest.”   “I can take care of myself.”   He remains silent for a moment. But you return to your work and when you look up again, he’s gone, having finally left you in your own misery.   //   When the first blush of dawn arrives, you get dressed in your best attire and gather the little belongings you have. They’re already waiting for you in front of the house, not allowing you a moment to yourself to relish in freedom any longer. There is a horse, a carriage, and four members of the group you don’t recognize along with Jungkook to journey with you.   Seokjin waits there too, but you can’t look him in the eye.   He knows you're upset, you can tell. Neither of you say much to each other, but you mutter a half-hearted farewell.   You can hear the way the corner of his mouth gently quirks by the sound of his voice. “I’ll see you soon enough, Y/N.”   You turn away, walking to your carriage where the horse is already neighing and becoming fussy. But then your steps slow. You hesitate getting in and Jungkook stares at you, waiting patiently, never once pushing you on.   At once, you turn around. “Jin!”   You call out to your brother and he turns around before stumbling. A giggle streams out of his chest after you’ve thrown yourself at him in an embrace as if you were still children. He hugs you back, arms around your body, frame overtaking yours, and he squeezes you tight.   You shut your eyes to savour the fleeting moment.   He leans down, murmuring, “I’m sorry.”   But you shake your head, unable to utter a word for fear of crying again.   “We should get a move on before it gets any later,” one of the members calls out and it’s your reminder of where you’re headed.   You pull apart from Seokjin. He smiles tenderly and brushes a stray strand of hair away from your face.   The carriage ride is shaky. Every bump and crack of the dirt road is felt by you ten folds, the wheels wobbling and the horse’s disregard makes it difficult for you to rest easy. But you don’t dare utter a complaint, not when you’re in the company of unfamiliar people. You do, however, pull back the curtain of the square window to look at the land and let in fresh air.   Eventually, there’s a break called. The tiny carriage comes to a halt and Jungkook is the one who brushes open the large curtain. He catches you off guard, peering in with his large eyes that seemingly sparkle naturally.   “We’re going to take a small rest.”   “Okay.”   He helps guide you out and you notice the other people are either on the ground resting their feet or by the stream, taking a drink of water.   “Are you alright?”   You nod. There’s a moment of serene quietness, the birds chirping around the trees, the rustling of leaves. Jungkook drinks from his leather pouch and then hands it to you to quench your thirst.   You sip it, soothing your throat and gather the courage to utter his name— “Jungkook.” He turns to you. “Do you know what’s going to happen to me?”   “You’ll be introduced as one of the minister’s nieces. He’s been aligned with us for years. You’ll be inspected and bathed, and then there will be a ceremony and then….”   “I’ll be bedded,” you complete his sentence for him.   Jungkook remains silent.   The Emperor is infertile. It’s a truth no one dares to utter, but it’s been fifteen years since he began his reign and he has yet to produce a child no matter how many consorts and concubines has entered the palace. The Empress has not bore a child either.   And nine years ago, there was an official decree. Every three months since, a girl is selected and brought in. If she doesn’t get pregnant within the time frame, she is executed for failing to fulfill her duty, for treason.   You are the next one.   The one who has to preoccupy the Emperor to the best of your abilities.   “You don’t need to worry,” Jungkook says, perhaps reading the expression on your face, but you slap his hand away when he reaches out.   “Of course I’ll worry,” you spit at him in animosity. “I’m going to die.”   The man’s brows draw tightly together, his lips lopsided. “It’ll be over before they can get to you.”   You say nothing more, returning to the small carriage before you can start to sob like a child and further be humiliated.   //   Night falls and camp is set up with little hardships. By the afternoon of tomorrow, you would have already arrived at the palace, perhaps straight to the Emperor’s bed. The thought makes you nauseated, wanting to crawl out of your own skin and hide from your body.   You know you’re being selfish. In the bigger picture, your desires don’t matter. If anything, you should be happy to give yourself up for the rebellion. For the common good. But you can’t.    “Are you not going to eat?” one of the female guards asks you with a smile and you lift your eyes away from the blazing fire whose heat has pressed against your cheeks.    You look around to the four members of the group that has been commissioned to protect you, their faces illuminated by the glow of the flames. You wonder what sacrifices they had made to be here, what led them here in the first place.   “I-I can’t.” You stand up and all of their heads, including Jungkook’s, turn to you. “I’m sorry. I….I need a moment to myself.”   You quicken your pace towards the forest, trying to escape their prying gazes, the burden that has been placed upon your shoulders. It’s hard to breathe. It’s as if the smog of the fire has bloomed inside of your lungs, constricting your chest, forming a thick lump in your throat.   The darkness of the forest envelopes you and it’s almost comforting.   That is until there’s a branch snapping behind you, and you quickly spin around.   “I knew you weren’t okay.”   “Go away, Jungkook.”   He remains silent, but you can see the outline of him coming closer towards you. He is not dissuaded no matter how much you have pushed him away from you, no matter how rude you’ve been to him from the start. You’re not sure if he pities you or he—   “Can I comfort you in place of Seokjin?” Jungkook requests in an earnest murmur, humble and cautious. “You wish he was here instead of me, don’t you?”   You’re taken aback, brought to speechlessness.   The two of you end up seated by the creek on a wooden log. The horizon is full of stars, allowing you to see enough to watch the water that rushes past in a calm hum, soothing your turmoil.   “I’m afraid.”   “Of what?”   “I don’t know what to do. How to capture the Emperor’s attention. How to be...bedded.”   “You need to be strong.”   You rise to your feet at once, biting back angrily, “I’ve never even been touched by a man! How am I supposed to be strong?!” It’s easy for him to say. It always is to the outsider.   He doesn’t know what this means to you. You’ll never be able to find a husband after this. The peaceful life you dreamt of will be gone.    You will forever be stained as the Emperor’s previous consort, his whore or you will end up dead.    You’re not sure which is worse.   “How am I supposed to know what to do?” Your voice is shrill, desperate and full of pain as if you are asking Jungkook for an actual answer to your predicament.   Jungkook stands and places his firm hand on your shoulder. “There,” he says after a moment when you’ve calmed down, “you’ve been touched by a man.”   Irritation surges through you again at how lightly he’s taken your strife. “You know that’s not what I meant—”   Then you’re suddenly spun to face him, a strong grip at your waist. Your words become muted through the soft press of Jungkook’s lips. Your whimper is muffled by his mouth. It’s chaste. Careful. He allows you room to breathe, to feel the velvet texture of his lips or to pull away if you so choose to.    But you don’t move. Your eyes become half-lidded, gazing into his doe eyes that seem to be full of stars. Your hands come to grip his broad shoulder, his placed on the dips of your body so gently as if he were afraid to break you. And your heart swells dangerously inside your chest.   After a moment of his mouth moving against yours in a sweet kiss, Jungkook pulls apart.   Almost immediately, you tug him back to you again, not wanting the moment to end. You kiss him fervently and he lowly hums inside his chest, tongue peeking at the seam of your mouth, urging you to grant him access. It’s unsightly, the two of you unmarried and holding one another so intimately in the dark during this time of night. If anyone knew, it would be shameful.    But it’s only you and Jungkook in this small space.   Your lips part, allowing his hot tongue to lick into your mouth. And he angles his head, happily deepening the kiss. It makes you gasp for air, becoming breathless, but he doesn’t relent. Jungkook presses forward eagerly like he can’t help himself anymore. His hands come to feel up your body, the softness of your flesh through your clothing, the curves of your hips, the swell of your breasts. Your arms loop around his neck, back arching into his firm body. You relish in the sound of soft smacking filling the forest, feeling your face heat as his scent surrounds you.   And when you moan his name again in a desperate whine — “J-Jungkook.” — his lips start to trail down your jaw to your neck. He holds you as you lean into him. You pant, chest rising and falling, and you have half a mind to realize that your clothes have loosened.   The man begins to suck a spot at the juncture of your neck by your exposed collarbone, claiming you possessively. Your entire body heats for him, your stomach fluttering. His name befalls your lips again in a whine and this time, it seems to snap him from his trance.   Jungkook pulls away from you.    Enough distance that if your arms stretched, it would barely be able to reach him.   He wipes his sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. “We...we should go back,” he says, winded.   You merely nod, not uttering a single word. The two of you don’t need to speak to know that this can’t be continued further. It wouldn’t be good for either of you.   But you’re still stunned as you follow him back to where the others are. Your eyes trace Jungkook’s backside and you nibble into your swollen lips. The taste of cinnamon lingers.   //   The capital is close — you can tell by the way travelers aren’t as sparse and the rich attire that adorns their body. Their expressions are bright and friendly, innocent from the fear of theft or strangers stealing their food. There are no hollowed eyes and cheeks peering at you blankly, no hands clasped together to silently beg for some grains to satisfy the shriveling stomachs.   By afternoon, the carriage is brought to a halt again.   “I’ll be going ahead first,” Jungkook announces as he sits on top of his horse. “It’ll seem less suspicious.”   The other seem to take little issue, but before Jungkook rides off into the distance, his gaze lingers on you. The two of you stare at one another for a moment, one where you’re not sure if you should bid farewell to him or not, one where you wonder when the next time is going to be.   But before you can utter a single syllable, he turns and whips the reins. The horse gallops off, hooves marked in the dirt. You stare at his backside diminishing before you’re called back into the carriage to carry on.   You arrive no later.   The palace is grander than anything you’ve ever witnessed, stretching across the horizon. The red roof and golden trim are vivid against the town even from the distance. Once the guards at the stone wall are briefly spoken to, the magnificent gates creak open and you’re brought into a different world, one protected from outside life. There are hundreds of servants with downcast heads and folded hands scattering across the vast courtyard, winding pavilion paths bordering each structure. Even from peering out the tiny window, your neck aches with how much you have to crane your neck to see it all.    But you quickly snap out of your awe.   This isn't paradise. It’s your prison.   The gates close behind you, trapping you in its walls and after a minute, the carriage halts the final time.   “Consort Y/N, from the Park family.” Your title is declared and the curtain is roughly pulled back. You brace yourself as you’re guided out and you come face to face with two men, both middle-aged, and two women, the younger one keeping her head down and her hands folded.   Instantly, you lower your eyes with a polite smile and dip down. “It is a pleasure to be here. I am grateful to serve my duty.”    You maintain a soft-spoken voice, barely above a timid whisper. It feels foreign to act this way, but not completely unfamiliar. Even if your title has been stripped away and your family name has been wiped, you still are of aristocratic blood.   “Oh my! I haven’t seen you in so long!” One of the middle-aged men approaches you with half-moon eyes and a plump face. You’ve been spoken to enough that you know the minister’s name is Park Jimin and he’s supposed to be your uncle. “You’ve grown so much!”   “You look as healthy as I remember, uncle.” You offer a brighter smile and he chuckles heartily.   “Do I? I’m glad then. I think I’ve packed on a few pounds since your mother last saw me, but don’t tell her that or she may send me some more medication.”   In the midst of the lighthearted conversation, you realize that you’re being scrutinized by the other man. His hair is as dark as his eyes, gruff around his mouth and chin but his features are sharp. He stands with his chin high, his spine straightened, his arms behind his back. His robes are a deep violet, silks luxurious and commanding attention. You’ve seen him before.   Jung Hoseok. The man who has stood in your family’s courtyard with the same posture as each member was brought out and executed. You had witnessed it from the gaps of the weaved basket that you were hidden in until Seokjin covered your eyes with his small hands. It was fifteen years ago, when you were merely five. But you still remember the iron stench of blood well.    The memory and his boring gaze makes you break into a sweat. It’s as if he’s tearing you apart limb by limb, trying to read your intentions and consider if you’re a threat. Fear drains blood from your face. And perhaps he notices because a moment later, he hums and smirks.   “Let’s not waste all day here.” Hoseok turns away. “Minister Park, there are many matters to attend to. Your greetings can continue later.”   “O-Of course.”   Hoseok glances at the older woman standing beside him and she nods, addressing you, “Come with me.”   “From now on, you are to serve the Emperor. I am going to assume that the Park family has taught you proper etiquette.” The head servant lady continues walking and you struggle to keep up with her and the servant. You don’t glance at the members who took you here as they retreat appropriately. From now on, you’re on your own. “If you step out of line, there is little anyone will be able to do for you. The Empress is difficult to please, but as long as you do what you’re told and say nothing more, then your time will be more pleasant.”   You’re brought into a room with two more female servants and the door is quickly slid shut.    “Strip.”   “P-Pardon me?”   The lady huffs in annoyance and steps forward. Her hands reach out and she begins to tug the ribbons of your clothes. You’re startled, immediately stumbling back out of her grasp. “I-I can do it.”   “You should get used to it,” she says as you shed your outer and inner coat. “There’s no point in being embarrassed anymore.”   Still, your fingers are slow to remove your clothing. After a moment, you’ve rid of your clothes, only keeping your modesty by the last thin white layer that hides your breasts and naked torso from plain view.   It seems to be enough and the woman begins to inspect your skin. She rounds you, examining you from head to toe. Then she holds your arm, lifting them at every angle, making sure there are no wounds or rashes that could infect the Emperor. Her eyes, however, eventually fall to your neck. Right at the spot where you remember Jungkook kissed you hard enough to bruise and your face heats at the memory.    “I was accidentally bitten by a bug yesterday on my way here,” you murmur to explain the subtle lilac stain. “I apologize for being so careless.”   “Nothing that won’t fade then,” she states and you breathe a silent sigh of relief. But then the woman suddenly grabs a hold of your cheeks in one hand. She tilts your head to look up into her eyes and she studies your face carefully. She hums after a moment and lets you go.   You blink at her. “Is there something wrong?”   “You’re one of the prettier ones, that’s all.” The woman speaks softly as if it’s a shame — a shame that you’ve been brought here as the Emperor’s consort and that you couldn’t be wedded properly. You’re unable to dwell on her pity when the other girls take you by the arms and guide you to follow the woman when she walks off. The door slides open into an adjacent bedroom. “You’re going to be washed, cleaned, thoroughly. There’s not much time. You must be prepared for tonight.”   Your feet stop, blood running cold. “Tonight?”   The lady turns around, her gaze more sympathetic than before. “There’s no time to be wasted.”   You’re taken roughly, bathed in milky water with flowers plucked from the royal garden and rigorously scrubbed by two other servant girls until your own skin feels raw. Your nails are trimmed, hair combed before being looped and braided into a half-updo, holding golden hairpins that you would’ve never dreamed of ever having. The robes that are slid on you are soft silks, a light blush pink that matches the peony flowers your mother once had in her own garden. And your lips are pressed with red pigment, eyes lined, cheeks dusted with a rosy shade.   When they’re finished, you don’t recognize the person you see in the mirror.   “The Emperor isn’t difficult to please, but one must know not to step out of line.”   “I understand.”   “All hail Empress Soojin!” There’s a clamour outside and the doors abruptly open. Instantly, the servants, including the head servant woman, sweep back and fold their hands together, bowing their heads. You also look to the ground, dipping down in the presence of the Empress.   “You must be the new girl. Lift your head,” she says and you come to meet cat-eyes narrowed in on you. The Empress is dressed in crimson robes with golden swirls, her dark hair in an updo with pins and luxurious decorations. But she is not worthy of her title from her clothing alone. Her aura is intimidating, her expression unyielding to anyone in the room. She carries herself like she knows she was born of importance, that the mandate of Heaven resides on her shoulders.   Empress Soojin looks at you with a scrutinizing eye that makes you fearful. But then she smiles.   “What’s your name?”   “Park Y/N, Your Majesty.”   “What do your parents do?”   “They are nobles. They have some land in the East. We grow wheat for Your Majesty.” The lies are easy, all part of a narrative that isn’t yours.   Her smiles eases even more. “Do a good job.”   “Yes.”   Empress Soojin is kind — more than what you expected someone in her position to be. You would not know how to feel if you were meeting yet another girl your husband was trying to conceive with. But you’re not foolish enough to be put off guard. You know far better than to fall for her facade.   At the end of the day, she is your enemy. She might poison you or kill you if she so chooses. And you know that your child will also be her child. If you do fall pregnant by some miracle, the baby would be taken away from you and given to her. To grow with her. To call her mother.   But you don’t dwell on these thoughts or let it be known.    Empress Soojin leaves once she’s satisfied with your appearance and a veil is put over you as the sun starts to dip over the horizon. The ceremony is about to begin, the jovial music already playing in the distance and muffled through the walls.    “It’s time.”   You’re led out of the room, lugging your heavy robes with you. But as you look up, your breath hitches in your throat.    Doe eyes stare into yours past the translucent veil.    Jungkook is dressed in navy robes with the royal emblem on it, his hair brought into a ponytail with a sheathed sword by his side. Something lodges into your throat. But you try not to let your eyes linger too long on him. After all, here he isn’t your brother’s friend or the companion on your journey. Jungkook is the Emperor’s guard. You are merely the Emperor’s new consort.   “I’m here to escort you by the Emperor’s orders.”   You don’t speak a word as you walk alongside him. Neither does he.   But when no one’s watching, you steal a glance at Jungkook from the corner of your eye and find that he’s peeking at you too.   The moment is too short.   The throne room is grandiose, golden pillars spiraling upwards to hold the high ceilings. The room is full of ministers sitting by and eating, young girls dancing to the deafening beat of the drums and the melody of the flutes. But even from the distance, you can see the Emperor seated at the throne beside the Empress and Jung Hoseok who stands to his right.    Your hand tightens into a fist until your nails have sunk into your palm.   “All hail Consort Y/N!”   You come to the bottom of the steps where Jungkook leaves you, resuming to the side of the stairs, and you lower yourself on your knees. “It is my honour to serve you, Your Majesty.”   Your expression remains impassive, demure perhaps. But inside you, the rage ignites.   