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#not to mention all the monster and THINGS that are elsewhere
empty-movement · 2 months
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Empty Movement's 2023 Revolutionary Girl Utena UPDATE
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Fashionably late? As always. 2023 was a HUGE year for Empty Movement, so much so that to confess, we did a big fail in actually keeping up with sharing the stuff we did! OOPS. So finally, we proudly bring you: all the Revolutionary Girl Utena content we dropped in 2023. Essays, artbooks, CD information, you name it. Click below for the entire site update, or get it at the source, as always, at ohtori.nu.
In Analysis (Fan Essays): • seebee's essay The Power of Living an Embodying Narrative is about more than Utena, it's about the fandom--including us. We were both interviewed for this piece, and the result is an absolutely beautiful essay that has helped inform how we do Utena stuff going forward. Thank you so much for letting us be part of this! • seebee's VIDEO essay FILM CUTS BACK | transfeminism in utena absolutely blew our minds and it's so good we're listing it. Look at the title. Just go watch it, it rules. • Nicole Winchester's essay No Choice But To Become Witches: The Bishōjo-Demonic Phallic Mother Dichotomy in Revolutionary Girl Utena catches you up to speed on the academic discussion around what might best be described as the shoujo manga iteration of the Madonna-Whore complex. Then, naturally, it finds plenty to say about Utena. Great work that was well worth the coding!
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In From the Mouths of Babes (Translated Meta/Creator Content): • Cross X Talk, A Round Table Discussion Commemorating the Second Musical Utena GOGAI FUCKIN' GOGAI. Nagumo and friends bring us the final untranslated part of the 2019 Black Rose Musical's program guide: the monster interview with Ikuhara and the director of the musicals, Yoshitani. INCREDIBLE content here that 100% lives up to the first musical's similar encounter! A must read!! • The Rose Apocalypse's Ei Takatori Interview The director of the mysterious 1999 musical (yes the machine gun one, and YES WE HAVE MORE INFORMATION ABOUT IT COMING) interviewed in The Rose Apocalypse book. This...is that. Thank you so much to iris hahn for translating, and I can't wait to bring you more of this mythology!!! • The Utena Dossier Animage Magazine's June 1997 supplemental, this 36-page Utena tome has ben translated by Nagumo with editing by Ayu Ohseki. Because so much of the content is in its visual presentation, I worked the translation into the original scans! Check it out! (PS. Yes that is an entirely different gallery on the emptymovement.com domain, no this won't stay there, yes it has been a weird couple years.) The Dossier includes two long interviews that are also worked into html pages for easy viewing! The Auspicious Joining of Manga and Anime: Saito and Hasegawa For Whom the Director Smiles: Ikuhara and Kitakubo
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In Historia Arcana & The Bibliothèque (Untranslated Resources): • There are a lot of changes happening in this arena!!! How and where to place different materials has been a moving target, so I'll do my best! The sites don't quite reflect this yet, but Historia Arcana will be for cover to cover Utena media, including special magazine publications. Something Eternal's gallery, the Bibliothèque, will be for magazine articles, clippings, and other things. Major artbooks will likely be in both places, cross referenced. New books in Historia Arcana: • The Rose Spiral: Reflections on the Mythology of Utena While not strictly official, this is a fan published book of in depth analysis of Utena, circa 1998! Yep, cover to cover. • Revolution Dictionary (OST 1 First Press Bonus) Cross-referenced from Audiology, this is the bonus dictionary you only got if you grabbed it early! Cool! • Revolutionary Girl Utena Making of Visuals Book Art of UTENA I am mentioning this for completions sake and because I already uploaded it, but this is a cover to cover high resolution, uncleaned scan of the 1999 Art of Utena artbook. I am going to clean the scans, and ultimately be posting the official artbooks elsewhere. • Revolutionary Girl Utena Photobook: Rose Memories This special Animage bonus could be purchased for 700 yen, and back then, was probably a great way to keep the anime in your pocket! It's entirely shots from the TV series, though, so there's nothing specifically new. But I scan it all, baby. New books in the Bibliothèque: • Chiho Saito's 1999 Revolutionary Girl Utena Original Illustration Collection HI THIS IS A VERY BIG DEAL. Read more about why when you visit! TLDR? Here's some of the best artwork of Utena, rescanned and remastered by yours truly to be the best big big scans of big big beautiful Chiho Saito Art. This is a feast. I even made myself a calendar! (Note that the price is such that I don't make a profit on these, so if you're looking to donate, definitely go by other routes, haha.) You will find multiple ways to obtain the scans, and in more than one size. Either way you soak up the rays, enjoy 'em! New articles and clips in the Bibliothèque: • H! Rockin' on Japan Magazine Saito X Oikawa This fashion music magazine's July 1999 article has ALREADY BEEN TRANSLATED? Like, I am going to add the translation officially to the site of course, but holy hell Nagumo is amazing!! This article is actually the origin of a Saito art piece that uh, well. Now we know she went to a love hotel with movie Akio's VA. Cool! Anyway check it out! • Comickers Magazine, August 1997 This absolute monster find is an industry-focused magazine with this gorgeous spread and interview with Chiho Saito. It gets into how she does things. The making of Utena. All kinds of stuff. I'd LOVE to know more about this one!! • Comickers Magazine, June 1998 Again, an industry-focused publication, this time it's exploring the manga and the anime and how they compare. Again looks like a tasty meal!! • Volks Magazine, Spring 2022 YEP SCANS OF THE BOOK OF THE DOLLFIES. For a lot of us, this is at close as we get to these ludicrously gorgeous dolls. I included a few extra pages because they were just fuckin' cool and felt relevant. • Sega Saturn Magazine, December 1997 One of two grabs I got recently on Yahoo! Japan! This appears to be the first look announcement of the 1998 Utena video game! (Yes we have more on it, yes we will eventually post links.) • Sega Saturn Magazine, April 1998 This feature brings attention to the voice actors, who are all returning for the game! • Dengeki G's Magazine, January 1998 Another gaming focused magazine, with frankly a more adult edge, cheaply lets the readers know about Utena. These three game magazine moments are just a bizarre reminder of how we did things before the internet, LMAO
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In Audiology (Music and CD Information): • Complete information about the STAR CHILD - Girls Character Song Best album! You also definitely can't grab the two new remix tracks there. • Did you know there was a first press bonus dictionary for the first OST? I DIDN'T UNTIL RECENTLY. Now I know all about it, and so can you. Check it out! Obviously, scans available, both here and in Historia Arcana. • I FINALLY acquired a complete set of the Utena CD singles!! Check out complete track lists, scans, and information for ALL FIVE Utena singles. Yes. Including the movie Akio guy's one.
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In The Doujinshi Gallery: • Several dozen dounjinshi were uploaded earlier in the year, and can be found listed on the Site Update archive here.
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That's all for now, folks! There's so so so much coming. I have the episode 18 and 20 (!!!!) storyboards to scan, as well as a fully translated scanlation of The Duelist Bible. We're planning to do something for Anthy's rare LEAP YEAR birthday coming up, probably a musical stream or something! Love!
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bangtanflirt · 7 months
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(Un)natural Instincts (Part 6)
*Series taglist is closed.
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angst, fluff, smut
Pairings: OT7 x Fem Reader, Human CEO Reader, Human Assistant Yoongi, Wolf Hybrids Joon, Jin, Hobi, Jimin, Tae, and Kook.
Basic premise: You and your assistant end up rescuing six wolf hybrids. No part of the process is easy.
Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3 > Part 4 > Part 5 > Part 6 > Part 7
General Warnings: Hybrid abuse and lab experimentation, hybrids as second-class citizens/owned property, future smut (Minors DNI, 18+ content)
Specific Warnings: mentions of covering up SA cases, lasting mental effects of dubcon under the synthetic hormones, morally gray characters, lots and lots of self-deprecation and low self-esteem, one mention of sexual dreams
____
Yoongi’s eyes are on the screen, but his mind is everywhere but the presentation. The meeting room is chattering away about profits and liabilities but all he can think about is you and Hoseok. The feeling of betrayal clawing its way into his chest, ripping out his heart and snuggling into his ribcage as a replacement. Betrayal for making him think you weren’t just as twisted inside as the rest of your kind: the ones with mansions, luxury cars, and chauffeurs waiting on their every move. The kind that Yoongi’s worked for already. He remembers how lucky he felt when he got this job, how ecstatic he was to finally work under someone who wasn’t insufferable. Sure, you were brash and cold, but that was nothing compared to his old boss—the one who’d make him commit a thousand crimes to cover up his own. He can’t remember how many books he’s cooked or funds he’s laundered at this point. The worst were the sexual assault claims, looking into every poor woman’s eyes and writing off a check as if it would make her hurt any less. All the nights he’d cry himself to sleep, feeling like a monster, but not knowing how to stop. His mother’s health has always been the first thing on his mind, and it goes from bad to worse too quick for him to quit with no backup. Hospital bills never pay themselves, do they? Especially not when he's the only breadwinner in the family.
He remembers the day you two first met, at a museum opening in Spain, where he was assisting his former employer in landing a partnership with your firm. He can’t say he liked you from the get-go. Didn’t like you at all, quite frankly. You were quite the expert at barking orders, making a scene at every little mistake the nervous waiters made. Everyone was on edge the minute you’d sit down, designer purses propped on the table that cost more than the last surgery his mother needed. But something changed as the week-long trip progressed, when he saw how quickly you shut his boss down the second he proposed a less-than-legal deal. It’s a deal he’d help get many others to sign off on before—with no one caring about the legality when millions were on the table—but you were passionate in your rejection, saying Shin Investments would never take part in anything illegal under your watch.
He still doesn’t know how he found the courage to approach you for a job at the end of the trip. He knew it was risky, that you could not only reject him but also tell his current boss that he’s looking elsewhere. But he was so fed up. Fed up with doing all the dirty work. Fed up with evading the law under the excuse of “doing his job.”  You gave him hope that there was a place where he didn’t have to do all that.
You had given him an amused brow raise in response, mentioning how you’d fired your last assistant, just prior to the trip, for smiling in a way that annoyed you. He knew you were challenging him, basically telling him he’s free to try, but he won’t last more than a week.
But, surprisingly to everyone, he does. It’s been two years since his first day, and it’s not an exaggeration to say his relationship with you back then is night and day from the one now. You had purposely put him through absolute hell during the first month, having him run around the office scrambling day after day. But even at your most difficult, it was always “run four blocks to my favorite salad bar and get me lunch in the next twenty minutes” and never “tell the new hires if they keep whining to HR about a compliment, they won’t ever work in this industry again” (the latter being the exact words his former boss once said to him). So, as challenging as you were, it never phased him, as you were much better than the alternative.
