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#his behavior since then has been like an animal backed into a corner so WHAT HAPPENED
lumosandnoxwriting · 3 months
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Lesson Learned || Fred Weasley
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Title: Lesson Learned Pairing: Fred x Reader Summary: When Fred catches Y/N doing something he doesn’t approve of he’s got no choice but to teach her a valuable lesson Warnings: NSFW - minors DNI! This includes consensual non-consensual sex, meaning that during the sex scene it is made to seem that the female reader did not consent, but it is revealed after that reader and Fred are in a relationship and this was a preplanned encounter - if you don’t like that don’t read! vaginal sex, degradation, dirty talk, unprotected sex, possessive/jealous behavior,mentions of violence. A/N: my last little fic of the year!! Thank you to everyone who has supported me, I couldn’t do this without you! I’ve been out of the smut game for so long I needed some practice so this was born! Tags: @darthwheezely since she requested this and i love her endlessly <3
“What the fuck?”
Ice sprays across the rink as Fred comes to a halt, ripping his helmet off so he can be sure he’s actually seeing what he thinks he’s seeing. Because surely even a jersey chaser like Y/N has to have some standards, and there’s no way she’s standing there talking no - flirting with an idiot like Cedric Diggory. 
The captain of their biggest rival and an all around mega douche. 
But it turns out his eyes weren’t deceiving him. Y/N is leaning on the edge of the barrier batting her eyelashes at Cedric as he regales her with some story that Fred is sure the idiot made up to make himself seem cooler. He just about loses his mind when Y/N throws her head back and laughs, her hand coming up to rest on Cedric’s arm. 
Luckily Coach blows his whistle to bring them all back from their warm up skate, or Fred would certainly find himself ejected for being the shit out of Cedric before the game even begins. He skates back with the rest of the team reluctantly, already figuring out how to deal with Cedric on the ice - and how to deal with Y/N off of it. 
-
“Holy fuck Weasley you were an animal out there!” 
Fred grins as he teammates hoop and holler around him in the locker room, still fresh on adrenaline from their crushing defeat over the Baltimore Badgers. Fueled by the rage of seeing Y/N flirt with Diggory, Fred had been on fire from the second the ref blew the whistle. He skated faster than he ever had before, and hit harder too. By the second quarter three of the Badger’s best players were benched with injuries from being slammed into the boards by Fred, and he’d even managed to break Diggory’s nose during a fight.
The 10 minutes in the penalty box had been worth it. 
“Just doing what I do best!” Fred shouts back nonchalantly as he rewraps his knuckles.
He takes his time getting ready after the game, thankful that the game was at home today so there’s no need to rush to the airport for their flight back. Because he knows that Y/N is always the last one to go home, still new to her job as the assistant manager and eager to please everybody. He also knows that while everyone is in the locker room Y/N is in the rink, checking the bench and bleachers for anything anyone may have left behind. 
When there’s only a few guys left in the showers Fred decides to put his plan into action. He shoves his bag under one of the benches, and yells a goodbye to his teammates as he slips out of the locker room. Moving as silently as he can, Fred makes his way through the tunnel and out into the rink, crouching down as he reaches the opening in case Y/N happens to be getting ready to come that way. He peeks around the corner best he can and a thrill runs down his spine when he sees Y/N over by the team bench. She’s down on her hands and knees as she reaches for something, and Fred makes his move. 
“Jesus Christ,” Y/N shouts as she stands up, surprised to find Fred leaning against the rink watching her. “You scared the shit out of me Fred, what the fuck are you doing?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” he responds, crossing his arms. 
“Doing my job, obviously.”
Fred gives her a look. “That’s not what I was referring to.”
“Well can you just get to the point then? I’d like to finish up here so I can get home,” Y/N huffs.
“My point is,” Fred starts, tone dripping with condescension. “What the fuck were you doing flirting with Cedric fucking Diggory before the game?”
“None of your fucking business, that’s what,” Y/N spits back. “Last I checked I was allowed to screw whoever I want.”
Fred pushes off from the sideboard then, taking a slow step towards Y/N. He’s almost ashamed to admit that a thrill runs down his spine when she takes a step back. “Oh really?”
All the anger seeps from Y/N’s body and is replaced by fear at the tone of Fred’s voice. The look on his face makes her knees tremble as he continues his slow pace forward, her own steps retreating at the same pace. In an effort to distract him she throws the water bottle in her hand as hard as she can, not bothering to watch it hit him. Instead she turns around, trying to make a break for the tunnel.
Except Fred is quicker, not even deterred by the bottle smacking him in the chest he lets out a low growl, and it only takes three strides before he’s grabbing Y/N by the waist. 
“Fucking, bitch,” he seethes, throwing her against the sideboard.
Before she can even think Fred is pressed up against her, pinning Y/N between the sideboard and his body. A hand twists around her hair, pulling hard to yank her head back. “Now you listen to me,” he growls, leaning in to speak against the shell of her ear. “You fuck me and only me, understand?”
“Fred,” Y/N murmurs, voice thick with a mixture of fear and sadness. “Please.”
He yanks her hair, cock twitching at the yelp in pain that leaves her lips. “Guess I’ll just have to teach you a lesson, hm?”
Y/N fights against Fred as one of his hands drops to the waistband of her leggings, squirming in a desperate attempt to get away from him. But his grip on her hair is strong, and his hips have her pinned to the sideboard. “Fred, no,” she gasps, skin suddenly exposed to the cool air of the rink. 
“No panties,” he coos, nibbling on Y/N’s earlobe. “It’s like you were asking for it.”
With her leggings around her knees Fred places his free hand on the middle of her shoulders, pressing down so Y/N is bent over the sideboard. He finally releases her hair, satisfied that his hand and hips will be able to keep her in place. 
“Time for me to show you how a real man claims what’s his.”
Y/N gasps as Fred suddenly sinks his cock in her cunt, hips not stopping until he’s fully buried inside. He barely gives her a moment to adjust to the stretch before he’s pulling his cock out half way and fucking back into her hard. 
The only noise in the rink comes from Fred’s labored pants and his belt buckle hitting the sideboard as he sets a brutal pace. Y/N’s hand covers her mouth, desperately trying to keep quiet in the hopes that Fred will just take what he wants and this will all be over soon. 
“Fuck, fuck,” Fred groans. Y/N’s cunt clings to his cock like a glove that was made just for him, and the slick noise her pussy makes as he moves is just barely loud enough for him to hear. 
“Your cunt is unfucking believable,” he praises. “My cunt - isn’t that right sweetheart?” He slaps her ass hard when Y/N only nods - not satisfied with her nonverbal answer. “Who does this fucking cunt belong to Y/N?”
“You,” Y/N sobs out, willing to give Fred anything he wants. “It belongs to you, Fred.”
“Fucking right it does,” Fred grunts in response, pace picking up as he edges closer and closer to his orgasm. “And I’m going to mark this pretty little pussy up so everyone knows it too.”
Y/N lets out a muffled moan as Fred’s cock pulses inside her, her cunt walls throbbing around him as he fills her up with his cum. Her pussy is embarrassingly wet, and she’s afraid to admit that she would have orgasmed too had this encounter lasted any longer. 
As Fred catches his breath he slowly pulls out, eyes drawn to Y/N’s pussy and the way his cum starts to slowly drip out of it. “Fuck,” he whispers, using his thumb to capture a drop before it falls so he can push it back into her.
Fred tucks his cock back into his trousers and zips up silently, and Y/N is too afraid to move. Her knees are trembling from a mixture of fear and her almost orgasm, and she can practically feel Fred’s eyes as he stares at her exposed pussy. 
“I better not see you talking to Diggory or any other fuck head - understand?”
“Yes,” Y/N responds shakily. 
Satisfied with her answer, Fred gives a curt nod before turning to leave. He gives her one last look over his shoulder before heading out of the tunnel - not even bothering to pull her leggings back up. Bad girls don’t deserve chivalry. 
-
When Y/N stumbles out of the guest locker room 45 minutes later, skin pink from her shower, Fred is leaning up against the wall waiting for her. There’s a goofy grin on his face, and soon there is a matching one spreading across hers.
“Baby,” Fred greets as she jumps into his arms, hugging Y/N tight. “That was fucking incredible - I’m sorry you didn’t get to finish.”
She pulls away from the hug, giving Fred a kiss on the cheek. “That’s okay - you can make it up to me at home.”
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dearestspirit · 4 months
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a note heard in heaven - 00 (prologue)
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mizu x fem!reader | au based on the film the handmaiden | word count: 1,294 | warnings: mdni. this series will contain sexual and dark themes, including: abuse, sex, sexual assault/harrasment, period typical misogyny, murder, allusions to suicide, and period typical stigmas against mental health. series masterlist | next part
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There’s something to be said about opposites attracting; it seems Mizu’s life has led her to more run-ins with cushy, uptight rich people than she’d like to count. So when a con-man named Taigen finds his way to the lodging she shares with her ‘friends’- as in, a bunch of criminals dealing in forgery- asking her to play the part of handmaiden to another snob? Convince you to marry him, and then ship you off to where you’re never heard from again? The inheritance going to your absolutely grieving husband, of course, then to be split with her receiving half. She’s quick to scoff in his face. Until Taigen, deceivingly taking on the title of The Count to charm you, shows her just how much money you’ve been left to inherit. Even half of that sum is enough to make anyone do anything. Still, the back of her prideful mind nagged her with how demeaning the task was. The other part: the down in the dirt, tired of cleaning messes she didn’t make, re-sewing clothes from her childhood to keep using part, knew this was her one opportunity. Someone born like her rarely had a shot at anything worthwhile.
It was no question that in a few days time, she’d find herself alone in a carriage making its way to your estate. She knows the game she has to play, and she swears she’s winning before she even sees you.
Women like you are all too easily captivated by men like Taigen, she posits. You’ve already been married off to a wealthy man– one much too old for you, having lived on his property since a young age. From what she’s heard, you’ve barely ever set a foot outside those walls. That loneliness? A weak point, perfect to deliver a final blow to. Taigen was closer to your age, attractive, and could at least pretend to have some sort of importance. Mizu would act as something of a cupid. Set you on the right path, to a man with a good heart… she doubted it’d take even a week to get you to crumble in his arms, if your current husband’s behavior was anything to go by.
It takes a long journey to make it to your residence. Buried away in pitch black depths of forested land, the sense of isolation is cold. That chill sits in Mizu’s chest, keeping her on guard. A few soldiers halt her and her guide. Eyes peer in, leering and skeptical. With a few words from the coachman, they’re easily cleared and sent inside. She finds some unnecessary task to busy herself with, easing her nerves; counting the bumps in the dirt path until the horses reach the front door.
Thirty-seven. There’s thirty-seven uneven jostles of the cart before Mizu steps out, greeted by an older woman holding a lantern. Taigen had briefly informed her of the elder. She, Madame Kaji, was the most established housekeeper on the property. She took in all of the maid girls, training them and making them properly useful. A warning echoed in his statement of her: “She’s strict. Do not fuck up around her, or you’ll be scraps for wild animals to feast on and our whole operation goes up in flames.”
As if she would really believe that.
She wouldn’t.
Until the woman walked on ahead, maneuvering through the home with ease. As if she’d escorted thousands of to-be handmaidens through here. Mizu grunted, taking a few large jogs in order to catch up with the madam. This place was already testing her patience, her disinterest palpable.
“I’m surprised that your recommendation from The Count was taken so seriously, considering your apparent… circumstances of birth. Though he assured me your experience far outweighs any problems that may arise from such a condition,” Madame Kaji looked at Mizu only from the corner of her eye, unwilling to look directly. “The Lord’s main house is made up of two wings which you will familiarize yourself with. Then, the library. There’s also the servant’s quarters, but you won’t be using those as the Lady’s handmaiden.”
Mizu follows, lugging her belongings behind her wearily. Travel had been long, her body ached from sitting in that cramped carriage cabin, and now she had to listen to this borderline hag rattle off rules to her. All she has to do is be polite and meet your way too high standards, right? Who cares who the tea leaves go to, what soap must be left over? It was all meaningless etiquette so that when the poor somehow didn’t play by these rich rules, you could sneer and laugh in their faces. Mizu wanted nothing more than to climb into her new bed and sleep. Sleep until maybe she didn’t regret this decision any more.
Though, her regrets start to dwindle as she’s led through the grand hallways. Entire staircases bigger than any room she’s ever been in, exquisite paintings lining every empty inch of wall space they could, and various ancient relics on display made her shudder. The opulence of it all was astounding. Her whole bloodline– past, present, and future– would never see the amount of riches that you and your husband bask in. Honestly, if she weren’t trying to stay in the good graces of Madame Kaji, she’d let out a snort at how overdone the decor is.
She’s taken through a few more sliding doors, more Japanese style than Western, until Kaji stops in her tracks. Nodding her head to the left, she points Mizu in the direction of your door.
“This is where the Lady sleeps, and this,” she directs Mizu’s attention to the small chamber across from your doors. “is where you’ll be sleeping. The Lady often has nightmares, which you will attend to her during. It’s best to keep you close.”
Mizu nods, opening the door of the compartment. She can feel her eye twitch. It’s barely more than a glorified cabinet. The space contains only a wooden slab with a bedroll and pillow on it. There’s space under for her to put her shoes and luggage, but little else. Before she knows it, Madame Kaji has left her behind, apparently satisfied with that being the end of her tour. Mizu’s head lands against the door of her ‘room’ with a thump. She makes quick work of her shoes, shuffling them under the bed, along with the rest of her things.
It’s strange, though. She finds herself unable to lay, rather, turning herself around to face your quarters. Her hands tremble, shakily trying to pry your door open just a tad. She closes one eye, doing her best to peer in.
Moonlight streams in through your large windows, illuminating you in a heavenly glow. She can’t quite see your face from where she stands, but she can make out your figure underneath white sheets. She takes another moment to watch. Her breath practically wracks through her body, as if it’s dawning on her, her sudden proximity to you. Never had she been in the presence of someone so… unattainable, or otherworldly, almost. Somewhere in the house, a thud resounds loudly. Mizu nearly jumps out of her skin, shutting your door in an instant. Chest heaving and mouth dry, she settles herself into her compartment. Dragging her hand down her face, she tries to get her heart to relax. Taking one last glance towards you, your room, she finally flops back against the hard bedroll, agonizing over the uncomfortable nature of it. Exhaustion seeps into her muscles, eyes easily drooping shut. All she can do is hope the rest she gets tonight prepares her for the day ahead.
It won’t.
Because it isn’t long until a bloodcurdling scream rips through the house.
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a/n: i usually put my authors note up top, but this one is probably gonna be egregiously long. this is just a prologue, but i hope it’s an exciting enough start to something i’m so thrilled to be writing. it overjoys me that people showed so much interest in the idea. the plot of the handmaiden is one that means a lot to me. i can’t wait to explore mizu’s character through the lens of that plot. with the content this story is going to be diving into, i really want to perfect it and take my time on it, so please bear with me if it takes a while to get through and complete. right now, it’s looking like the series might be 6-9 parts, not including a prologue or epilogue. i can’t guarantee anything, but once part one is out i’d like to upload at least one part a week, possibly two. also, the count is taigen because due to such a huge involvement the count has in the story of the handmaiden, it’ll be easier reading to make it a known character than continuously referring to him as a vague male character. i do actually like taigen as a character, promise. also, i know the handmaiden takes place in japan occupied korea, but this will simply take place in japan. i’m not the most historically knowledgeable, so the setting will probably lean more towards blue eye samurai in terms of time period, dress, etc. it may end up being some weird mish-mash situation, but i’ll do my best to have it at least flow well. anyway, thank you for reading and please feel free to share your thoughts!!