Emperor Minseok who stood by and did nothing as the Kim Family, your family, was massacred. Left behind two children on accident to fend for themselves. Left the nation to soil as he was kept inside ravishing young girls and indulging in pleasures.    He isn’t an Emperor. He does not have the Mandate of Heaven.    He is a puppet.   Emperor Minseok’s eyes light. He scrambles upwards and pushes Empress Soojin aside, making her wince. But he still moves past her to sprint down the stairs and comes to you like a child getting a new toy.   Instantaneously, your veil is thrown off.   The child-like man gasps in excitement. “You’re pretty!”   Hoseok, the person you know well as the mastermind orchestrating the entire court and country, the king’s personal advisor, approaches with a smile. “I am glad you are satisfied with the new girl, Your Majesty. But you must show restraint.”   The Emperor enthusiastically nods, but still takes your hand. He pulls you up the stairs and leads you to sit on the other side of him, something the Empress is visibly mortified at in spite of staying quiet.    “Continue the celebration,” he announces and the music commences once more with the pleasant laughter of the ministers. Minister Park has a twinkle in his smile and slightly raises his cup towards you before taking a sip. Jungkook, on the other hand, faces forward with a blank expression as if he were a statue. “What’s your name?”   Your eyes tear away from the doe-eyed man. “My name is Y/N. I am Park Minister’s niece, sire.”   There’s no reason to hide your first given name. It’s not like they would know who you and Seokjin are.   The ceremony and dancing continues, held as an excuse to welcome you and give fortune to tonight’s conception. In reality, it’s for those in the court to indulge themselves. The Emperor fawns over you the entire time, asking many questions and trying to get you to eat to which you force yourself to swallow down the food. You’re nauseated, especially with the times he touches you, when he wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his chest, but you retain a shy disposition to not arouse suspicion of your true feelings.   It ends much too soon.   “His Majesty will be here shortly,” the servant informs you as you’re brought into the bedroom and before you can get in another word, the doors shut.   They’re listening — you know they are. Maybe other girls have run before you, tried to flee while they still had the chance. But no matter how strong the urge is, your feet stay rooted into the ground.    The bed is revolting to look at. The golden sheets that seem to reek of a luxury that you have never known and now imprison you. You feel sick, like you might throw up, but you hold it in.   Your eyes shut tight, trying to regain control of your breath, trying to dispel away your worries.   It will be quick. It will be over. It won’t change anything about who you are. You will survive.   This is something you must do.   The doors open with Emperor Minseok drunkenly stumbling inside after grabbing a hold of the door frame. He haphazardly slides it shuts and giggles once his gaze has set upon you. You swallow hard, moving back on instinct. He grins and bumbles forward.   “You’re so pretty, huh?” He strips off his overcoat and you fall to the bed, silently seated and gripping the edge. “C’mon, you can say something. Won’t scare you away, kitty cat.”   Emperor Minseok pushes you back and climbs over you with the carelessness of an eager but intoxicated man. He stinks of alcohol and you hold your breath, looking away. He snickers and then frantically pushes the many layers of your dress up as if he doesn’t want to waste any more time.   Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, but you comply, like a dead fish against the sheets. Your eyes shut tight and you think about what it means to make sacrifices...   The Emperor tugs his drawers down in one swoop and aligns his cock against your folds. His hips at once jut forward without warning and your teeth grit, holding in your pained whimper as he enters into you. It burns, aching to the point where your eyes are stinging. He groans above you, withdraws, thrusts into you once and then he’s coming.   As quick as five seconds.    The Emperor groans, eyes shut tight, and then he collapses on top of you.   It takes a moment, for you to gasp for air, to come back to your senses and then you’re shoving the sweaty man off of your body, freeing yourself of his heavy weight. Emperor Minseok snores, already worn himself out, and you curse at him silently while you pull the layers of your dress down.   It’s tempting.   You want to kill him — and it would be easy to do so. But it would mean your death, Seokjin’s everlasting grief over it and the likelihood that someone else will become Jung Hoseok’s puppet.   So you gather your wits and slide off the bed until you’re seated on the floor.   //   In the middle of the night, there’s a shadow at the doorway and a soft murmur of your name.   You grab a loose silk cover to wrap your body and open the door. The candle has long been blown out but you haven’t slept, stayed on the ground while the Emperor snorts in his slumber. You hadn’t expected to see anyone, not until morning at least, but it’s surprising to see Jungkook.   Although you’re not sure if that surprise is pleasant or not.   “What are you doing here?” you ask in a hushed tone, shutting the door behind you and wrapping your arms around your torso, away from the cold wind that brushes through.   If anyone saw him here, it could ruin everything.    You don’t know why someone like Jungkook would take that risk.   “I know. I just…” The more you allow your eyes to adjust to the darkness, the better you are at being able to discern the furrow of his brows and the way it mars his expression. “How...how was it?”   “How was it?” you spit at him. “What do you think?”   There’s a held silence. Neither of you speak.    But the moment anger surges through you, the upheaval follows.    Against your will, sobs begin to break through your frame. As intense as the day Seokjin delivered the news that you would have to do this. And the memories burst through, catching up to you.   It would have been fine if you were alone.   If you could pretend that it wasn’t bad, that it meant nothing. But the earnestly spoken question from Jungkook has brought forth the truth that you had so desperately tried to push away.   You cry, tears shedding down your face as you hold your face in your hands. You are oblivious to the way Jungkook’s fingers twitch, how his hands reach out, how he hesitates. But then he embraces you, pressing your face against his shoulder, his arms around your waist.   You grab onto him, latching on as if he is the only thing that grounds you to this insanity. You muffle your sobs, trying to keep them quiet before you’re found. You wish this was Seokjin.   But it’s Jungkook.   “I had a younger sister,” he tells you suddenly, calming your hiccups as he cradles you against him. “Her name was Jieun. She was brought in, just like you. Five years ago. She was taken in by force. All because she caught the eye of the Emperor.”   You pull away from him and he wipes a tear off your cheek, holding your face within his hands.   You didn’t know. Frankly, you don’t know anything about Jungkook, but to hear him tell you, for him to openly share is something you don’t take lightly. “W-What happened to her?”   “She was always weak and they mistook her sickness for pregnancy. When they found out she wasn’t, they hung her for supposedly losing the baby.” His whispers are quiet, but they carry a grief that you can barely understand. Jungkook’s eyes connect within yours.    Finally, you begin to understand. Why he started this, why he’s come here.    “I don’t want something like that to happen again. I’ll do everything in my power to keep it from happening to you.”   You nod.   He didn’t need to come see you tonight. But you’re thankful he did.   //   “All hail Empress Soojin!”   The doors open with a parade of servants following the female who holds up her dress, entering through the doorway. You meet her halfway, head dipped and hands folded with a demure smile. Her eyes are narrowed in on you and you pay no mind when her servants begin to inspect the place, examining the bed sheets and any other evidence of last night’s affair.   “Good morning, Your Majesty.”   “How are you?” Her gaze sweeps across your body, lingering on your stomach.   “It was fine.”   The Empress lifts her hand and two more servants enter with a tray of food. They start to arrange the breakfast on the table. “You might be carrying a child, so it will be important to nourish yourself.”   You look at the dishes with a sense of queasiness. The last thing you want is food — you don’t think you could contain it in your stomach if you tried. And there’s a fear in your mind that she’s going to take this opportunity to poison you. You wouldn’t be surprised if she did.   So you dip your head. “If you may pardon me, Your Majesty, I am not feeling hungry.”   “Don’t be foolish.”   “I—”   Your words are choked the moment your head is whipped to the side. Your cheek burns. The Empress’ hand print is embedded into your skin, her arm still raised in the air. Your eyes sting.   Even in your worst moments, you’ve never been slapped. Not by Seokjin. Not even by your parents.   “Her Majesty was kind enough to come here and offer you food but you dare deny her and talk back?” The servant beside her shakes her head in disapproval. “The Park Family has no manners.”   Immediately, you fall to your knees. Your head meets the carpet, right by her feet but she doesn’t see the way your teeth grit. “I apologize for my disrespect.”   Empress Soojin huffs in frustration and there’s a clamour as feet stomp out, making the room silent once more. It’s then that you lift yourself back onto your feet and pour the tonic she gave you into the plant.    You spend the rest of your day in your room after taking a bath, staying out of anyone’s way as you were told to do. But after nightfall, there’s news of Emperor Minseok planning to come see you. So you suppose you must’ve done something right for him to willingly reach out to you.   His body weight is heavy against you, your back molded against the bed.    “You’re very pretty,” he says for the millionth time.   You try to muster a smile, but keep your head tilted to stare at the wall, acting like you are much too shy. “Thank you.”   The Emperor is easily worked up, the very antithesis of control. He enters you and you bare through it, getting used to the action. But Emperor Minseok finishes in a mere three pumps, gripping at your thighs with a groan. He rolls over to sleep and you shove down your skirt.   If you could count the little fortune you have, you’re relieved he’s been too impatient to undress you properly. He’s neither kissed you nor laid a hand to the softest parts of your body.   Not like Jungkook.   //   The palace is unfamiliar. It’s a vast space that stretches across the plane and numerous structures gives room for ministers and servants you will never know the name of. The only person you truly know in these walls is Jungkook. He’s the only person to confide in, but there is little opportunity to see him, even if you long to.   But he comes to you, enough times to make you reassured that he is always there, following in your shadow. Though it’s never enough to fulfill your desires or relieve your yearning.   “What is this?”   You open the envelope he’s passed to you, pulling out the folded parchment. The two of you are hidden in an empty warehouse where supplies and weapons are kept in wooden crates. Grime lays in thick layers, cobwebs collected at the corners, but some specks of dust float in the air, seen by the sunbeams that pierce through the gaps of the planks covering the windows.   Your eyes widen at the familiar writing of the letter and your eyes skim the page to see Seokjin’s signature at the bottom.   The corner of Jungkook’s mouth quirks to see your wide grin.   “H-How did you get it here?”   “We have servants working for us and a communication line coming in and out of the palace. It’s the way we exchange news.”   You nod, reading the letter and the kind words that are so much like Seokjin, encapsulating his personality with every ‘dear sister’. But the sentences are short and the content makes the blood drain from your face. There’s been delays of Seokjin getting into the palace.   They need more time. More than three months.   “There won’t be enough time.” Your hands drop, the letter put at your side. Your eyes lock with Jungkook’s, but he doesn’t seem surprised, as if he already knew. “I’m going to die.”   He doesn’t flinch, expression solemn, unyielding to this devastating news. “I will help you.”    “How?!”   “We’ll give them what they want. You won’t be executed if you’re carrying a child.”   “The Emperor is infertile—!”    But Jungkook isn’t.    And once the implications of his words sinks into you, you turn away to hide from his gaze, your voice shrill. “How could you….how could you even think of that? You’re as cruel as Jin. No one...no one has any regard for me whatsoever. It’s all about the country, the revolution.”   In the midst of your hysteria, he calls you. “Y/N.”   “You want to use me. You want to use my body,” you sob.   “I don’t want you to die,” Jungkook emphasizes and grabs you, spinning you around to look at him again. His hand wraps around your wrist, doe eyes staring into yours. Your breath hitches and it goes silent. “If there’s anything I can do within my control to help you, I will. I don’t want to feel powerless.” Jungkook’s grasp on you tightens, as if he is afraid to let go. “Not anymore.”   You recognize the pain in his eyes. It’s tangible. Earnest.   On instinct, you lean in, pressing your lips against his to console his worries. It’s a soft kiss, one where Jungkook’s nose brushes against yours and his hands lift to cradle your face. You succumb to the itch of having him close to you, giving into your carnal desires and the lust that has lingered in you after the kisses you two shared in the darkness of the forest that one night.   And Jungkook doesn’t hesitate either.    He touches you, fingers gently tugging the ribbons of your attire to slip off the inner coat and many layers they’ve cloaked you in. It’s freeing to be out of the silks. You can finally breathe again, but not for long when Jungkook kisses you until you’re gasping for air and your breath is stained with his.   You grasp at his own clothes, ridding them and his sword clanks to the ground.   His mouth moves from your jaw to the juncture of your neck, traveling down your collarbone and the valley of your breasts. He sucks at your flesh, greedy to mark every inch of it. Even if he doesn’t say it aloud, you can tell through his touches. He doesn’t want to use your body. He wants you.   “Jungkook.” The whine only spurs him on and you hold his head against you, fingers tangling to his hair.   It’s silent, except for the sounds of him kissing against your skin. Heat rises on your face, warming your cheeks. You don’t know how Jungkook can stay so careful and controlled. He never once rushes, giving plenty of opportunities for you to push him away if you so choose to.   But you don’t and he lays you on the soft hay collected in the corner of the warehouse.   You shy away from his attention, your naked body laid in front of him. But then he strips from the rest of his clothes, not letting you be the only one bare. Immediately, Jungkook reaches down to kiss you again, mouth pressed against yours like he has become dependent on your taste.   Jungkook readjusts you, getting you to sit on his lap facing him.   “Is this okay?”   You nod, gripping at his shoulders for leverage. His doe eyes lock into yours.   “Tell me if it hurts.”   “Okay.” Tears fog your vision. You’ve never been treated so gently before, not from a man or woman. While the circumstances are undesirable, bliss still blooms in your chest.    Jungkook licks his thumb and lowers his hand to continue to warm your center. You keen against him with a moan as he plays with your bud, rubbing your clit in circles and watching your expression carefully. Your slick begins to leak to his thighs, but he doesn’t seem to mind.   “J-Jungkook…”   Your eyes are teary, nose reddened from the cold. Jungkook presses his forehead to yours, your breaths laboured together. His cock lays thick in his hand, slit weeping with precum and the two of you look down, watching him align it to your folds.   His hips push up at the same time as you guide yourself down.    Jungkook groans. The pair of you are finally connected.    Strangely enough, it doesn’t hurt. Far from it and the realization makes your cheeks hot to the touch. You’re snug around him, able to feel his head nudging against your cervix.   “A-Are you okay?” he asks and you nod several times fervently.    Instead of answering in words, you close the distance with another searing kiss.    Soft smacking fills the room with his tongue licking into your mouth. Jungkook’s arms wrap around your waist, guiding you up and down your length while he meets you halfway. Your moans are muffled, his chest pressed against yours and you begin to sweat at your hairline.   You break apart.   “Jung—ko...ok.”   “Hmm?” He brushes a strand of hair away from your face.   “Harder,” you whisper so quietly that you can't hear yourself. He blinks at you, not understanding and you throw away your pride, knowing that there’s no reason to be ashamed when you’re with him. “H-Harder, please. I’m not fragile.”   The corner of his mouth quirks into a small smile, “Okay.”   Soon, indecent noises of pounding fills the room. You hug one another, keeping each other grounded with your bodies. Your arms are wrapped around his shoulders, your whines stifled against his warm skin. Jungkook tries to catch his breath, a cold cloud emitting from his parted lips.   It feels good. To have your warm and wet heat filled by Jungkook. To be stretched by him and feel him all the way to your throat. To have him so close to you. The pleasure is overwhelming.   Your slick coats his length, dripping down and making it messy where his thighs hits against your behind. It feels like you’re scratching an itch as you ride him, your cunt being bruised against his force. Pleasure thrums through you, thoughts turned to slush, surrounded in his scent. Your eyes are hazy and you feel feverish. All that befalls from your lips are broken and pitched whines of Jungkook’s name.   It gets sloppy and his strokes start to become short and frenzied in a staccato rhythm.   “J-Jungkook!”   He licks his thumb and rubs against your clit, making you sob out. Then, you come undone. You seize, squeezing around him. Light pierces through your eyelids and your toes curl. Pleasure overwhelms you until you’re spineless. At the same time, Jungkook pants heavily and his hips thrust upwards. A moment later, he’s cumming deep into your sopping cunt. His head is lodged right against the opening of your womb. Thick ropes painting your velvet walls. Hopefully to conceive.   “—Soojin visited the consort the morning after the ceremony.”   “Is that so?”   There are voices from outside and your eyes widen, lips stealing a gasp.   Immediately, Jungkook’s palm raises and cups your mouth. His brows furrow, eyes staying locked into yours and the both of you sit still, staying silent. You turn your heads and through the gaps of the wooden planks covering the window, you can see Hoseok and a minister brushing past.   “She’s never shown favour to any of the consorts.” They stop, right where you and Jungkook are naked, merely separated by a brick wall.   “Perhaps she sees something different from this girl than the others,” Hoseok hums. “Keep an eye on Empress Soojin and tell me if she does anything else out of the ordinary.”   Jungkook’s cum leaks from your center, dripping down his length.   “Yes.”   They finally pass and Jungkook’s hand falls from your mouth, finally taking a sigh of relief. Jungkook removes himself from you but only after he pushes his milky fluid back into you with his brows furrowed in concentration. He tucks his cum past your used fold into your heat.   Once satisfied, he gets up and puts back on his clothes.   You’re still reeling, not sure what to say or if you can even look him in the eye anymore. Part of you feels used. You’ve been passed from one man to the next, always with a purpose, a greater reason that your own desires. But then—   “Are you alright?”   Jungkook is tender, helping you up and brushing a strand of hair away from your face. He helps you get dressed again while you feel his cum drip down your thigh. It’s a reminder of the sins you have just committed together, something worthy of treason.   But it’s something you find yourself not minding doing again.   “I’m fine,” you murmur after you’re dressed again.   Jungkook stares at you silently, his eyes unable to be torn away from you. Then he leans forward as if driven on by sheer instinct. Jungkook’s mouth presses against yours in a sweet kiss. It catches you off guard. And then he parts with downcast eyes. “I’m sorry for doing something unnecessary.”   “It’s okay.” You meet his gaze. “I don’t...mind.”   He nods and you turn before he can see your smile. Your hand press gently against your stomach as hope blossoms through you.