It was a little after that first month when you started warming up to him, having your first real conversation after you had one too many glasses of wine at an afterparty. It’s when you admitted that you were looking for any excuse to fire him.
“Because I can just do it. I can do it without any red tape, you know? Firing an assistant is that easy. My father wouldn’t even bat an eye. It's one of the few things I don't have to report to him.”
In a strange way, he understood. You were overcompensating. Even you, the CEO, felt powerless in her circumstances.
That was the first of many similar conversations over the years, each one giving him more insight to why you are the way you are. He’s managed to be the only person who can dull your sharp edges, and you’ve managed to do the same for him. And that’s why it feels like a knife is twisting into his gut at the thought of you using Hoseok for you own pleasure, taking advantage of him in a way Yoongi didn’t know you were capable of doing. No, it wasn’t illegal, but still morally wrong—and though he was understanding of your questionable ethics when you agreed to the Kang deal, knowing how you get when you’re backed into a corner, this was unacceptable. No one was backing you into any corner this time. You did this because you wanted to. It made him feel like he was right back at his old job.
And the worst part is the jealousy. His rational mind knows Hoseok is the victim, but his irrational mind—the one that’s in love with you—can’t stop feeling jealous. His thoughts are racing at a thousand miles per hour, conjuring up scenarios of what the two of you could have been doing. Was it like the dreams he’s had of you? Dreams of you flipped on your stomach under him, moaning his name…but with his name instead? Yoongi feels his skin crawl at the thought of you chanting Hoseok’s name in that way. He’s disgusted in himself for thinking like this, but it’s hard to push it all down when his emotions are threatening to spill out at any moment.
___
Jin steps out of the library for a broom when he lays his eyes on you, absolutely mutilating a poor dethawed chicken. It’s clear that you haven’t cooked a proper meal for years, or maybe even ever. The way you’re holding that knife is unintentionally the funniest thing he’s seen in a while, and that’s why he doesn’t even realize the slight laugh escaping his lips. You look up at the sound, meeting his eyes, which turn from joyful to terrified in a single second.
He almost flinches at the expectation of yelling alone, but that’s not what happens. Instead of your shouts filling the giant kitchen, it’s your laughter.
“I look like a mess, don’t I?”
He shakes his head no, to which you just laugh louder.
“It’s okay Jin, I know I suck at cooking. I’ve been putting this poor chicken through hell for the last forty-five minutes.”
He takes tentative steps forward, broom forgotten as he tries to think on his feet and be useful to you.
“I could…I could do it if I’m allowed. I’m a really good cook!”
You look down at the chicken, almost considering it with how outside of your skillset this all is. But you think better, as he’s already been cleaning the library for hours.
“It’s alright, I think I’ll just leave this chicken alone for tonight and order pizza.”
“Please, I insist! You let Jimin make breakfast!”
You don’t miss the way he pouts the last part out, eyes furrowed in a way you can’t help but find adorable.
“I wouldn’t have let him if he didn’t wake up before me. You guys are recovering patients, you should be resting, not cooking. You shouldn’t even be cleaning the library honestly.”
“But we want to help, we want to be use-“
Jin’s words are cut off by the sound of sniffling, heads turning to the source: a very scared Taehyung stands in the entryway of the kitchen, with Jimin by his side. Your heart drops at the sight of tears rolling down Taehyung’s cheeks, and so does Jin’s—apparent in how fast he makes his way over to the wolf.
“What’s wrong? Are you hurt anywhere?!” He takes his pup’s face into his warm hands, trying to provide some sort of comfort.
Taehyung doesn’t answer, instead saying “I’m so sorry” like it’s a mantra. Jimin doesn’t dare speak, eyes trained on the ground.
You’re unsure if you should step in, as it looks like they’re all having a moment, but it’s clear Taehyung isn’t going to respond to Jin.
“What happened?” You ask softly, knowing anything more in your tone will easily spook them further.
Taehyung’s too distraught to register you’re even addressing him, let alone answer back. It’s Jimin who nudges at the younger wolf’s hands, which you notice have been hid behind his back.
“Taehyung, sweetheart, what’s behind your back?” You pray the use of the nickname will calm him like it did with Hoseok, but he just keeps hyperventilating more.
“Jin, please get him some water” the oldest wolf is darting to the water pitcher before you even finish your sentence. Taehyung refuses to let his hands leave his back, leaving Jin with no choice but to bring the glass to his lips for him. It’s only after a few gulps does he regain some sort of composure. It’s then that he brings his hands to the front, bringing to light the ruined mess of pages in his hands.
Jimin crosses his fingers, praying to any and every god that the book isn’t of significance to you, but your reaction makes it clear to everyone how that is far from the case. You look devastated.
It’s your late grandmother’s favorite book: a collection of translated old German poems. You had stored it in the library—granted, in a clumsy pile with the rest of the things you’ve been too busy to properly put up—planning to get a glass case and eventually display it in the living room.
Your grandmother was your favorite person in the world, and that book was her favorite thing in the world. Some of your happiest childhood memories were created with her reading you those poems, at a time when every other adult in your life was too worried about the family business. When she passed last year, she left you a lot, but the diamonds and pearls were never as dear to your heart as that book. And there it was, in Taehyung’s hands, pages stained and soaking wet.
Jin and Jimin had warned Taehyung not to bring orange juice into the library, but he was too stubborn. He assured his hyungs that he was careful enough to drink it without spilling anything, too excited at the prospect of having full access to the fridge to think much about anything else.
And now the damage was done.
Frankly, you want to break down. But you don’t. You do what you’re used to from the office: take a deep breath and compose yourself before the slightest hint of a tear can creep up on you. Crying alone in your room? Perfectly acceptable. Crying in the sole presence of your assistant? Not the end of the world. Crying in front of literally anyone else? You’d rather burn your flesh off.
“It’s okay” the words are not convincing, but at least your voice isn’t shaking. You try to get away from the situation, feeling suffocated, but the worried hybrids are hot on your trail.
It’s at that moment the main door opens, and you can’t be more thankful at the timing. Yoongi’s here. The one person you can let all your emotions out to. Yoongi, with his comforting words and ginseng tea offerings—if anyone can calm you down right now, it’s him.
Except there’s no warmth in his eyes today, not even when he sees your crushed state or the book in Taehyung’s hands.
Speaking of Taehyung, the wolf is looking at him with pleading eyes. If you aren’t in a state to punish him, someone has to. He fucked up big and deserves whatever either of you dish out. He does hope, however, that his knuckles are spared this time.
“I-I ruined y/n’s book. ’M so s-sorry! Please punish me!”
“Taehyung, I said it’s oka—”
Yoongi cuts you off, tone ice cold.
“It’s not your fault. She should’ve kept it in a safer place.”
You stare at him, stunned.
 “What the fuck, Yoongi?”
 “Am I wrong?”
“That’s not the point. You know how much that book means to me…and that’s the first thing you say? You know that’s not what I need to hear right now.”
And that’s when Yoongi’s bottled up rage finally spill all over the floor, flooding everything in its path.
“Well life’s not always about what you want to hear, and if you were taught that as a child instead of being surrounded by servants and yes-men, then maybe this concept wouldn’t be too foreign for you.”
There’s a bite to his words, a bite with canines sharper than those of any wolf hybrid, and it completely destabilizes you. Hot tears start prickling your cheeks, fighting them off no longer a choice.
“What’s gotten into you? W-why are you acting this way?” Your voice is shaking now.
“Because I’m fucking tired of coddling you, of telling you that everything you do is okay even when it’s not. Maybe it’s on me, maybe if I called you out on your shit earlier then it would never get this bad.”
You’re not understanding what he’s trying to say, but you don’t know if that’s because he’s not making sense or how cloudy your brain is right now. Regardless, the venom with which he speaks is enough to shatter your already fragile mental state. The others shuffle down into the living room at the commotion, and suddenly everyone is seeing the one thing you never wanted them to: you bawling your eyes out.
None of the hybrids know what to do. Namjoon’s eyes are locked on Yoongi, ready to lunge if he poses any physical threat, but it’s clear in his body language that Yoongi doesn’t intend to hurt you in that way. Hurting you with words, however, is not something the lab trained Namjoon to protect you against.
It’s not long before you’re running to your room, locking the door, and letting the mascara fully trail down your face, all while gasping for air. Your lungs feel heavy, your eyes feel heavy, everything just feels so heavy. But nothing’s heavier than your heart.
___
Hours go by and the chicken on the counter is long abandoned—no one quite in the mood to eat. You haven’t left your room since the incident, and Yoongi cooped himself up in his room shortly after. The air feels as thick as smoke in a burning building, blocking the lungs of anyone who tries to breathe it in. It’s Taehyung who’s squirming the most, mentally degrading himself for causing all of this in the first place.
I should have listened. Jin and Jimin warned me, but I’m just too stupid to listen. It’s always me that messes up. I’m always the problem of the pack. Maybe if I beg, she’ll only kick me out and let everyone else stay.
A lesser Alpha might have scolded him at the moment, but Namjoon understands how much Taehyung is punishing himself already. He’s all too familiar with how married his pup is to his self-deprecating ways, no matter how much anyone assures him that he’s enough. The lab was always the most strict when it came to the youngest caretaker hybrid, his naturally clumsy nature being the perfect target for their cruelty and leaving him with little to no confidence in anything anymore. So all Namjoon does is take the boy’s hand into his, giving it a squeeze that translates to “I’ve got you,” and wiping away his tears as they rapidly fall. Jin’s got him situated in his lap, hands gently stroking his sides in a way that’s always soothed Taehyung.
“You’ll listen to Jimin and I next time, won’t you pup?” Jin’s voice isn’t all that scolding either, just firm enough to make sure Taehyung learns some sort of lesson from this…for whatever adoption center they’re shipped off to soon.
Taehyung lifts his head up from the oldest’s shoulder, frantically nodding yes.
There’s a knock on the door that makes every hybrid jump, Yoongi’s voice asking to be let in.
“Come in.” Jimin decides too quickly for anyone else to protest.
He awkwardly hovers beside the door, not bothering to close it as he steps in. It’s not long before Yoongi’s eyes zone in on the one he’s here for: Hoseok.
It’s a selfish thing to do, as Hoseok looks like he’d rather be tied to a train track than look into Yoongi’s eyes, but he needs this. He needs to look at the hybrid, the victim, to remind himself not to falter no matter how many tears you shed—because, yes, even now there’s a part of him that wants to hold and comfort you. Yoongi’s always loved sparsely, but hard, and turning it off overnight isn’t something he can do. So, there he is, actively draining out as much as he can by looking at the victim of your actions.