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lattenha · 15 days
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y(ours) — P1HARMONY!maknae line
a continuation of what it’s like dating the younger one’s and their familiarity with your personal belongings. ft. non-idol!p1h maknae line x gn!reader
a/n: this is my attempt at easing back into writing, apologize if it’s super rough :(
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intak
your vinyl record.
it was gifted to you on christmas about two years ago. you’ve always dwelled on wanting one of your own, but never had the balls to go out of your way to purchase one because they could get pretty pricey. a lot of your extensive research and effort you spent scouring the internet to find the perfect vinyl record you’d like pointed to signs of something completely out of your budget. well, not completely, but unrealistically obtainable with the numbers you’ve been receiving paycheck-to-paycheck from your job.
so, each time that the holidays were around the corner, and whenever your mother would ask for your christmas wishlist, you’d throw in several other items you’d like but never included the idea of wanting a vinyl record. that secret desire of yours was something you kept to yourself, something you never brought up in conversation, nor was it something you’d expect to receive unless it was coming out of your pockets.
lo and behold, on the morning of a wintery cold december 25, when you were gathered around the christmas tree with your siblings and parents to open your presents, there sat a box with a fragile sticker stuck to the wrapping.
to: y/n :)
from: mom and dad
since then your prized possession has followed you to college and your off-campus apartment whom you share with your three other close friends.
intak, especially, took a liking to your music player and never misses an opportunity to use it. whenever he visits your place (which is almost every day) he makes it his unrelenting mission to flip through your vinyls and place his pick of the day on to the turntable. his personal favorite is cigarettes after sex, a band you actually introduced him to.
while you don’t mind sharing things, especially with your partner, you’re pretty sure intak has used your vinyl record more often than you have. ultimately, you don’t mind. it’s rather endearing knowing that what’s yours also belongs to him.
shota
your nintendo switch.
“y/n can i play super smash bros?”
shota doesn’t even need to ask for your approval. in fact, he already knows your answer will always allude to a ‘yes,’ but he does it anyway despite the electronic device already in his possession.
“of course,” you would say.
naturally you grew up owning multiple generations of nintendo ds’s. when nintendo came out with a new updated version you’d go to the game store to trade it in for store credit just to get the latest release. this routine continued up until middle school when your gaming hobby no longer prevailed itself in your interests.
as months passed and 2017 eventually rolled by, the internet buzzed with life after nintendo’s announcement about the upcoming hybrid console came to light. rest assured that you were one of millions who preordered the device and waited impatiently for it’s hard launch date to release in store.
but again, school started to pick up and extra curricula’s were time consuming, that playing video games became less and lesser of an option for you to indulge in.
leave it to shota to pick up your slack. because if it’s not super smash bros that he’s try-harding at, it’s either the suika game, animal crossing (if he really feels like it), or pokemon. an odd rotation but who were you to judge.
“wHat!” he yelps from the couch. “how did he dodge that!”
you giggle at his typical gamer-behavior, closely reminded of yourself.
jongseob
your digicam.
the sony cyber-shot camera has been by your side since you were in the 5th grade.
it was a hand-me-down from your father’s box of electronic gadgets he owned back in the day; a lot of which were collecting dust in the garage for not being used in so long.
while tossing things away to relieve the clutter and deciding what to keep, you remember discovering the digicam at the bottom of the pile after laborious digging. your father briefly taught you how to turn it on and off, what button to press to take a picture, how to record a video, and the different settings you could play around with.
your digicam has followed you around the world to different countries for family trips, witnessed you graduate from high school, contained a lot of embarrassing photos of you and your friends, watched you grow since elementary to your first day of college, and captured numerous flicks featuring new faces.
when you started dating jongseob, your photo gallery has been nothing but candid pictures of you and him (mainly of you).
your boyfriend is constantly bringing it along with him to events or outings, because, in his defense, he just wants to create some memories for you both to look back on someday. sometimes he goes out of his way to point and direct you on how to pose.
once, over dinner, you asked jongseob if he’d rather upgrade to something better and not outdated, like a canon or even a proper film camera. however, he is not one to budge and refuses to give up the obsolete digicam he unintentionally took ownership of.
“it’s special,” he pouted. “and sentimental, too.”
you smiled, “i guess. i just can’t help but wonder if you prefer a greater upgrade.”
“trust me, this has everything i need. now show me that pretty smile of yours.”
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hello I saw this and i was reminded of my humans are weird/ humans are space orcs/ earth is a death world/ earth is australia phase here on tumblr, so since humans can to some degree mimic certain sounds how would some of the twist guys react to mc mimicking their non-verbal language, like for example since crewel's a weredalmatian, yuu can replicate his barks and growls, not knowing that half of what crewel was saying are swear words
As someone who has a habit of mimicking animal and non-animal sounds, I felt this in my soul. 😂
Before we get into that though, I gotta say that I adore the “humans are weird/humans are space orcs/etc” trope! :D In fact, that was part of the inspiration for the posts on Cater’s “Humans are Weird” Magicam account!
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Okay, okay, now that that’s out of the way, let’s get on with the fun stuff~! ÒwÓ For funsies, let’s have them react to Yuu and mini!Yuu being the little human mimics they are. >w< Keep in mind that this is just a suggestion—you guys can also come up with your own scenarios for such a situation! 0v0
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Yuu:
The discovery happened during PE class, and there happened to be a joint class between the grades. Given the fact that they were surrounded by an almost literal zoo of monsters for students, Yuu was hearing a lot of animalistic sounds coming from their fellow classmates. While unnerving to hear the more dangerous ones being so close to them, Yuu couldn’t help but focus on each sound: the inflections, the duration, the pitch…all of it. They could feel the urge to try and replicate them rising—to see if they could do it.
When they heard one particular growl that ended with a bark from a passing student that looked their way—however—they couldn’t help but repeat the sound back. It wasn’t as deep, but they’d managed to get the length and inflection right!
“What the fuck-?!”
Apparently a little too well, as the outburst had drawn the attention of everyone. Had Yuu known what some of them had been saying the whole time?! Were they planning on blackmailing them?! It took Coach Vargas asking Yuu to explain what happened before it sank in that no, they couldn’t understand the sounds they heard—but they could mimic them well enough!
The rest of the day was spent with the first years testing Yuu to see how many sounds they could make, ranging from growls and hisses to chirps and squawks or barks and meows. It wasn’t until one particular class with Professor Trein that they made a high-pitched ‘meh!’ sound like a kitten that Lucius came running, the matagot yowling and swatting at the student who just so happened to be near Yuu (‘F’ in chat for Ace’s hand). After that incident, Yuu was enrolled in the Animal Linguistics class to not only help them understand everything, but to test and improve their mimicry skills.
Needless to say, the researchers had a field day studying this behavior and testing out human vocal ranges. If Yuu just so happens to know how to use their false vocal cords to create the overtone effect, this will open up so many research opportunities!
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Mini!Yuu:
The class was full of busy students working on their potions, Crewel monitoring them with a stern look while occasionally glancing over at the playpen set up in the corner close to his desk. Inside the pen, little Yuu was happily playing with the variety of toys and coloring books the staff gave them. Anyone watching would notice how Yuu was putting stuff in a bucket, their face one of pure concentration as they looked between the students closest to them and their ‘ingredients’. When a puff of colored smoke erupted from someone’s cauldron, their little hands wiggled over the bucket—as though performing a spell—before throwing their arms with a chirp of, “Poof!”
More than one student uttered a quiet “Aw!” in response.
“Alright, pups. Take the laurel berries and mix five grams of dusk-weed,” Crewel instructed. “Next, you will-”
While he spoke, Yuu was watching intently as the students closest to them were adding the ingredients to the mixture. One of the students—a canine-like monster—accidentally bumped his elbow against the edge and let out a yelp of pain. Almost immediately his partner and the professor were there checking on him, Yuu tilting their head in thought. They were having fun, yes, but…it was lonely playing by themselves. But if the teacher and the student’s friend came when he made that sound…what if they tried?
“You’ll be fine,” Crewel uttered in annoyance over a minor bump though relieved it wasn’t a burn. “Next time, don’t-”
“Yip!”
Multiple heads turned at the sound of distress, Crewel immediately bolting over to the pen and leaning over to examine the toddler. When he didn’t see any sign of injury or distress, he knelt down and asked, “What is it, pup? Are you hurt?”
“I wanna play too!” Yuu chirped, a wide smile on their face as they bounced on their feet. “Yip! Yip!”
Ears twitching, Crewel said, “Puppy…that sound is meant for when you’re hurt, not for when you want to play. I thought you were hurt!” At that Yuu looked confused and lowered their head from the scolding. “…the next time you wish to ask someone to play with you, this is the sound you make.” He made a warbling growl-like bark sound, Yuu perking up and listening intently before repeating the sound back. “Good puppy!”
“Play time?” they asked excitedly.
“Class is almost over. If you can be a good little puppy and wait just a little longer, we’ll find a game to play together.”
“Okay!”
It was after class was over and Yuu was put down for a nap that Crewel was able to mark down this latest development. Nearby were a few students who were sitting at their desks writing letters, nervously glancing over at the sleeping toddler and quickly turning back to their papers when Crewel shot them a withering look. Satisfied, he finished writing his notes:
It has been discovered that Yuu has the ability to copy the sounds that they hear from the other students. Does not appear to understand what they mean unless told, and may begin to use them to gain attention. Will have to test and see the extent of this ability. However…
Severe punishment will be given to ensure students do not verbally or non-verbally communicate curses and insults around Yuu…again.
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dreamties · 9 months
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polyam! ghostface || chapter 1
A/n- Masterlist
tw: animal death, creepy behavior from Stu & implied assault!
series desc. Stu spares most of the details when he tells Billy about you. He spares maybe too much detail, as he tells Billy that he made a friend in the city and not the fact he met an honest to god serial murderer. He figures he’ll talk about that one when the topic arises.
Stu spares most of the details when he tells Billy about you. He spares maybe too much detail, as he tells Billy that he made a friend in the city and not the fact he met an honest to god serial murderer. He figures he’ll talk about that one when the topic arises. 
. . .
Their friendship begins in 1994. Well, not exactly. Stu is freshly 16 and finally has his drivers license. He only really needs it to get to the main part of town, at that point it’s easier walking everywhere. What’s a license and car good for if it spends most of its warranty stuck on the property? He thinks it’s bullshit. He’s also reckless and still a kid.
He decides, before he’s even fully confident in driving, to go to the nearest big city from Woodsboro. That means the roving hills of San Francisco. Maybe it terrifies him a little- not that he’ll admit it- but it’s thrilling, so he doesn’t take a U-turn back home.
He’s old enough that a few remarks and suave confidence usually gets him into places he shouldn’t be, along with a fake ID- and if that doesn’t work, a show of what’s in his wallet usually does the trick.
He meets you in a club. Or- Stu sees you from afar and thinks you’re cool, but doesn’t say hi. There’s this dangerous, nervy edge to you, that he enjoys simply observing. You’re different from these other party goers. He gets a drink and when he goes back to his seat in the corner to watch you, you’ve already slipped out the back door.
He never brings Billy up with him to the city- despite being good friends, maybe even best friends, if guys are allowed to do that sort of thing. Nothing makes Billy nervous. Nothing that Stu is aware of yet.
(Billy’s fine. He’s stone-walled and flirts with danger like it’s no one's business. And then his mom takes off in the middle of the night, with two hastily packed suitcases, leaving him alone. He’s 14 when this occurs. 
He’s freaked he’ll never be found again. A mothers love will go to any length to make sure their baby is okay- Billy’s not enough to make his mom love him.
He also hates leaving Woodsboro- that one is irrational. He doesn’t get it himself.)
Stu’s up late, flipping through channels, when he stops on the news. Another man is found with his throat slit in the SF Bay. Authorities aren’t sure if they’re connected yet. It’s too early to say, but it looks like California might have a new serial killer on the loose. That should scare Stu, he gets excited about the possibilities. He loves horror and he’s engrossed in slashers- he’s never thought how human blood must feel between his fingers. He gets giddy and has to calm himself down- he takes a hunting knife from his dad’s collection and skins a stray dog in the woods. 
He’s been up to the city a few times throughout the year since his brief- strangely exhilarating, yet fraughtless and boring- encounter with you. He hadn’t been back to that specific club though. There hasn’t been any more news about dead bodies- a part of him, a sick part, wishes there'd be more talk about it, more pictures. He wonders if he went up to the city and waded in the cold waters- if he’d find a dead body. Wonders what a dead person looks like up close. 
Woodsboro doesn’t have any killers or crazy crime. Though there has been an uptick in wild animal deaths.
It’s the end of the year, nearly. Which means he’s nearly 17. He’s at Billy’s dad’s apartment, while said dad is out working. He’s lying with his back on the bed, Billy half-listening to whatever moronic rambles Stu’s on about.
Billy sits on the floor, reorganizing a collection of comic books and CDs. He interrupts Stu, not looking up at him. “Have you ever thought about killing a person?”
It’s not very tactful- he learns to be better with that. Stu seems unfazed.
Stu shrugs. “Yeah, sure. Why you asking, man?”
He speaks like it’s easy to admit. 
Billy scowls to himself, thinking.
Stu disrupts that thought train, because of course he does. “It can’t be that different from killing animals.” Except he thinks it would be more fun. He’s getting excited. His hands itch and ache with the thought.
“Geez,” Billy lets out, too surprised. “That’s fucking ruthless, man.”
Stu sits up, just enough to turn his head to look at his friend. He twists his face, raising a brow in genuine confusion. “What?”
Billy gives him a look.
“What? You asked, dude.”
It’s a frustrating exchange- Billy laughs. Fucking laughs. It stirs on a reaction from the other boy. It so . . . fucked up and they’re laughing. This is a catalyst to their relationship.
“Stu, do you not see the issue?”
He gets a shrug and a wild grin in response. He smiles to himself and then turns to look at Stu, who’s fully sat up now, who looks onwards into his eyes, awaiting in intrigue, hanging onto Billy’s next word. It feels nice.
Billy tells Stu about a plan he has. Stu’s on board with little questions asked. Perhaps no real questions asked- he asks about the methods, if they would get to wear some sort of costume like they do in film, he asks when do they start like this was an interview for a job. He doesn’t ask Billy why he wants this.
Shortly after his seventeenth birthday, Stu goes back up to the club. He gets a short sort of vague warning from his mom to be careful- that there’s an investigation going on for recent killings in the area. He doesn’t say this- but he knows. He’s been obsessed with watching the news. It’s usually on late night that new stuff is announced. He guesses it makes sense- it’s not really daytime media, a daytime event. He’s kept track of each man found dumped in the water, evidence drained clean. Suspect still at large. A pattern that still needs to be found.
He doesn’t say it- but he has clippings taped on his wall from The San Francisco Chronicle, detailing how the victims were killed. How skin with jagged edges came to be, how likely it was that some of the men hadn’t even died yet before being pushed to the water. Bleeding out and struggling to swim up in freezing temperatures. Whoever was behind this knew what they were doing.
He goes up to the city knowing this- and partially because of it. He doesn’t think at all about you, though. He’s mostly forgotten about you by now. He’s more focused on the future killing of Maureen Prescott towards the end of the school year.
He goes to this club because he knows it’s easier to get into than some of the other ones he’s been to over the past year. He gets a drink and people watches in the corner. He doesn’t really care to join in with dancing or chatting girls up. He’s had enough of french kissing guys in empty bathrooms. He can do most things here that he’d have more fun doing in Woodsboro.
Except maybe kissing guys- but that was tiring. The only boy he wanted to kiss was his best friend, anyway.
He notices you out of the corner of his eye. You’re having a verbal altercation with an older man- it’s quiet, he only recognizes it for what it is because you push him away, and your face is scowling, and your hands are shaking. He recognizes a split-second of darkness in your eyes, not far off from how Billy looked, when they were sat in Stu’s room, pinkies brushing against each other, as they talked and looked at the massacre of clippings on his walls.
The man is pushy, angry. Stu doesn’t think to step in at first. Shit happens. He’s not about to mess with things. He quite likes watching it, anyway. Which is fucked up, Billy would let him know that- he’s Stu’s moral compass. He feels a sort of jealousy seeing you pushed out the back door, into the alley. It perks him up from his glass, he abandons it in his corner spot. He follows the interaction in quick steps. 