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Time passes and maybe the Empress notices that you’ve been smiling more because she asks— “Are you feeling any differences?” — with a careful eye and something akin to anticipation.   “Not yet,” you answer with your head dipped. “But I’m sure it may happen soon.”   The Emperor has been seeing you two times a week. But you’ve been seeing Jungkook every other day.   If the two of you are lucky, one of these days a baby will stick to your womb and neither of you will have to be worried about how doom is impending. You have a feeling though; it’s going to work.   “Empress Soojin has personally ordered a tonic for you,” the head servant says as she enters with a tray and porcelain bowl filled with an amber liquid. “It will increase your fertility.”   Your eyes flicker from her face to the bowl and the servant softens. “Don’t worry. She won’t harm you if there’s a chance you could be carrying her child.”   You trust the woman and you ease your instincts, taking the tonic. And no later are you and Jungkook’s limbs tangled in the old warehouse again, away from prying eyes and ears.   But it’s taking too long.   There isn’t any news of Seokjin’s arrival, no movement from the rebellion group whatsoever and you can tell that Emperor Minseok is losing interest in you.   As you’re passing by the pavilion, you take a brief pause.   The servant behind you also stops, aware that you are watching the way Empress Minseok is drinking and laughing with other women, being served wine as he lies on giggling girls trying to catch his attention. You aren’t jealous, far from it. But you know nothing good will come out of his boredom with you, that it will only speed up your execution date if you are still without child. His favour would prove not only advantageous to you, but to Seokjin and Jungkook.   You’re supposed to preoccupy him after all, keep him distracted.   “All hail Consort Y/N.”   The doors to the Emperor’s chambers open right as the evening sun begins to dip below the horizon. Emperor Minseok is having drinks and some dishes while there are two concubines looped around his arms.   “My beautiful consort!” He calls out to you with a grin, surprise evident on his features.   You muster a smile and dip down. “May I speak to you privately, Your Majesty?”   “Sure, sure.” He bats at the concubines, motioning at them to leave. They bow their heads and scatter out. Once alone, you lift your eyes to lock it into his. “Is there something wrong?”   “I just…” Your smile becomes shy. “...wanted to see you.”   Emperor Minseok bursts out laughing, hearty in his chest and grating to your ears. “You were lonely? Come sit.” He pats at tiny chicken thighs and you hold your breath, complying. You nearly slip off his leg, but his sticky hands are placed on your waist.   His nose digs into your neck and you accidentally flinch.    He notices, brows raising and you swiftly cover up your mistake with a smile. “It’s still...hard for me to have so much attention from you.” You fiddle with your fingers. “I’m not used to it.”   The man grins. “But you still came here.”   “Because I was lonely,” you confirm in a quiet whisper. “The palace is so grand, I don’t really know what to do…”   “It’s magnificent, isn’t it?” he mutters out of the corner of his mouth, clearly not caring about the topic of conversation anymore with the way he stares at you. It’s almost as if he’s entranced by your features and his hand reaches down to slink up your leg.   You abruptly stand and grab his collar, making him rise to his feet too. “The palace is beautiful, especially the gardens. But it’s lonely to go flower viewing by yourself.”   Emperor Minseok cups your cheek. “Then I’ll come with you next time.”   You turn away, out of his grasp. “I could never ask that of Your Majesty. I can’t be selfish and you are always so busy. Actually...I…”   “What is it?”   You duck your head, playing a bashful act. “I try to look at your painting to satisfy my loneliness.”    Emperor Minseok chortles again and you spin around with a tiny pout. You step forward until he’s fallen onto his bed, amused at your boldness. “But it’s hard,” you say as you begin to climb on top of him. “There’s not many paintings of you.”   You position yourself so he’s underneath you. You straddle his hips, a coy smile at your features. “For a grand palace like this, one would think there would be more.”   “You’re right.” The Emperor is breathless, already excited after barely ten seconds. His greedy hands come up to grab your bottom, but you push him off so he doesn’t touch you.   “My father once commissioned a painter,” you murmur as you slowly tug his trousers down. “He was quite immature and eccentric, but his skills are unrivaled with.”   “W-What is his name?” His eyes watch you, pathetically salivating. You wonder if he’s going to cum in his pants already.   “I...think his name was Kang Seokjin,” you lie, quirking your head to the side. You grab his tiny, red cock that looks like it’s about to burst and he groans. “Have you never heard of him? He’s quite infamous in the East.”   “I-I’ve never.”   You hum, tugging your many skirts up and his eyes pin to your exposed skin. “Well, he’s a free-spirit and rarely does paintings, even for people who pay for it. Gold doesn’t buy him. My father had to beg him for weeks and even then he was reluctant.”   He scoffs. “He would never deny the Emperor.”   “Of course.” You align him up to your pink folds. Yet, you linger, putting the crumbling man under you in great suspense. “But…”   Emperor Minseok blinks at you, becoming impatient. “But?”   “You never know till you try, right?”    You drop down like the way Jungkook taught you to. You know better now how to satisfy a man, how to satisfy yourself, what kind of rhythm works best. But it only takes two swivels of your hips and one groan from him until he’s done and finishes. Emperor Minseok has tired himself out and succumbs to the seduction of sleep almost immediately with a smile on his face.    You roll off of him as he starts to snore.   You feel disgusted — skin grimy and crawling, the pit in your stomach growing with queasiness, revolted at what you had to do. But you know bathing and scrubbing your skin until it’s raw won’t be enough to satisfy you. It won’t be enough to cleanse yourself from him. So you leave the Emperor’s chambers as quickly as you came, abandoning the greasy man on the bed and shutting the doors behind you.   In the dark, you hurry as fast as your feet can take you.    You’re out of breath by the time you’ve twisted through the structures and pavilions. But relief comes in the form of a doe-eyed, dark-haired individual. The person you’ve been wanting to run to.   The person you’ve been yearning for.   “What are you doing here?” he scolds sharply, standing as you slide the doors behind you. The candlelight flickers, providing a dim glow on the profile of his face. “What if someone saw you?”   “They didn’t and they won’t.”    The bedroom Jungkook’s stationed in is tiny, a round table and two stools with a large opening for where his bed fits into the wall as if it were built in. But none of it matters to you. You don’t care that he has nothing but a sword and some folded clothes. All you care about is that he’s here.   “And what if you were caught?”   “Every time we do this, we risk getting caught.” You quiet his worries by closing the distance. You cradle his cheeks in your palm and kiss him frantically, sealing your mouth against his.   Jungkook hums to the sweet taste of your lips, licking into your hot mouth, but then he pulls away. “Wait.” His hands secure around your shoulders and he searches your expression after noticing the way your eyes have become teary. “Is there something wrong?”   You shake your head. “I just want you. Is...is that so bad?”   The candle is blown out, flooding the room in a comfortable, intimate darkness. But close up, you can still see Jungkook with the faded moonlight coming through the paper walls.    His back falls against the bed, but Jungkook doesn’t give you a long opportunity to climb and sit above him. He whirls you around until it’s your body that molds against the soft surface of his bed, preferring to take care of you than vice versa. And when he undresses you and sees the sopping mess between your legs, he understands what this is all about.    Why you’re so desperate for his touch.   “Let’s get rid of this,” he murmurs tenderly, not at once hesitating and you nod.    Jungkook kisses you again, deep and earnestly until you’re panting against him and he’s swallowing your exhales. Then his mouth travels downwards, careful this time not to leave a bruising mark against your skin where others could see in spite of longing to mark you. The man’s tongue ends up wrapping around your soft breast, allowing the bud to pebble underneath the warm muscle. You keen into him with a sob, arms wrapped around his neck and he continues mercilessly.   His lips travel down to your stomach and once your skin has gotten warm to the touch, your body writhing against the sheets stained with his scent, he positions you upwards. On his lap. Facing him.   Jungkook brushes away the strands of your hair, tucking it behind your ear and he gently holds your chin, turning your head so your eyes can lock into his. “Look at me,” he pleads in a husky timbre.   You nod and he positions himself at your dripping center, allowing you to drop down when you choose to. And when you do, the two of you groan while keeping your gazes connected.   It feels like he’s filled a void that you didn’t know was there. He’s a snug fit around your velvet heat, stretching just enough that pleasure thrums through you. “J-Jungkook.”   He makes a noise at the back of his throat, understanding what you’re feeling and he leans in for another kiss, his tongue wrapping around yours and drawing more sounds out of you.   The two of you work with each other. Your hips swivel as he pounds upwards into you, pelvises rubbed against one another to clear away Emperor Minseok’s fluids. Jungkook works hard while you squeeze and the cum drips out of you in clumps. It sticks to your thighs and his thick length, drying unpleasantly, but soon it’s only your wetness that comes out from your center.   Jungkook’s hands hold your body, touching you anywhere you guide him to. And you lean onto his sturdy frame, holding onto his built shoulders. Finally, you feel clean. You feel loved.   You kiss him again and his thrusts stutter.   It’s intimate, the sounds of gasping breaths and skin slapping on skin filling the darkness.   Jungkook can tell you’re close and rubs against your clit mercilessly and you cry, quickening your own pace to chase after your pleasure. But before you can finish, he turns your head again.   “Look at me, Y/N,” he says and you nod, teeth sinking into your bottom lip.   You cum while looking into Jungkook’s doe eyes, trying your best to keep them open. And as you squeeze around him, hugging against his cock, he cums. Deep into your heat, right at your cervix. Claiming you as his. Ropes of milky white spurting in then leaking down out of your folds.    All while keeping his tender gaze trained on yours.   You kiss Jungkook again, letting him soften within you, keeping him here just a moment longer.   You love Jungkook. It’s a fact that you don’t want to face in light of the situation — one that you had tried to deny for the sake of your own sanity, but it’s all too true. You love him. And every time he holds you, it feels like you’re making love together. If only things were different, maybe you could’ve had a future together. Maybe you could’ve gotten Seokjin’s blessing and married Jungkook, started a family together and lived a humble life for the rest of your days.   But that desperate and simple wish seems so far out of reach.   Overwhelmed with emotion, you try to keep your tears at bay. Yet, they shed down your cheeks and in the intimate darkness, Jungkook holds you close to him.
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It’s one afternoon while you’re walking in the gardens with the poor servant assigned to you following closely behind that you recognize a dark-haired, mischievous individual that you had missed. But you don’t call out to your brother, no matter how much you want to. You keep yourself poised, distant.   “Oh, Consort Y/N. Glad to see you wandering,” the head eunuch, a man you’ve spoken to little, says with a smile.   You keep your head lowered, a tiny smile that is all too genuine on your features. “Empress Soojin said it would be good for my health, so I have followed her instructions.”   “Well yes. Indeed it is.” He grins and then seems to remember the taller, younger man beside him. The head eunuch steps aside and motions towards your older brother. “This is Kang Seokjin. He is a painter from the East that Emperor Minseok has commissioned. Seokjin, this is the Emperor’s most recent consort, Consort Y/N. But I believe you have met before.”   “Only briefly.” You lift your eyes towards your sibling who smiles. “It is nice to see you again.”   “Yes, nice to see you again.” Seokjin’s eyes speak more than his words do and the two of you look at one another for a long moment, exchanging meaningful expressions and taking in the differences that two months have done.   “Well, I must head off now.” You break away the stare, keeping yourself unsuspicious. “It was pleasant to meet your acquaintance again.”   You pass Seokjin, but the two of you look at one another from the corner of your eyes.   He’s finally in the court and a sense of relief fills you. If a few more ministers agree to turn against the Emperor, everything will be complete. It’s Seokjin’s turn to act and now only time will tell.