He’s about to apologize for snapping at the wolf yesterday, when another figure peaks into the ajar door. You inch your way closer, not aware of Yoongi’s presence until you’re right at the entrance. Your eyes are puffy and stained black from makeup, but you clutch the wound care kits close to you and brush past him nonetheless. No matter how much you want to lock yourself in your room for eternity, you have a responsibility towards these hybrids and their recovery. It’s clear, as you make your way to the couch, that you’re tired and embarrassed. No one comments on it, though.
“I need to do their wound care.”
And yet again, he seems ready to pick a fight, ignoring your unspoken plea and staying right in place—eyes narrowed into judgmental slits.
“I don’t know what I did that pissed you off so much, but I’m fucking sorry, okay? I can’t deal with this right now, please leave.” Your voice is meek, absolutely no fight left in you. Just desperation to not be in Yoongi’s presence, afraid of what hurtful words will come out of his mouth next.
Yoongi lets out a dry laugh, putting everyone’s nerves on edge. “You don’t know what you did wrong?”
You shake your head earnestly, trying not to feel small when he uses that condescending tone.
“How can you even say that?! How can you pretend to play the victim when Hoseok is right here. I want to throw up just looking at you right now.”
Hoseok? Why would he bring up…
Suddenly all the pieces fall into place.
“Oh my god Yoongi…you assumed I…we…”
“I didn’t assume anything y/n. Hoseok told me directly, so lying isn’t going to get you anywhere.”
You turn your head at a rate that almost gives you whiplash, looking at the hybrid with big eyes. Hoseok doesn’t look at you—can’t look at you. The feeling of your gaze scorches his skin.
“Hobi…”
Hoseok doesn’t know how to breathe anymore, doesn’t know how to do much of anything other than let his own tears waterfall down, heart cringing at the disappointment in which you say his nickname. He knows it was wrong to lie, but he could never have guessed it would turn into something this serious. Did Yoongi like you? Is that why? Or did he have the same moral code thing you had—one that Hoseok couldn’t wrap his head around. The lab had made it very clear that using him for his purpose was no different than using a chair for its purpose—and no one here had a moral problem using chairs. It all hurt his head too much to think about. But regardless, thinking was pointless, because you weren’t even using him. He couldn’t even do that for you, and now his lie is the reason you’re hurting.
Stupid Hoseok. Dumb Hoseok. Stupid Hoseok. Dumb Hoseok.
“I’m so sorry!” The words are broken and muffled through tears, “Y/n didn’t lie…it-it was me…I didn’t want everyone to know I was b-broken.”
The room goes still, the last sentence lingering in the air.
I didn’t want everyone to know I was broken.
Your eyes soften.
“You’re not broken Hoseok”
“You don’t have to say that. I know I am. That day…you pulled back because you could tell I didn’t want it…you shouldn’t have been able to tell that…no…I shouldn’t have not wanted it…that’s why I’m broken.”
Jimin is quick to embrace his hyung, shielding his wrecked state from view, although too late. The hybrids are at a loss for words, with Namjoon being hit the hardest. Hoseok lying meant he didn’t feel comfortable enough to tell the pack the truth—to tell his Alpha the truth. And that’s a failure Namjoon will have to carry on his shoulders for a long time. But now’s not the time for a self-evaluation, now he needs to make sure Hoseok feels his touch on his back. The rest get their hands in wherever they can, gentle pats and caresses to lessen his distress.
You don’t know what else to do to comfort him, to make him believe your words. And frankly, you don’t have the emotional bandwidth to comfort anyone right now. For a moment you can’t help but envy Hoseok, seeing the way his packmates hold him so dearly when he’s crying. You wonder how it must feel to be loved by so many people. It’s not something you can see ever happening for yourself.
Yoongi's not faring well either.
There’s not a word strong enough to describe what he's feeling right now: a cocktail of guilt and absolute dread, swirling in the glass that is his body. Every spiteful word he’s said rings in his ear. How mean he was, how cruel he was. How easily he dismissed your grandmother’s parting gift to you. The worst thing? He made you cry. He’s always promised himself that he would be by your side when the world made you break down, but now it was him causing those mascara stains. And in front of a fucking audience—the thing you hate the most.
“Y/n I—” he doesn’t even know what to say.
No one does, honestly. No one has the heart to blame Hoseok for lying—not when he’s huddled up crying and labelling himself broken. You can’t exactly blame Yoongi for believing him either, because who wouldn’t do the same?
But, regardless of the context, is that how he thought of you? Has he always been by your side with this contempt, thinking of you as a spoiled brat he’s obligated to follow around? That you’d use anyone to get what you want? You would understand if this was back when he was a month into the job…but now, when it’s been two years and you’ve opened up so much of yourself to him…he still held those views? Were they always buried down, hiding until he couldn’t keep them hidden any longer?
Has he stuck by your side all this time feeling so disgusted by you?
Can I even blame him? I am a bitch, after all.
It’s Jimin that pulls you out of your head, bringing a glass of water to your lips as you so badly need it right now. “We’ll do wound care on ourselves tonight, please get some rest.”
___
Yoongi’s two steps behind you, holding his breath as the two of you leave the hybrid room. He doesn’t stop at his bedroom, though, instead following you straight into yours.
“I’ve been a dick.”
You slump onto your bed, dejected, “Maybe I deserved it.”
That’s the last thing he wants to hear. Never in his life did Yoongi think he would be jealous of his coworkers, the ones you’d yell at and kick out of your office the second they made a mistake—but right now, that’s precisely what he wishes you would do. Because the yelling he can withstand, but this is too much for his heart.
“You didn’t deserv—”
“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to pretend that you didn’t mean any of it. I know I’ve never been the easiest person to deal with. You don’t have to like me to do your job well…if you still want to even work for me…”
“I should be the one begging to keep my job. I only said what I said out of spite, y/n, I wanted to hurt you because I just felt so angry. Fuck, the thing I said about your grandmother’s book too, I feel like shit.”
You wince at the mention of the poems.
“Seeing her book in his hands…I wanted to yell at him so bad Yoongi...but he looked so terrified…and Hoseok looked so terrified too …so who am I even allowed to be angry at?”
Yoongi doesn’t know how to respond, so he instead grabs a makeup wipe from the vanity. He’s gentle in the way he glides it across your skin, extra care around each eye. You let it happen, like a limp doll in his grasp, head hurting too much to be anything else.
“Get some sleep now.”
“How can I be sure you don’t hate me? That you don’t hate working for me?”
“Because”
I’m actually in love with you.
“You’re more than my boss. You’re my best friend y/n.”
____
A/N: I know I'm the writer but I'm waiting for them to be a fluffy big happy family as much as the next person. Baby steps though. Please let me know your thoughts! They are always appreciated.
Permanent Taglist: @skyys-universe @morelovefortn @seagulljk @shadowyjellyfishfest @m4gg13-g
Series Taglist [CLOSED]: @welcometomyworld13 @kalala22 @fxirytaetae @btsfluffsworld @belikejk @shycreationdreamland @danielle143 @singukieee @blackrockshooter780 @g-b-artist @i-have-no-life-charlie @sopemee @no-regrets-just-confusion @acciocriativity @ldysmfrst @amara-mars @caelumwrites @estrellaburnxd @borahaetelevision @on-1ce @fuckthinking @jaiele
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genacity · 5 months
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DAY FIVE. FEVERISH
ft. kaeya alberich — genshin impact
as a werewolf, it’s hard to control your animalistic urges as is. but while in a heat; dizzy and restless and constantly feverish with your tease of a boyfriend around, it just gets that much more difficult.
ruling. nsfw — mature content
content warnings. amab! werewolf! reader, breeding kink, heat, anal pen, “monsterfucking”, spanking, belly bulge, established relationship, mentions of pregnancy, slight feminization (using “mother” for kaeya, talking about carrying the reader’s child), reader can be viewed as gn because there is no gender-specific vocabulary except the male anatomy lol
an. hello everyone i’m back, ty for all the kind words you all sent to me! this was not proofread so don’t make fun of me for any errors. i don’t read my shit b4 i post it. enjoy!!
kinktober 2023 masterlist
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heats are the worst time of the month, you think.
when your brain is a constant blur; images running into themselves and you can barely make out what is or isn’t. voices make your head pound and your body is always on fire, with hands sweating a downpour and you can’t help but shed your clothing the moment you step into your shared apartment with your boyfriend, kaeya.
kaeya. that’s right, the love of your life— kaeya alberich was the damndest thing that’s ever happened to you. when you first met he was such an angel. gentle with a sweet tongue and smooth words that made your heart race.
when you first told him of your origins as a werewolf a few weeks after you started talking, he told you he saw you all the same. not as a monster like everyone else did.
and when he experienced your first heat about a month after you started dating, he learned something new about himself.
he liked it rough.
rough with the way you’d manhandle him, tossing him around into different positions to stuff him full just the way he liked after he teased you all day.
rough with the way you shoved him down onto your shared bed, quickly tearing his shirt apart— quite literally as the buttons flung off of the fabric and he let out a dissatisfied sound.
“that was my favorite shirt,” kaeya breathed, watching as your big hands fussed with his belt buckle “you’ll have to pay for that, y’know.”
“oh, i’ll pay for it.” you grumbled, swiftly tugging his pants off and discarding them onto the floor with his belt. quickly pushing his legs apart and rushing to press your lips and teeth to his exposed chest and skin.
he let out a shaky breath as your lips left marks on his skin. deep purpling marks and outlines of sharp canines messy along his collarbone. your hands crept down to his twitching cock, but swiftly passing it as your attention was focused… elsewhere.
“gonna prep you, kaeya.” you muttered against his burning skin before looking up for approval. “gonna prep you good so you can take my cock, m’kay?”
he nodded, and you continued. your large fingers began to work him open, making your lover gasp and clench tightly around the two digits inside of his hole.
kaeya felt his own thoughts blur. your thick, long fingers working in and out of him, making his body tense up with every thrust. it doesn’t take much to work him up— the smooth-talking captain really isn’t as suave as he thinks.
by the time you’ve fucked him open he’s already melting. biting his bottom lip to silence any sounds that may slip past his lips.
“ah… darling,” he whispered before being cut off by a whine. “please, i’m ready for you.”
“are you sure?” you asked, voice almost a purr, deep and rumbling in your chest. kaeya nodded eagerly, and a smirk splayed onto your lips. “you’ve spurred me on quite a bit. i won’t be gentle.”
“i don’t care,” he shook his head. “i want you. please?”
and so you positioned yourself right. throwing his slender legs over your shoulders and pressing your tip to his entrance.
he thought you’d never give in. kaeya opened his mouth to protest, to whine. but never got to for he felt your length split him nearly into two. you forced yourself in and he keened, head thrown back and hands grasping for the pillows behind his head as you began to fuck into him at a relentless pace.