The alleyway is a maze. It doesn’t empty out neatly into a long stretch. He has to turn the corner before he’s actually in it. That’s where he sees you. 
You’re pressed against the wall; not struggling anymore, but your body still shakes at the edges. The man is slumped over your frame. He’s violently pushed to the ground- and this is- it’s dangerous. 
Stu could very well be dead now.
You’re standing there panting and holding a bloody knife as you catch your breath over the body of a dead man.
You hear Stu take a few steps forward, your head shooting up with wide eyes.
“Oh, shit.” The two teens say in sync. 
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magicaldragons · 4 months
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the clusterfuck that was episode 14: an analysis
disclaimer: this does not condone any of ryu si-o's actions, were they to happen in real life. this is purely an objective examination of si-oh's psychology.
so, episode 14. that happened.
to start with, we've been getting insight into ryu si-o ever since he's started having more screen time (around episode 3), and since then we've been either seeing his backstory, or hearing his thoughts.
all of this abruptly cut off in episode 14.
obviously this is because he could could no longer remain as a character to be sympathized with, & the writers/directors needed to cut us off from his thought process to facilitate that. – for as long as we see the complexity within his motives, he will be a character we emotionally connect with.
if you want to see me vent about the potential his character had for positive growth leading up to this, here you go
but this will be an objective analysis on his motives and a likely explanation for his behavior, since we didn't receive that.
now, we have to acknowledge that up until this point, ryu si-o has had two main motives for anything he's done:
gaining strength [both himself and through tsetseg] & creating a trump card [the antidote] so that he can separate from pavel
finding binbin
and we've also seen, that all of a sudden, the cards are suddenly against him:
he's angered the mafia by directly going against them, regarding the antidote and his ownership of it
his leverage against geum ju's assistant didn't work out, and he's trying to disprove the drug accusations
the leverage he held against the police hasn't worked out either and there's now an arrest warrant out on him and no way for him to escape the country
his wild card, tstetseg, turned out to be just that, infact, and now the one person he thought he could depend on in case of a fallout with the mafia/any unfavorable situation is now gone
and from his perspective, it's infinitely worse because, putting aside that she is gang nam soon, tsetseg is no longer the person he thought she was:
he fell in love with tsetseg in the first place because she was honest – she spoke without a filter and lived without constraints. she talked informally, yet did so innocently. to him, she didn't hide her emotions, or mask her thoughts.
but now he realizes that she has been lying to him the whole time, has pretended not to recognize her own mother, and has listened to him talk about his past and seen him at his most vulnerable, while working against him all throughout.
throughout the whole episode, we are seeing ryu si-o at his rock bottom.
from all of his previous patterns, he only commits violence when absolutely necessary, or under the influence of the drug, when he is at his most aggressive, but this episode was an exception to that.
and it makes the most sense when you consider it this way:
right now his condition/mindset is akin to that of a desperate animal, backed into a corner, he will claw at anything to survive right now.
and as we discussed here, pain/fear is not a very useful emotion, especially with how badly it must threaten to shake him right now, so obviously he'd react to something like heartbreak the only way he knows how, or the only way that will help him get past it: anger.
he's doing what would be a regular stage of heartbreak after a breakup – blame. [albeit in a very terrible, violent way, because of the way he was raised]
he's trying to find where to place the blame for what happened with tsetseg: who can he blame except himself for getting so close to the one person who was meant to ruin his plans?
so he goes after hwaja, (and interestingly has someone else stab her) for lying to him, and does (what I think is a larger-than-usual) dose of the drug because he is genuinely trying to escape the pain, while simultaneously doing damage control as everything he's been working on, falls apart.
his approach is completely wrong, and cannot be justified, but the place it's coming from is understandable and so is the rage.
if we continue to see him act in line with the way he is characterized he will definitely hesitate when it comes down to directly hurting namsoon, should she be in front of him, because the emotion we're seeing clearly isn't "how dare she betray me?" — it's "how could I have let her hurt me like this?"
the writers may choose to ditch the character patterns and motives they've been giving him, in order to villainize him and lead up to their intended ending, but i do believe reckless violence (not just against namsoon), would be completely out of character.
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direwombat · 6 months
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another wip wednesday another wdoller
tagged by @ivymarquis (tysm~!)
tagging: @cassietrn, @poetikat, @confidentandgood, @trench-rot, @strafethesesinners, @miyabilicious, @simplegenius042, @g0dspeeed, @inafieldofdaisies, @josephslittledeputy, @adelaidedrubman, @madparadoxum, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @voidika, @strangefable, and anyone else wanting to share something today! (please like/reply to this post if you want to be added to the wip wednesday taglist!)
considering i just posted ch5 of katc a few days ago, interlude ii doesn't have anything that's anywhere near ready to share, so please take this werewolf au snippet (and a bonus smutty kitsybjake snippet for the fic i've been trying to write since...february...affectionately dubbed "the muzzle fic")
werewoof au
“Any idea what done this?” Sybille asks. 
The coroner gives a small shrug. “Best I can tell? Some kind of animal.” 
“An animal?” Her brows shoot up in surprise. “You tellin’ me an animal burst through a barricaded door, mauled, beheaded, and cracked Mr. Wolanski’s skull like a coconut, and then — what? — decided to do some redecoratin’?” 
“I think I’m gonna vomit,” Staci mutters. 
“Not in the crime scene!” the coroner exclaims at the same time Sybille squeezes Pratt’s shoulder and urges, “Go get some air.” 
Pratt swallows thickly and nods, politely excusing himself before slipping out the front door.
The coroner turns to stare at her with exhausted apathy. “You’re asking me what killed Mr. Wolanski,” he says slowly, as if addressing a child. “In the absence of gunpowder, shell casings, or any other signs of a weapon being used against him and the abundance of trauma consistent with the kind typically found among the victims of wolf attacks, yes — I am concluding that the cause of death can most likely be attributed to an animal.”
She crosses her arms and shoots the man an exasperated look. By no means is she an expert on lupine behavior, but never has she heard of a wolf ripping off a person’s skull cap to get at their brains. It’s too much effort for fairly little gain -- at least, compared to the easy, meaty flesh of the torso. 
 He scribbles something on his clipboard and then looks at her pointedly over the rims of his glasses. “I’ve told you the what, Deputy. Figuring out the why is your job. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” A curt nod is all she’s afforded before he’s shoving past her to instruct his team to finish up bagging things to analyze back at the lab. 
Her feet remain rooted to the hardwood floor for a moment, watching the man’s back in mild disbelief as he walks away. With a small shake of her head, she pulls herself form where she stands and exits through the front door to go find Staci. 
The poor man is leaning against their squad car, hunched over and breathing into a paper bag. She nearly walks over to him, but when she catches Eli’s eye from where he also stands just beyond the crime scene tape, she pivots over to him. Ducking underneath the yellow ribbon surrounding the property, she crosses the distance between them in a few brisk strides and pulls him in for a hug. His arms wrap around her, and she feels some of the tension in his shoulders melt away in her embrace. 
“How you holdin’ up?” she asks
He squeezes her tight and buries his face against her neck. “‘Bout as well as you can after finding your best friend ripped to shreds,” he says thickly. 
the muzzle fic (this is straight up smut so no pressure to read if you don't want to <3)
The sight of both of them makes Sybille’s mouth water, and every breathy groan she pulls from them goes straight to her own cunt. Her jaw hangs slack, eyes glazing over. Her chest heaves with every breath, and drool dribbles from the corners of her mouth, drenching her chin and dripping off the metal of the muzzle. 
Her entire world narrows to fulfilling a singular purpose: pleasing her Masters. The edges of her senses blur, blocking out all other stimuli so that she can focus on the tasks literally in her hands. She can’t take her eyes off them, watching as they take their pleasure from her. Her ears are finely attuned to the soft gasps and grunts as they buck their hips into her hands; and her nose filled with the heavy, heady scent of sex, so thick in the air that she can almost taste it. 
She wants to taste it.
She leans forward to bury her face in Kit’s cunt, wanting so badly to taste the juices flowing down the other woman’s thighs. Hell, she’d even lick up the droplets that have fallen to the ground. But when she leans in, the muzzle knocks against Kit’s mound. The cold metal presses against her clit and Kit gasps. Her eyes fly open and she looks down at Sybille.
That look of surprise quickly turns lecherously wicked. Her nails rake pleasingly across Sybille’s scalp and she clicks her tongue condescendingly. “Aww,” she coos in mock sympathy, “you thirsty?”
Sybille nods frantically. Her tongue lolls out of her mouth, eager to taste her. Her hips rock, her breath going shallow as she leans forward, pulling against the chain. The supple leather of her collar digs into her throat, restricting her airways. “Yes…” she rasps, “please.” 
Kit hums thoughtfully and drags a knuckle down Sybille’s cheekbone. Then, she slaps her, just hard enough to make her flinch. “Too bad.”
A desperate sound is torn from her chest and she turns her pleading eyes to Jacob, begging for mercy. 
Mercy that’s nowhere to be found. 
“Only good girls get to use their mouths,” he says, and he very pointedly drags Kit in for a lengthy kiss. Their lips move roughly together, all prodding tongues and biting teeth, and she wants nothing more than for them to kiss her like that too. When they pull away both their lips are swollen and Jacob looks at her with a taunting smile. “You haven’t been a good girl.”
“I can be,” she whines. “Please. Please, I can be good.” 
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rotworld · 1 year
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The Whole World Stopping, Just For You
you meet a werewolf at a craft fair. a distant prologue to goretober day 3: "ountumbered."
->contains feral and vaguely sinister behavior.
.
.
.
The box is what grabs your attention. It glints, catches the sun just right, as you’re walking by.
The vendor stands stiff and straight-backed in the shade of his tent and there are dozens of beautiful pieces all around him—rustic end tables, decorative hanging shelves, a table full of adorable, handmade birdhouses with more craftsmanship and creativity than most suburbs—but your eyes are on the box. The wood is unpainted, a warm, reddish-brown with an antique clasp, but the most remarkable part is the lid. You mistake it for a slice of geode at first because it has the same luster, brilliant blues and ingidos with a glassy shine. A speckled arch of silver makes you think of clouds or mountains against the night sky.
By now, most vendors would have started chatting you up, but this one’s completely silent. He hasn’t moved at all since you walked over or made a single sound. His hair is short but wild with his bangs hanging in his face, his eyes a striking shade caught between green and amber. He’s wearing a tank top that shows off thick, defined biceps and jagged lines of scar tissue. You have to break eye contact because his stare is just a little too intense and your gaze meanders just slightly past him, a banner stretched along the back of the stall bearing the words “Shelter Mountain Pack.” 
A small sound of surprise slips out before you can stop it, something not quite a word. You’ve only met city wolves before, never a wild one. Rumors paint a dramatic picture of feral marauders who run through the woods naked with leaves and twigs stuck in their hair, but you always figured people who said that were full of shit. He looks like anybody else save the yellowed hazel of his eyes, but his complete silence and stillness unnerves you more now that you recognize it for what it is—a predatory animal spotting something of interest and watching, waiting, with bated breath.
“This is beautiful,” you tell him, your hand still on the box. You’ve been stroking the lid absently, your thumb rubbing over curves of silver. 
He grunts. The sound is deep, feral and sends a shiver down your spine. You must be giving off some sign that you’re wary—could be your heartbeat, your posture, even your scent—because he covers it by clearing his throat. “That’s cherry wood,” he says. “Got that color with a coat of shellac. Lid inlay’s epoxy resin. Don’t usually work with pigments or paint, but I thought I’d try something new.” 
You drift further into the tent and he turns, following you with his eyes, as you admire meticulously carved animal figurines, sturdy planters, and even more ornate boxes with intricate patterns carved into their lids and sides. You pick one up for a closer look, smoothing your fingers across patterned carvings, the leaves of a tree rendered in precise detail. “Everything in here is incredible. You make all of these yourself?” you ask. 
You hear a brisk exhale. “It’s all me. Can’t get anyone else in the pack interested in woodworking.” His gaze burns into your back as you set the box down. You pick up another and your fingers brush against a circular indent in the bottom. Flipping it over, you find a stamped signature, a stylized outline of a mountain with the words “LANCE - SHELTER MOUNTAIN” inside. No last name. Is that normal? Do wild wolves not use surnames? You’re curious but you don’t want to be insensitive. Gently, you set the box back down.
There’s a sharp huff, the kind of sound a dog makes. You look back just in time to catch a slight twitch at the corner of his lips, an almost-smile. “Don’t have to be so dainty with my stuff,” he says, jamming his hands in the pockets of his ragged jeans. “You scared of getting your scent on it? It’s not a big deal, seriously. Wouldn’t be here selling to humans if I couldn’t stand the smell.” 
“Oh,” you say, a little embarrassed. Lance doesn’t seem bothered, though. He gets a bit more talkative the longer you poke around his tent, more than happy to tell you about his pieces, how long they took to make, his personal favorites. Everything has a story—a whim one sunny afternoon, a bit of inspiration from a bird he saw. He shows you a paperweight shaped like a napping cat and there’s a craftsman’s warm pride in his eyes as he tells you how he carved it and sanded it down and added just a bit of darkening finish to the ears and tail. He favors nature patterns, you notice, lots of plants and animals depicted in his more decorative work. 
In the end, though, you go back to the box. That starry, winter sky pattern across the top pulls you in again. You cradle it in both hands, your thumb smoothing across the resin. “Do you take card?” you ask him. 
It’s like flipping a switch. All of his casual, carefree body language vanishes and he’s guarded again, frowning tightly. “No,” he says. He follows your gaze down to the card reader sitting on the table in front of him, a white touchpad cradled in a beautiful wooden dock, and lets out a long sigh. “Are you in a hurry?” he asks. “One of my packmates is around here somewhere. He knows how to work that thing.” 
“There’s no rush. But if it’s easier, I can just find an ATM—”
“It’s not a big deal. He’s supposed to be back here anyway,” he insists, fishing a cheap flip phone out of his pocket. You keep browsing while he sends a slow, clumsy text, bending to look at a squat storage cabinet. The door panels are carved with simple but elegant flowing designs, floral Art Nouveau whirls and a thin, leafy border. “Are you local?” Lance asks, leaning casually against the nearest display table. “I don't recognize you.”
That would strike you as an odd comment from anyone else. This isn’t a huge city by any means but it’s not a tiny town either. You can’t fool a wolf’s nose, though. He’d know if you’d been by his stall before. “I’m just passing through,” you say. “Saw a sign for the craft fair and thought it’d be a fun detour. I still have a long drive home ahead of me.” 
“Are you headed east? Through the mountains?” 
“Yeah.” 
He makes a softer grunt, glancing at the sky. “Gonna be dark before long,” he says. “Better not take those roads at night. You could stay with us, if you want, head out fresh at dawn. We’re only an hour or two up the mountain.”
The invitation completely blindsides you. Wild wolves don’t do things like this. They don’t tell you, even vaguely, where their packs live, and they certainly don’t invite you to waltz right in. “I’m not sure your alpha would appreciate that,” you say, laughing nervously. 
Lance grins. His teeth are somewhere between yours and a dog’s with prominent canines and everything just a little too sharp. He leans in across the table and speaks in a low rumble. “Well, seeing as I am the alpha, I don’t think you have to worry about it.”
He’s close enough that you notice his scent for the first time, an earthy musk like grass and rain. You’re frozen in place when he reaches for you, holding your breath, waiting for something you can’t name. His fingers smooth across the back of your hand, nails long and a little sharp. He never breaks eye contact as he takes the box back from you and you see his nostrils flare, his pupils dilating. 
“Blake,” he says, and you jump when someone brushes past you to get into the stall. You catch yourself against the table and realize you were leaning in, shifting closer to him without even realizing it. “Need you to run a card.” 
The new guy is slimmer than Lance and looks much softer in comparison, wearing a cardigan sweater and fully intact jeans. His hair is longer and much neater, held in a low ponytail with his bangs combed out of his face. The color is unusual, black with uneven veins of stark white and gray, reminiscent of the streaks in a gray wolf’s fur. Lance moves aside, finding a different table further into the stall to lean against. He still hasn’t put the box down since he took it back from you, and he’s staring intently at the lid. 