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In the middle of the night when the palace has gone asleep, you sneak from your quarters.   The dirty warehouse has become your sanctuary with Jungkook, a place you’ve grown fond of because it holds your most precious memories. It was this place that you looked forward to the most. That kept you sane. That always promised that your favourite person was waiting inside.    It’s tonight with the full moon out that you get to savour the moment. After the deed has been done, you’re slumped in Jungkook’s arms, naked with just his outer coat around your shoulders.   You take his right hand, uncurling his fingers. Carefully, you trace letters against his warm palm.   “Kim?” Jungkook questions after a moment of concentration.   “Kim means gold,” you murmur and trace more letters against his skin. With your head leaning against his chest, you can hear his soothing heartbeat in your ear. “Seok means great. Jin means precious. Together, it means great gift or big treasure.”   If things were different, you would’ve liked to be a scholar. Transcribing books all day long or writing your own, perhaps creating poetry about nature. As a child, you hated studying and preferred to play like Seokjin did. But it was now that you yearned for those simple times again.   You know Jungkook’s name too and you trace each letter against his palm with your index finger carefully. “Jeon means rice. Jung spindle tree. Kook is country. Together, it means to have a beautiful country.”   “Pillars of the nation,” he clarifies quietly. “Or at least that’s what I think my grandfather intended when he named me.”   “They’re such great names. I hope….the name of our child will be meaningful too,” you hum drowsily while dreaming of the possibilities. “If it’s a boy, Minkook, the country of the people. If it’s a girl, Yujin, meaning full of stars…”    The both of you know you won’t be able to name your child. Not if it’s born within these stone walls. Not when everyone believes it is the Emperor’s. The baby will be taken away from you the moment it’s out, raised while calling the Empress their mother and you would be a nobody.    But then Jungkook dispels away your anguish, even if it’s just for a second. “They’re beautiful names.”   The corner of your lips quirk and you blink sleepily. You tell him about your dream, a memory of the future you have conjured to comfort you, “They would be raised in a quiet home on top of a hill. Where we could see the sunset and sunrise every day. There would be grass where the children could play. A river nearby to wash the clothes too…”   Jungkook’s arms tighten around you and you feel the press of his lips against your temple. “That would be perfect.”   You hum again silently with a smile, falling asleep with Jungkook right beside you. And it’s all you know you can have.   //   Empress Soojin enters your chambers the moment you are doubled over in a copper bowl, the contents of last night’s dinner squeezed painfully from your stomach. The world is on an axis, your head dizzy since you had awoken. But when you realize she’s standing there and taking in your crumpled form, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and try to stand.   “Your Majesty…”    The Empress rushes over to steady you, her eyes wide and full of surprise. “You feel nauseous?” Your expression meets hers, your face drained of all blood. The silence speaks for itself. Empress Soojin immediately whirls around to her parade of servants, anticipation etched on her features. “Call the physician!”   No sooner are you laid in the bed with the physician pressing two fingers on your wrist, quiet as he listens to your heartbeat. The Empress is crowding around, her hands gathered together but still trembling. Then the old man lifts his head with brightened eyes.   “She has been with child for two months now. It’s extraordinarily healthy and strong.”   Empress Soojin stumbles back. Her palm is pressed against her chest, her breath staggering out of her parted lips. And you lift yourself, your hand laid on your stomach that has yet to swell.   It’s your child and Jungkook’s.   “From now on, only consume cold foods and make sure it is properly cut or mashed,” he says as he wobbles to his feet. “Avoid shellfish and pineapple too. I will prescribe a herbal tonic that you can take daily.”   “Thank you.” Empress Soojin is grinning and comes to your side to envelop you in a warm embrace that you aren’t used to. “Are you still feeling unwell? Are you hungry? It is important to nourish yourself for this baby.”    When you shake your head, having no appetite, she nods and looks around. “This place is so rancid and dusty.” The Empress spits several servant’s names and they step forth with bowed heads. “Clean this room immediately! We will go on a walk in the meanwhile and get fresh air.”    There is little you can do to deny the whims of the Empress who’s more alive than you’ve ever seen her before. So while your room is cleaned and redecorated with luxurious sheets and golden vases, you’re guided by her on a walk around the garden.   The news spreads like wildfire, passing from servant to servant to official declarations.   Within a few minutes, Emperor Minseok is bounding over. There’s a grin plastered on his sweaty face, the strands of his hair sticking together. He’s out of breath, still in horseback riding gear like he had gotten off a few seconds ago and you recognize Seokjin behind him in the same attire.   “You’re expecting a child?!” Emperor Minseok exclaims loudly, startling you. He’s jumping and you muster a stiff smile, not sure what you should say. But he doesn’t give you an opportunity to. He immediately reaches out to your stomach with his greasy and soot filled hands. “Is it moving?”   But he never lays a hand on you.   Empress Soojin slaps his hand away and her brows furrow sternly. “The child is at a delicate stage. These are not trivial matters.” She pinches her nose. “And the horses’ stench that you’ve brought here is defeating the purpose of coming out here for fresh air.”   “Of course, of course.” Emperor Minseok smiles, retracting his arm.   Your eyes meet Seokjin’s and the corner of his mouth quirks warmly into a familiar smile. “Congratulations, Your Highness. May your child have great blessings as you do.”   You bow your head, trying to not prolong your gaze and arouse suspicion. “Thank you.”   “But…” Emperor Minseok’s eyes flicker between you and the Empress. “Does this mean I will get another concubine soon since I can’t play with Y/N anymore?”   Immediately, Empress Soojin is distraught. Hurt comes across her features as if she’s been slapped and for once, you sympathize with her. She never answers, merely turning around. “We should get you back inside for some rest. It’s not good to be in the cold wind for too long.”   You nod, glancing at your brother behind your shoulder and after a moment, you follow her.   But as you’re making your way back, your path is intercepted by Jungkook on his way to the courtyard. He’s dressed in black robes that match his long hair tied back, holding a sheathed sword as always. Yet what’s different from before is the tenderness of his eyes.   Jungkook doesn’t need to speak for you to understand. You’ve come to learn all the ways he communicates through silence.   “I heard about the news,” he says and you slow to a complete stop. “Congratulations, Your Highness.”   “Thank you.” You savour the moment, looking at him with a soft smile.    To the Empress who turns around to see the delay, the exchange is simply between a guard and consort without connection. She doesn’t know that the meaningful gaze is shared between a mother and father to be, two secret lovers separated by circumstance.   //   There’s many good wishes and felicitations given to you. Even Minister Park, your supposed uncle, makes an extravagant gesture by personally delivering a basket of fresh fruits and vegetables that makes Empress Soojin command the servants to re-wash. But the person you least expect to receive praise and blessings from is Jung Hoseok. In spite of that, he is here in your room, having shown up suddenly.   It’s a surprise and you struggle to get up from your bed.   “Are you alright?” he asks, concerned. “You don’t really need to stand—”   You muster a smile and manage to sit up. “It’s quite alright. I was always taught that the least I can do is greet a guest properly.”   The thin, middle-aged man rubs the gray scruff on his chin and you can feel his sharp eyes that probe into you. The way he studies you carefully would cause sweat to bead along your forehead if not for how safe you feel. It’s not from Empress’ insinuated promise of protection or that you’re abstained from execution or knowing Jungkook would defend you at any cost either.    Ever since you’ve found out that there was life budding within you, you’ve felt safe.   You’re no longer alone. No matter where you go, you carry someone else with you.   And now there’s never been a stronger reason for you to fight, to be strong and unafraid.   “I heard the physician was called this morning,” Hoseok says.   “It was just morning sickness.”   The man hums, arms shifting to place behind his back. “Well, the Empress made quite an uproar.”   “She often worries about me and the child,” you state plainly and it almost sounds like a threat, one Hoseok visibly acknowledges with a cocked brow. But you don’t dwell, clearing your throat and putting a pleasant expression on your face. “May I ask for what reason you’ve graced me with your presence?”    “I just wanted to visit the future emperor.” Hoseok’s eyes linger on your stomach and his smile becomes wry. “It’s quite a miracle, isn’t it? It’s no secret that there has been….some difficulty for a child to be produced. And for it to last this long too. The physician said it was exceptionally strong.”   Your smile stretches, but mirth never reaches your eyes. “The Mandate of Heaven grants miracles. It must be a divine wish and I am honoured to be the one fulfilling it.”   “Yes.” He nods and then notes, “well, you’ve gotten close to the Emperor’s guard, haven’t you?”   “I have no idea what you mean.”   Hoseok eyes you and it goes silent.   Then, you sit back down with the back of your hand pressed to your forehead. You gasp for breath and bat at yourself. “I’m beginning to feel faint. I think I need to lay down. It would be best if you were to leave, minister. God forbid...something happens to this child otherwise.”   Hoseok scoffs, but turns to exit.   Your fist clench, wrinkling the sheets underneath your hold. You’ll do whatever it takes to protect Jungkook’s child.   //   The fourth month milestone of your pregnancy is eventually reached without many qualms or complications. You’re less nauseous than you were before, but the queasiness has been replaced with hunger that often strikes in the middle of the night. You’re given teas and tonics, tested to make sure there is no poison — something Empress Soojin obsesses over and screams if there’s even a hair in the liquid which you’re still not sure if it’s worth laughing about or being scared of. Your breathing has become laboured too, even after short walks.   But most importantly, you’ve begun to feel strange sensations. Flutters in your stomach that the physician says is the movement of the child and when they happen, you can’t help caressing the bump that’s not so tiny anymore.   While things have been going smoothly, you’ve been put under strict monitoring for a whole month.   You’re protected, out of harm’s way. The only people who visit you are the physician, the head servant, a few other servants, and Empress Soojin who constantly and excessively frets over you — her incubator to her supposed baby. Her kindness and concern is meant for the child, not for you and you’re fully aware. It’s not that it matters to you, but it’s something you keep in mind.   You’ve heard the Emperor has found himself new concubines to preoccupy his time with too. Ever the same as he disregards matters of the nation to have innocent girls and conniving concubines lay underneath him. At least you’re untouchable to him now, out of reach and far away.   But it comes at a price.   You can’t see Seokjin. And you can’t see Jungkook either.   Your only connection to him is the swelling of your stomach, a sizable bulge that you can rest your hands against.   You miss Jungkook — so much that it hurts to think about. And it’s yearning for him constantly that makes you question your ears when you hear his voice whispering your name one night.   But it isn’t your imagination.   “J-Jungkook?”   “Don’t get up,” he says, shadow laid against the paper walls of your room. Your eyes trace against the black outline, lump forming in your throat at how this is the closest you can get to him. “I just wanted to come by and tell you that in three days, it’s happening. The ministers and other government officials have agreed to turn against the Emperor and Jung Hoseok. They’re going to force him to abdicate.”   He did it. Seokjin did it. The realization has tears flooding your vision.   “I’ll come for you,” he promises.   The tall shadow moves away, but you call out to him before he leaves—   “Jungkook.” He stops at the soft enunciation of his name, a beck and call made with emotion. And your heart stutters, knowing that the day your yearning will cease is coming close. “The physician thinks it’s a boy. I do too.”   He lingers.   If you could see him, you’d find an affectionate smile stretching into his cheeks.   Jungkook murmurs, “I hope Minkook will be as handsome as his father and as strong as his mother.”   Tears stream down your face. The corner of your lip lifts as Jungkook’s shadow fades.   //   You count down the hours, the minutes, the seconds. They pass by tediously, but excitement swells in your chest as you consider that in three days time, you will have freedom. A life with Jungkook. Seokjin by your side. Your child in your arms, never to be taken away from you.   It’s all you wished for since you stepped foot into the palace. But perhaps even before then.   You might’ve never loved Jungkook the way you do now or yearned to hold your healthy baby close to you, yet it has always been clear that doing anything and being anywhere would’ve been better than here. Even with the careful treatment you receive, this isn’t what you want.   So you wait. Patiently. For the promised day to arrive.   But it’s the day before the expected overthrow that there’s chaos in the middle of the night.    “Y/N!” You’re shaken away by Empress Soojin. Her sudden appearance shocks you out of your peaceful slumber and you’re left gasping for breath. But she’s frantic, eyes nearly falling out of their sockets. She’s still in her nightgown, hair in a disarray. The woman holds you by your shoulders, making you rise. “There’s something going on. I—I n-need to bring you to safety.”   The Empress guides you upwards, shouldering your weight. Once you’re on your feet again, she grabs a silk overcoat and secures it around your shoulders. “Quickly. There’s no time to waste.”   “Your Majesty.” You try to shake the sleepiness away, wondering if it was all a dream. “What’s going on?”   One of your hands is held in hers while the other rests underneath your swollen stomach, supporting the heaviness of the baby. “There’s a carriage waiting for you.”   There’s yelling from the distance, footsteps on the roof that make your head tilt. But you’re unable to discern what they’re saying, what’s occurring. All you know is that you’re about to be sent away. Without Seokjin — without Jungkook.    “Wait.” You struggle to catch up to her pace, confusion inhibiting your movements. Yet she still pulls you along, past the structures and paths shrouded in darkness. “I can’t leave.”   “It doesn’t matter,” Empress Soojin says, more serious than you’ve ever had the chance of witnessing. “You have to protect the baby at all costs.”   She’s desperate to protect you, to protect your child. She came to you first when she could’ve run on her own and left you asleep. She chose to keep you from harm over her own well-being.   Time and time again, Empress Soojin has made sure you were watched over.   And the realization makes guilt well up your throat.   Your steps slow and your arm tugs her back.   “This baby,” you whisper, “it doesn’t belong to who you think it does.”   But Empress Soojin’s hand tightens on yours and she turns around. Her brows are drawn together, the corners of her mouth tilted in a sorrowful smile. “Don’t you think I know that? But it doesn’t matter,” she spits in the midst of your shock and continues pulling you. “The child is supposed to be mine. It will be mine. It’s the only way I can be a mother.”   Before you can get a single word out, she turns the corner and there are deafening shouts. A clamour of feet stomping against the wooden floorboards, the clinking of heavy armour following grunts— “Stop right there!”   “Stand down!” Her voice is unwavering, strong as she pushes you behind her. “I am your Empress—!”   But they are Hoseok’s guards.    You recognize them from having followed the man around, from standing by during the ceremony and other celebrations you’ve been a spectator to. They have sworn their allegiance to him. Not to Emperor Minseok and most certainly not to Empress Soojin.   But she doesn’t seem to understand she’s been caught, that she’s a mouse cornered by two felines. She is naive and continues to scream at them for their disobedience. You try to tug her away, to get her to run, yet her pride is much too strong and you’re yanked away.    Sideways. The collar of your coat is taken by the bloodied knuckles of the guard. Stumbling. He clicks his tongue in annoyance at the ear-piercing Empress and in an effort to silence the ordeal, his weapon raises against you. His sword is high in the air, prepared to slash and end this nightmare.   Except, his blade never hits you.   Even when you shut your eyes, wrap your arms around your stomach to protect your child, hitch your breath, bracing yourself for the cut…..   “NO!”    Empress Soojin throws herself in front of you, her arms outstretched, allowing herself to take the blow as she is ripped from across her right shoulder to the left hip. She spits blood, warm crimson spewing out and splattering onto your cheeks. The world seems to come to a stop.   Your breathing ceases. The guard’s eyes shake for having hacked the Empress herself.   Yet she does not yield in spite of the wound that drips blood to the floor in droplets with a steady rhythm, that soaks into her white nightgown, marring the clean colour. She lurches forward, grabbing a torch attached to the wall and shouts, “Stay back!”   Her yell is howled out from her throat, jarring to the ears, full of wrath and will. And she throws the torch, allowing searing flames to engulf the corridor.   The guards stagger backwards with widened eyes and after a delayed moment, they retreat with profanities before the smoke can engulf their form.   Empress Soojin collapses.   You drop down to her as sobs wreck through your frame. As calculating and thoughtless as she has been, she has never once been insincere to you. She has never abandoned you. You cradle Soojin’s head into your lap, trying to wipe at her mouth with the sleeve of your silk overcoat. But she bats your arm away. Her hazy eyes remain connected with yours.   “P-protect the child…..prom...ise me…”   You nod, tears staining your cheeks forevermore. But you stand, finding leverage against the wall that was slowly being consumed by the sweltering fire and you run. As fast as your weak knees allow you to.   You leave Soojin behind — laying on the floor — staring up at the ceiling.    She dies before being taken by the fire bleeding through the palace.   You run, unsure of where to go but away from the uproar of people, the bloodshed and clashing of swords, away from the blazing inferno, collapsing ceilings and smog that chases your shadow. And it’s when you begin to lose breath and come to a four-way path that you nearly collide with another body.   A scream tears out of your chest until you find warm, familiar eyes.   “Jin?!”   Your brother’s hands secure around your shoulders and he lowers himself for your gazes to meet. “Are you alright?” His chest rises and falls, steadying his breathing as well and you notice the sword dangling by his side, unsuitable and much too lanky. Seokjin has always suited brushes and books more than weapons — something you wish you had told him sooner.   “I—I’m fine, but Empress Soojin. I...I left her behind and she’s wounded. There’s fire….fire!”   “Y/N,” Seokjin calls you calmly and sternly. “Are you okay?”    You nod and he sighs, pulling away. “Then that’s all that matters.”   “What’s going on, Jin?! I thought the abdication was going to be tomorrow.”   “Some of the ministers changed their minds last minute. They decided they wanted to remain loyalists to the Emperor for fear of their families being punished. The revolt has been moved up.”   “Revolt?! I thought….I thought they were just going to force him to abdicate!” You didn’t know that there would be such violence. That all of this was planned prior. It makes you queasy.   “Sometimes sacrifice is needed,” Seokjin merely states. “But you don’t have to worry. We still have the majority of the ministers’ support. They would’ve still voted in favour of abdicating the Emperor from his throne.”    Your brows are drawn tightly together and you shake your head. “What does that mean?”   “It means we’re going to win.” Your older brother smiles, his eyes crinkling, a sense of elation evidently filling his features. But you wonder what the cost of the rebellion coming to fruition is. “I know you’re not carrying the Emperor's child. It’s Jungkook’s, isn’t it?”   Seokjin searches your expression for any confirmation, but unlike how you thought he would be wary of your relationship with his close friend and the dangers that came along with it, he appears more relieved.   “Jungkook told me,” he explains, “and I told him to come find you. Stay here, alright?”   “What?” You grab a hold of your older brother before he can run off, before he can disappear with your worry for him being abandoned with you yet again. “Where are you going?”   “I’m going to find Hoseok before he can run away. I’m going to give him what he deserves.”   Every syllable is spoken with malice, a sharpness and anticipation flooded between each pause.    But you hang onto Seokjin, refusing to let go. You gaze at your sibling, his eyes and hair that appear darker in this lack of lighting, the downturn of his mouth, his shoulders and frame that seem to have gotten thinner in the months you haven’t seen him. You’ve missed Jin so much.   And at this moment, you don’t care that the fire is spreading through the palace. That there was smoke already spread at the ceiling. Bloodshed and pitched screams not far from where you stand. You turn deaf to those noises, to the crackling of the flames, the uprising’s cry.   “Do you really need to do this? Isn’t this enough already?”   “No. It’s not. I won’t be satisfied until I know that bastard hasn’t run away.”   “Please, Seokjin,” you beg with your entire frame, fingers tightening on his sleeve until your knuckles have turned white. You do all that you can to reach him, begging him, pleading with him as his younger sister. “D-Don’t go. I miss you. We’re….we’re family. I only have you left and I...I don’t want you to go anymore. Stay with me, please. Please, please, that's all I ask.”   You remember. Days under the sun where you would follow him. Days he would take dull sticks and poke you incessantly. Days he would piggyback you and tell you stories he made up off the top of his head. That day the two of you hid in the woven baskets and witnessed the massacre of your family until he covered your eyes with his small hands still dirty from picking flowers.   “Don’t go.”   But Seokjin’s has already made up his mind. All by himself.   You can tell with the way his eyes become saddened, how he merely leans in to plant a kiss at your forehead, how he pulls out of your grasps. Seokjin runs off and you try to chase him as if you were still children playing games in the forest. But just like then, he’s faster than you are.   “Seokjin!”   He runs, disappearing into the darkness.   “Jin!” And you’re left alone. Abandoned. Sobbing heart wrenchingly until your whole being aches. “Kim Seokjin!”   You call out to him to no avail, watching the backside of your only brother fading away.