“gonna fuck you full,” you panted, the smell of sweat and sex leaving the both of you breathless. “this what you wanted, huh? wanted me to use you ‘til you can’t speak?”
all he could muster was a breathy whimper. too focused on the feeling of your long cock breaking his body and forcing him down. just the way he wanted it. just the way he needed it.
kaeya felt as if he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. until a harsh slap to his bare thigh brought him back and he flinched, gasping for air as you kept fucking him.
“answer me.” you demanded, and he immediately scrambled to answer. “yes, yes, feels good,” kaeya whined. “you feel so good. so b-big, i can’t—”
and your hips began to speed up. thrusts growing hard and sloppy, your hands suddenly just beside his head as you angled his hips up to buck into his prostate.
kaeya almost wailed— maybe he did. body jolting with every thrust. voice dissipating into strained moans and whimpers as you continued to use his body.
“y/n, y/n,” he chanted. the sound of skin against skin and your rough groans in his ear only spurred him further. “so big, so full! fuuck!”
your growls turned into chuckles of amusement as you continued your rough pace on his body. “gonna breed you.” you whispered into the shell of his ear. “gonna use your body up and fuck you full of my babies.”
“yes, please,” kaeya nodded, huffing and whining. “fuck me full. wanna— i wanna feel you!”
he knew it wasn’t possible. you couldn’t actually get him pregnant. but the thought of it was exhilarating. you, knocking him up and leaving him with a baby. would he be a good mother? maybe. maybe not. he wish he could figure out. but if not, this would be just fine.
more than so.
kaeya opened his pretty eyes to try and look at you while you fucked him. instead, his vision fell to the bulge in his stomach that grew every time you drilled your hips up into him. the sight left his mind swirling with thoughts. so badly did he want your cum deep inside his stomach— so much so that the big bulge your cock imprinted in him did a baby take its place. he whined out, staring as your dick shaped his insides and left him moaning messily out for more.
“fuck, baby.” you groaned into kaeya’s ear. “i’m gonna cum. gonna make you take all of my cum. you’re gonna take my knot like a good boy, aren’t you?”
it was all ‘yes, yes, yes’ and ‘cum with me, please!’ from the lips of your lover. so badly did he want to experience the high of your release together.
and when you finally let go, finally pump all of your cum into his hole does he scream. the loudest he has in a while. you’re so warm, you make him feel so full— his eyes roll back into his skull and he’s stuttering pleas and begging for you to fill him up more, more, more.
his voice is giving out. similarly to his legs. you groan lowly into his ear and he feels his stomach churn. his own high leaving him breathless as it crashes over him and he himself cums streams of white all over his stomach.
the captain isn’t quite sure if he can breathe. not sure if his lungs are working properly, or if he’s even alive at all. not with the way he’s gripping the sheets for dear life as if worried he’ll find himself lost if he lets go.
and this is why he teases so much during your heats. to feel you inside him, stuffing him full and threatening to knock him up as if he’d take it like a curse— when in reality, he’d do anything to make you happy. even if it meant bearing your pups.
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yandere-romanticaa · 1 year
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I don't think some people understand just how absolutely terrifying Mori is and I want to talk about it.
When you meet him it will most likely be in a casual place such as the street or the mall with Elise by his side, naturally. The little girl takes a swift liking to you and basically demands Mori to convince you to play with her and he obeys. It is honestly a little humiliating seeing a grown man beg for something like that but it is endearing in its own little way. Feeling bad for them both you agree and promptly make your way towards the playground where the three of you spend the day together, responsibilities be damned.
Before you know it, the physician and his daughter become something of a semi often occurence in your life.
Mori himself is silly - tripping all over his words, especially if Elise says something to him. There are times when the little girl says some of the most concerning things totally out of the blue but Mori always manages to shut her up, which feels out of character for him.
It feels like some sort of secret that you really should not hear but you decide not to pay any attention to it. Everyone has secrets to keep, a skeleton or two deeply hidden in their closets, you don't judge Mori for this.
He is greatly pleased with your easygoing attitude.
Mori often sits in his pitch black office, the scent of fine chocolates and cigarette smoke lingering in the air as his subordinates give him their reports but his mind is elsewhere.
He's half paying attention to the executive's words as he grabs a tiny heart shaped chocolate from the pristine red box, its surface shining brightly against the light that is lit close to him. He pops is in his mouth and savors the milky flavour, the sweet strawberry centre giving it that extra delightful kick which he oh so craves.
Mori indulges in the sweets and thinks of you as he does so. Yes, this is something you would love.
The gifts start pouring and pouring, each one more extravagant than the last. They range from fine sweets, good wine, beautiful clothing and letters which detail the senders feelings towards you. The sender never bothered to sign the letters but always made sure to add something like I'm always watching or Sleep well.
It was creepy.
You tell Mori about some of the gifts that are left on your doorstep but never go into full detail as you're too nervous of scaring him off. The older man always somehow manages to laugh the entire sitation away and tells you to not so worry so much. Don't you know that some people would kill to have someone so helplessly in love with them? He sits on your couch, legs crossed and with a cup of tea in his hands, which you served him of course. You talk and talk and his words give shallow comfort especially as time goes by.
Was he being too forward? Did the gifts not suit your preferences? With a sigh he just waves off his men, all while thinking to himself "Ridiculous, of course they love it!"
Mori thinks you're just shy. You just are not used to someone paying so much attention to you, especially to the extent that Mori is. He has eyes and ears everywhere, your apartment is under constant surveillance and not to mention that the apartment itself is bugged, allowing Mori to hear you speak and do your other daily activities.
He knows you better then you know yourself.
It does not take Mori insert himself in your life in more personal ways. No matter who, Mori always somehow manages to make the people around him look worse than he is and in a flash he orchestrates the downfall of your whole entire life. You lose your job, your home, your friends and family no longer speak to you.
Some, if not all are dead but you don't need to know that.
That is when he comes to you, when you are at your weakest, your most vulnerable. He drops the silly act like a mask and his true colours are exposed.
Mori Ougai is a monster.
But, would you rather sell your soul to a monster or be left in the streets alone, unloved and penniless? Truly, your life would be so much easier if you just submit to him and look, you don't even need to do that much! Eat the food he feeds and wear the nice clothes he gets you and you will be golden!! Just, be still and pretty, alright?
It's honetly so jarring to see Mori's personality shift - one minute he is the silly doctor you met and grew to like, the man who says dumb things in order to make you laugh, the man who was willing to beg on his knees for you to just please, wear this cute outfit, it is going to look so good on you he promises!!
And yet, the next moment he is cold, cruel and calculating, the head of the Port Mafia. He is a man of his word and his subordinates greatly admire and fear him, yes, fear. Do not forget that Kyouka literally started shaking when she saw him after she left the Port Mafia, almost everyone who is in close contact with the man is never the same person they were once before. He will make himself out to be the best possible option and you know that he is the reason why your life is in shambles but that's not even the worst bit.
It is the fact that you have two options. Do you go to the streets and die in the darkness, be it from starvation, dehydration or murder? Or, do you stay with Mori who all but guarantees your safety and comfort, under the condition that you can never leave?
He knows you hate him and he is perfectly content with that. You will choose him in the end, you always will.
That is what keeps you both up at night, one with glee while the other with terror.
🕊️ TAGS: @yanroma, @oneoftheprettynerds, @rosemary108233, @itssara-chan, @gettinshiggywithit, @ophticcus
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crazyk-imagine · 1 year
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I Have to Follow my Heart
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Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x Addams Witch!reader
Characters: Addams Witch!reader, Xavier Thorpe, Wednesday Addams, Joseph Crackstone
Briefly mentioned: Morticia Addams, Gomez Addams, Uncle Fester, Thing, Enid Sinclar, Bianca Barclay, Eugene Otinger, Tyler Galpin aka the hyde, Marilyn Thornhill (Laurel Gates)
Warnings: Supernatural fight, reader has visions, powers, mentions of Uncle Fester’s electricity powers, sacrificing oneself (more or less), bits and pieces of the last episode, the battle between Joseph Crackston and Wednesday, Xavier gets reader a phone, friends going through a tough time, Xavier and reader going through the motions of Wednesday’s theory
Word Count: 2,032
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At times I wished I had the same emotionless expression as my “cousin.” One might ask why I put air quotes around the word, it’ simple. 
Her uncle Fester happened to stumble upon myself and mother’s violin when I was merely three months old during one of his “adventures”. 
As I previously said, I wish I could copy her expression, especially now. You slam your journal shut, turning to look at your clock. 
You grab your jacket and exit the room, making your way towards Xavier’s art shed. Your mind is blank but thoughts float around your mind, you wonder what it is he wanted to talk to you about. 
With Wednesday firmly believing that he is the hyde, it makes you more weary of being alone with him… in the woods but if you can talk to him in his safe space so he doesn’t “totally freak out” as Enid would say, you believe it would do you good. 
“Do you believe me?” Xavier spins around to look at you. 
You gulp, this is not where you saw this going right after entering the shed. “I don’t- I don’t know,” you say, giving him your honest answer. 
“What do you mean you don’t know? It’s either you believe that I’m not the monster or you agree with your cousin,” he hisses out the word you’ve grown accustomed to calling the pigtailed girl. 
You ignore his gaze and opt to look at the floor. “I- I,” the thought you had written down in your journal crosses your mind. 
“I don’t think you’d do all these things, but you have to admit the evidence she has does make it highly possible for you to be the hyde.” 
He furrows his brows, face slowly becoming more void of emotion. “If you really believe that I’m the monster then why are you here?” 
You raise your head. “I- I needed to see it for myself.” 
“See what?” He asks with a tired tone. 
“I- what’s that?” You point over to the sketchbook with a flower bookmark sticking out of it. 
“That- that’s nothing. Why is that important now?” He’d never admit it out loud, but he was always impressed with how your attention could be drawn elsewhere within a second, even if it isn’t the most appropriate time for this to happen. 
You ignore him and walk over towards it, opening the page to find a drawing of yourself playing your deceased mothers’ violin. You reach for the flower and find yourself thrown into a vision. 
How odd, Wednesday’s the one who usually experiences these, at least from what you can remember. It is also weird how whenever she would have one, you would pass out. 
Eugene’s screams flood your mind. 
The cave where the monster hides is on fire. 
The hyde’s wide and red rimmed eyes. 
Red boots… red boots? 
-
You wake up, blinking as your eyes adjust to the moonlit room. “How did I get here?” 
The numerous footsteps echoing throughout the hallway draw you out of bed. 
You open the door and listen to the scared and panicked shrieks of the other students, rushing over towards the railing you find the red aura of the siren song on the lower floors. 