“Sorry for the wait,” Blake says, flashing a practiced customer service smile. “Just the keepsake box, then, or are you still browsing? Lance can be a little standoffish, but I promise he doesn’t mind you looking around.”
“I heard that,” Lance mutters.
“Just the box,” you say. Sticking your card into the reader, you add, “He’s not so bad, actually. He told me all about his work. I don’t know much about carpentry and stuff like that, but I can tell he’s really passionate.” 
There’s a pause, and then Blake says, “Really?” The word doesn’t come out in a mild, smalltalk kind of tone, but with legitimate shock and disbelief. You find him staring in the same intense way Lance did when you first walked up. He turns back to Lance and they look at each other for a moment in silence. 
“I invited them,” Lance says, the words slow and deliberate, “to spend the night with us.” 
Blake turns back to you slowly. You get the feeling that he’s really looking at you for the first time, not as a customer but as something else. His gaze is heavy, weighted with expectation. Soft surprise morphs into realization of some kind. You feel uncomfortable beneath his scrutiny. “I don’t have to,” you assure him. “I don’t want to impose or be in the way, and I’m sure I could find somewhere to stay in town—” The card reader beeps and you reach to take your card back. Blake’s hand catches yours, his fingers closing like a snare.
“You’re more than welcome,” Blake says. His smile is broad and warm and irresistibly charming, his thumb stroking the back of your hand in soft, soothing motions. “More than welcome. It’s no trouble, really. There’s plenty of room. We’d love to have you.” 
“If you’re sure,” you say, a little uneasy. Blake lets go of your hand with a sheepish smile. It doesn’t bother you that much. Wolves, no matter where they live, tend to be touchier than most people. 
“Did you tell the pack?” you hear him ask, his voice lowered.
“Texted Max a little bit before you got here,” Lance murmurs. “Word’s spread by now.” He shoulders past Blake, around the tables and out of the stall. You smile, expecting him to hand you your box. He does. And when you take it, he snags your wrist and drags you into a firm embrace, burying his nose in the crook of your neck. He takes a deep breath and lets out a shuddering exhale, hot breath fanning your throat. You’re startled and a little nervous, staying perfectly still while he noses against your skin on one side and then the other. That’s a scenting thing, right? They do that to each other sometimes. Maybe he’s making sure the pack knows he invited you? That makes sense, you think. 
But then he stops and pulls back far enough for you to see his face, and you’re not so sure anymore. His pupils are blown, his eyes half-lidded. His tongue darts out and you see a brief flash of a prominent canine as he licks his lips. “Well,” he says, squeezing your shoulder, “I’ll grab the truck and you can follow me up. Where’re you parked?” You look from Lance to Blake, bewildered. The fair’s still on for a few more hours. You really don’t want him going out of his way like this. 
Blake seems to pick up on your worry, though, waving you off with a smile. “You’re fine,” he says. “Someone else from the pack will be here later. Lance just wants to make sure you get there in one piece on those awful roads. Easier with some daylight left.” 
You take his word for it, partly because he really does seem excited to have company, and partly because Lance starts walking and you have to rush to catch up with his quick, long-legged stride. The crowd thins as you leave the mazelike aisles of craft vendor tents. You pass into the shadows of a parking garage, wrestling with an odd, uncomfortable feeling. The hair on the back of your neck is standing on end. Something feels wrong. You clutch the box to your chest. The wood is warm where Lance handled it.
“You’re really sure this is okay?” you ask him one last time. “I won’t be offended if you change your mind. I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes, especially if your pack isn’t expecting visitors.” 
“It’s fine. Don’t worry so much.” He sounds a little exasperated but he’s smiling very slightly, his hand resting on your back. “I gave them a heads up so they know you’re coming. And trust me,” he says, his voice dipping into nearly a growl, “they can’t wait to meet you.” 
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ablogcalledrevenge · 1 year
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Potential (A General Hux x Reader Insert Multi-Chapter Fic, Rated M)
AO3 Link
Chapter Twelve
“And she’s so powerful Master, perhaps even more than the scavenger. She’s completely untrained but I could help hone her skills. It’s just so strange to me that I wasn’t able to sense it.” Kylo finishes, breathing heavily in his excitement. 
While the most important part was that you had this new power to learn and wield, Kylo was also secretly pleased that he would no longer be alone. The Force was a very isolating thing, especially for those more in tune with the Dark Side. Knowing there was someone else who could understand his feelings and struggles was comforting. Plus, it would be fun to mess around with Hux.
“Of course you weren’t able to sense it boy, I didn’t want you to.” Snoke says, interrupting his daydreams. Silence fills the chamber and it echoes. 
“You knew? The whole time? Why didn’t you say anything? Is that what you spoke to her about that night?” Kylo asks, growing more and more angry. Snoke just watches with mild bemusement, like Kylo is a small child getting mad that his parent lied about having sweets.
“We could’ve been helping her this whole time! She got hurt, Supreme Leader, she was in agony! We could’ve stopped that and stopped Pryde. She could’ve died and then Palpatine would be back!” Kylo shouted at his Master, feeling the slow, slimy crawl of darkness fill him up.
“Oh come now boy, do you really think Pryde’s pathetic plan would have worked? It was flawed from the start and lacking in past proven success. While the Light Side allows those who’ve passed to communicate with others still living, the Dark Side, especially that of a Sith, deals in absolutes. Death is death. He let his desire for power blind him to common sense.”
“Then why did we not stop him earlier and prevent the waste of time and resources? Why Master? Why put us through this?” He responds looking up at Snoke. Since the attack on Exegol, the Supreme Leader had made a visit to the Finalizer. Normally he has guards around him at all times, imposing figures dressed in all red. But he is alone, alone with Kylo.
Despite being old and sallow, he intimidated Kylo. He felt cowed in his presence, like an animal trying to hide in the corner of a cage. Clearly his Master knew more than he let on and deemed Kylo unworthy of the information.
“Because I needed to know where your loyalties lie!” Snoke roared, standing up from his throne. His student recoiled back.
“I am loyal to you Master, you know this! Ever since I was a child when you called to me. Why would I betray you? Your goals are my goals and I seek to serve you and learn from you. I wish to make you proud.” Kylo pleaded.
“Do you think I am blind Master Ren, or perhaps that I am merely stupid? Do you think I didn’t see the way you trailed after that insipid girl like a lost dog? Did you think that I was unaware of the relationship that started with the General? I’ve known the whole time and your behavior has been an embarrassment.” Snoke sneered, returning to his seat. He fumed for a moment, his already thin lips pulling tighter in fury.
“I am aware of General Hux’s desires for power and glory and before I found them easily managed. But now, his wife, like all vile women I’ve come to know, has poisoned his mind. She inflates his ego and aids his progress in a way that concerns me. She may bat her eyes and act innocent but she is vicious. Her goals far outweigh the General’s and I have no doubt that should he prove useless, she will get rid of him. Did you think yourself so special that she would treat you differently?” He continues, drumming his long, skeletal fingers on the arm of his chair.
“… What?” Kylo whispers into the still air of the chamber. One would think they were all frozen statues with how little they moved. No breeze ruffled their robes. No speck of dust floated through the air. The large chamber, despite being practically empty, felt like a vacuum.
A look of pity crossed Snoke’s face before morphing into a twisted attempt at glee. Not because he was trying to be kind and spare Kylo’s feelings, but more because such a pleasant expression had never graced his sunken face before.
“I don’t believe it. I thought you were smarter than that. Did you really think they liked you? That she meant all the things she’s been whispering in your ear? She chose you from the start to be a pawn in her game and your fate will probably go the way of all the other people she’s killed.”
Kylo made an odd choking noise he’d never heard himself make before.
“Are you truly that braindead? Did you think those deaths were all coincidences? She might have painted a pretty picture for the unwashed masses but I thought I’d trained you better than that. She wants to usurp me and our Brotherhood. She wants to dismantle the First Order and take everyone down with it.”
“You’re wr-wrong.” Kylo stammered out, his face red with shame. The hot slide of the Force turned to ice in his veins. Snoke scoffed.
“She doesn’t love you Kylo. Neither of them do. They are monsters, incapable of love. And you are too. I allowed this indiscretion to go on for a time, seeing how the passion made you stronger in your fighting. But now it’s gone too far. Love is for children and imbeciles! They are using you! They laugh at you when you leave them, thinking they’ve deceived you. They think they’ve deceived me!” He shouted, once again stepping off his platform and down towards Kylo.
Kylo’s vision was clouding, and Snoke’s words echoed in his ears. He started to look back on every interaction, examining them in a new light. He went over every kiss, every touch, every look for something sinister. Was it true? Was he that weak to jump at the chance of affection, even at his own risk?
The room felt like it was getting smaller, squeezing in on him. Snoke started to poke at his thoughts, paint them red and reveal the truth. The pain was immense and brought Kylo back to his childhood, crying under his bed after a scolding from his mother. Snoke had been there too, showing him the truth of his mother’s feelings. He showed him her disdain and her regrets. He showed him all the secret thoughts she had about her son. All through his life, Snoke had been there, molding him into the fierce warrior he was now.
And Kylo had failed.
The shame brought him to his knees. He had allowed himself to be lied to and manipulated. He had allowed simple pleasures of the flesh to override his devotion to the Force. Once again, he had tried to please his Master, bring more over to the Dark Side, and he had crashed and burned.
As humiliating as it was, he could move on from the scavenger. The Force was strong within her, but the Resistance had gotten to her first. She would be a worthy opponent.
But this, this cut him deep. This was no longer an issue of his pride or his teachings. This involved his heart. His distraction had nearly cost him his life.
Snoke approached him, the gold fabric of his robe coming into view. A cold hand rested gently on Kylo’s head.
“Your behavior has been disgraceful but not unexpected. You always did have a hard time removing your feelings from the situation. That’s why I’m here. To help you when you falter in your duties. She has used you and now must be stopped. You’ve been ignoring your work long enough. You must return to your mission and find Luke Skywalker.” Snoke said, his voice quiet and calm. Kylo sniffed and stared at the floor.
Then the hand petting his head stopped, and though Snoke removed his grip, Kylo still felt his head wrenched up. Kylo was eye to eye with his Master and as much as he wanted to look away, he could not move.
“You know what to do Kylo Ren, you know how to stop this. You can never complete your training if you allow others to manipulate you. Use the Force and follow your path. Show your loyalty and kill those who stand in your way.” Snoke declared, loosening his phantom grip and letting Kylo fall to the floor like a doll.
The edge of his lightsaber cut into his hip and his hand twitched. He had to speak with you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Kylo had left two hours ago, he had sat you down in front of a candle and told you to meditate. You’d focused your breathing like he’d shown you and kept the candle in sight. Kylo had said that meditation would not only help you understand and communicate with the Force but it would also help lessen the pain and lower the volume.
You were both surprised and not to find that he was right. It wasn’t that you thought Kylo was lying about his skills or knowledge, but you were worried that they wouldn’t work for you. No one had realized you were strong with the Force so who’s to say the training would even work? But it was.
The headache you’d had since you woke up in the medbay was receding every day, more so on days you meditated or practiced simple drills. When Kylo made you close your eyes and predict where a levitating ball was -or on one occasion, where he was going to kiss next- you felt proud. 
In those moments you understood and liked the Force. Hux was… well he wasn’t pleased exactly. But he let you and Kylo continue on and didn’t make a fuss. It was clear that he still regarded the Force with some skepticism but seeing the fundamentals being taught helped change his mind a little. The two people he cared most for in the galaxy were Force users, so he might as well just accept it.
So there you sat, legs crossed and breathing slow. The Force lay in front of you like a map, glowing lines intersecting and flowing over each other. There was a line connecting you and Hux, another going from you to outside the room towards Kylo probably, even one connecting Millie to you. And along each line, like the faintest glimmer, was the future. Or the possible future.
You saw worlds collapsing and expanding, empires rising and falling. Your own self seemed so minuscule in the will of the Force. The universe would continue on it’s path, only allowing you choices when it saw fit.
But there was a beauty in that, a release of responsibility. The Force didn’t care about you, it just connected you to others in the universe. So you would not care about it, you would continue as you were and only take nudges when they fit your vision. Still, getting to read people’s minds certainly wouldn’t hurt.
You released your breath and the candle went out, flooding your bedroom into darkness. That was enough introspection for a day. You changed out of your simple pants and shirt into the outfit you were planning on wearing for the evening. You and Hux were meeting a few officers for dinner and you wanted to show off your new dress. The dress was a gorgeous piece; black leather with enticing see through mesh and colorful floral embroidery. 
Glancing at the chronometer, you entered the living room, Millie resting peacefully on the couch while your darling finished his work. You needed to remind him of the time, so he could get ready as well. You still had to put your shoes on, but you would have your darling husband do that. The play at subjugation was always a fun little appetizer for the two of you.
Everything was quiet and easy and your brain relaxed as you waited.
It was into this calmness that Kylo burst in, his robes swirling around him like a storm. You didn’t need to sense his energy crackling around him to tell you he was in a mood. He looked furious and heartbroken and confused all at the same time. You and Hux both remained where you were in shock; him at his desk, you by the couch.
“Kylo, is everything alright?” Hux asked, setting aside his datapad. Kylo didn’t reply and instead removed his outer robe, letting it drop to the floor. His dark gaze bounced around the room, catching on random things and never staying for long. He looked at Hux for a long moment, your husband standing from his chair to perhaps embrace Kylo. But the expression on Kylo’s face made him falter.
Then he looked at you.
The sweet smile you greeted him with slid off your face as you felt yourself lift off the ground. You were being pulled up by your neck, the pressure getting tighter and tighter with each inch you rose.
“Kylo, what’s going on?! What are you doing? Put her down! Stop!” Hux yelled, racing over to Kylo to get him to stop. He pushed at the other man’s body, tried to pull his arm down where it extended in a claw towards you. But Kylo may as well have been a mountain for all that he moved.
Your feet were dangling, toes no longer anywhere near the floor, and your hands in their leather gloves scrabbled at your neck. You could feel Kylo’s grip, clear as any other time he had so lovingly touched your neck. But your fingers scratched at air, your throat convulsing by invisible means.
Tears rolled down your reddening face as you choked out Kylo’s name, begging him to stop. Hux ran to you, hands fluttering with uselessness.
“Kylo stop, please! I don’t understand! Why are you doing this?” He cried, turning pale.
“You lied to me! You were always lying to me! You’ve been using me! You don’t love me, you never have! The Supreme Leader showed me the truth. You used me and as soon as I would’ve  stopped helping you, you would’ve killed me. Killed me like all the others!” Kylo shouted, ignoring Hux entirely.
Your eyes, which had been pleading only moments before, turned hard and steely at the accusation. Seeing the change, and perhaps thinking it a confirmation, Kylo released you.
You dropped into your husband’s arms, gasping and coughing. Hux grabbed a cup of water from the little decanter you kept on the table in front of the couch, pouring you a drink.
“What the kriff are you talking about? We haven’t been lying! Of course we care about you!” Hux told him, his eyes blazing with rage. Yes, he did care about Kylo, but not enough to instantly forgive for almost killing you!
Just like that, an argument started, both men screaming in each other’s faces. Screaming about lies and loyalties and love and betrayal and plans and secrets. Kylo was revealing your plan step by step while Hux, bless him, was justifying it on every turn while attempting to place all the blame on himself. Poor Millie had run towards your bedroom, tail tucked between her legs.
“Enough.”
The word struck like a bell, silencing both men. During their flight you had regained your senses,
standing gracefully in front of the transparisteel window. Your voluminous gown stood out against the navy of space and you touched once at your throat to center yourself. 
“You’re right. That is my plan. I did kill all those people. I’m going to remove Hux’s superiors to place him in a position of authority. A role where no one is above him or controls him. I am going to make him Emperor. That’s all true.” You admit slowly, voice scratchy from the abuse. But it does not waver, even in the face of Kylo’s rage.