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Seokjin hears you, loud and clear. But he doesn’t turn around.    He twists around the corner, sword slashing anyone who comes in his way. After years of training, it’s no longer difficult to drive his blade into bodies and let their blood splatter on his hands. It’s rather easy when he consumes himself in his hatred and anger.   Seokjin kills any guards still wearing the royal emblem or those who have sworn their allegiance to Jung Hoseok, and any ministers who have decided to stay as loyalists. He spares servants, letting them run past him as they cry, begging for mercy. And he persists, even when he has to lurch forward, the gash of his shoulder dripping of his blood and the nicks on his face sting painfully.   He makes it to the grand throne room. The red carpet is rolled in front of him, golden candle lights providing piercing luminescence but making his own shadow darker. This is the place that once held extravagant celebrations to welcome the Emperor’s consorts that were disposed of months later, that held dancers and musicians for the entertainment of the ministers, that failed to save the nation from poverty and famine.   And now, Seokjin finds Hoseok seated on the throne.    The man is alone. Pouring his last cup of wine to drink.   “Jung Hoseok!” Seokjin’s voice booms across the hall, his steps finding vigor as they close the distance. “You can’t run anymore!”   “I know,” the middle-aged man says after he sips and smacks his lips, savouring the taste of wine. “I know I’ve lost. It must feel good to undermine my position, huh? I should’ve known better than to underestimate you, but those are things of the past. I can’t change them now.”   His calmness exasperates Seokjin to his core.   And Hoseok rises to his feet, brushing his robes behind him. His arms are placed behind his back as he walks down the steps of the throne, finally facing the younger man. But he isn’t surrendering, far from it when he takes the sword from the stand and points it at Jin.   There’s shouting, an ear-splitting clash of metal against the crackle of the flames becoming louder as they seep through the back wall. Hoseok is stiff, age having slowed his movements. He isn’t as agile as Seokjin is, doesn’t have his fervour, but it’s clear to Jin that he’s not going without a fight. That he will never give up out of his own will. Hoseok would rather burn here.   “You killed my family!” Seokjin spits when their blades crash against each other again, the older barely able to deflect.   The corner of Hoseok’s mouth tugs. “I ended many families.”   Seokjin never tells him about the Kim family, about how his father and mother were both executed when knelt on the dirty ground, how his uncles and aunts were brutalized before being murdered, that the servants’ sobs only stopped once their breathing ceases.    Seokjin doesn’t tell, just because he has an inkling, a fear that Hoseok won’t even remember.   So he lets his grief speak for itself— “You will pay for what you’ve done.”   There’s a swing, another clatter. Hoseok stumbles back before lifting his sword again.   There’s a chance. An opportunity. Seokjin could deflect, could move away swiftly without a blink to waste, but his eyes instead pinpoint to Hoseok’s open abdomen. A perfect spot and he seizes the moment.   He drives the sword forward.   Until he can hear the breath in the older man hitch, see the way his pupils tremble. Even when the cost is that Hoseok’s own blade digs into his shoulder and tears it down into his chest.   Blood pours like rain on an April afternoon. It drips in a rhythmic beat, coating the empty throne room until the iron stench overwhelms the smoke of the burning, golden walls.   Seokjin uses the remaining of his strength to step back, pulling the sword out of Hoseok. The blood-soaked blade crashes to the ground at the same time as Hoseok’s own body collapses.   And Jin falls back a moment later. The pool of his blood is warm, the fire enveloping the room sweltering. He stares at the magnificently painted ceiling before shutting his eyes for the final time.    The corners of Seokjin’s mouth tugs upwards into a smile.   We’ve won, Y/N.
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At the same time, you stumble.
  The wind knocks out of your lungs as your knees buckle. You’re grabbed by one of Hoseok’s guards, pulled back until your arm feels like it’s being yanked out of its socket. You cry out as agony overwhelms you and the guard wheezes over the exhaust of the fire engulfing the palace and paints the wooden structures into bright scarlet.    “She’s here!” he shouts while you struggle.    But before you can be taken, dragged towards the center of the palace, there’s a low grunt from the guard. A short shout is made and he suddenly drops, revealing your saviour. Doe eyes and dark hair, his hands splattered in carmine and his brows knitted closely together.   “J-Jungkook!”   He embraces you in an instant, arms wrapping around your frame for the first time in ages. His nose digs into your hair, your face into his shoulder as you shake. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here now,” he soothes you in a murmur that you desperately hang on to.   But the intimate moment doesn’t last for long.   Jungkook pulls away. “We have to go. There’s an open entrance in the back by the stables.”   “Wait—wait, Jungkook! Jin. I couldn’t stop him. He—he went to find...he went to find Jung Hoseok and he went towards the fire. I can’t leave him behind. He’s my only brother. Please go look for him, please,” you beg him, hands tightening on his. “I can’t go without him.”   “I know,” Jungkook tells you with lips lopsided. “But I need to make sure you’re safe first. I need to fulfill my promise to him. This is what he wanted, okay?”   You nod, putting your trust in him and quicken your pace. The faster you go, the more time they’ll be for Jungkook to return and search for Jin before it’s too late. But as the two of you interlace your hands, running alongside one another, you’re stopped meters away from the circular opening of the wall.   “Stop!” Emperor Minseok shouts pathetically. He’s obviously shaken, his hair in a disarray, his once magnificent robes dirtied and fluttering open. He is with two other guards wielding weapons, but without his clothes and servants, it is clear that he is undeserving of his title.   He is not an Emperor.   “Y-You can’t leave! That child is mine!” Minseok points to your stomach.   “This isn’t your child!” you shout back at him and the man seemingly pales, eyes horrified as his mouth drops open. “It has never been.”   “You….You!”   There’s a clamour above the roar of the fire consuming the entire palace. The last of his guards were coming from the corridor and your hand squeezes Jungkook’s.   If you die here, then so be it. But you will do so protecting your child until your very last breath.   Yet, Jungkook has other plans and it doesn’t encompass your death.    “Run,” he whispers sharply into your ear and you whirl around to look at him. “I’ll hold them off. Run and don’t look back.”   “But—”   “I love you.” Jungkook smiles. His doe eyes crinkle, shining in the flames bleeding to your feet. “I’ll see you again.”   He pushes you forward and your feet move on instinct. You run with your arms wrapped around your swollen center, breaths stolen from your parted lips and your eyes shut tight. The guards swing their swords around, but their blades never touch you. There’s a clatter of metal, blades striking one another.   Minseok reaches out to seize you, not letting you get away. But his fingertips merely skim the tips of your hair. You hear his grunt, a smothered sound coming from his mouth, the drop of a body.   You run. Out through the entrance. Up the dirt incline until your feet begin to slip. Until the darkness has completely covered your form from sight. Until sheer exhaustion forces you to stop.   Against Jungkook’s will, you turn around.   You watch as the raging fire engulfs the palace, eating away at the structure that stretches across the horizon, as blazing as the sunlight at dawn itself. And you fall to your knees, sobbing for the people you love.
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[Epilogue]   The dynasty has fallen.   New people have taken over old places and you wonder if it was all futile — if history will repeat itself once more — if Seokjin’s sacrifice has been made in vain. For his sake, you hope not.   After the rebellion and riots on the streets by the common people, the loyalists of the old empire have been driven away from the country. But you know there’s few of them that are still after you because of your ties to the rebels. There are those on the uprising’s side that are seeking to kill you too. They believe that your child belongs to the deceased Emperor and many would rather be safe than sorry, not wanting to risk his bloodline being in existence at all.   But one look at the babbling baby trying to stand in front of you and his striking doe eyes and dark hair, you know for certain that he is of Jungkook’s blood and bones.   “Minkook, what are you doing?”   You pick up your mischievous, chubby toddler to place on your hip.   His grabby hands take your hair and his mouth circles, trying to sound out syllables and string them together. “M-Mum..mum..mama…”   You smile, nuzzling into him. “Are you hungry?”   Those who believe you, the ones closest to Seokjin, have chosen to protect you from the threats. After the birth, you were brought to a safe house far from the capital where no one knows your name or your child’s. It’s a modest home on top of a green hill, close to the riverbend and where you can see the sunrise and sunset. It’s peaceful and every morning and evening, you’re able to sit on the steps. Waiting.   They told you about Seokjin. You heard that several of them saw his body before the entire palace went up into flames, but there’s been no news of Jungkook. No sighting of him.   It’s been eleven months since that time. Six from when Minkook was born.   You don’t know Jungkook’s whereabouts, don’t know if he can even find you with where you’re hidden now, how he will manage to get himself here. But you believe in his promise. You trust that you will see him again.   “Goodnight, Min.”   Your sleepy toddler is unable to keep his eyes open for any longer and succumbs to the seduction of sleep. You plant a tender kiss on the top of his round head and set down on the bed, still softly humming a lullaby that Seokjin had taught you so long ago — a way you keep his memory alive. Once Minkook is secure and safe, your footsteps pad quietly across the floor.    You come outside, shutting the door behind you, sitting on the wooden steps.   The last light of the sun is fading from the sky. The horizon is painted in murky shades of tangerine and rose, the clouds wispy and floating in shapes that you and your brother once tried to discern as children. Someday, your own children will lay in the grass staring at the sky because of his sacrifice and yours. But for now, you watch the sun fall.    You watch as night takes over the evening, how another day has passed.   But as you turn to head inside as the sky starts to be filled with stars, your breath hitches in your throat.   You blink hard to ensure that it's not a dream. That the illusion has not imprinted into your mind after so much desperation and time. But the sight is all too real when you open your eyes again.   Over the horizon at a distance and in the last dwindling light of the evening, there is a man with doe eyes and dark hair approaching. His gaze meets yours and a tender smile stretches into his cheeks. His features are tired as if he has been traveling for days, clothes ragged and ripped.   But none of it matters.   Jungkook comes closer and closer towards you. And you run, meeting him halfway as tears flood your vision. You leap forward and he laughs, arms catching you in a tight embrace.   The two of you are finally reunited at last.
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"Please don't leave me" ~ Peter Parker
Summary: When you are injured in battle Peter begs you to stay
Word Count: 3.4k
Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Speedster!Reader
Warnings: Mentions of violence, death, injuries, and blood. Just overall sad. (If we missed something that you feel should be tagged and/or mentioned let us now and we'll include it)
A/N: Hey, so as you can see we are not dead! :) (I don't know why I did that it hurt me too ok?) Since there was no post in March we are going to try our best to post two other one shots this month, but we'll see how that goes. Hope you all enjoy this and have a great morning/afternoon/night! -W&C :)
Also major thanks to @apotatoinabigfield and @too-attached-to-fiction for proofreading and beta-reading this!
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*GIF IS NOT OURS* (We got it off of Google, but if anyone knows who the credits for it belong to let us know so we can rightfully tag them)
5 years ago:
“Something’s happening,” said the girl with the antennae, Mantis. At least, that’s what she had said her name was. Suddenly after, she turned to dust. She just disappeared. In shock, you got closer to Peter, looking for some kind of safety or comfort. Everyone was shocked; no one could understand what had just occurred before your very eyes. Before anyone could say something or even gather their thoughts, it happened again.
“Quill?” was the last thing Drax said before suffering the same fate as Mantis. We lost. That was the only explanation you could fathom. The Avengers had lost and Thanos won. You tightened your grip around Peter, fully embracing him now. You were all desperately trying to decipher who would be next, fearing it being yourselves or your loved ones, but it was pointless. Whatever was causing this came and left without a warning.
“Steady, Quill,” said Tony, but it was to no avail.
“Oh, man,” sighed the man who had introduced himself as Starlord, dusting away defeatedly. You looked up at Peter, who had wrapped his arms around you in a protective manner. He was scared, that much you could tell, but he wouldn’t meet your eyes, determined to conceal the unsettling fear of not being able to hold you for much longer. You tried to convince yourself it was done—that no one else would be taken—but it was pointless. Deep down, you knew this was far from over.
“Tony,” the man turned to look at Strange, “there was no other way.” Stephen Strange took a couple more breaths before dusting away like the others had. Although Strange had said he saw over sixty-three billion outcomes, you couldn’t see how this could be the one you won in. It definitely didn’t feel like it.
Suddenly, breathing became hard. You saw dust particles floating from your hand and the reality of what was going to happen hit you. “No,” you whispered anguishly.
“(Y/N)?” Peter brought your attention to him instead of the particles which declared your fate.
“Pete, I—” you started as you reached up to stroke his cheek, but before you could come in contact with his skin or finish your declaration, you faded away in his arms.
“I know,” the boy said softly as he watched the wind carry what was once his lover.
Tony was at loss for words. He felt like the universe was playing a sick, twisted prank on him. As Tony sulked, Peter felt it. He felt his spidey sense warn him that something was going to happen. He could feel his body struggle to keep him in one piece, to keep him together, to keep him alive. No matter how quickly his body fought, it was destined to lose. “Mr. Stark,” the boy called out to the man who was more than his mentor, the man who had become like a father to him.. “I don’t feel so good,” he painfully admitted. Peter started stumbling around, his legs struggling to keep him up.
“You’re alright,” defied Stark. More than an attempt to console the boy, Tony Stark was trying to reassure himself that the universe, as cruel as it had always been to him, wouldn't do this—that it would not take his boy away. But alas, the genius man was to be proven wrong.
“I— I don’t know what’s happening. I— I don’t understand,” countered the Spiderboy hurriedly. His feet gave out, and he would’ve fallen forward if it hadn’t been for Tony catching him and holding him up. More and more particles could be seen emerging from the boy, and in that moment, the only thing Tony could do was hold on to Peter for as long as he had left.
“I don’t wanna go,” Peter pleaded. “I don’t wanna go, Mr. Stark, please.” His voice was cracking and his legs couldn’t support him any longer as more particles escaped him. Peter’s pleas wouldn’t cease much like the cracks in his voice every time he spoke. Tony lowered him to the ground not daring to say a word. Peter, with teary, bloodshot eyes, looked at the man and whispered an apology before finally letting his body dissipate.