Crackstone. 
Your head snaps over towards the side. You furrow your brows at the sight of a pale dressed Wednesday, not your cousin but- “Goody?” 
She nods. “You must help her.” 
“Help who?” 
“The key.” 
You remember the pigtailed girl mentioning this to you, you know exactly who she’s referring to. “Where is she?” 
“I am going to her now, but you must guide her.” 
“Guide her? Guide her how?” 
“His black heart will end it… I must go to her now.” She starts to disappear. 
“No, Goody. Wait!” You sigh and look down. 
Bianca’s head snaps up. 
You block her song and search for a window. At times like this, you’re happy you’ve climbed the walls of the school.  
 -
You stand on the edge of the roof just before the upper hallway where you can see Bianca and a few others. You don’t feel good, something’s going on with the black-haired girl, the urge to scream is on the tip of your tongue but you fight it as you protect the students. 
You place a temporary shield around the area, preventing the fire from reaching any of the students and jump down. “Crackstone!” 
He turns to you, the evil look in his eye should send shivers down your spine but you don’t let it, not wanting him to harm anyone. 
“Another one. How nice.” The revived Joseph Crackstone taunts you. 
“Don’t you think this is a bit much?” 
He aims his magical staff at you, luckily you are able to block it. “I am ridding the earth of you abominations!” 
“You’re an abomination too!” 
“Lies!” 
“Your descendant raised you, brought you back from the dead!” 
You spin around, avoiding his magic. “You have magic! You are now the very thing you despise yourself! How can you get rid of what keeps your heart beating at this very moment!” 
“I am doing what should have been done years ago.” 
“You’re going to die, and your magic will not be able to save you.” You raise your hand, trying to telepathically pull the staff away from him. 
“Stay away from her.” 
Why does this voice sound so familiar? 
The arrow flies past your head, in front of the resurrected man, only for him to use his magic and flip it. 
You cannot let it hit him or anyone else and put yourself before him to stop it. You spin around, landing on your back unable to catch your breath. 
Xavier runs towards you, lifting your upper body off the ground. 
“Get the others out of here,” you tell him once you can breathe again. 
“What?” He furrows his brows, mouth curling in disbelief. 
“You need to get the other students out of here. We cannot lose anyone else.” 
“I don’t-” 
“I have to help her,” you whisper. 
He helps you up, “I don’t like this idea.” 
“Good thing,” you snap the arrow and chuck it onto the ground. “You aren’t going to be here to see the rest of it… be careful.” 
“You, too.” You push him away when you sense Joseph aiming the damn staff at you. 
You stand beside Wednesday. “We have to aim for his-” 
“Heart, yes,” she cuts you off. “I didn’t realize you were aware.” 
“Let’s say, seeing the dead does have its perks at times. I expect no tears from you at my funeral.” 
“Don’t-” 
Xavier turns at her shout, his heart drops. 
You run at him as Bianca stabs the man in the back. You rub your hands together, thankful for Fester teaching you how to use his trick now more than ever. You hold him in place and call out for her. “Now, Wednesday!” 
She lifts the sword and stabs him in his black heart. 
You can’t remove your hands from him, not until he fully disappears even then you fall, eyes closing. 
The hands on your shoulders and whoever’s attempting to do CPR bring you out of your quick reenergize nap. 
You open your eyes and give three a tired smile. 
The artist helps you sit up and continues to hold you even as Wednesday wraps her arms around you. 
You smile and kiss the top of her head, letting her know it’s over (you hope, unless Nevermore isn’t done with you all). 
She forces herself off you, letting Bianca and Xavier help you up. 
You nod to the siren. “Let’s go find the others.” 
-
The four of you walk out of the school, searching for the waiting party. 
You lean against the boy throughout the entire walk. 
He hasn’t said a word to you, and you don’t know what you could say to him other than, “I’m sorry.” 
Enid rushes over to hug your cousin, giving you a moment to talk to him. 
“Why are you sorry?” 
“I believed you were the very thing that would terrorize the school when I shouldn’t have. I should have followed my heart.” 
“I think I can forgive you. I mean, you did take an arrow to the shoulder for me.” 
“And I would do it again if it meant I had your trust.” 
He shakes his head, “I wouldn’t want you to get hurt over my trust.” 
“I should have listened to you.” 
The corner of his lip’s tugs upward, “yeah, maybe. But now that you’ve saved the school, I think I can understand where you were coming from.” 
“No, don’t do that.” 
“What?” 
“Don’t just brush it off, I know what I did wasn’t the nicest or most respectful thing to do when I’ve known you and have been your friend for three years. I know you; I have for years, and I shouldn’t have let someone else’s theories get into my head to ruin that trust.” 
He nods, tucking the hair blocking his view behind his ear. “I’ll take that into consideration.” 
Your lips twitch, “that’s all I ask.” 
Enid rushes over to you, hugging you not nearly as tightly as your cousin but enough to let you know how much she cares about you.
 -
You leave Wednesday to finish her novel while Thing finishes packing for her. You wonder around, waiting until it’s time to leave. 
“The feeling of eyes on me brings a chill up my spine and not in the fun way,” you think. “That would be a good thought to right down when I return to my room.” 
You turn, facing the stairs to find him watching you which may be creepy to some, but you find it to be rather sweet. 
He waves and leans against the railing. 
You walk up the stairs, wanting to talk to him before your dragged out of here. “Are your parents coming to pick you up?” 
He shrugs, “probably not… I got you something.” 
“Really?” You raise a brow. 
“It’s not much but it’ll be faster than the letters." He lifts the lid off the box, showing you your new phone. 
“Don’t expect a call,” you inform him, not wanting to hurt his feeling. You must really care about him if you’re taking his feelings into consideration. 
“I’m not.” 
You squint your eyes at him, “seems you know me well.” 
“That and,” he tucks his hair behind his ears. “I know you don’t like new things… at least, until you get the hang of them.” 
“I guess we’ll have to see about this then.” 
“I believe in you.” 
“I trust that you’ll have a normal summer?” 
“It might be fun if I get a phone call.” 
“Don’t push it.” 
He smiles, having a feeling that you’ll learn to use the phone faster to call him. “How’s your shoulder?”
“Fine. I’ve decided to let it heal on its own.” 
“No magic?” 
“I believe it would be wise to save my energy. I have a feeling we’re just getting started with Nevermore and all it has to offer.” You take the phone out of the box and hold it. “How do you use this dark box you call a phone?” 
He chuckles, taking it from you, “why are you calling it a dark box exactly?” 
“It’s painfully obvious.”
“Alright, I’ll give you that. I already programmed my phone number in here. What exactly you were looking for?” 
“I want to send you my aunt Morticia and Uncle Gomez’ address. I will be staying with Wednesday and her family this summer; we believe it would be wise if we stay together.” 
“Okay,” he shows you how to use the phone. 
“I cannot guarantee I’ll be able to remember all of this.” 
“As long as you can turn it on and remember to charge it, you’ll be alright,” he assures you. 
“Do you know if you’re ability can work over the phone?” 
He shrugs. “I’ve never tried before.” 
“Perhaps it could be our summer activity?” 
He nods, not at all hiding his smile when you said, “our activity”. It seems as though there’s a chance for him to ask you out in the near future. “Maybe.”
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johnwickb1tsch · 30 days
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Tex Johnson x Witness!Reader x John Wick Imagine Part 1 by @treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake and @johnwickb1tsch GIF credits to @scarlettspectra ❤
What unholy fuckery is this, you ask? It's a round robin fic! And we're consolidating our parts here for your reading pleasure...
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Summary: Imagine you're a witness in a high profile FBI case against the mafia and hitmen John Wick and Tex Johnson are competing for the contract on you. After some serious fighting and car chases in the end they just decide to fake your death and keep you for themselves...🤫 Original Post
Warnings: So many dead doves! Don't eat! Unless you like dead doves, that is. Violence, sexual content, blood, murder, kidnapping, possessive behavior, yandere sh!t...it's all here! Please take care! 😘
johnwickb1tsch:
In the beginning Tex plays with you, chatting you up in the local diner of the po-dunk town witness protection has stashed you in. You're so cute, he just can't help himself. He peppers you with "darlin's" and sly winks and usually you would tell someone hitting on you like this to fuck off, but... You can tell he's a little wild but he's so heart-stoppingly handsome and there's something infectious in the devil-may-care way he smiles at you with a mischievous glitter in his dark eyes. That down-home accent does things to you that shouldn't be mentioned in polite company. You actually like him, so it's an EXTRA shock when it turns out he's there to kill you...
treedaddymcpuffpuff: And you’re just so sweet and cute and funny and fiery - just his type. And he’s just gonna make it quick and painless at first, but then you’re so entertaining that he wants to fuck with you for a while. Maybe even fuck you before he puts a bullet in your smart little head. John Wick just flat out wants to kill you as soon as possible. Get it over with. At least at first. But, he’s John Wick, let’s be for real. And you’re just an innocent bystander who saw too much (and you volunteer at the local animal shelter and you always give out money to homeless people and you’re just an all around sweetheart, damn you), so John is gonna decide to say fuck his task (big shocker) and save you from Tex instead.
johnwickb1tsch:
You are incredibly lonely and bored in the little town you’ve been stuck in. You usually keep to yourself, as per your FBI handler’s warnings. But you’re having such a good time, when Tex asks if you want to go for a ride in his incredibly hot vintage muscle car…you ignore every bit of good sense you have left to your name, and agree. He thinks this is hilarious, of course. And…kind of endearing. Here you are, just eatin’ out of the palm of his hand like he’s not some kind of monster.
So…you go for a ride, and you don’t get too alarmed when Tex heads out of town. He can’t show off what this baby can do in the city limits, after all… But when there’s an explosion, the front tire going flat, and you have to pull over in the middle of nowhere, you start to get worried. When Tex gets out to see the tire’s been shot out…and he pulls a gun, looking around—you start to realize you made a HUGE fucking mistake. You get out of the car, thinking this would be a great time to go elsewhere. He tries to grab you, but you knee him in the crotch! 👈 @treedaddymcpuffpuff 🤭
Just your luck, here comes another vehicle speeding down the road. Wow, there are a lot of muscle cars on the road today. This one is dark gray, with black racing stripes. You try to flag him down—but change your mind when a hand extends out the window holding a gun, and he opens fire on Tex. You, understandably, duck for cover while screaming as the firefight ensues around you. Then suddenly strong hands are grabbing you up—and throwing you in the trunk... Dun dun dun! 😈🤣
sweetwolfcupcake: Now, that's a shitty situation. That's all you can think before you begin to scream for help. But who would be there in an isolated road, ready to go against two armed men? You can barely see the man shoving you into the trunk when another round of fire starts. The man backs off to pull his gun back, but that is enough time for you to slip put. Staggering on your feet. To your relief, it is tge familiar car. Your FBI handler! "Oh God, oh God!" You cry out in tears of part relief and part terror. How could you be so stupid? Following a stranger into his car?
treedaddymcpuffpuff:
Ah, your FBI case handler. He’s a tough guy. Trustworthy. Scrappy. You know he’ll protect you even though you really hate being a damsel in distress because fuck that trope. Except mystery man (JOHNNY BOY) shoots him in the kneecap faster than FBI man can blink or say “mercy”.