Hux lets out a sigh and sinks into one of the armchairs, his hand coming up to rub across his chin. His eyes switch between you and Kylo, worry creasing underneath.
“So you would kill me too? Strike me down if I was in your way?” Kylo sneers.
“Yes. But not anymore. My plans have altered slightly.” You admit with a shrug. Ever since Hux’s accident you’ve allowed yourself some flexibility. While you do want to stick to your goals, now you’ve discovered that some people are more important.
“That doesn’t matter! You still lied to me! You still brought me here to control me and use me! You never cared for me, never lo-loved me!” He shouts, pointing a finger at you.
“Oh grow up Kylo! That’s what love is! Being in love means being used, being controlled. I use Hux, he uses me! Did you think I married him merely for his looks? No, I knew his connections and position in the First Order would suit my goals. He did the same. Sure, I’m a beautiful woman with a sparkling personality but I also had family wealth and connections to Imperial planets. We chose each other for specific reasons and love followed. So to act annoyed because I picked you out first and then came to adore you is childish.”
“It’s true, we weren’t honest about our intentions at first, but is that so awful? You’re part of us now. Would you have come to us had you known the truth? Would you be happier without us? Have we ever treated you poorly, made you feel used?” Hux asked, his voice a calm break between the two of you starting to shout. Kylo started like he forgot Hux was there.
“And furthermore, how did we use you? What did we make you do? What did we ask of you? We kept you away from our plans on purpose. We didn’t want you getting involved.” He adds, a tone of sweetness entering his voice. It’s one that rarely appears but it seems to do the job of soothing Kylo slightly.
“I, I don’t understand. What was your plan for me? You say you chose me but for what? To warm your bed and nothing else? If that were true then why did Snoke confront you? Why involve me and not tell me the truth?” Kylo begs, stepping closer to you, reaching both hands into his hair to pull in frustration.
“Because you need to kill Snoke.”
The air in the room stills as your words land like bombs. Hux sucks in a nervous breath and Kylo drops his hands.
“You would have me kill my Master? Kill the Supreme Leader?” He whispers, as if afraid of saying the words too loud and making them real.
“Hux cannot be Emperor if Snoke rules over him. The Supreme Leader is old and weak and doesn’t care about the actual people he’s ruling over. All he cares about is the Force and eradicating the Jedi.” You reply, the cold expanse of space behind you.
“That is an important and noble cause!”
“Like hell it is! What does it matter if Skywalker still lives? He’s off on some rock somewhere being a recluse! It wasn’t until you started looking for him, on Snoke’s orders, that he became a problem. Snoke told you to try and convert the scavenger to the Dark Side and you failed and now she’s with the Resistance! She’s probably getting trained by Skywalker himself. You did this to yourself! Snoke’s foolhardy desire to get rid of the perceived threat of the Jedi caused the most powerful one to come out of retirement! He’s an idiot and so are you!” You shout, holding up your hand when Kylo tries to interrupt. You take a long sip of your water.
“For years Snoke has sent you on wild hawk-bat chases, going after old men and ghosts. He has diverted money and resources away from the First Order to complete his unnecessary missions. The skills of the Knights of Ren are legendary and he has been wasting them! He is not only wasting your time but your talent! I am only a beginner in the ways of the Force, I admit that, but even I can see that your mind reading skills and athletics are better suited for covert missions and interrogation. Instead you’re off playing hide and seek with people who do not wish to be found.”
“And why? Why Kylo? Why does he send you? Send your knights? If Snoke is so powerful, so wise, why doesn’t he do it? Because to be honest my love, had you failed me as much as you failed him, I wouldn’t keep giving you things to do. He’s distracting you, keeping you busy. He’s occupying your time so you never realize the truth. He gives you impossible tasks and berates you when you falter, pulling at your leash like a feral Neks when you try to do something by yourself. If anyone is using you, it is him, not me.”
Kylo sputters and laughs in a short, disbelieving way. He steps closer to you once more, forcing you to back up against the window, the cool glass making you hiss. Hux stands up from his chair but does not move further, knowing he is out of his depth between you and Kylo.
“If you’re so wise, so all knowing in the Force, ten steps ahead of everyone, then tell me: what is he distracting me from?” His voice is smooth like silk, gliding over your face and neck as he approaches you.
There is something predatory in his eyes, assessing and bright. You do not cower from him though your heart is pounding fast. You wonder if the sound is escaping your chambers, it seems so loud.
“From your true power. From the natural conclusion of your training. From questioning him. You are the Master of the Knights of Ren, and yet where is your authority? What choices are you allowed to oversee?” You explain, raising your hand slowly to rest against Kylo’s chest. Your fingers flex against the hard leather of his tunic.
“I run missions and lead battles all the time. I have plenty of control over myself and my Knights. You know nothing of the work I do for the Supreme Leader. You know nothing of the Dark Side!” He spits back, his eyes searching your face.
“I know more than you realize. You think I’d go into this blind, just doing whatever you tell me? If I’m going to have to deal with the Force, I’m going to learn about it all. True, I haven’t gotten through all of it and I doubt I ever will, but I know about the Light and Dark Sides of the Force. And yet… and yet you are neither.”
You catch your husband’s eye and beckon him forward with your other hand, below Kylo’s waist. He slopes up gracefully hovering near Kylo’s back but not touching.
“Why did Snoke teach you the ways of the Force, grab you away from your childhood and bring you into the Dark Side, and then not allow you to reach your fullest potential? Why refuse the moniker of Sith when that’s so clearly what he is?” You say, dropping your voice down into the register you use in the bedroom. Your hand slides up Kylo’s chest to his neck, playing with the tiny wisps of hair at his nape. Hux joins you, wrapping an arm around Kylo’s waist from behind and bringing the other up to replace yours on his chest. Kylo’s eyes have gone a little hazy, confused in how he got into this position but sinking deeply into serenity. He’s certainly not mad anymore and you’d take it.
“The Dark Side of the Force is rigid and hard to maintain. He wanted more flexibility for himself… and for us.” Kylo murmurs as Hux reaches below his belt and heavy tunic to caress at Kylo’s stomach underneath.
“But he won’t offer you the same flexibility. Why, when you have difficulty with a style or lesson does he not adapt and change? Give you the same kindness he extends to himself.”
A spark of comprehension lights in Kylo’s eyes. Seizing the moment, you quickly grip Kylo’s hair and pull his head back, Hux pushing at his back and legs to get him down on the floor between you. He kneels before you, neck straining from your pull, eyes once again furious. You smile at him, and it is wicked.
“Because the final act of a Sith is to kill their Master.”
Kylo wrenches away from you, a few of his dark hairs still trapped in your fist. He grabs his helmet and cowl by the door.
“You are wrong! My Master is wise in all things and has plans I can’t even conceive of. He has plans for me, he wants to help me. He has been raising me to my true potential since I was a child! I will not kill him!” He shouts and you fear momentarily for anyone passing by. The chambers are mostly sound proof but Kylo has a loud, commanding voice. You raise your voice right back.
“He has been manipulating you since you were a child! He has been hurting you since you were a child! Had you proven a bad student, he would’ve found another. He has never cared for you! If he did, he would’ve left you alone.” You shoot back, surprised to find wetness growing in your vision. Doesn’t he see what he means to you? How you’ve grown and changed?
“Kylo please, I love you so much. We love you and want you with us. We want to save the Galaxy, make it better. We need your help. We need your knowledge and skill and leadership over your knights. When I make Hux Emperor, you shall have freedom to do as you please. You can do whatever you want for us, with us. Snoke would never let you go! That’s why you must kill him. You need to take your rightful place, just like Hux will. It’s what I always wanted for you.” You add, trailing off quietly towards the end. The tears are really falling now and Hux comes to your side, reaching for your hand. 
“At the end of the day, it’s your decision Kylo. But someone is going to die when this ends. It’s your choice who.” Your husband says, his voice clear and his words final.
With that, Kylo gives you one last glare and storms out of your apartment. The door closes quietly behind him. You and Hux remain standing, tears streaming down your face, and hope that you didn’t just ruin everything.
You almost cancel your dinner plans but decide against it. Kylo needs time and you might as well eat a good meal before your death. It’s agony, trying to make friendly conversation while a pendulum hangs over your head, but you are the perfect hostess which means being the perfect guest. You are witty and charming, laughing at jokes and gazing lovingly at your husband. He remains mostly quiet and pleasant, leaving the communication mostly to you.
After a long dinner, you are finally free of company and return to your apartments. Millie has been fed and you both collapse on the couch. Hux pours you both a glass of whiskey and you sip next to each other, dread returning. Kylo doesn’t return after one glass or the next.
Eventually, you go to bed. Neither of you talk much, lying next to each other under the blankets. Hux reaches across the expanse and holds your hand. It makes your heart soar with affection and you kiss him sweetly. Declarations of love get whispered between you and you fall into an uneasy sleep.
You’re only a few hours into the sleep cycle when the front door opens with a beep. As if waiting for a signal, you and Hux spring out of bed. You trail behind Hux as he enters the sitting room, your simple blue nightgown fluttering around you.
Kylo is there, helmet off, lightsaber engaged, and breathing heavily. He stalks towards you and for a moment your head is empty. You are going to die and the realization freezes you in your tracks.
Then he disengages his lightsaber and lets it drop onto the floor with a clang. He extends his arm, previously behind his back, and drops Snoke’s mangled head on the carpet. He looks exhausted, skin pale and drawn. There is blood on his face by his temple. 
Then he falls to the floor as well, both of you reaching forward at the last second to catch him. Blood stains your hands where they press against his chest. Hux quickly removes Kylo’s uniform, inhaling sharply at the sight of blood and gore on his chest. There was a battle clearly and Hux whistles for Messy. The mouse droid zooms over and Hux makes a request for medical supplies. You have some in your chambers but Kylo will probably need more than your paltry supply. He needs to go to the medbay, something Hux keeps saying but Kylo shakes his head.
“I did it, it’s done. Snoke is dead. The Knights have pledged to me and only me. I’m free.” Kylo breathes out, voice scratchy. Hux looks at you in shock. You had hoped that Kylo would choose you, would follow your plan, and now he had.
Snoke was dead. There was nothing standing in your way. Kylo could pronounce The Supreme Leader dead in the morning and Hux could be crowned by the afternoon. It was done, you were finished.
“Kylo, you miraculous boy!” Hux croons, pushing away his sweaty hair and kissing his temple.
While your husband worked on treating Kylo’s wounds, labored breaths and hisses of pain accompanied by soothing nonsense, you sat on the floor in a heap.
All the lying and killing and deceiving could end. You had won. Your plan had worked. Hux was going to be Emperor! Hux… was going to be Emperor…
Kylo’s lightsaber rested by your knee, easily reachable. Snoke’s head lay nearby, his face in a frozen state of shock, eyes gone dim. The men were busy, occupied with other things but within your range. Your hands rested on your lap covered in blood, possibly Snoke’s, maybe Kylo’s. 
Your heartbeat slowed like it always did when you were facing a momentous decision. Your eyes swung back and forth between the lightsaber, the head, and your hands. The voices behind you faded to white noise.
The Force gave you a vision. Paths lighting up and expanding out from your hands.
You had won, your hard work had paid off. All your obstacles were gone. You could have everything you wanted. And more… You could have more. The weapon was in reach and by the time they realized what you were doing, they’d be dead. This was your plan, your idea! They had done their part and you didn’t need them anymore.
But you, you could do more. You could rise higher than thought possible, bringing the Galaxy to it’s knees. They were only men; easily distracted and disposed of. You could kill them now and have it all.
The First Order would obey you, Phasma’s troops falling in line at your show of cunning. The Knights would respect you, ruthlessly taking the opportunity. Men were weak and you were strong. You were better than them, better than everyone! You could be Empress of all, ruling for centuries!
All you had to do was pick up the lightsaber and cut their throats. All you had to do was kill them. It would be easy, they’d barely feel a thing. You could do it without breaking a sweat. You could spin a story to make yourself look good, give yourself deniability. You could become a God, rule the First Order and then the Galaxy!
You could kill them. You could kill them. Kill them. Kill them. Kill them! KILL THEM! KILL THEM!
KILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLTHEMKILLTHEMKILLKILLKILL
You screamed then, air rushing into your lungs as you fell forward into your lap, bloody hands pushed outward.
“I can’t do it, I won’t do it! Don’t make me, I don’t want to! Get this off me! Get it off! Please, I don’t want to. I love you, I could never, I don’t want to.” You cry out, Hux coming to you and pulling you gently into a more comfortable position against his chest. Kylo, now mostly stable, takes your hands and removes the blood. He is gentle and soft. He knows what you were thinking. 
“Together, together or not at all.” Kylo whispers, placing a reverent kiss on your clean palms. You sniffle and give a shaky smile. The vision fades away, just an idea that passes along.
“You have done so much and done it well, now we can relax and take our place in history. Relax my dear, rest now. It’s done.” Hux says into your ear and you nod, feeling yourself slump further into his embrace.
“It’s done.” You murmur back, repeating the phrase a few times, testing the weight on your tongue. It tastes delicious.
A laugh bubbles up in your chest then, loud and obnoxious. You can’t stop it and it escapes, echoing in the room and startling the men. A beat and then they follow, laughing along with you.
The laughter grows for a moment, a Stormtrooper passing by on patrol hearing it but paying it no mind.
Then it dissipates and the energy in the room settles. Hux lifts you in his arms and carries you back to bed, Kylo trailing behind, fist gently tugging on your nightgown.
You settle into sleep, your husband on one side and your lover on the other, and you drift away into peaceful nothingness. A smile is on your face.
Epilogue Coming Soon!
Tagging: @babbushka, @livy1391, @renaissance-mama, @girl-next-door-writes​, @peqchynero​, @niniita-ah, @the-temple-pythoness​, @cupofmoonlighttea​, @sincerely-cronch​, @potato-ren​, @brujademente​, @ah-callie​, @rosirinoa​, @lwtficrecs​, @theold-ultraviolence​, @mad-hatters-teapot​, @firstordermariposa, @revolution-starter, @shereadsinquiet, @isthisheaven5
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profoundbondfanfic · 1 year
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Could you recommend some tentacle fics?
You're in luck because we have some self-proclaimed tentacle fic connoisseurs on this blog😂 Here are some favs.
An Unfamiliar Sea by anonymousEDward [Explicit, 108k words]
When a massive hunt drops into Sam and Dean's laps, they go in guns blazing - but what Dean discovers in the basement ends up changing his life for the better.
Alien Cas by MalMuses [Explicit, 111k words]
Dean is an astronaut, and he definitely chose the career so that he could help move humanity forward, not just because he didn't want to sit in an office, thank-you-very-much. Becoming the first human to set foot on Mars was never part of his five-year plan, but he loved his job and couldn't say no when the opportunity arose. He had spent plenty of time thinking about what he was risking never seeing again if something went wrong; his brother, brother-in-law, and the adorable kid they were adopting, not to mention his friends, his car, and pie. What he hadn't considered was what, or who, he might find when he actually got there.
Halflings by Unforth  [Explicit, 103k words]
Ever since his wife Lisa died, Dean Winchester has been willing to do anything for his son Ben. When Ben decided he wanted to adopt a halfling, Dean said yes without hesitation - provided they did so the right way, by giving whichever half-human they decided to bring home the respect and dignity it deserved. Half-octopi Castiel isn't exactly what they were looking for in a pet, but, then, they aren't exactly what Castiel was expecting for owners, either.
My Little Sea Treasure by Hiyochi [Mature, 63k words]
Exotic creatures weren’t really anything new to the world, animals all over the world, undiscovered that are coming about, being tamed to become pets. Only those who were rich or famous had these creatures, the more you had, the higher status. Somehow, Dean Winchester, a simple man, has stumbled across one.