Tony couldn’t speak; he couldn’t even think. “He did it,” said Nebula. Yet the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist didn’t respond. He just looked at his hand, which was covered in dirt—dirt that had once been Peter Parker. Tony let himself cry, allowing grief and shock to take over him. After all there was nothing else he could do.
***
Present day:
“Love you—wait, what happened?” You find yourself reaching up, but the person you had been trying to touch no longer stood in front of you. Your body was slowly regaining feeling, but your mind felt as numb as ever. You had so many thoughts running through your brain at such a speed that you couldn’t focus on any of them.
“I love you too, Speedy.” You heard a voice answer from behind you. You felt some of the anxiety subside once you put a name to the voice, which was easy since only one person in the entire world called you Speedy.
“Peter,” you exhaled in relief. Turning around in an instant, you ran into the arms you had chosen to call home. Peter embraced you tightly, not wanting to release the other in fear of permanently losing one another this time. You didn’t know how much time had passed from when you lost your consciousness, but that didn’t matter for Peter. Seeing the person he had deemed to be his soulmate dissipate in front him had been more than enough for him to feel like the amount of time that had passed between then and now had been an eternity. Suddenly, Strange spoke up, answering the question plaguing everyone’s minds.
“It’s been five years. Come on, they need us.” He stated commandingly. You all shared looks of dumbfoundment and bewilderment. Five years? How could that have been possible? The only one on the planet you stood on who looked at ease was Stephen, his calm demeanor never faltering. You looked up at Peter confused, but he simply shrugged, not wanting to believe such time had passed yet knowing better than to contradict Dr. Strange.
“Okay, everyone, this is it. Activate your badass stances!” exclaimed Quill.
“What did you say about my ass, Quill?” Drax started charging towards him, visibly offended. You raced to wedge yourself between the two men, struggling to keep them apart.
“Hey, no time for that. Look!” You called over their attention to the portal Strange was opening in front of you. Peter swung his way to the front, landing elegantly. After making sure Quill and Drax would not try to go at each other's throats, you swiftly made your way to the front and stood beside Peter.
Glancing around what was going to serve as your battlefield for today, you grimly recognized the location. What was once known as the Avenger’s Headquarters was now no more than a field of scattered debris. Clouds of dust littered the air, the remains of mass destruction visible wherever you looked. You gave yourself a chase to take in the sight of Thanos’ army, and as you did so, fear and worry tried to etch their way into your brain as you realized what you were facing. This was an enemy that had already defeated you once, and when you had fought him, he hadn't even had an army backing him up. Your determination and will to fight and live to tell the tale overpowered those negative feelings. The sight of the spaceship filled you with spitefulness instead of dread, and you knew in that moment that you would do whatever it took to win. The Avengers would not lose again; you were going to make sure of that, even if you had to lay down your life for it to become a reality.
“Is that everyone?” Strange asked Wong.
“What, you wanted more?” Wong yelled back in disbelief, and Strange shrugged nonchalantly in response.
As everyone settled into position, Cap’s voice was loudly heard, like thunder rumbling through the field, “AVENGERS.” This was the moment of truth—your last chance to save humanity. You could feel the seconds pass before Steve gave the signal, “Assemble.” And with that, everyone was off.
A beautiful and empowering mess of battle cries could be heard around you. You, on the other hand, were silent as you ran, calculating your every move. Using all the knowledge you’d gained over the years about hand-in-hand combat, you started to hastily assassinate those monsters. You would jump at one, taking them down, and godspeed to your next target, sending each one you came in contact with on a one way trip to meet their maker. Near you, Peter was also taking out some of the Chitauri, at times propelling you onto your next target or eliminating some of them when you got surrounded. After clearing out most of the aliens near you, Peter tapped you on the shoulder and pointed to Tony. Understanding his intentions, you nodded and made your way towards the infamous Iron Man.
As you slid into the crater where Tony lay, Peter landed from his swinging. Tony stared at the two of you in disbelief, doubting whether or not to believe you were actually there. When his expression softened, and tender affection spread across his factions, Peter began rambling, and you shook off some of the concrete dust from your suit. “Hey, holy cow! You will not believe what’s going on,” Peter exclaimed as he helped Tony stand up.
“No?” Tony asked sarcastically, but it only encouraged you.
“Do you remember when we were in space? And we got all dusty? I guess we must’ve passed out because when we woke up, you were gone.” You now stood beside Peter as you spoke, your hands increasing their pace as you rambled on, making them impossible to follow with the human eye.
“But Doctor Strange was there right? He was like ‘It’s been five years. Come on they need us,’” Peter said as he tried to make an impression of Strange, mimicking the way the man had moved his hands when opening the portals.
“Yeah, and then he started doing the yellow sparkly thing he does all the time.” You took over from Pete when he gave you the chance.
“He did? Oh, God!” Tony exclaimed with feigned incredulity. He started walking toward you and grabbed you both by the shoulder, pushing you into him.
“What are you doing?” Peter asked, bewildered.
“Huh, what’s this?” You questioned, confused as Tony engulfed you both simultaneously. He held you tightly, and when the shock passed, you and Peter hugged the man back even tighter.
“Oh, this is nice.” Peter sighed, earning a light chuckle from Stark.
“Listen, kids, we don’t have a lot of time right now, but I’ll catch you up on the latest trends once we take this bitch down. Okay?” Tony assured as he released you, holding on to your forearm to look the both of you in the eyes as he spoke.
“Yes, sir.” Peter saluted.
“See you on the other side of the war.” You smirked, knowing Tony and Peter must have caught that reference. Tony shook his head as he took off, the ghost of a grin barely noticeable on his lips.
Peter nudged you. “Be careful, okay?” His eyes showed genuine concern.
“Alright, I solemnly swear—” Peter gave you a warning look. “Okay, fine. I’ll try my best to be as careful as possible in the middle of a battle.” You finished, your tone a weird mixture between sarcasm and affection.
“Good.” He pressed a quick kiss to your temple before taking off.
“Alright, Chitauri, give me your best shot.” You smirked at the unsuspecting figure that was currently fighting off T’challa. Having speed and regeneration to your advantage, you zig-zagged around Thanos’ army, ducking and killing as you went. You moved with precision, only stopping when you were sure to have a clear shot at the enemy you were targeting.
You went on that way until you weren’t able to dodge a body that dropped in front of you, making you trip over it. The collision made you roll down a mountain of debris, hitting your head dangerously hard several times, as well as getting a couple of cuts along the way from the exposed, sharp metal.
“That’s sure to give me a concussion,” you grunted to yourself. The throbbing of your head distracted you from the burn of the cuts that now littered your abdomen, some deeper than others. It wasn’t until you brought a hand to your head, that you noticed the crimson liquid that coated it. “Oh, shit,” you exhaled. The pain was starting to catch up to you as the adrenaline subsided. You tried to use your powers to find yourself a safe spot until you recovered, but your attempts were futile seeing as the pain coursing through your body rendered you immobile.
“Is that Peter falling?” The figure you saw was indeed Peter and the sharp spiderlegs of his suits were still out for blood. You managed to move just enough that you were barely graced, another gash prompting blood out of your system. Peter tumbled in the opposite direction, clutching what you assumed to be the gauntlet you were supposed to keep out of Thanos’ hands. The sudden movements to dodge Peter hadn’t come without consequences. You felt like your surroundings were spiralling around you, dizziness overtaking you as you started to cough up blood. You managed to stubbornly sit up and when you looked to your side, you saw Peter giving the gauntlet to a glowing woman.
“I don’t know how you’re gonna get it through all that,” you heard him admit to her out of breath.
“Don’t worry,” Wanda stepped in.
“She’s got help,” Okoye finished, her hands wrapped tightly around her spear. Soon the rest of the women joined and took off together. It was a powerful moment to witness and one you would’ve loved to be a part of, if it weren’t for your current situation. You closed your eyes in a somewhat successful effort to ease off the pain pulsating in your head.
“Man, those are some badass women,” Peter muttered as he sat down. “Wait—” He quickly looked around, but missed you completely. “Where’s my badass woman?” Peter frantically shuffled to his feet, hoping to see a flash of yellow zoom by, but no such luck. You tried to call out to him, wanting to let him know you were there, but your voice got caught in your throat, replaced by a cough that was followed by blood. The sound caught Peter’s attention, his gaze trying to find where it came from. His heart constricted in his chest when he finally caught sight of you and the state you were in.
In a flash, he was hovering over you, putting your own abilities to shame given the speed at which he got to you. Your eyes were still closed, as you relished the relief it gave you, but you were drifting off at this point and didn’t have the energy nor strength to open them again. That was until Peter started shaking you awake. “(Y/N)? Oh God, come on, please be okay.” You could hear the panic and desperation in his voice. Your eyes felt so heavy, it was almost impossible to open them, but you managed to do so, just enough to see Peter exhale in relief after seeing you respond.
Tucked away behind blood and dryness, you managed to find your voice and you raspily told him, “I’m okay, Peter. It’ll heal. Go help the others.” You took ragged breaths between each sentence, your lungs struggling to keep up. Peter could very much tell you weren’t okay and knew that with the amount of injuries you had suffered it was almost impossible for your regenerative abilities to save you.
“(Y/N), we both know that’s not happening; it’s too much. I mean, it might heal, but there are too many things to heal for you to survive waiting and—” He abruptly stopped his own rambling after he noticed you had closed your eyes again. “(Y/N)? (Y/N), please, stay with me.”
His voice was breaking and his eyes were starting to swell up with tears. It broke your heart to hear him like this. You fought to stay conscious, for his sake, but the blood loss and pain was becoming too great to bear and you felt yourself falling into a deep slumber once more.
Peter was getting desperate, tears freely flowing down his cheeks now. “Please, (Y/N/N), please don’t leave me.” He held your body close to his, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Sobs rocked his body as he kept begging for you to stay. His voice and your tear stained neck was the last thing you registered before you let go and fell into the dark abyss of unconsciousness.
***
“Everybody wants a happy ending, right? But it doesn’t always roll that way. Maybe this time, I’m hoping if you play this back, it’s in celebration. I hope families are reunited, I hope we get it back, and something like a normal version of the planet has been restored. If there was ever such a thing. God, what a world! Universe, now. If you told me ten years ago that we weren’t alone, let alone, you know, to this extent, I mean I wouldn’t have been surprised. But come on, you know? The epic forces of darkness and light that have come into play. And for better or for worse, that’s the reality Morgan’s gonna have to find a way to grow up in. So, I thought I’d probably better record a little greeting... In case of an untimely death on my part. I mean, not that death at any time isn’t untimely. This time travel thing that we’re gonna try and pull off tomorrow, it’s—it's got me scratching my head about the survivability of it all—that’s the thing. Then again, that’s the hero gig. Part of the journey is the end. What am I even trippin’ for? Everything’s gonna work out exactly the way it’s supposed to. I love you 3,000.”
Pepper walked out of the cabin she and Tony had called home, holding a wreath that in its middle held Tony’s first arc reactor. Everyone stood out in front of the lake, waiting as she gently placed it on the water. She took her place beside Peter, who was silently crying as he held your emotionally devastated self in his arms. Having passed out when you did had ultimately saved your life, your body using its remaining energy in healing you rather than keeping you awake, but that meant you missed the events that led up to your victory and were therefore unable to say a proper farewell to the man who served as your mentor for years.
Waking up to the news that the man who had taken better care of you and had looked out for you more than your own parents was dead didn’t settle in easily. It took a while before you were able to accept he was gone.
Peter had been there for you every step of the way, holding you during all the sleepless nights you had spent crying and shaking you awake when your dreams became plagued with nightmares from the battle. Guilt had made a home in your heart, the feeling never leaving as you thought of ways you could have avoided getting injured, ways you could have fought better, ways that could have resulted in being able to say goodbye to Tony Stark, the man who sacrificed himself for the universe.
Everyone stood silently as you all watched the wreath float out of sight, before turning to share your condolences with each other. You held on to Peter tightly, as if he too were to slip from your fingers at any moment. You stood there mindlessly listening in on the nostalgic conversations between the people who cared for Tony. Looking around at everyone gathered, it became clear that the arc reactor which was now floating off in the lake was not the only proof that Tony Stark had a heart. All his friends, colleagues, family and adopted students were walking proof that not only did Tony Stark have a heart, but that he had the biggest heart a human could possibly have.
Taglist: @steveisherdaddy @apotatoinabigfield @xlostinobsessionsx @izjustafaze @yourlocalwhitemanwhore
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imaginedxlan · 3 years
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Pike (George Weasley)
a/n: i have an addiction. i’m sorry. take this platform away from me. anyway ENEMIES TO LOVER BITCHES.
You’ve always hated George Weasley. You can’t quite explain why, but the two of you have had bad blood since the moment you met freshman year. it’s nothing either of you said or did, just the general presence of the other always set something off in the two of you. however, you weren’t going to give up partying at his frat just because you hated the red haired boy.
warnings: alcohol & cussing, unconsensual touching but it isn’t graphic(not by george obv), mentions of sex and assault/sexual violence, violence and fratboy!georgie
i’m very serious when i say do not read this if you’re easily triggered or impacted by the theme of sexual assault. there is nothing graphic in this fic but i know it is very easy to be triggered by even the smallest mention. if you ever and i mean EVER need someone to talk to about anything pertaining to the topic, my messages are always open. dealing with sexual assault in any form is one of the most traumatising things a person can go through. please never hesistate to reach out if you’re struggling. i love you guys so much, i never want to go suffer in silence.
if you or someone you know if struggling with a rape or sexual assault, you can call 800.656.HOPE (4673) to be connected to a sexual assault service provider in your area. all my hugs and kisses to you all, i love you with all my heart❤️
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saturday nights on campus are nothing short of lively for you and your friends. whether you’re testing your fake ids at every bar on the main street or dancing in a sweaty frat basement, there’s never been a dull weekend.
pike has always been your favorite fraternity to attend . you’d become close with some of the pledges on your floor your freshman year and have become obsessed with shutting down every function they hold at the house. there is one part of pi kappa alpha, however, that you could do without. george weasley.
the six three, red haired monster has been getting under your skin for an entire year now. since you met in your first semester of freshman year, you and george had never been on good terms. between the constant teasing from him or your drunk screaming matches that you’ve initiated almost every weekend, it’s safe to say that you two need to be kept as far away from each other as possible.
your friends have never understood the feud. they’ve always described george as one of the nicest guys they’ve ever met. he takes their coats at the door of every pike party to hide in his room to keep them safe from the drunk kleptomaniacs or vomit that inevitably spews from the mouth of a freshman girl. he’s always kept an eye out for your friends, but when it comes to you he swears if murder was legal you’d be six feet under by now.
as you and your friends got ready in your shared apartment for the night ahead of you, the annual pike’s peak ski themed party, you loathe the fact that you’ll be forced to see him again. you wish more than anything that he wasn’t so close with your friends, but alas, he is.
“y/n, can you please promise me something?” Angelina pleads, making you pause your makeup routine to look at her as if to say ‘go on.’ “no fighting with george tonight, we all need one night when the two of you aren’t at each other’s throats.”
if only it were that easy. there have been times in the past when angie and katie have convinced you to play nice with the boy, but he always ends up starting some type of fight with you.
“angie i’ve told you, i have no problem ignoring him for the good of the group,” you reiterate the countless times you’ve tried to prove to the girls that you’re the bigger person. “it’s him you should be talking to, he always starts it.”
katie sighs, already imagining the screaming match that will ensue tonight. “well if he starts something just walk away, easy as that.”
you mull it over for a minute. as much as ignoring him will make it seem like you’ve run out of insults, your vocal chords could use the rest this weekend. you agree to try and keep your mouth shut around george.
the three of you zip up your obnoxiously bright ski jackets over the black sports bras and jeans you’re wearing. you loved pikes peak, you could put in virtually no effort and still look like you spent hours getting ready.
the pike house is already buzzing with the bass of whatever mix oliver wood put together for the party. it’s not a pike party without ollie behind the dj booth. the high that you’re on as you walk past the pledges fades as your faced with george weasley.
just ignore him.