And then Tex grabs you and points a loaded Glock at your head, grinning that shark toothed grin that not too long ago was making you giggle like a schoolgirl. And now it’s just making you hyperventilate and practically piss yourself in fear.
And here you are, the bargaining chip in a game of who dies first with three grown men fighting over you.
Johnwickb1tsch: “Well well. Ain’t this a sticky situation?” calls out Tex, taking cover behind his car, an arm wrapped firmly around your shoulders with that fucking gun to your head. The barrel digs into your temple painfully. “Asshole,” you growl under your breath. At a volume just for you he says, “Now, now, darlin’, don’t be sore.” “I actually liked you.” “I like you too. But your pretty head is worth a fuck ton o’ dinero. It’s a shame, sweetheart, but it ain’t lookin’ good for you.” Tears start streaming down your cheeks as the hopelessness of the situation really settles down on you. “Then why don’t you just shoot me now?” “That’s a helluva suggestion. You’re not very good at this game, are you?” “It’s not a game, you bastard.” “Sure it is.” Then in a louder voice he calls out, “Hey, John! Been a long time.” There’s a long pause before you hear from the other side of the dark muscle car, “Yeah.” “Whattya say we split the bounty, call it even stevens?” “I don’t want the girl dead.” This actually, if not stupidly, inspires some hope in you. But then if he was here to rescue you…why did he shoot your FBI agent? Tex actually laughs about this. The feeling of his broad chest moving behind you is…distracting. “Now that’s interesting! How do you propose we go about that?” “I kill you both and take her with me,” is this John’s deadpan response. He sounds so…certain that he can accomplish this. It’s kind of hot, if you’re being honest. You like the part about you not being dead, but the rest… “Hey now, that’s not nice,” answers Tex, and you can tell he’s smiling as he says it. “And you forget about this big ol’ gun I got pressed to her head.” “If you kill her, I’m going to kill you.” “Anyone ever tell you you’re a one trick pony, John?” “Yeah.” “How bout this. For old time’s sakes. Remember how it was that time in Tijuana?” “I was extremely drunk.” Tex chuckles at this, some fond old memory, and your heart is slowly sinking little by little all the way to your feet. “Well, I seem to remember you don’t mind sharing. I could live with that.” The silence on this deserted road stretches on as John considers this. “And after? The girl lives?” “Sure, sure. We fake her death, take the money. She can go her way, and we go ours.” “We’ll have to kill Dmitri Nobokov.” “He’s an asshole anyway.”    “Deal.” You are shocked when Tex releases you so suddenly you fall into a pile on the ground. What the fuck were they even talking about?? Sharing…you??! Moving in tandem, you watch as the two dangerous men close in on Agent Bradford. You hear shots, and you fear the worst. In the end you find yourself sitting on the ground, quivering like a terrified lump of jell-0, with two tall, stupidly handsome, mafia assassins looming over you. “Are you guys…brothers, or something?” Frowning, they look at each other. Tex in his denim and John in his smart black suit.  “What?” “No.” They reach down for you, and you find yourself locked in the trunk, again.
Treedaddymcpuffpuff:
You don’t see the need for the rope binding your wrists behind your back, or the tether on the ankles. Overkill, much?
Maybe they think you actually pose a challenge? Well, that’s nice of them, but even you’re not blimp-headed enough to think you can take on two taller, bigger, combat ready men. Plus, Tex lifted you like you were a goddamn sack of pillow stuffing.
You’re more convinced by the minute this is all just meant to humiliate you - the bondage, the trunk, the fucking slinging you over a shoulder and making casual conversation about how they’re going to pull off your death. 
Which makes you seethe because you didn’t fucking do anything. And, poor Bradford, with the family and the kids.. well, probably, you don’t actually know about his personals. That doesn’t change the fact he was a living, breathing human - once - who was just trying to keep you safe. 
You have to do something, so you don’t make it easy for them - you kick, squirm, bite. You get a big chunk of the nameless one’s hand in your mouth and latch on like a little boa, and he doesn’t even seem bothered. He just sighs, pinches your nose shut until you have to let go. 
“Now, darlin’,” Tex coos, too close to your ear for comfort, “we gotta gag you, too?” 
“I hate you,” you spit. 
Tex sifts the prickly rope through his hands, fast, big fingers way too agile, snaps it taut, chuckles like he was hoping you’d say something bitchy. And watching that debauched show should have not made your insides give an abrupt, furious clench. But it just does. 
“Guess that’s a yes,” he sighs. 
Johnwickb1tsch:
When the blade comes out is when you really start to panic. They debated for what felt like hours about what was the best way to drain your fucking blood. Something about staging your death, burning Agent Bradford's body in his car, leaving some of your blood and hair at the scene.
Jesus fucking christ, how has your life come to this?
When you feel Tex's rough hand on your arm, inspecting your anatomy for a vein, you start to cry. You couldn't be more surprised, than when you feel a soft touch in your cheek. "Hey, it's going to be alright. We just need a little." It's the intense one. John. He doesnt say much, but you get the feeling he could burn down the world with that anthracite gaze.
 Still, you whimper when you feel the cool blade on your skin. "Don't hurt her," warns John, his voice not so gentle for Tex, filled with warning.
 "I'm not," insists the one behind you. You feel a sting, but somehow, he was telling the truth. You feel the warm drip of your blood oozing down your arm. They're catching it in a 7-11 cup. How...decorous.
"Really, you should be thanking us," drawls Tex. "We saved your life."
Your exclamation of "Are you fucking kidding me?" is muffled by the scratchy rope in your mouth.
Tex gets it though, and grins. "That's right. It was an open contract, darlin'. If we didn't find you, someone else would have. Someone not so nice."
John tilts his head slightly in agreement.
 "How did you find out where the Federal Bureau of Incompetence was keepin' her, Wick?"
 "A mole." It's the only shred of hope you have.
"What a coincidence."
 Bradford was a good man. You at least know it wasn't him.
Even though you're tied up, you are so relieved when they finally go. However, it seems like they're not gone long before they return to the secluded hideout. They are not happy. Apparently, Bradford's body was gone from the scene. He could still be out there, looking for you.
sweetwolfcupcake: Hope flared within you, and it might have shown, unfortunately. You felt fingers grab your chin-- firm, not painful(for now). "Don't be so quick to sigh. Finding him is a child's play for us. And then we kill him." Tex' cold stare greeted her. Though a biting reply remained at the tip of your tongue, you knew better than to piss them off. Your life was still in their hands, after all. "I have made the arrangements." The other man approached them, he was on call for a while. He glanced at you and sighed. His eyes found Tex before he nodded. You frowned as your mind raced with possibilities, but it was only for a moment before you felt a sharp, sudden pain at the back of your head and your eyes rolled back. "You were supposed to go for the vein, not hit her!" John hissed, cradling your lolled head in his hands. " Remind me next time." Tex rolled his eyes, no sign of remorse visible. With his jaws tensed, John let your head rest and got to work. There were a lot of things to take care of-- faking your death, for example.
Treedaddymcpuffpuff:
 When they go, they don’t even give you hope of escape - they bind you tight to a cushiony blue chair with wooden legs and arms, expertly looping ropes around and across. It would be really hot, how they move together flawlessly and work the rope like it’s a good friend, if they weren’t making sure you couldn’t move a damn inch in the process. Oh, who are you kidding? Despite your rage and fear and sorrow, your panties are still completely soaked watching big hands and bulging veins and sinew and tendon.
And now you’re highly uncomfortable, trying to squirm and getting absolutely nowhere. You’re trussed up like a thanksgiving turkey, and then they leave. Just fucking leave. How. Dare. They.
When they get back, you’ve got drool running down and soaking your shirt, neck and chin. You’re sweaty, disheveled, uncomfortable. Despite being left to your sparse devices, the arousal has just gotten worse. Because you’ve been alone with your imagination - which has been preoccupied with two very beautiful men - and you’re fucking aching. Seeing them again makes it so much worse… are they laughing, getting along? Some inside joke. Fucking rat bastards
And they’re touching you and examining you and talking about you like you are the actual thanksgiving turkey. Unconsciousness actually feels like a great relief. It’s probably the best thing that’s happened so far.
John cuts your hair and takes some skin from a place that will heal quickly. They untie you, put your limp body back in the trunk - John does this, too, being very gentle with you, carrying you bridal style instead of over his shoulder like some caveman. He checks your pulse, makes sure your oxygenation is okay, and then does what Tex should have and injects your vein with a heavy sedative to keep you knocked.
“Ya know, I kinda liked her better when she was alive and biting the shit out of you,” Tex muses as he and John slide into the car. “She’s cute, huh? Kinda tight, just needs loosened up a little bit.” Tex raises a suggestive eyebrow and John glares him down.
“Lighten up, addle-pot,” Tex replies to John’s heavy silence.
sweetwolfcupcake: The sensation of the jerking increased along with the pain at the back of her head. It hurt. The throbbing continued as she gulped-- her throat burned. The discomfort urged her to open her heavy eyes faster. Her vision was hazy but she could make out the interiors of a car. She blinked slowly. They were silent, except for occasional whispered comments from Tex and one-word answers from the other man who looked exactly like Tex but had a distinct aura, some kind of energy that sent chills down her spine. It was like being in the presence of a dangerous creature with barely contained primitiveness. He looked more refined and spoke with a tone and way that suggested quality. And yet...and yet something in the back of her mind would be ready for a fight or flight response in his presence. If anything, he had been comparatively nicer to her. Tex was a jerk in every annoying sense-- but she could dare to have a verbal spat with Tex, and give him a fitting reply. The other man though... She had not realized that she had been starring at them until a hand reached out for her from the front seat. "She's awake." A voice gently declared. Fingers touched her cheeks gently and she knew that it was the other man. Even with swimming sight, she could tell that the car was speeding through and the other man's gaze was set on her form laying on the backseat. Only if... Only if she had been smarter, and not blindly trusted a stranger--- she wouldn't be in this mess, Bradford was her only hope now, he had proven his capabilities to her time and again and she knew that he was out there, trying to track her down. She only hoped that he was well, alive, and he knew that she was alive as well.
tbc...