Only a Salt Kiss Remains by InvictaAnimi [Explicit, 28k words]
Castiel is a brilliant cellist who plays by the seaside every day. Lately, though, he’s felt uncomfortable during his practice. His hair stands up on the back of his neck and he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. Of course, when he turns his head, nothing is there. He’s half convinced himself that his loneliness is causing him to go mad, when his admirer finally shows himself. Or itself. Being taken and held hostage against his will by a creature that shouldn’t exist might sound tragic to most people, but not to Castiel. Not in hindsight, anyway. It turns out, the most terrifying and unlikely of circumstances can bring unimaginable joy.
Research Specimen 14652 by Unforth [Explicit, 6k words]
Or: "Cas' just a scientist, Dean's just an octopus, can I make it any more obvious?" sung to the tune of Sk8ter Boi. Or: five times Dean hurt Cas without consent, and one time Cas' consent was enthusiastic. Or: yet another fic unforth has no idea how to accurately tag.
skin deep aquarium by sharkfish [Explicit, 3k words]
Cas moves closer, the end of a tentacle wrapping around Dean’s ankle as his hands tilt Dean’s chin up. “There are things I’m not supposed to tell you.” "I know,” Dean says. “The biology of our genders is different, as is our social behavior surrounding it.” “I know, Cas.” Cas tugs at Dean’s ankle and kisses him like it was hurting him not to. “I’m an alpha,” Cas says.
Squidding around by zation [Explicit, 92k words]
The Yellow-Eyed demon is dead. Vengeance extracted, Sam and Dean decide to try and get out of the hunting business and settle down. So Sam goes back to Stanford, Dean buys a beach house along the Californian coast, and things are simple for a while. Until it isn’t. Or, The one where the supernatural insists on finding Dean and where Dean doesn’t mind all that much. Not when the supernatural has tentacles, bluer than blue eyes, and is called Castiel.
Sweet Prince Castiel Meets the Tentacles of Pleasure by everandanon [Explicit, 98k words]
Imprisoned by his brother and doomed to be married on his twenty-first birthday, Prince Castiel manages to escape his quarters and flee to the magical Looking Glass Lake. There, he makes a wish to meet his truemate, his only hope at changing his fate — and to his surprise, his wish is granted. There’s just one problem. Or rather — there’s eight of them.
Tentacle Husbands by tiamatv [Explicit, 23k words]
“Dammit, Cas, stop it!” Dean complains, laughing. “Okay, seriously, how would the kingdom of Lebanon react if it knew their beloved Prince Castiel has a thing for feet?” Cas gives him a very wry look down the bridge of his nose, and gestures at the swirl of the eight octopus arms moving in the water underneath him. “I’m pretty sure the kingdom, if it were aware, would be much more offput by other things than my enjoying your toes, Dean.”
The Seraph by Hywar [Explicit, 135k words]
Ever since the seraph were discovered, there's been one rule society has had to adapt to: stay out of open water. Powerful, determined and aggressive, the octopus-human creatures are in a league of their own and have no qualms with taking what they want and attacking what they don't. Now, children learn to swim in man-made lakes and beaches are deserted save for researches and the fool-hearted. Dean Winchester is neither of those things. But a hunt has brought him and Sam, his brother, to one of the many abandoned beaches, where Dean is left with no choice but to take refuge in the water. He should be safe, he thinks, he doesn't go too deep - just deep enough to hide himself and to deter his pursuer. He forgot just how fast the damn things could be, and how determined they were once they had their eyes on something.
The Siren and the Sea Monster by Ltleflrt [Explicit, 15k words]
When Cain moves to Washington State, Dean decides to follow him so that he can keep his job as Cain's apprentice. The small town near the sea is Cain's home town, and he has a small beach house that he rents to Dean for dirt cheap, with only a warning to beware of strange neighbors.
What Has Eight Tentacles and Isn’t Allowed to Eat Pie? by Annie D [Teen, 16k words]
Dean watched an anime porn about this once, but real life turns out to be way less interesting. Or, the one where Dean gets turned into an octopus.
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ruckis--rookie · 4 months
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Order of the Stars: Heroes of the Morning Stars
Ch. 1 - Heroes Collide
[Standard Issue Disclaimer: Some of the following content may prove to be graphic. To prevent spoilers the following warning has been provided. Readers discretion advised. I do not condone any behaviors that may be acted out by characters.]
“It’s after this nuclear fallout that the surviving human populace returned to the surface, not knowing what to expect. The air was breathable. Nature was healing… And the animals had evolved. Not just in terms of appearance, either. Historians say that at the time Animals evolved to be even bigger, with most evolving to stand on two legs.  They displayed human-like characteristics” A low, soft voice echoed from the speakers on the old fashioned box tv hung in the corner of the store. “But they also showed aggression and wariness towards the humans. And so, a plan was devised to create a barrier to keep anything inhumane out. Fearing what this newfound evolution in animals could entail. This was the start of the proud lands we call the Neo-Dome. A land built to protect human tradition and keep out the savages.”
Aleron huffs in annoyance at the history documentary on the TV. The strokes of his brushes with the broom grow more forcible in attempts to drown out the noise of the TV by scraping the bristles against the grey concrete flooring. Not paying attention to what he's doing, he bumps the corner of the broom right into the front counter. It makes him jump a slight, staring at the disorganized tabletop. Deciding to do some tidying up he leans the broom against the counter and walks over to the cashier’s side. From there he starts by taking up any papers he can find and straightening them out into a bundle, setting them off neatly to the side. He does this a few times until absolutely every thin sheet is out of the way.  After that he moves on to picking up smaller things on the counter such as pencils and pens, putting them in the mug that they had been using as a pencil holder.
He stares at the small, chibi canid cartoon character printed on the front of it. That bubbly, round character sporting a vibrant smile. Heroic in appearance with white fur, black spotted ears, and deep red billowing scarf styled cape. The show’s gotten quite popular over the years, and Aleron himself certainly enjoys the message behind it. Looking at it he almost forgets the annoyance he held towards the documentary… oh yeah, the documentary.
His smile fades, but he simply takes a deep breath as he hunkers down to check the underside of the counter. He spots a black glint underneath. grabbing at it, he pulls it out and feels immediate relief. “Aha, there’s the remote.” He straightens himself and lifts his arm towards the TV, changing the channel in hopes of finding something less grating to hear. The very next channel takes him to the news where an older man speaks in a low, gravely voice. “Recent reports say that the population of abomination animals seen in the Neo-Dome have been rising, as have reports of thievery. It is very likely that these two things are tied. Authorities are advising that you have your traps set out-”
Before anything else can be said with a frustrated growl Aleron turns the TV off. He cared the discrimination against modern day animals. It wasn’t fair, he thought, they’re living, thinking beings too. He perks up hearing the door to the back open. A tall, thin, dark man with buzzed black hair and a sculpted beard walks in. “Why you so mad? Something happen?” The man asks, puzzled. “Nah, just nothing good on TV” Aleron explains. “Usually nothing much on anyways this late at night” The man says while walking in with a friendly smile, and continues, “Anyways I set the traps up for you since I know how much you don’t like doing it.” Aleron breathes a sigh of relief, nodding. “Thanks, Jer” He murmurs, leaning his hands against the counter. “No problem man, but hey. Just remember, it’s Jerome while I’m still on my shift” He teases to try and lighten the mood.
Aleron gives a half-hearted chuckle before hanging his head. Jerome’s smile falters, seeing something’s clearly got his friend down. He approaches and has a seat at the mandatory one chair that the store is required to give workers. “...Wanna talk about it?” Jerome offers, hardly getting a response in return. He looks Aleron up and down, his gaze stopping when he gets to his dye stained forehead. “...Is it the red dye?” he questions. Aleron looks up and over at him incredulously. “What? No. No… Although I am kind of upset about it. I wasn’t thinking and I ruined my favorite white button up shirt. But that’s not it… Rent’s been going up again and I’m hardly making enough to cover it, let alone buy some food for myself. Finding new places to live is getting difficult so I might have to pick up a second job, but I’m overworked as is.”
Jerome’s expression softens into understanding. A very saddened, empathetic expression. “I’m sorry to hear that man… if you ever need help with food I can try and pitch in”. Aleron shakes his head no. “I appreciate the help but I feel like I’ve asked too much of you as of late. I feel bad because I can’t do anything in retu-” Aleron is hushed gently before he has time to go into a rant. “It’s okay. You help those in need even if they can’t give back. Ain’t that what you told me?” Aleron lowers his head once more before nodding. “I guess so…” Jerome passes a warm smile, continuing, “then you should really be taking your own advice. You’ve helped me out plenty in the past so now it’s my time to help you”. Aleron smiles. Genuine this time. “You always know what to say huh Jer… er, Jerome”. Jerome laughs and shakes his head playfully. “I like to think I do” He says and stands up and gives Alern a hearty pat on the shoulder before passing him.
“And I think you look good in yellow, especially with that flame-y hair style you got going on… You should wear flannel more often”. Aleron perks up with an inquisitive look. “You really think so?” Aleron asks. Jerome just nods and gives him this cool guy smirk while looking Al up and down. Maybe in an attempt to cheer him up, maybe with sincerity, who knows. A thunder rumbles outside, making the two look at the window. After a moment of silence Aleron pipes up. “I wonder who did what to make Lunarr mad” Al wonders. “Maybe his brother pissed him off again” Jerome jokes. “But that’s probably my cue to get leaving… You gonna be good closing on your own? The wife and kids are expecting me.”   Aleron nods, and responds, “Yeah I should be good here.” Jerome talks while walking backwards in the direction of the door. “Don’t forget to put up the new comics. The boss’ll have both our hind ends if they don’t get shelved.”
“I know I know, I should have it done before the rain hits” Aleron answers. “Sounds good to me” Jerome chirps, stopping at the door and cracking it open using his hip. “You should come over for dinner sometime. I’m sure Chantal and the kids would love to see you again.” That’s what Jerome leaves Aleron with before waving goodbye and rushing out to his car. Aleron watches him, listening to the hiss of the door as it slowly shuts itself followed by the click of it closing. He stands up fully and walks over to retrieve the box from the corner of the store. He opens up the flaps of the box, putting up new issues for comics one by one. He takes his time to look at all the illustrations of each book, appreciating the artistry. Gritty ones, cutesy ones, exaggerated ones, and dynamic ones. These books really help bring the place to life considering this is the most bland standard issue corner of the street comic book stores you can imagine. With its grey floors and its textured white walls. It looks more like an office than it does a comic book store. “It makes the comic books pop out more I suppose…” He murmurs.
The stack of books in the box get thinner and thinner until there’s only two left. Aleron carefully picks it up to look at the back of it, before turning it to the front. He sets the box down to hold the book with both hands, feeling the protective plastic covering of it. It’s that same smiling canid, only this time illustrated with his friends in the back. As he stares he sighs wistfully. “Why couldn’t my life be more of an adventure like yours? Fighting in the name of justice and kindness. The world could do with a little more empathy…Hah. Maybe I am finally going crazy.” After all, he was talking to a comic book.  He digs into himself playfully as he puts the book where it belongs.
He turns to pick up the box only to freeze when he sees it's empty. He furrows his brows, cautiously leaning over to pick it up. He turns the box and flips it upside down, tilting his head. “I could have… I could have sworn that there was another one in here… I must have put it up already.” Shrugging it off turns again, only to tense when he hears a loud snap and a shrill, panicked series of squeaking. It's a noise that makes his stomach twist as he looks towards the back door, which has been left ajar. “Oh shit. Oh shit OH SHIT!” He tucks the box under his arm and rushes for the back door, pushing it open with his shoulder. He flinches at the smell of the dumpster in the damp alleyway being the first thing to hit his face, along with the hot summer night air. He squints not just from the smell but because it’s getting incredibly dark with the clouds overhead. He creeps closer to the dumpster, spotting the missing comic on the ground right beside it. Getting closer he can hear labored breathing and quiet sulking. He rounds the large blocky dumpster, just barely being able to make out a shape. But when his eyes adjust… he’s horrified by what he sees.
Looking back at him is a modern day rat no larger than a small dog. Her ears ripped up quite a bit, her hair styled into something similar to a mohawk that’s tipped in pink dye to match her pink irises in her currently very frightened and pained yellow eyes. She has a set of standard rat buck teeth and a pair of protruding fangs that chitter and grind. They all stand out against the dark grey fur stained with blood. She’s been caught in the large mouse trap that had been set out, the middle having snapped around her waist. Aleron’s stomach turns. The smell and the sight makes him feel sick. But without much thought he drops down to his knees and reaches out, throwing the box beside him. The rat hisses and swipes at him with her claws, her mostly pinned tail thrashing violently. He backs his hand away before she could hit him. “I’m only trying to help!” She hisses in response to him, her chest bobbing up and down quickly. He pauses, taking a minute to calm himself. His panicked state wasn’t doing any favors. He needs a more gentle approach.
He holds out his arms, staring at her with a pleading expression. “Let me help you… please… I don’t want to hurt you…” She slows down and stares at him, really taking in his expression. That brief loss of adrenaline causes her to collapse out cold. Aleron curses under his breath and looks at the box, getting an idea. He grabs her and the trap and puts them both inside the box before taking it up and running back inside, making sure that the back door closes behind him. He turns off all the lights and bursts out the front door like there’s a fire. He completely forgets to lock up the shop. He didn’t care. He opens the passenger’s seat to his car. A nice navy blue car with a slick dark interior. He debilitates for a moment. Saving this rodent means ruining his nice silk seats. He stares at the box, and then back at the seat. It’s the nicest thing he own…
Groaning in defeat he puts the box down in the seat, buckling it in before shutting the door. He gets into the driver's seat, quickly pulling out of his parking spot and swerving onto the streets. He pushes the speed limit and he even completely forgoes buckling up which he’s usually a stickler about. Car safety isn’t on his mind right now. Getting home where he had actual medical supplies is, because gods know that the actual hospitals wouldn’t help. He’s so hyper focused on getting her back to his apartment that he hardly has time to register what’s passing by him. It’s like he blinks and by the time he tunes back in he’s already home. He gets out of the car just as quickly as he had gotten in, taking the box with him. Box in arms he hurriedly walks inside.  He rushes up the stairs, looking around to make sure no one is out or in his way.
When he gets to the top of the stairs he sees his neighbor and longtime friend of his parents. A nice old lady by the name of Janice with skin pale and wrinkly, covered in age spots. She seems to be returning to her room as well, her bouncy curly gray hair brushing up against the collar frills of her cyan gown. But upon hearing Aleron approach she turns around and smiles, those glasses with such a heavy prescription making her large pupils glisten to make her appear all the more kind. Even though they aren’t related by blood she often felt like family to him.  “Ahhh, Aleron dear! How was work today? Did you water-” She chimes, but he hurries past her holding up the box lid on the side that she was on so she couldn’t see what was inside. “Yep watered the plants for you before I left work It was great can’t talk right now love you have a nice night meemaw” He sputters all at once while hurrying to his apartment. He quickly unlocks the door and hurries in slamming it shut behind him. Janice merely smiles cheerily. “Such a nice young man… He’s so much like his father.”
He sets the box down on the couch and rushes into his own bathroom, not needing to flip the living room light on at first because of spacial awareness. Once he gets to the bathroom however he turns the light on to see what he’s doing. He opens up the mirrored shelf and grabs things he needs from it. Gauze, medical tape, antibiotic cream. He goes into his bathroom closet and gets some more. Towels, wipes, even more heavy duty stuff like a suturing kit and some actual medical supplies. He made it a habit to learn how to doctor himself so he can cut down on costs. He takes his armful of stuff and closes the closet with his foot, rushing back to the living room. He drops all the stuff on the couch beside the box and lays out a few towels to rest the rat on. After turning the lamp next to the couch on he takes her out, places her down carefully, and pries the trap open. Once he frees her he slides her onto the towels and  tosses the trap across the room.  Taking all that he’s learned he does his best to prepare her. First feeling what all might be broken of course, feeling around for internal injuries. Which obviously, there’s quite a few. He sucks air through his teeth and picks up a scalpel. “Forgive me…” He presses it to her, hoping and praying to whoever's listening that there’s still a chance to save her.
...