“look at my most beautiful groupies,” he says with a smile, scanning over angie and katie. “and...whatever that is.”
you can already feel your cheeks heat up with rage and your fists tighten. you take a deep breath and repeat katie’s words just an hour ago, ‘walk away.’ you roll your eyes at the boy and move your way through the party, eventually taking your spot next to ollie behind the dj stand.
“well hey there miss y/n,” ollie greets you, resting his headphone around his neck and pulling you into a hug. “half expected you to be beating weasley to a pulp by now.”
you laugh at his honesty, everyone expects some huge blow up between you and george within the first few minutes of a party. “trying something new, ignoring him for the night. can’t tire myself too much.”
ollie just smiles and goes back to the music. you’re adding songs to the queue and laughing along with him. you almost forgot how much you missed spending time with him, most of your interactions with the boy group ending with a fight with weasley without even being able to talk with the other boys.
across the room, george is watching you actually enjoy yourself and is fuming. he’s so used to being able to get under your skin, so you blowing him off was a major knock to his ego. he thrives on your reactions to his teasing, feeling like he doesn’t even have a purpose at this party now that you’re ignoring him.
you eventually leave oliver behind the booth and find angelina and katie, luckily they’re now where near george, rather dancing with his twin. you’ve always liked fred, but your constant arguing with his brother makes it hard for you to have any sort of friendship with him. this is the first pike party you’ve been to all year that you’re genuinely enjoying yourself. dancing with your friends, drinking without a care. the night is actually starting to look up.
you tell angie and katie that you’re off to the bathroom, the beers and seltzers finally catching up to your bladder. as you make your way through the crowd of people, you finally make it to the bathroom which is in the furthest corner of the house. before you can reach for the handle, someone is grabbing at your wrist.
“let’s go to my room.” the boy slurs, you turn to see a tall boy, far taller than you. you recognise his face but don’t know his name.
“no than-“
“i wasn’t asking,” he cuts you off and grabs your hip with his other hand. “come on i know you want to.”
“no just get off of me!” you yell trying to push his hands away from you but his death grin on your body doesn’t seem to be loosening. using your free hand you start beating the boys chest and that seems to just make him angrier. “you’re hurting me! just get off, i’m not coming to your room!”
even though you feel like your screaming the loud music seems to drown out the noise from anyone who could come and help you. even though the boy is obviously stronger than you, that doesn’t stop you from continuing to hit him in the hopes that his drunken state will take him off of you. your efforts are to no avail as his mouth connects with your neck, sucking harshly, making you scream out again. your head is thrashing, continuing to attempt to free yourself from his grasp.
“no! stop get off of me, please!” you shriek, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks. before you can realize what’s going on the boy is ripped from you and pinned up against the wall. you don’t even look to see what’s happening, just trying the catch your breath.
“she said no!” you immediately recognize the voice. george weasley. he fist connects with the boys jaw, almost knocking him unconscious as he’s still pushed against the wall. “what the fuck is wrong with you pucey! don’t you ever fucking touch her again!”
george still screaming as the boy you know realize is adrian pucey, is wailing in pain as george’s fists continue to meet his body. you don’t want to watch this anymore so you grab george’s hand before he can hit adrian again.
“stop, please.” it’s softer than you wanted it to come out but george still hears you. he drops adrian to the ground and takes a hold of your shoulders. even in the dark he’s examining your face for any sign of adrian’s abuse, his eyes land on the growing bruise on your neck and his fingers lightly trace over the mark. his other hands goes to your face, using his thumb to wipe the stream of tears.
“are you okay?” he asks quietly, eyes still trained on the hickey adrian unconsensually left on your neck. “i would’ve killed him.”
“why are you doing this, weasley?” you step back from him, crossing yours arms over your chest. “go on and tell everyone how you had to pull pucey off of me. how i was crying like a little baby. how helpless i was, i know that why you’re here.”
a flash a hurt crosses his face, he shakes his head. “is that really what you think of me?”
“of course it is, you’ve never given me a reason to think anything else,” you reply, wiping the remaining tears from your cheeks. “just leave weasley, i can’t take whatever’s going to come out of your mouth, not tonight okay? i could’ve handled this myself.”
“yeah you were doing a great job of handling it before i came it,” he scoffs and goes to walk away, kicking pucey one last time for good measure, but stops himself. “would you just stop arguing and follow me?”
you go to protest but figure you’re not in any mood to argue with him. he reaches his hand out to guide you through the sea of people but your arms stay folded against your chest. he rolls his eyes and leads you up the stairs and into a bedroom. you’d never been in his bedroom before. he goes into his closet to pull out a sweatshirt and tosses it your way.
“i’m not wearing this,” you tell him, throwing it back at him and he groans at your stubborn attitude. “why am i in your room, weasley?”
“does the word thank you not exist in your vocabulary?” he asks with a bitter tone. “i don’t care if you wear it, i’m leaving.”
he slams the door behind him and leaves you by yourself again. you look in the mirror on his wall at the disheveled sight looking back at you. your mascara collected under your eyes from your tears, the dark hickey from pucey on your cheek, bruises forming on your wrist and hip. you thought you had cried all the tears out before but seeing the damage he had done pulls sobs from your lips. you’re shaking at the memory of what happened, the thought of what could have happened. you collapse on george’s floor.
almost immediately the door swings open. you’re hoping maybe george told angie or katie and they were coming to take you home but it’s just george standing there. he never left his door, seeing pucey attack you like that made him fear that it might happen to you again. he quickly shuts the door behind him and crouches next to you as you struggle to catch your breath.
“hey, hey what’s going on you were fine a few second ago,” he tries to read your face but it’s hidden in your hands. “look at me, y/n, please.”
you lift your face to look him in the eyes. your puffy eyes and red cheeks make his heart sink. this is the first time he’s looked at you and felt something other than utter annoyance. you look so sad.
“i-i’m so s-scared,” you stutter through your speech. “if you hadn’t come he could’ve, it would have turned into -”
“don’t talk like that,” he begs you, still staying a bit of a distance from you. “i was there, i stopped it. you’re safe now.”
once you calm down he pleads for you to lay down and get some rest. you finally take the sweatshirt from him and wrap it around your body. he leans down to crouch in front of you, your eyes still welled with tears. he pats your head and goes to leave. in reality he would be posted outside the door for the rest of the night, but he’d never tell you that. As he shuts off the lights and opens the door, you squeak out a plea, “can you stay? please.”
george hesitates, he knows showing any kind of compassion for you in this moment will inevitably put a rift in your strict enemies only relationship. the one he’s been so set on keeping since he started developing feelings for you last semester. the only way he could keep you close while also concealing his feelings was to pick those fights with you every weekend. this would change everything.
however, seeing you curled up in his bed, shaking under his blankets, your eyes wide with fear broke something in him. he let out a deep sigh before closing his door again and locking it behind him. he stands in place for a minute, unsure of what to do from here.
“george,” you call out, voice cracking. you hadn’t called him by his first name in months. “thank you.”
“you haven’t called me george in a while.”
“shut up, weasley,” you immediately reply, making george chuckle. he decides to sit on the edge of his bad facing you, watching you continue to shake as sporadic sobs come from your frail frame. it’s breaking his heart. He eventually comes up to lay beside you, careful not to touch you. partly due to the fact that he knows you’re probably traumatised by pucey’s attack on you and also partly due to him knowing he may not be able to control himself from taking you in arms until you stop your terrible shaking.
it wasn’t george that first moved closer, it was you. you weren’t sure if it was the fact that he just saved you from a potentially life shattering situation or the fact that his room felt like subzero but you wanted to be close to him.
“why is your room so cold?” you ask with a shiver. “i feel like i’m in the arctic.”
“don’t be such a baby it’s not that cold,” he scoffs, giving you the same tone he always has. something in you is disappointed, partly hoping that maybe this changed something. maybe you were overthinking him being so doting on you tonight. of course things wouldn’t be different. why would you want them to be? what he did tonight he would do for any girl in thai party. while you don’t get to see that side of him, angie and katie have always talked about how protective he is, you just never thought it would extend to you.
“why’d you help me?” you ask, staring at him dead in the eyes. his breath hitches, he’s not sure why. he would do it for anyone, no questions asked. he’s never been the guy to look the other way when a girl is hurting, but what was he doing all of this for you. surely he wouldn’t bring just anyone up to his room, he wouldn’t stay if they asked.
“i wasn’t going to let pucey hurt you like that, i wouldn’t let him do it to anyone,” he replies, hoping you’ll be off the topic from now on.
“you would’ve killed him if i hadn’t stopped you.” george thinks back to the moment. how angelina had pleaded for him to find you after you’d been gone for so long. how he heard your cries over the music, you screaming no. how pucey had himself attached to you and the rage bubbled over in him.
“would you come off of it?” he asked sternly, fearing if this conversation moved any further he would be confessing that he’s never actually hated you. “i forgot how annoying you were for a second there, i’m getting out of here.”
your heart sinks at his words. you were already in shambles and he decided to be his same old asshole self. it hurt. you immediately sat up and watched as he grasped the door handle but didn’t turn it.
“classic, something gets hard and you’re running away,” you spit at him. you needed someone there, you needed him there, and he was running off. “go on weasley, be the little bitch you are, run off and tell everyone how big bad george weasley beat up pucey just to leave me up in your room where he could for sure do it again.”
“you just love running that fucking mouth of yours don’t you?” george snaps, his face beginning to heat up. this is always how it starts. his tone is playfully arrogant until it switches completely. “you think i would just leave you in here where anyone could come in? are you really that stupid? i would’ve staid outside the fucking door all night if that’s what it took for you to sleep after ehat happened, i just can’t be in this fucking room with you.”
you roll your eyes at how dramatic he is. as if staying in a room with you for one night would kill him. in his mind, however, it might. seeing you curled up in his bed, in his clothes, begging for him to stay, it’s all too much for him to handle.
“yeah sure you would. you wouldn’t go chasing after your brother the second he called that some girl was asking for you. this is all for show, you’re trying to make me seem like the one you can’t coexist with you,” you shout. “then everyone can blame me for this stupid fucking fight we’ve been having for an entire year. you can be the innocent one, that’s it isn’t it?”
george can’t believe how blind you are. how you’ve failed to notice that every time you get up in his face to yell at him he loses his breath. that you can’t see that teasing you is his only way to keep you coming back to pike. that he almost killed pucey because he likes you. he so painfully likes you.
“you’re an idiot you know that?” he yells, taking his hand off the doorknob. “seriously how dumb can you be? you really think i’m doing all of this for my image?”
“then answer my fucking question, weasley,” you spit at him, becoming angrier every minute that he won’t admit his own obsession with how everyone perceives him. “why. are. you. helping. me.”
every word comes out dripping with the venom of your rage. getting george to admit he’s a self centered, self serving asshole will give you all the evidence you need to show katie and angie that this feud is his fault, not yours. he begins to pace around the room, hands going to his hair as he looks deep in thought. your eyes never leave him, watching as he slowly unwinds in front of you. it’s happening, he’s going to admit it.
“you want to know why? you really want to know why i’m doing all this? why i dedicate my fucking saturday nights to fighting with you? that’s what you really want?”
“that’s what i asked isn’t it?”
“because i fucking like you, okay?” he shouts, making your heart stop. your jaw is practically on the floor, this is not the confession you were expecting. his face softens along with his tone, “i like you.”
he’s quiet, almost inaudible over the muffled bass of the music coming from downstairs. you face hasn’t changed, your brain is empty. your completely unable to move. you begin to shake your head after a minute, repeating the words ‘no’ and ‘you’re lying.’
“fuck this,” george finally speaks up, going back to reach for the door. “have a nice life, y/n, don’t bother coming back here after tonight.”
“george stop!” you yell which makes him stop in his tracks. his first name again. it makes his heart ache. he can’t get involved, he can’t fall into your trap. he continues to make his way to get as far from you as he possibly can. “george i mean it! stop running away from me.”
you’re now off the bed, following close behind him. you’re swimming in his sweatshirt, the material falling just below your knees. you don’t know why you suddenly have the urge to touch him, to be with him but it’s there. him threatening you to never come back made your chest tighten, not because you’ll be missing parties, but you’ll be missing him. memories of your screaming matches flood your brain, the absolute high you’re on as you’re staring up at him after shouting something offensive his way. the way you can never seem to catch your breath when he’s around you. the fact that you continue coming back, knowing he’s going to hurt your feelings in some way or another, because it means you’ll be with him. as toxic and backwards as it seems, you’ve never hated george. you were utterly obsessed with him. when you finally reach him, grabbing his hand to stop him fleeing, his whole body snaps to turn toward you. he looks wild.
“what could you possibly have to say to me?” he shouts, making you step back. his words are fueled by anger and hatred. when he sees you back away from him, he immediately regrets his tone. “come to gloat? to make fun of me? save it, y/n. i don’t want to hear it.”
you don’t say a word. on the crowded staircase of your drunk classmates you do the last thing you could have ever imagined doing with george weasley. you kiss him.
he’s completely taken aback, freezing in his place as soon as he feels your soft lips against his. one hand is wrapped around the back of his neck and the other is holding his cheek. eventually, reality hits the boy and he’s pulling you into him by your hips. you wince in pain from the tender bruise aching on your hip from pucey’s hands and george immediately pulls away to see if you’re alright.
“god, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry. i didn’t realize he hurt you so bad,” he starts to ramble on, keeping his hands off of you to keep from hurting you. “y/n, i’m — i just — i don’t know what to say.”
your hand is still on his face, your thumb stroking over his cheek bone. you can’t believe you had just kissed the boy you had sworn to hate for the rest of your life. pulling your hands away from your body you take a hold of his that are hovering inches away from your hips. you move they to lay against your waist and move yours to return to his face. you lean yourself back up toward him again, capturing his lips for the second time tonight. he didn’t hesitate this time, pulling you closer to him.
as soon as you pull away from each other, you’re soon walking back to his room hand in hand. he closes the door and flicks on the lights. being with him now feels astronomically different. the tension that once plagued any room you two shared has melted away.
“i didn’t want to pressure you into doing that,” he says softly, his palm resting on your cheek as the two of you sit only inches from each other on his bed. “especially after what pucey did to you, i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have been so harsh.”
you stop him from spiraling any further into a pit of blame. “i feel safe with you georgie, i wouldn’t have stayed in here with you, kissed you, if i didn’t. you know i’d be the last to admit this, but you saved me, i owe you one.”
a small smile tugs on his lips. he can’t help but feel his heart hammering against his ribs like it’s going a thousand miles and hour. “consider the debt repaid,” he replies, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “i don’t think i would’ve ever been able to face you after tonight if you hadn’t come running after me.”
your smile mirrors his, unable to contain the butterflies in the pit of your stomach. the two of you just stare at each other for a while, trying to imprint this moment in your memory forever.
“can i kiss you again?” he asks, his lips so close that you can feel his breath against yours. you nod against his forehead, silently begging to feel his warmth again.
kissing george is like nothing you’d ever felt before. you spent your entire life kissing boys that meant nothing to you, this feels like home. his tongue slips into your mouth, exploring every inch of you, memorising how you feel as if you’ll be stolen from him at any second. he’s thought of this exact moment for months, every time you fought, every time he spoke to you, he imagined what it would feel like to have you like this.
“still feels like a tundra in here,” you tell him after you pull away. he takes you by your good wrist and urges you to lay next to him, his arms wrapping tightly around your body wishing he would never have to let go.
“better?”
“better.” you reply, letting you hand rest against his chest, feeling his heart beat. “this is not how i imagined this night going.”
“neither,” he says, running his fingers up and down your side. “never thought i’d get to hold you like this.”
your cheeks heat up, not from your usual rage but from the sudden rush on nerves. you don’t know how to act around him when you’re not about to beat his face in. he gently pulls your face from where it’s hiding in his chest to admire you. he presses his lips softly against yours, then moves to either cheek, then to your forehead.
“what happens now?” you ask, suddenly hit with the realization that you can’t go on with the feud that’s been bubbling between the two of you for the past year. you’ll have to tell your friends that you don’t hate each other anymore, that you did the unthinkable and kissed george weasley.
“i don’t care,” he says simply. “we could continue fighting until my dying breath, i just don’t want to be without you. ever.”
“what a little sap-fest you’ve become,” you tease holding yourself up on your elbows to get a good look at the boy. “who knew the george weasley could be so sentimental.”