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novasdarling · 1 year
Note
I feel like this is an unhinged idea but Mahito with a breeding kink + actually getting reader pregnant with some monster baby
Hahahaha I like your thinking my dear.
Give Me
TW: Suicide Mention, Noncon, Forced Relationship, Baby trapping, Abortion mention, Breeding Kink, Pregnancy, Female Reader.
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The sun was setting. Watching as the sky became darker and darker, as the night rolled in, and the day left. Watching as your safety was being ripped from you for another time. It wouldn't be long till he came. It never was. After all, he came every night like clocked work. Once the moon was bright and visible. He was there, Mahito. Ready to indulge in whatever sick fantasy or curiosity he had that night. Whatever his dead, twisted heart wanted at that moment, he got.
Mahito took pleasure in playing with you. Contorting you any way he wanted, making you do things you had never imagined were possible. Then in the morning when he left, he would leave you in your room begging for death. Pleading with whatever god there was to have mercy on you and end it all, but death would be a mercy from a monster like Mahito and no god seemed like it wanted to get in his way. At one point you had toyed with the idea of giving yourself the so-called mercy you prayed for. Pausing every time you held a knife. Imagining if you were brave enough to plunge it into your chest. To rid yourself of his grip by any means. Yet, you knew death wouldn't stop Mahito from having his fun with you. He made that clear. All it would do would make it challenging for him, but he would still continue.
There was no escape from this hell, neither in life nor death and as you heard the floorboards creak behind you. You recognised all that was granted to you was a monetary relief during the day. A few hours to recuperate and heal your wounds the best you could before it was stripped of you once again. A moment of relief that was now over as the daylight disappeared.
All there could be done now was to wait. Wait for him to come again. There was no see in running. He'd always find you, that much he had proved, but the wait wouldn't be long. The air was getting colder, dropping rapidly. A sign he was near. It was moving around you, engulfing your body as you sat looking out the window. The cold was creeping along your skin. Clawing its way up slowly. Taking its time to leave a trail of goosebumps along your arms until it reached your shoulders. The cold changed to pressure. Laying its weight wherever it had touched you. Sinking you into your seat. Forcing you lower, to fight back against it. The weight was taking a shape, and second by second, it was becoming easier to tell it was him. His hands and body were on you.
"My favourite part of the day."
It was no more than a whisper. Right by in your ear, you could feel his breath. Yet, somehow his voice sounded so distant. He wasn't fully there yet. He was still lingering in the air. Making his way to you slowly. Playing with you. Scaring you before he even got there. You were his favourite. One he would take care of so he could resume having his fun with as long as your feeble mortal body could hold on. After all, all humans died eventually. Mahito just hoped it would not be from the enjoyment you two had.
"The bed."
Abruptly the weight was gone, and the chill had left as well. Mahito wasn't with you now. Which meant he was waiting for you elsewhere. Waiting for you to follow his order and pursue him like a puppy. Like a good toy, he had called you that many times. A good toy follows orders and then gets rewarded.
There was still a part of you that said no, wanting to resist and stay seated or run, but the part that odd part that knew his anger knew no bounds would always follow his orders. Even if you wanted to die, there was still a strong part that wanted to self-preserve.
The bed he had said. The bedroom. He wanted you there. You knew what he wanted. Knew what the bedroom meant. Mahito had figured out sex a few months ago. Figured out what it was and why it occurred. Stating he was curious about it. Wanted to learn. Forced you to show him, and who were you to refuse the curse? To say no to him when he could so easily kill you and everyone you ever cared about, no wasn't an option.
Night after night he would come. Sex was still on his mind, even weeks later. Trying new positions, new technics. Him telling you where he heard it from, where he had seen it. One time he had claimed he learned this position from a couple he had watched before he killed them. Things got worse when he discovered porn. He learned even more. Forcing you to try everything with him. Every position. Trying to make you sound the same as the pornstars. It got even worse when he learned what a female orgasm was. Deciding to abuse it. Making you overstimulated every time. He was having fun while you were in tears. Mahito tended to share with you what his new desire was. being upfront and having no shame, forcing you into any role he saw fit, but this time was different. He was quiet about his true intentions. Not letting you know the truth. He kept silent about his new interest, instead playing it out without your knowledge. You always assumed since he was a curse, something not living, he couldn't force a child on you. That he was shooting blanks. So it didn't matter he was fucking you raw. That a child from a curse was impossible. After all, curses are made not born. That he was just having fun fucking you and filling you with his useless cum.
Making your way to him, your mind still toyed with the question of why had sex stuck. Though all you could really do was endure what he wanted to try this time and hope this fascination drifted away sooner rather than later.
You could hope, after all. That was all you had, hope when it came to Mahito. He always got his way, so who were you to make it harder? If you followed along with his wishes, it would be better. He would sometimes even reward your good behaviour by holding off on a visit or two.
Even as you dragged your feet, you were still were met by him eventually. Seeing his full form sitting on your bed. You knew what to do, following the same routine as the last couple of months. For you to strip and meet him is what he was waiting for. If he had his fun, perhaps it would be an early night. They were rare, but they were given. Though as you stripped, your might was racing. This little interest of his, sex, hadn't disappeared as soon as the others.
Your sweater came off.
Why was it still lingering? It had been months?
Your shirt followed.
Why was he so interested in having sex.? In fucking you every night until the morning light came up?
Then your braw followed.
The worst part was that he insisted on fucking you raw. At least he wasn't living. His cum was all for show, right?
Your pyjama pants came off.
His interest in seeing if he could turn you into something and bring you back had only lasted a few weeks, a month tops.
Then your underwear.
You were now bare in front of him. Standing there as your mind kept asking questions, unable to find answers.
"Come here."
Following his order, your mind still raced with questions, with distractions. As he caressed your body. Stroking and squeezing you. Especially relishing in squeezing your ass, chest and thighs. Laughing when you winced as he got too aggressive. Pain was funny to him. He laughed when you cried that he was being mean. Smiled when you told him the bruises that littered your body was from him. Got excited when you begged him to fuck you softer cause your body just couldn't take it. Human pain was funny.
It wasn't long until you were laying under him, you tried to black out his image. His face, the way the lines ran all along it and his body. The way he grinned at you when he knew you were scared. The worse part was his voice. Talking, commanding. Telling you how much he wanted you today while you were busy. He would describe your day, letting you know he had been watching from the shadows. That he was always there with you. You needed to block him out and shutting your eyes would allow you to get rid of one of your senses that were filled by him.
"Tsk tsk tsk." He had stopped fucking you. "Look at me."
Mahito wanted you to watch. To see his face as he fucked you. As he used your body any way he wanted. Look into his eyes as he filled you over and over. He wanted his toy to be present, to not ignore him or his actions. Looking into his eyes as he had his way with you. Fucked you until daybreak, until you were dripping with his cum. Unable to hold anymore.
This night was like the others, except he had a new position. The mating press. You were shocked he hadn't learned of this one sooner, yet, thankful at the same time. Mahito had you pressed in that position most of the night. Whining every time he finished. Only to continue again and again. His word began to slur as the hours drifted on. Not making as much sense as earlier. However, you could still catch a few orders and words here and there. Some of his words haunted you though.
"I'm going to breed you."
It stuck with you, simply because it made you think. At first, you assumed it was just him repeating words from porn like the others, but then you realized. When was the last time you had your period? Did you have one this month? You couldn't remember. Your body went stiff, realizing what was transpiring. You were late, who knows how long. You had spent so much time simply trying to survive Mahito, you never stopped to realize why you hadn't bled yet. All you could do now was lay there, lay there in fear and continue to let all those questions from before. Find their answers.
As the night turned to day and Mahito disappeared. You ran to your calendar, you had tracked your cycle. Searching through the months, looking for the last of the red boxes. Not this month, not last, no they only appeared three months ago. Three months you had missed your period. Three fucking months.
You raced to the store, hoping that if you were a regular pregnancy test would answer your question. Would this cursed creature even make a pregnancy test be positive? Would any test be able to read if you were or not? Once you got home you found the answer. It was yes, the test could pick up on the creature growing inside of you. It was positive. Mahito had done the impossible.
All you had were questions when it came to Mahito, this only added to them. He never made sense, never explaining his actions fully, but at least before you knew what was happening. This was unexpected. Could you get rid of it? Would an abortion work on this?
Looking at yourself in the mirror. Staring at yourself, analyzing your body. It was mad, but you still lifted your shirt. Gazing at your stomach. Running your hands along it. You couldn't be, this had to be a bad dream. No god, if there were any, could hate you so much.
"Fascinating."
Mahito has sprung into view in the mirror. Standing behind you, in the door frame. He was gazing at your stomach. Looking over it again and again as he stood there.
"What the hell did you do?"
You were scared now, fearing the worse. The way he looked at you was terrifying. As if you were a wonder of the world. Just something to be analyzed and examined. A look he had never given you before.
"I wanted to know if it was true."
You were just his little science experiment. His school project to be tested on. You weren't a person to him, just something for him to use. If that hadn't set in before. It had now. You wanted to scream at him, cuss at him, hit him. Anything to get your anger out, but what use would that be? He had gotten you this time and there was no way out from him. Not that he now knew.
Mahito made his way to you. That same smile never left his face, instead only getting wider. He was behind you know, holding your form against him. Resting his hands on your stomach.
"It's finally taken."
"Mahito...Please tell me-tell me i-it isn't-"
"Oh, sweetie, it is. You're carrying my seed." He was nuzzling his head into your shoulder as he whispered. Kissing in between words. As if you two were a happy couple with thrilling news.
Mahito had gotten you pregnant. He had fucked some fucked up thing into you. He was going to force you to carry this thing to term, to birth it. Would it even be human? Or even resemble anything like you?
"W-what is i-it?" You were holding back tears.
"Hmm... I'm not sure, but I'm looking forward to seeing it." He saw the fear in your eyes. "It's okay if this one isn't to your liking. We now know we can always make more."
He was planning more. Planning to fuck more fucked up creatures into you. Make you something to bread him as many monsters as he pleases.
"I don't want this."
It was a whisper, but you knew he heard. Refusing to look at him in the mirror. Instead staring at his hands on your belly.
"Hmmm, that's sad because I do. I want to see you grow big. Like those women I see. Barley able to walk properly. Not fitting into anything anymore. Yeah, I want to see you like that." His hands began to rub your stomach as he held onto you. "I want you as mine like any other man could have you and if that means fucking you until you give me a whole army of monsters." Mahito leant in more, kissing your cheek before continuing. "Then I happily will."
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drconstellation · 6 months
Text
Michael the Watchful
Updated 11 Nov 2023
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I'm going to be upfront - I don't like Michael. But I am intrigued by some of their actions in GO.