Writers Notes: Yeahhh sorry the first chapter's slow, a lot of the action-y stuff doesn't start until Aleron actually gets *out* of the Neo-Dome. OotS is a weird mix of action fantasy with some slice of life and character building. I feel like the more interesting stuff is going to be taking place in the other perspective of the story, "Monsters of the Star's Light". Also I'll be releasing these before the first chapter of "The missing chapters" later today because I am very tired rn and my chromebook is dying so I need to slep. Will be released later today probably.
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kaeyazuha · 2 years
Text
𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐚
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❝ Omg i just saw the albedo dentist post please please please make a fic I am begging you ❞
(In which Albedo gets his wisdom tooth removed)
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; Here's the long awaited fic! I'm not usually good at pure fluff/comedy so let's see how this goes-
; 8/2/22
; Pure Fluff
; CW: anesthesia, physical touch, light cursing
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✧ Albedo’s not a clingy guy. He finds enough comfort in your presence alone, and often finds himself too busy to cling to you as much as he wants you. However, after a simple procedure to remove his wisdom teeth, by the archons you could not get him off of you. He’s leaning on you for support, clinging onto your arm, practically wrapping himself around you, and slumping all of his weight atop of you. The nurse, who helped you escort him outside the building as he stumbled around, couldn’t help but remark how sweet the two of you looked with him acting so lovesick around you. It’s rare for him to verbally or physically show affection as he prefers to show things through actions, which is already nice, but to see him like this is a whole other blessing.
✧ The aftercare is fairly simple. Since he trusts you with everything he is, he’ll happily take the painkillers and keep the gauze taut to the injury, and doesn’t move from the bed so that the anesthesia can wear off (though he occasionally asks for his sketchbook, mentioning how pretty you look many times over). However, there is one thing he simply doesn’t tolerate- you moving within five feet of him. He could be laying down while you work, or you could be sitting beside him, but he has some kind of sensor for when you leave. It’s almost annoying if it hadn’t been so cute to watch him stare up at you with tired yet entranced eyes, an irked pout on his face while he gripped your arm and tugged you back to him.
✧ He’s still mostly silent throughout all this, mostly due to his puffy and swollen cheeks as well as the gauze stuffing his mouth, and it’s almost a shame since you were hoping he’d say some embarrassing things. However, you soon realize that wouldn’t happen anyway since he’s impossibly open with you. So long as you’re willing to listen, he tells you everything. Secrets are usually tiresome and only end up hurting the other person in a relationship, so he does his best to be open with you. That, and he simply loves letting you into his life, despite how hard it was at first. And it makes you so happy to see how far he’s come- he just bit your arm. You’re appalled, watching in horror as he nibbles at the skin of your arm with half-lidded eyes. Albedo, wh--
- ✧ -
“--What,” You start, mouth gaping open like a fish out of water. 
“The hell,” He smiles mischievously against your arm. 
“Are you doing??” You’re sure that you look rather foolish right now as your face remains transfixed in a bewildered expression, and he tilts his head to rest his cheek on your arm. You sat in the back of the carriage with him leaning on your arm, your hand cupping the side of his head to keep him steady on the bumpy road. Albedo hummed sleepily, staring at you with a gaze that made it look like he was under a spell; half-lidded eyes, a hazy film over the crystal blue, the corners of his eyes droopy and relaxed. You smiled inwardly when he nuzzled into you, purely elated yet confused at the strange behavior from the stoic boy. “Are you alright?” Leaning down a bit, you adjusted the gauze sticking out from between his lips.
His body weight leaned atop yours caused you to lean against him further, but he took that as an invitation to wrap his arms around you and lay his head down in your lap. He thought nothing of it, simply finding this a comfortable place to rest and ease his pounding headache. You, however, felt like a teenager in a shoujo anime. Cheeks heated and eyes wide, your hands hovered by your face out of pure shock. “Mmn…” Albedo shuffled around until he looked up at you (the best he could, at least, everything was still a bit fuzzy), and he reached upwards and blindly grabbed at the air until he cupped your cheek. “Have th’you alwayth been thith pretthy? Like the brighteth sthar amidsth the night sky…” Before you could react to the nonchalant compliment, though you didn’t really know how to, he spoke once more. “I wan' almon' thofu.” His face was completely serious as he said this, as if he were reading his alchemy notes, and you snorted at this.
“Well, I’ll see what I can do when I get back. I’m sure I can whip something up for you! Ah,” You paused, leaning your head back against the headrest. “I don’t think you can eat solid foods for a little bit though…how does a smoothie sound?” An uncharacteristic groan came from your boyfriend, but he settled down a moment later while turning his head into your abdomen.
He mumbled this against your clothing, finding comfort in your scent. “...S’tho long ath you’re the one making it, I sth’pose that’ll be alright. Thank thyou. ” It was hard to understand him through the gauze, but what you did understand brought the widest of smiles to your face, and you found yourself raking your fingers through his soft locs while admiring his pretty (albeit slightly swollen) face. Being as loopy as he was, he simply smiled and leaned into your touch like a sunflower leaning into the sunlight. The ride home was quiet, yet comforting with him sleeping in your lap, curled up in the back of the carriage. You silently chided yourself for not bringing a kamera to capture just how sweet he was without a filter, and you couldn’t help but wonder if this was his true nature or a side to him that takes a bit of convincing to show.
‘Yeah,’  You looked down at the sleeping boy with a swollen cheek and sleepy smile with a lovesick grin and watched as he huddled ever closer to you and tightened his grip around your waist,
‘I’m so telling Kaeya about this.’
ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚✧˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ
Word Count: 1104
ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚✧˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ
- Ky♡♡
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𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧; 𝗳𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺 𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝘀𝗸 𝘁𝗼 𝗷𝗼𝗶𝗻!
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@storytravelled ; @irethepotato ; @euphoric-author ; @lordbugs ; @straymoon96 ;  @hoshikistarlette ; @lianglee11 ; @sup-zfam ; @myaaki ; @roriver ; @rizakari ; @httpshaolvr ; @leena-shii ; @kaerui-kaisen ; @akaiyuki ; @marigold-petals ; @frenchtoaf ;​ @nejibot ; @fijispritee ; @kissventii ; @ethereal-moonglow 
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146 notes · View notes
someone-ds · 7 months
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Totally insufferable is what he is. But God am I just drawn to insufferable men.
He walks with his chin up, clothes worth more than two of my paychecks combined, a kick in his step, and a smirk across his clean-shaven face that would bring any woman to her knees.
He has mastered the art of a souverain aura. He has had a thing for getting the rise out of me since day one. And how I hated his guts, ohh how I hated everything about his stupidly handsome face. He is smart I’ll give him that, almost as smart as me. Our professor has grown fond of our rivalry, instigating heated discussions and making us meet heads every lecture. I love a challenge and mmh how delicious of a challenge he is. Our eyes meet more often than I’d like. He watches me, in return I watch him. I cannot help myself. When he talks my ears perk up, the corners of my mouth curl up, and my eyes usually roll because of his awful trash talk. I fall victim to his charm and wit. I wish to sink my teeth into his throat and mark him as mine. He talks and talks to try and get a reaction out of me. Over the summer he has apparently forgotten how much fun it is. So he does it all the time. Was sich liebt neckt sich what loves that teases
And tease we do. He drives me crazy, he makes me wild. I want to just shut him up with my lips, he brings the worst out of me. And he loves that. God how he saviours my annoyed eyes and angry huffs. He feeds off it. It’s almost animal-like how we prey on each other. He drives to Germany every weekend, he’s from there. Something I tease him about constantly. the way he says certain words makes me cackle. ‘What was that? What did you just say, sorry I didn’t get it?’ ‘Ugh, how do you guys say that??’
My hometown is on his way to his hometown. So, he mentions every other Monday when he comes back to class. On Friday it so happens that instead of going getting off a stop later than he does; I get off at the same time as he does. We’re going to his apartment, in a building with a porter, community kitchens, cinemas, gaming rooms, saunas, and pools. It is straight out of a fucking movie. The walk up to the apartment he talks about the area, his feet and mine falling into sync. I am awestruck, cranking my neck up to see all those beautiful skyscrapers that surround us. It feels like I’m in a totally different city, a feeling that will continue to grow the longer you spend in his bubble. We walk into the rotating doors, and the portier watches me closely and asks me what I am doing here. ‘She’s with me’ he barks and goes up to him. He signs some paper and scowls the man for his rude behavior to his guest. I stand awkwardly to the side. A warm feeling in my stomach. ‘She’s with me’ echoes through my head. Strangely it sounds lovely coming from his lips. There is a tablet in front of the elevator behind two glass doors he used a keycard for us to pass through. He punches a number in, I’m too distracted to see which one. I scan the walls and the floor. We go in. The elevator is spacious and weirdly has no buttons on the inside. There is a red LED indicator telling us which floor we are on. ‘Wait, which floor do you live on again?’ He lowers his head a bit, I can hear the smirk on his pretty pink lips when he says ‘The 23rd’ My jaw drops. Then my head falls back, and a nervous laugh leaves me. I’ve never been this high above the ground before. My knees buckle a bit. He squared his shoulders and stepped out before me. He casually strolls the corridor talking about the VIP features he has; I pay him half a mind. More interested in my surroundings, the carpet and the wall, and the decorations. We go through the gaming lounge. ‘It’s a short cut’ he says and winks. I’m still awestruck and too mesmerized by everything to even consider mocking him for the cheesy line delivery. We are on the 23rd floor of a luxury apartment complex and all I can think about is how much I do not fit in here. We get to his door, it’s the last one in the hallway. He goes in. I stay two steps behind him not sure if I should come in or wait until he’s done grabbing his bags. ‘Come in, I’m sorry it’s so messy… I rarely have people over’ he says the last part more quietly. ‘Should I take my shoes off?’ is the first thing that leaves my mouth. He looks down at my feet and then just shakes his head no. ‘Nah you’re fine, doesn’t matter’. His apartment is smaller than I thought it’d be. A small kitchenette, and a queen-sized bed with a TV in front of it. A small desk and a beautiful dark blue velvet couch. The bathroom is off to the side down a small corridor. But what gets me is the view. The floor-to-ceiling windows and a terrace that wraps around the whole apartment. He opens the door for me and rushes off to pack his bag while I stand quietly by the door. I walk around trying to get a feel of who he really is. A postcard by his bedside table and a picture of the family dog tell me he misses home more than he lets on. I get it- I think to myself. On his desk are two bottles of Dom Perigon 2010 and 2008. A small but heavy Porsche Trophy with his dad’s name on it. A small frame with a family picture around a table in a restaurant. He has his mother’s eyes. I wonder if anyone has ever told him that. I venture out to the balcony. The wind has my curls flying all over the place. I feel like a little kid giggling out there. I look over the city that I have come to call home for the past year. It looks completely different from up here. I feel like I’m on a different planet altogether. ‘How much do you pay for this?’ I say as I step over his clothes that had fallen from the clothing line. ‘1200€ without the garage, it’s 100 more with’ he says nonchalantly as if that’s not more than I make in 2 months.
My knees buckle again. I’m a bit dizzy, the wind and the adrenaline from being up so high are making it worse. I go back inside. I see an elegant black suitcase in the corner of the room. ‘Wouldn’t it be funny if that was a Rimowa suitcase?’ I think to myself. Those things are stupidly expensive. I go look at the black leather nametag with his Initials carved into it, I turn it over and of course, it is a fucking Rimowa suitcase. ‘You’re so fucking predictable.’ I shout in his general direction. ‘Is it true that you get lifelong insurance on these things and if it breaks, they provide you with a different one until yours is repaired?’ ‘Yeah, that’s true, I mean I paid 2,3k on that. That’s the least they can do.’ He changed his clothes and puts his driving shoes on, I bite back the remark about how only old men have dedicated driving shoes. We’re back at the elevator. We go from the 23rd floor to the -2nd floor in less than 30 seconds. We walk around the parking garage and the trunk of a black Q5 opens on its own as soon as we round the corner. He puts his bags inside, shuts the trunk, and walks over to the driver’s door. I’m still looking at the car. The plate with his name and lucky number on it sits proudly on the car. Gobsmacked. What the hell… I get in. The plush leather seat is nice, soft, and smooth. I feel like I’m in a Rocketship. I look around and every second that passes the more in awe I am. He reverses out of his parking space and off we go. His car is so high that I can’t really see over the hood. We drive out of the garage onto the busy streets of Vienna that are beginning to feel more like fucking Miami. He has a panorama roof that slides open, and he puts his hand out the top. The other rested comfortably on the leather steering wheel. ‘Be honest how many times have you stuck your head through this?’ He laughs and shakes his head. ‘Never I just put my hand out like this.’ It is weirdly attractive; he looks expensive and by association, I do too. And that feeling is growing on me. I have been in some car accidents and get nervous being in cars with people I’ve never driven before, especially young rich guys with a car that has 250 horsepower and an inflatable ego. ‘You’re not going to drive like a crazy person, are you?’ ‘I drive more than 500km in a week and have been for over a year, I’m better than most drivers. You’re safe with me don’t worry.’ He turns the music on and I relax in my seat. I then say something about being so high up in the air. He presses some buttons on the little touchpad in the middle of us and I can feel the hind tires lift and the car rising. Then the front tires, I watch as the hood of the car rises while we stand at the red light.
What. The. Fuck? He just lifted us 10cm off the ground. This is so intoxicating, I feel drunk. Bubbly and happy. More from the nerves but also from the sheer ridiculousness that this boy is. He drives us out of the city, and I relax in my seat. We talked about the car how much it cost and the upgrades he got. He starts singing along to the song that is playing. The sun is slowly setting and a strip of light slices through his eyes vertically leaving a honey chocolate strip in his eyes. I ask him how loud the music can get, and he puts it up all the way. And again, I feel like I’m not in Vienna and not with my academic rival but with a friend in Miami. The roof is open the music is loud and good, and I am getting used to feeling like I’m above the rest. The conversation goes from the car and his apartment to his dad and grandparents. His dad is a professional horse rider and owns a hotel that belonged to his grandparents. They own 35 horses and have like 5 luxury cars. He has a younger brother who lives with his mother. His parents are separated. He used to watch his dad on TV and cheer him on. ‘He was home for a day or two a week and then traveled for 3 weeks, I never saw him.’ ‘Did you miss him?’ I ask quietly. It seems like he loves his dad a great deal. ‘No’ his face crunches up a bit, tilting to the side. ‘He was never there so how could I even miss him?’ That breaks my heart a tiny bit. I ask about his mother. ‘Oh, she works in IT’ he says, and I can tell he is embarrassed. ‘Oh, that’s so cool what are you on about?’ His brother has a Michelin-star restaurant named after him. He has to come by every few weeks to walk around and say hello to the guests. The image of that makes me chuckle. I am still mostly looking up at the panoramic window that graces the roof of his car. A pleasant conversation is held with good music coming through the speakers. The wind makes my hair fly around. I feel free.
He drops me off at my house, and I shut the door not before wishing him a safe trip.
He is insufferable and mean. But he is a good guy. Not that I would know what that means. Good guys were never my type.
And over the weekend my mind kept going back. To the feeling of freedom.