“oh shut up,” he nudges your shoulder, pulling his arms from around you to rest behind his head. “you’re the one who kissed me, y/n, you started this.”
you let out a giggle, resting your head against his chest. you talk for hours about everything and nothing at all. eventually you hear the music die from downstairs, your phone buzzing with texts from angie and katie worried sick about where you ran off to. you tell them you’re fine and you’ll explain tomorrow. it’s an unspoken assumption that after all these months of fighting, you’ll be sleeping in george’s bed, cuddled up to him like you have been for the last few hours. you turn from your phone to see him stripping his shirt from his body, going to pull his khakis from his body and your heart stops.
“george i-” you start, not being able to form a coherent sentence. “i’m sorry but i can’t do anything like that, not tonight, not after what happened.”
his face turns down in worry, swiftly pulling a pair of sweats from his drawer to cover his bare legs. “oh my god, no y/n that’s not where i thought this was going at all. i usually sleep without a shirt on but it that makes you uncomfortable i can put one on. i’m so sorry i wasn’t even thinking.”
you sigh in relief, of course he wasn’t going to ask you to do anything like that after what he saw. you can’t believe you assumed that of him.
“no, no i’m sorry i know you would never,” you reply, rubbing your face between your palms. “i’m just on edge.”
he sits next to you, already holding a pair of boxers for you to wear and places them in front of you. he runs his hands up your arms. “don’t apologize to me, you’re allowed to be on edge after that. i should’ve been more conscious of that. i can go to the bathroom while you change if you want, unless you want to stay in your jeans.”
you shake your head, pulling the denim off your legs and replacing them with george’s boxers. you’re safe with him, you remind yourself.
“thank you, george,” you say quietly. “for everything.”
“i’d do it again, a hundred times over if i had to,” he tells you, pulling you into his arms to hold you. “do you want to talk about it?”
you shake your head no and he nods. he lays the two of you back and pulls his blankets other you. your head lays against his bare chest, feeling the most secure you have in your life. george’s breath eventually steadies as he slips into a deep sleep. it’s the easiest he’s ever been able to fall asleep, feeling completely comfortable with you in his arms. you fall asleep soon after him, the arms of george weasley and the walls of pi kappa alpha lulling you into the sweetest dreams.
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imkylotrash · 3 years
Text
Night Hunting
Pairing: Saul Silva x reader
Request: She met him in pub, after one of the hunts and they've kept in touch. But he didn't tell her where he's from and she didn't tell him that she is a hunter. Things change when one of the hunts goes wrong and reader somehow gets to the Alfea. One of the kids get hurt and reader is suspected, but she recognizes which monster it is and goes on a hunt. Anonymous
Tagging: @grey-girl @intoanothermind @anreeixcobra @kingunder221b @lflores2008 @alexiapayne12 @quuenofblacks @quarterback-5 @estelmei @bitchwhytho @music-of-melody @artsyle​ @baueoud @glowingatdawn @shadowhuntyi @alice-the-nerd
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"You're looking awfully lonely," you state sitting down next to the stranger in the bar. You're lucky enough to have the evening to yourself as you wait for Sam and Dean to return from the library. You only just got to town and Sam was already doing the research while Dean had been dragged along much against his will.
"I have company," he says holding up his beer. He sounds grumpy and like he's looking for a distraction. You can definitely be his distraction.
It's not the last time you meet the stranger called Saul. It becomes somewhat of a tradition to meet up whenever you're in town. And with a face like Saul's, you make sure you're in town a lot. You admit to Dean why you're always so eager to return to California because he's your twin and you've never been able to hide anything from him but Sam remains in the dark. You don't need two brothers teasing you about your little crush.
"You know what it'll cost you if I'm going to keep your secret," Dean says very matter-of-factly.
"What?" you ask already regretting the decision to confide in Dean.
"My music plays for all of four months in the car with no objection. And you buy me every piece of pie I even look at," he says and you groan in protest. It's the one thing you've always disagreed about. You both hate each other's music taste.
"Deal," you say somewhat begrudgingly before getting ready for the hunt. You're already wishing for it to be over so you can meet up with Saul. You have no idea what goes wrong but the wendigo gets you with its claws. In the chaos of the fight, you stumble through a portal of some kind leaving behind the tiny town of Gardenia and your brothers only to find your way to a forest. You try to head back but the door refuses to budge which concerns you a little because Sam and Dean are still back there with the monster.
It's the screeching noise that convinces you to move away from the shed and into a world, you didn't even know existed. It's pure luck that you make it through the forest to find some huge mansion. It's eerily quiet in the darkness of the night which makes you feel even more uneasy. Where the hell did you end up? Blood is still pouring from the gash and you have nothing to bandage it with.
"Shit," you mumble as you spot the lights of a car heading your way. You hide behind a tree feeling yourself grow weaker from the blood loss. The last thing you remember is someone saying your name before you pass out.
When you come to, you're lying in a soft bed that you definitely didn't find on your own. It takes you a few seconds to realise that this is not a good sign. You have no idea where you are and how you got here. Dean would be disappointed in you. The hunter in you takes over as you quietly get to your feet ignoring the throbbing pain in your abdomen. You're about to open the door to take a peek at what's outside of this room when someone beats you to it.
"Saul?" You don't believe your eyes. What is he doing here?
"What are you doing out of bed?" he ushers you back to bed and he means it nicely but you're already wondering how you could miss that he wasn't a normal human being. There are about two dozen theories running through your mind as you try to remember every little detail of what's happened up until now.
"How did you find this place?" he asks more serious than you've ever seen him. You keep quiet not wanting to give away your only advantage right now. You know
"Look, I know this is all very scary but I need you to talk to me because right now, I've got people on the other side of that door suspecting you of almost killing one of our students last night. And I'm trying to convince them that you're not that type of person." Your eyes open wide from pure shock. The wendigo must've followed you instead of the guys. But how did the student get away from the wendigo? It's near impossible to win over a wendigo at night.
"I didn't hurt anyone. But I think I know what did." He doesn't stop you this time when you get out of bed. Instead, he lets you lean on him for support.
"I need to see the student before I'm sure," you inform Saul and he takes you to the infirmary right away leading you past a man and a woman who looks ready to murder you.
"Friendly crowd," you mumble and Saul has to contain a smile.
==
"It's definitely a wendigo. I was hunting one last night and it must've followed me here." Imagine your surprise when all they do is look at you like you've gone completely crazy. It's so weird being around people who are not used to this life. If this had been Sam and Dean, you'd already be out looking for it.
"Care to elaborate a little?" Saul asks. The student is completely passed out but you still feel weird talking about it in front of him.
"Maybe we could go somewhere private then? I need to sit down anyway." You need to gather as much strength as you possibly can if you're going to go out and kill a wendigo - and time is ticking. The sun will go down in a couple of hours and you're not hunting that thing in the dark.
"What's a wendigo?" It's the first time the woman has spoken directly to you and you sort of wish she would've continued not talking to you. Her appearance scares you more than most of the monsters you've hunted.
"To keep it short, it was once a human and now it's a monster feeding on human beings. It normally hibernates with enough victims to keep it fed. Fire is the easiest way to kill it but I assure you, it's not as easy as it sounds." You still want to know how the hell the student got away from the wendigo considering they've never faced one before. How is he not dead?
"Have you killed one before?" the woman asks and you just nod.
"It's not easy. That kid in there should feel lucky he survived. I've never seen a human escape the claws of a wendigo." The tension is thick enough to cut it with a knife. Saul clears his throat ignoring the pointed look from the woman.
"We run a school for fairies. The student is a fire fairy. We're assuming he used his powers to escape." Fire fairy? This is definitely not good.
"Farah, we'll need to close off the school until we find it." The woman, who you now know is called Farah, agrees. She hurries off with the other man leaving you alone with Saul.
"You're a fairy?"
"No. I'm a specialist." You have so many questions but you sort through them only asking the most vital ones for now. The clock is ticking and you need to get out there.
"You can't hunt like that," Saul protests but he has no idea that you've been in much worse shape than this.
"I'll be fine." You lean in and kiss him because it's been a weird day and you need just one normal thing to happen. Kissing Saul is that normal thing.
"Just in case I don't get to do that again," you say but you can't keep a straight face. Saul looks about ready to chain you to the bed just to make sure you don't go anywhere.
"You need to learn how to take a joke. This is what I do for a living, Saul. I'll be fine," you chuckle but it's clear that you out there hunting definitely doesn't seem like a good idea to Saul. Lucky for you, you won't have to go out there alone. In the blink of an eye, your brothers and Crowley have teleported into the room. Dean immediately pins Saul against the wall.
"Are you okay?" he yells making you roll your eyes.
"Let him go, Dean. That's Saul." It takes a second for Dean to realise what you're saying and even longer for Crowley and Sam.
"He's sort of my boyfriend ish. We haven't really discussed the terms yet." Your cheeks turn red as you lock eyes with Saul. You've just thrown the b-word but he doesn't seem bothered by it at all.
"Wait, how did you even get here?"
"I'm the King of Hell, love. It's my job to know about all realms." There's going to be a long conversation between you and Saul to explain everything but right now the focus needs to be on the wendigo.
"Let's go hunting."
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ohwaitimthewriter · 3 years
Text
Ner naak (My peace)
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Pairing: Din Djarin x earthling!reader
Warnings: None
Summarize: Din Djarin meets you, an earthling, with no idea of the existence of an outer space.
Words count: 1617
A/n: Enjoy your reading!
Ner naak Masterlist // The Mandalorian Masterlist
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Life sometimes manifested itself in strange ways. Even for Din. And he didn't expect to wake up with a tray of freshly prepared food at his disposal. You had even written him a note describing every single food on the plate. "French pastries are the basis of a successful breakfast" you wrote and if he had no idea what the "French" part meant, he heard his stomach growling at the simple sweet, slightly perfumed smell of the pastries. 
The day could only start well and Grogu was already enjoying swallowing little choux buns topped with sugar balls. Din chuckled at him gently before grabbing one and twirling it between his gloved fingers.
" Let me have some of it. "he said before sliding the food under his helmet into his mouth.
And he let a long, satisfied sigh escape. When was the last time he had eaten something so good? There was something special about earthly food, was it because it had been a long time since Din had been able to enjoy the flavours of a good meal? He could never get tired of it and he ate another one. He had to ask you what it was but he had just placed it as one of his favourites. 
And then he noticed something else on the little note you had left him. A little note that made him frown. What did you mean when you said, "P.s. Sorry, I had to. » ? A little shot of adrenaline reminded him that maybe he had let his guard down a little too quickly and a little too long. It was only then that he heard voices other than yours rising from the outside of the ship. 
He didn’t think twice, the ramp of the ship opened and he turned towards Grogu before leaving.
"Stay there and don't eat everything. "He said to Grogu, who had no intention of listening to him. 
Within a few steps Din found himself outside and suddenly found it hard to understand what was going on. 
A small group of young people around you were studying the plans you and Din had drawn. Some of them were impatient, others were so focused that they didn't hesitate to scold those who weren't being serious. 
Something was eluding him and he thought that his little stay on earth had made his brain weak. Since when did he let himself be so easily surprised? And to tell the truth, at that very moment you were surprising him too. 
You didn't notice Mando right away. He wasn't doing much to be noticed either, he was confused enough to ask for the attention of five unknown people. But you didn't have a choice. 
The night had not been very restful. The conversation you had the night before with Mando had gone round and round in your head and between the sprawling galactic monsters landing on Earth and the army coming in tanks, your mind had other things to do than rest. And those disturbing dreams hadn't helped your anxiety, so you decided you needed to pick up the pace. But speeding up without a work crew was a tricky thing to do. 
Life had a really strange way of showing itself sometimes and until now, you probably never thought to ask for help to repair this ship. Help other than what Mando was already giving you. You had been far too aware of the danger it could represent, for you, for Mando, for Grogu... but what was better? Revealing his presence to students in whom you trusted partially? Or to be discovered by the police? 
It wasn't a good idea, you knew that. And you hadn't taken the time to discuss it with Mando either. It was more of a decision taken on a whim and you would surely regret it later, but today, thanks to the students you had carefully selected, the repairs were going to be a good step forward. And the sooner the ship would be able to fly, the sooner Mando and Grogu would be safe, away from Earth.
In other words, you were reassuring yourself as best you could. 
You didn't know if those dreams had been the trigger or if the lack of sleep had caused some neurons to break down, but in the early morning you woke up with an awful realization: it was much bigger than you. And no matter how full-grown you were, no matter how thoughtful and composed you were, this morning it was all too much. And sharing this secret with almost grown-up people was probably the only way to relieve the pressure you had put on yourself. 
So there you were, explaining as best you could to five of your students the tasks they were going to be assigned to repair the ship. But that wasn't the most complicated part. You had to deal with your students' reaction to the ship and nothing in your studies to become a teacher prepared you for that.
"Well, can we focus for five minutes? "You asked them as one student had been trying for a solid two minutes to calm down his friend who still couldn't believe his eyes. 
"Ma'am, can you believe it?! "He exclaimed, "A real one! »
"Get over it, it's not as cool as Star Trek's USS Entreprise NCC-1701-E. "His friend who never seemed very impressed with the Razor Crest commented. 
"I wish you knew my courses as accurately as that." you smiled slightly. "Good, you'll start by gathering all the material listed in here," and you gave them each a piece of paper. " you get to work and... be respectful. " You glance at them briefly before finishing. " Croissants and chouquettes as much as you like in the car." 
And you knew that their motivation had just been boosted to the max. You got up and only then you spotted Mando near the ship. And his whole body was more tense than a tree trunk. And the trickiest part of your hasty decision had just begun: persuading Mando that your potentially bad idea wasn't such a bad idea. 
Your students didn't seem to have noticed him yet, they were far too busy eating pastries and it seemed that a croissant was more important than a spaceship piloted by the Galactic Daft Punk cousin. Ah those students!
It was just that a little anxiety was making your stomach heavier. From what you could see Mando didn't seem the most delighted to have a bunch of young people he didn't know around his Razor Crest but hopefully he would understand. 
"It wasn't planned." He said, his voice muffled by the helmet. 
"I know. And as much as I would have loved to have the Crest all to myself, sometimes you have to be realistic." You said, and you were looking forward to his reaction. 
"You're not realistic. You're worried. That' s not the same thing. "
And for the first time, you observed Mando withdraw into himself. He wasn't very talkative already, but it seemed to you that you had managed to win his sympathy.  You had seen him trust you gradually and you feared you had taken ten steps backwards, whereas you had only taken two in the same direction.
And then you felt a pinch of irritation tickle your nerves. His words had not been well received and it would have been hard for Mando to miss the annoyance expressed by the hardened features of your face. Your posture had changed too. Your arms, which were usually open, had just crossed over your chest, your usually relaxed and loose shoulders were now tensed and stiff, and even your chest, which was usually light and sometimes delicate, now looked much stronger. You showed a disconcerting self-confidence and Din made the pleasant discovery that you were not the type to let yourself be stepped on.
But this was not the time to dwell on your new confidence.
"Indeed, I am worried for you and I think that the situation has been sufficiently addressed for you to understand that I will never be able to get you out of this rotten planet to the bone without any help. "And the features of your face softened again. "Look, yes, that wasn't planned, and I'm not asking you to trust them, but for your, "you paused before correcting" if you want to leave Earth in one piece, we must work faster." 
Mando sighed heavily. You saw him lower his head slightly, as if he was thinking about the pros and cons. He was nervous. You could see that and you suspected a rather complicated past in relation to other people, perhaps one or two betrayals, and he was thinking over and over again until he nodded silently. 
"You know this world better than I do. I trust you, but I won't go easy on them. "He granted and he saw you relax completely, the hint of annoyance had completely disappeared and he recognized you in your kindness.
"Don't worry, they are students, there is nothing more resilient. "You gave him a little smile before gently placing your hand on his forearm in a friendly gesture. "They won't bother you, I'll make sure of that." 
Mando nodded again and before you could go back to repair the ship, he couldn't help but stop you for a moment, holding your arm.
"What's the name of the, huh, ‘French’ pastries you brought me?" he asked. 
" They're called 'chouquettes', why that?" 
"Do you have some more of them? Grogu... Grogu seems to like it." He justified himself. 
But you couldn’t be fooled. Grogu was certainly not the only one who liked them.
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