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gwagwagwagoogoo · 6 months
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I realize most folks really don’t understand what it’s like to be a victim of narcissistic abuse especially from a parent
when I was in therapy my therapist would always insist that I try to fix things, or bridge the gap, or give my abuser a chance
but like that just wasn’t possible when every other time I had given this man so much leeway and chance, and each time I get messed up and twisted
my therapist once compared to me a growling dog, saying how in this metaphor no one will approach a growling dog or give it a chance. you wouldn’t want to approach a growling dog and always spoke about how it took two people to make a relationship (parental, platonic, romantic. Any) work
But I always asked him why am I risking myself getting hurt to give him a chance like I did so many times. He would just say that to me, it wasn’t his intention but his advice had made me get closer to my abuser time and time again only for me to reel away like I always do and cut contact
He wasn’t malicious but I don’t think he ever understood who my father was, truly, and thought he was just a flawed man when he was more
And I got mad, so mad, and when he inadvertently ‘called me a dog. A growling dog. That no one would approach, that my father would not approach his growling daughter. So I said ‘we’re both growling dogs’ he snapped at me as much as I snapped at him, but I was his child and he had raised me to bite and growl when he raised his hand
I didn’t talk to my therapist after that, ever again, I had already quit therapy by that time and he was generous enough to let me talk to him one more time. He had helped me a lot, truly, but the one subject we’d never see eye to eye on was my father and abuser
He had offered to bring in my father multiple times so we could talk, and I had always been skittish and afraid of it I would recoil like a trapped animal, because he was a charmer. He knew how to make you feel good, he knew, and there was always a fear in my gut that he’d be able to even charm my own therapist. He tried to reassure me, that he was there for me, but I could never risk it
He would always insist I be the one to talk to him, try to settle things with him, apologize. I have done that, and yet nothing had changed. I tried to give him an inch, but he turns it into a mile and I am trapped in this cycle where he makes me feel good and important, and then leaves and leaves me confused and fogged. He tells me he loves me, that he’s such a great father and that no one else has a father like him, I should be so happy and so glad, and then he’d insult me, hurt me, and snap at me. At a certain point, I just gave up
I wanted change, and none of this was going to yield it and I was frankly sick of acting like the adult all the time. Apologizing for his childish behavior in public, apologizing to school staff because he would yell and scream at them. He got me kicked out of the vet and I was nearly not allowed back in when we had to euthanize one of my cats because he yelled at a receptionist so brutally she cried and had to leave work. I had to learn how to temper his tantrums or he’d get fed up and leave, I had to learn how to try and minimize the damage he would cause to others and me. Whenever I’d tell him, even for simplistic things, to stop doing something he would just brush me off and deny me. Or say my words weren’t my own.
He would hold things over my head, berate me, corner me. Make sure I couldn’t physically leave, until I apologizes to him and had to bow my head. Block out doorways, creep up my stairs with heavy stomps, not answer when I ask ‘who’s there?’— always on edge when I heard someone stomp, stomp, and they didn’t announce themselves. Because he’d corner me.
I was a child, I don’t think I could’ve ever changed this. But ever since I was a child, I said the same thing. I don’t want contact, I don’t it, I don’t want him in my life, if he wasn’t my father I wouldn’t even have known him. I am repulsed by him as a person, I am disgusted by his actions, and I hate him. I love him too, as my father, but I have never hated someone so deeply in my heart ever before. He was my first, and I hope my last.
He has hurt me in a way I don’t think others can’t, I think he was my first heartbreak, and he was my first taste of acrimony
He still hurts me, even when he is not present for it, and can send me into an uncontrollable haze and fog. It is terrifying as it is frustrating
No one can hurt me as much as my Daddy has, and no one can retch as much hatred— and pure venom— from my heart as much alike my Daddy can
Tl;dr: Narcissist abuse fucks u up lol
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deathdanse · 1 year
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Servitude || Corbeau Drabble
Synopsis: Corbeau’s world comes crashing down around her, until the Queen of France arrives and offers a way out.
A/N: At what point do drabbles stop being meta and just become fanfic? I don’t know but I guess I’m finding out!
Google Doc for easier reading!
“Here is your champion,” A sword is gestured to the near-bare form on the ground. “You have all been deceived! The rising knight you’ve adored is of the cursed sex… a woman!”
The ‘woman’ in question sat on the ground defeated, the armor which concealed her identity laid scattered around her as she was requested to strip off her armor since she had lost to her bitter rival, the knight that stood above her laughing, the crowd murmuring their shock and dismay, which only grew louder until it became a protest.
“Impossible....” 
“How could she do this?”
“Disgusting! You should be ashamed of yourself, woman!” 
“God has no place for you or your immoral behavior, you damn wench!”
“Yes.. yes! This is what she needs to hear!” The knight encouraged, sneering at the woman. “She must be put in her place, put before our fine justice system and tried against the fullest extent of the law!”
The woman continued to stay quiet, listening to the jeers of the crowd that only a few moments ago adored her completely. Her eyes focused on the sword pointed at her, it’s sheen forced her to stare back at her own reflection, at her own hubris. Everything that she was working for has all come crashing down around her to the sound of laughter and hate spewed at every angle around her.
“Well..?” The knight spoke, leaning down to look at the woman dead in the eyes. “What do you have to say for yourself, Jehan– or should I say… Corbeau?”
‘Corbeau’ remained silent, sitting on the ground. The knight laughed and leaned in closer. “If you’re talking... I can’t hear y--” The next few moments happened swiftly. Corbeau lunged at the knight with no warning or sign, retrieving her fallen sword and swinging wildly at him like the cornered animal she truly was. The knight would avoid most of the swings, but that wouldn’t stop the sword from slicing his cheek before guards managed to grab Corbeau to drag her away– kicking and screaming right off of the ring. “Unhand me! I’ll kill every single one of you if I have to!” Among other obscenities were bellowed by Corbeau until  she could no longer be heard by the audience.
The knight held his cheek as he watched his former rival be restrained and taken away from the stadium, his gaze lifted to meet the eyes of the Queen who sat in the reserved seating for royalty, she didn’t seem shocked or angry by this turn of events; her head was tilted to the side, her smile unwavering as her servants frantically apologized and fluttered around her. She seemed more interested in Corbeau than the knight who revealed the deception. 
The knight wondered what was going through the Queen’s head. If she wasn’t disgusted by what had transpired.
—-
It had been a few hours since Corbeau was taken to the cells. The only noises accompanying her were the drips of condensation and the voices of guards outside gossiping about her arrival, how shameful it was for her to cross-dress, how shameful it was for it to be revealed in front of Queen Isabeau no less! Her life as she knew it would be ruined, her reasons for doing this would be left to die and wither away, there was nothing to be done. She had no choice but to accept her coming punishment with quiet dignity. 
Or so she would think.
Concerned murmuring from outside the gate would snap her from her thoughts, sitting up in her cell and looking at the door, trying to decipher what the guards were suddenly so worried about until the reason just flung the door open and entered.
“Y-Your majesty–!! You can’t go in ther–!!”
“Your concern is noted, Captain,” The queen spoke curtly, not looking at the guard that came in after her. “I must speak to that girl that was brought in. Will you allow me an audience with her?”
“I..I can’t, I simply cannot allow you to speak to her without someone watching you, there– there’s just no telling wha–”
“Will this be enough?” The queen spoke again, producing a hefty bag of coins from her robes. “I must speak to her privately, or do you need more convincing?”
“E-Err… yes.. It’s enough…” The guard clears his throat, straightening himself. “...as you wish, ma’am.”
Corbeau’s eyes blinked as she watched the scene play out in front of her, becoming even more bewildered as Isabeau walked closer to her, motioning to the guard to unlock the cell and making her way in. Corbeau cleared her throat and fumbled into kneeling on the ground, eyes dared not look at the royalty that stood before her.
“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” Isabeau waved her hand. “Please, be at ease.. I come as a friend, not as your Queen.”
Corbeau nodded furiously before standing up and looking at Isabeau. She had never thought the queen would want to speak to her, let alone at such a time as this, nor even be this close! She was frozen in place as she soaked in the features of Isabeau; the way her golden robes shimmered in what little light there was in the cell, her eyes that held a gentle softness yet pierced daggers into her soul, the smile that never seemed to tire being on her face nor the flash of rings that adorned her fingers as her hands danced around with practiced purpose of a puppeteer or conductor. Most curious of all was.. How young she looked; the Queen was definitely her senior by many years.. Yet she could pass as an elder sister– if they were related of course.
“What is your name..?” The queen asks, her hand raises slightly to encourage an answer.
“I…I am Corbeau De La Rue…” She would meekly respond back, averting her gaze. “I am.. humbled.. by your arrival, your majesty.”
The queen laughed, a light airy laugh that was suitable to someone of her stature. “Corbeau please, how many times must I repeat myself? I know it’s difficult, but I came here to talk to you as a friend, not as a queen speaking to her subject. Rest assured, there is no need for formalities here.” Isabeau would then sit on the bench adjacent to the wall she was near, motioning for Corbeau to follow suit to take a seat beside her. “..I must say, the revelation that our most promising jouster we had seen in decades being a woman was quite a surprise.. But I feel as though this is not something you decided to do on a whim.. What possessed you to pretend to be a man and partake in the tournaments?”
Corbeau didn’t want to answer, shifting awkwardly as she sat. Her mind filled with questions and anxiety that the queen of France was willing to dirty her robes and sit beside her just for the sake of being more personable to a peasant like her– does she really come as a friend, can she be trusted? There’s no real reason to not lie, looking at the situation, Corbeau didn’t have much else to lose.
“I have two younger sisters in my care,” Corbeau started. “Our mother died some time ago, a streetwalker illness took her life– my father dying several years prior. I have been the sole caretaker of them ever since. I’ve.. cross-dressed before, in order to get higher paying jobs. I eventually found my way to working in one of these tournaments, I discovered how much it paid to joust in the ring. So I learned what I could on the job, and when I was finished for the day I would train for the rest of the night, and I would continue that until I decided I was ready to compete. Then.. Well.. you know the rest I suppose.”
Queen Isabeau listened intently, not once interrupting Corbeau, her smile did not fall at any point, her head moving to the side was the only movement from her, aside from the breathing in her chest. It took her a moment to process the information that was given to her. “That’s awful..You must have struggled and sweated to work to get here. My condolences for the loss of your parents.. ” Her hand went to her heart as she said this, but the smile did not lower despite the sad tone that she spoke. Isabeau's hands would fold on her lap a second after her so-called expression of sadness. “I know we have only just met Corbeau.. But I have a proposition for you. Your plight has… inspired me. Will you hear me out?”
Corbeau was visibly taken aback by the offer, staring once again at the Queen of France who continued to baffle her time and time again in such a short order. “I… I am flattered by your offer.. But I don’t understand you at all. You’ve been incredibly kind, you’ve sacrificed all etiquette just to talk to me, ruined your robes, among other things that I’m sure you’ve also done to get here. So why me? What about me is so interesting?”
Isabeau's smile seemed to stretch a bit bigger leaning forward, chuckling. “Ah, and you’re curious too, questioning everything around you. That’s good, it speaks to your intelligence. Even better than what I expected of you.” Isabeau slowly rose to her feet and looked out, seeing if there was a guard present, turning back to Corbeau once she confirmed that there was no guard. Her smile finally dropped to a neutral state. “I will state my intentions clearly then,”
There was a breath, then Isabeau was enveloped in a purple light. It only took her form for a moment, in the next– her outfit had changed. It was black dress with purple veins throughout, red eyes adorned her head along with an absurd amount of skin showing– deeply unbecoming of the queen of France. Yet Isabeau didn’t seem afraid of being seen like this, in fact it seemed like she embraced it; she was smiling once again– the widest Corbeau had seen this whole time, the way she carried herself was beyond the usual flair of French Royalty.. No, it was like she was above that. Higher than a queen, more above an empress. 
She was a goddess. 
That was the only way Corbeau could describe the woman in front of her. A god in royal clothing, walking among the unworthy peasants of France. Of the world.
“...What… What the hell are you..?” Was the only thing Corbeau managed to sputter out, mouth agape at the creature before her. Corbeau wasn’t even sure if she was a woman anymore, if she even was one at all.
“Someone that can give you power beyond this world,” Isabeau replied. “I’ve listened to your tale, I see the desire in your heart and your iron will.. So, I’ve chosen you for a very special purpose– should you choose to accept it. Corbeau, do you hate this world and how it’s wronged you and your family, your sisters? Do you desire power to protect your sisters from further harm from this cruel, unjust world?”
It was almost as if Isabeau read her mind. “I… yes. Yes, I do.”
“Then listen, and listen well.” Isabeau boomed. “I will pardon you and take you and your sisters in as my own daughters; I will personally ensure that you all have food, water and shelter in my own home. You all will be given an education.. All I ask in exchange of all my blessings is your loyalty in mind, body, and soul. Offer yourself to me, so that I may bless you with a powerful gift such as mine that will help you protect your sisters now and forever..”
“And.. if I refuse..?”
“Then.. nothing happens. I leave this cell and continue my duties, you get burned at the stake  for cross-dressing, your sisters fates left to the whims of whoever finds themselves in their path– but most likely death, since they’ll be branded as sisters to a witch… is that what you really want Corbeau? I see the lengths you have gone to protect your sisters as you are.. But don’t you want the power to protect them from anything?”
“...” 
“There’s only one answer where everyone lives. I’m all that is standing between you and being burned alive in front of your sisters.”
Corbeau didn’t need to think about it any longer, once again kneeling down in front of Isabeau– fuck it.
“I…accept your proposal. You have my loyalty.”
“Excellent.” Light swallows Isabeau’s form again, returning her to her normal clothing and she begins to walk towards the cell door. “I shall see to your bail and make arrangements for your arrival.. Give me some time, I do not think you will be in here for much longer. Once you are released, bring your sisters whatever luggage you have and meet here by sunrise tomorrow, by then I should have some of my men escort you to the castle.” Turning to Corbeau once she opened the cell door slightly. “..Understood, daughter?”
Corbeau swallowed the re-appeared lump in her throat, not getting up from the ground or meeting Isabeau’s gaze again. “...Understood, Mother.”
Isabeau replied in a pleased hum before exiting Corbeau’s prereferral vision. Only when Corbeau heard the sound of the door leading out from the cells closing did she fall onto the floor after another minute of kneeling from fear to ensure that Isabeau was gone, ragged breathing escaping her– how long had she been holding her breath?-- Mind racing with the implications of what she had just agreed to. 
Was the Queen going to make Corbeau like her, a goddess among France’s subjects? Was this going to be worth it? 
Of course it was worth it. Her sisters were going to be safe, they were going to have food and shelter and an incredible shot at life. 
This was everything she had hoped for and more.
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ccaptain · 2 years
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kaeya having a feral side REALLY sends me. like this is my favorite side of him to roleplay, the paranoid, animalistic thought that come when he's startled
imagine this well-groomed, super affable and smiling asshole to (almost) completely break character and turn like a cornered animal whenever you scare him, paranoia high at all hours and sharp weapon in hand. that's my favorite kaeya ever
most of his feral behaviors include but are not limited to:
- have you ever seen how he stands in the corners of the room during a meeting usually? you think he just likes to sit there to speak suddendly and startle everyone? YEAH NO. my take on this is that he needs to compensate for his eye being covered/blind and deal better with his peripheral vision. he puts himself in a position to cover his loss and see the entire room with barely a glance so he can spring into action when needed. control at all times who? also the door of his office has
- that thing where predators uncover their teeth to show hidden aggression? kaeya might as well have invented it. he knows when to show an hint of pearly white teeth in his smile so the other person feels uneasy, but can't pinpoint why. he uses this in meetings to gain the upper hand because his opponent is too intimidated by it and won't say a word, or just because he likes to see people squirm. truly a bastard
- since he has always been afraid to go blind in his good eye too, he has been training his nose better. he's the first one to notice and compliment if someone switched perfume/shampoos bc he can pick this shit up an entire room away, and also why he manages to relax at ALL around people he knows the smell of. knows how hilichurl and other monsters scent so he's sure to guide his knights to a safe route if they go on an expedition
- expressing deep discomfort/anger almost unconsciously with snapping teeth, clenching hands together to hold back emotions and sometimes outright peeling his lips back and showing teeth and HISSING in people's faces. honestly it doesn't happen a lot but i imagine it's terrifying because he doesn't produce an half-hassed snarl, he literally makes a non-human perfect one that really doesn't get along with his appearence. never let them know your next (feral) move
- the visceral attachment towards being armed at all times. doesn't matter what, can even be a sharp rock if he can put his hands on him. honestly i think that this is an habit he was drawn towards when he was still a child after his mother was disposed of, and it has never subsides. he sleeps with a dagger under his pillow, would play off his hand flying at another strapped down some part of his body if startled suddendly. he's honestly one of the jumpiest guys ever, he's just that good at masking it
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