The above screen shot highlighting their angel ring came across my dash last week, and there was a comment that the ring looked like "Ophanim rings with pearls for eyes." I have to admit that for all that I am fairly widely read in mythology I hadn't heard of these before, and had to go look them up. I realize its probably because I'm not up to speed with all the religious references yet. Don't get me wrong - I'm not a complete newbie in that dept, its just a muscle I haven't flexed in a while and its a kind of "use it or lose it" kind of thing, you know? Happens when you've been around for a bit.
Ophanim: "The many-eyed ones." Oh. Right. That's tv series Archangel Michael to a T, actually.
(There are probably some parallels to the greek monster Argus here, but not sure if I should digress. The hero Perseus, winged sandals, Medusa's snek-locks, the 1000 eyes that never sleep, rescuing a maiden, the goddess queen's grief over the slain monster...)
Michael was the one that presented the incriminating photos of Aziraphale and Crowley meeting over time to Gabriel in S1, then followed it up with a phone call to Hell on the back-stairwell to Heaven.
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And Michael is the Duty Officer during S2, they are "on watch" so to speak.
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Michael is also the one that maintains the back channel connection to Hell, "the grapevine that obviously doesn't exist" that Beelzebub mentions to Crowley in S2E1, and that Gabriel also officially denies exists in S1E4.
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The fact that in S1 they were seen talking to Ligur originally, who was destroyed by the holy water Crowley obtained from Aziraphale, and then in S2 they are talking to somebody else again (Beelzebub) in S2 via their angel phone again, says that they have to have established a new connection in between seasons. I commented elsewhere it seems to be implied the contact is Dagon, due to the little flirtation the tried to send to the angel that Michael quickly shuts down in S2E6,
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but the fact the back channel is still working is still something to be concerned about. I mean, weren't you just a little suspicious when it was Michael who turned up with the holy water for the bath during the body-swap punishment scenes, when Hell only bothered to send a disposable Eric clone with the hellfire to Heaven?
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Wondering how this angle is going to play out in S3.
Edit:
Found some information about the golden collars in the Job minisode in S2E2 and the detail on Michael's costume adds to this meta.
Around their neck they have row upon row of eyes, and around their sleeves they have wheels.
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asimperingswannsong · 5 months
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Request: fluff with Larissa where Rissie is having sad girl minutes and Reader cheers her up, please
🤗 Thank you for the ask! I can certainly try! This was my first attempt at a Reader insert. It was a fun challenge. Hope you like it! 🙃
Another Dismal Dance
Larissa Weems x Reader
Notes/Summary/Warnings: Just fluffy stuff. Larissa has another disappointing Rave'N and reader tries to make it better.
--------------------
You were standing with Ms. Ingram, the other rookie teacher, by the punch bowl at the Rave'N chaperoning the students as they arrived. She was busy mindlessly speculating on who might be dating who and whether any of the speculative couples would be making an appearance together as official items, but your attention was elsewhere. You were trying to be subtle about it, but it was difficult because the object of your affection was positively radiant this evening.
From the moment you'd interviewed with her and bonded over your shared interest in Outcast History, her former subject, you'd been enamoured by Principal Weems. This was your first teaching job and she had been an amazing mentor, always ready with words of encouragement or offering an ear for you to vent. And when she'd begun to confide in you during your fireside chats in her office, you couldn't have been happier. She'd been having a tough time this year with the monster attacks and Wednesday's constant need to solve the mystery surrounding them. You'd become increasingly worried about her as you could see from the windows of your rooms how many evenings, she'd been working late into the night doing damage control for Wednesday's latest antics.
But you'd been able to cheer her up anytime she expressed frustration with things just by mentioning the Rave'N. She was so excited about the preparations. She wanted everything just right for her students to have a memorable experience and her enthusiasm was one more thing about her that you found so endearing. You'd been having little cautionary chats with yourself lately just to check in and remind yourself to respect boundaries since this was your boss and making an unwanted advance toward her could be a huge mistake but it was hard to keep your resolve everytime you saw her flitting through the halls. She was so beautiful and so elegantly put together. And her personality matched her appearance, charming and perfect. It was a struggle not to be a complete simp.
Especially right now, she was stunning in her knee length silver dress, and she looked so happy seeing all of her hard work come to fruition. She had done an incredible job on the themed decor. It was nice to see her have this perfect evening after all the stress she'd dealt with recently. Now, if only you could work up the courage to go over and tell her as much. "Right?" Your eyes widened as your realized you'd become so engrossed in Principal Weems that you'd completely checked out of the conversation with Ms. Ingram.
"Sorry?" "Coach Vlad." She was met with a look of confusion. "I said he thinks his track suit is formal wear apparently. Crazy huh? Are you alright, Y/N?" "Huh? Oh yeah, sorry. I was just thinking about Monday's lesson plan and whether to include a pop quiz," you lied trying to cover for the actual reason behind your inattentiveness. Ms. Ingram rolled her eyes dramatically and grabbed you by the arm shaking it, "We're off work. It's a dance. Loosen up and have a little fun, Y/N." "Yeah, I'll try…"
You managed to excuse yourself from Ms. Ingram's gossip train and finally made your way to Larissa. "Ms. L/N! You look lovely this evening darling. That dress is so pretty!" she greeted you happily. You blushed noticeably at her compliment. "This is amazing Principal Weems. You should be so proud. And you are a vision. Perfection." "Really?" her turn to blush noticeably. "I love it. And the gloves, the jewelry, and the hair, they're all absolutely beautiful." She smiled still blushing, "Flatterer." "Just facts." "Ms. L/N?" You heard Ms. Ranier, the other history teacher, call from behind you.
You reluctantly started to turn away from Larissa to acknowledge Ms. Ranier, but she reached out gently and took your hand to draw your attention back to her for a moment. "Ms. L/N?" You turned back with a look of inquiry. "Before you go…" "Yes?" "I just wanted to ask if you'd like to stop by my office later? Maybe for a celebratory drink? I'm so happy with how everything came together." "I would love to. That sounds fun," you said beaming at her. She smiled in return and winked at you, "See you then, Y/N." The wink has caused your stomach to abruptly relocate within your body. You turned and floated away.
Everything was going so well…until it wasn't.
You were standing against the wall with two other teachers deeply engaged in a terrible dance battle with each of you showcasing your cringest of moves when you felt a droplet land on your shoulder.As you looked around trying to find the source of the leak you noticed the droplet was red. "What the hell?" And then there was two, three, four. "What's going…" And then the sprinklers opened fully and rained down red.
People started to scream as their formal attire they'd spent weeks choosing became stained all over. Then they started to try to get away and began slipping in the mess. You immediately started trying to help students up and direct them to the exit, but it was chaos. And then you heard a loud scream and you turned to see Larissa having a full-blown meltdown in the center of the room and your heart broke in two.
She'd wanted this to be perfect so badly and she'd already dealt with so much this year and now she and her beautiful dress were stained from top to bottom. She was breathing deeply and shaking. She seemed to be having a panic attack or hyperventilating. You tried to make your way toward her, but you kept getting caught up in the on rush of the exiting crowd. Over and over again you were thwarted from getting to her. Eventually you were pulled along by your fellow teachers who all just wanted out.
In the aftermath you stood and looked frantically around for Larissa. You just wanted to make sure she was okay. Unable to find her, you hugged and comforted crying students encouraging them gently to return to their rooms and get cleaned up and apologizing for their dance being ruined. Finally you spotted her, but she rushed by on her phone and you heard her addressing Sheriff Galpin. She'd recovered from her earlier panic and now she sounded furious.
Realizing this was not an ideal time to try and speak to her you returned to your own rooms and cleaned yourself up. You paced your room using baby wipes to clean the stains from your face and out of your hair as much as possible before changing out of your ruined dress. You could see Larissa pacing furiously in her office and gesticulating wildly at the other occupants.
You determined when you had a chance you would try to intervene and do what you could to comfort her in some way. You grabbed a large basket and began filling it with items, baby wipes, cloths, a blanket, a candle, a bottle of red wine you'd bought after trying it in Larissa's office one evening, and finally a small bouquet from your pink hellebores. You made your way over to the main building and saw Sheriff Galpin and Mayor Walker leaving as you entered. You made your way upstairs.
As you entered while knocking you saw Larissa hastily try to wipe the tears from the corners of her eyes as she stood from her desk. "Y/N? Are you alright? I'm so sorry for what happened?" You came in and placed the basket on the couch. "Am I alright? I came to check on you. I know how much you were looking forward to this. I'm the one who's sorry for the way it turned out." She'd been making a valiant effort not to cry but she lost the battle and started to weep openly. You rushed over and hugged her tightly. "Oh no sweetheart. Don't cry. I'm so sorry."
She clung tightly to you and sobbed loudly. You held her tightly in return and rubbed soothingly on her back trying to bring her some comfort. As her sobs lessened slightly you placed your arm around her lower back. "Come here, sweetheart," you said gently leading her toward the couch in front of the fire, "let's sit down together for a minute." You brought her around to the couch but she hesitated. "I don't want to stain it," she sniffled still wearing her ruined dress. You moved quickly over to your basket and removed the blanket, unfolding it and holding it open like a towel. She continued to hesitate.
You wiggled it at her invitingly, "Come on. I brought it just for you. Feel free to stain it all you like." Larissa smiled through her next sniffle and moved closer to you. You wrapped her up into a red burrito and hugged her once more before encouraging her to sit. She did and you removed the candle and flowers placing them on the table and lighting the wick. Larissa smiled and wiped a strand of stained loose hair from her eyes. "What are you doing?" she asked curiously.
"Me? I'm currently in the middle of an impromptu and somewhat desperate attempt to provide some small modicum of comfort to you after what was an unmitigated disaster perpetrated on the most undeserving of creatures." Finishing your quick mood setting decor, you reached over producing the bottle of wine and holding it out to her. "May I interest the madam in a glass of the house's finest Beaujolais Nouveau?" you said in your corniest French waitress impression. Mercifully she chuckled as you poured her a glass.
Darling, you didn't have to do any of this." "I wanted to. I felt terrible seeing you crushed like that." You held up a baby wipe. "May I?" "Please." You placed a knee on the couch beside her and bent forward over her wiping the stains from her face gently. She gazed up into your eyes with a look of gratitude that made you weak. "Thank you," she whispered as you continued to wipe away the red. "Of course, sweetheart."
When you finished cleaning as many of the streaks from her face as you could, you sat down next to her on the sofa and poured yourself a glass. She held hers out for a refill and you both sat and stared into the fire for a while. You felt her hand lay over the top of yours and you turned yours over. She entwined your fingers together and you continued to watch the flames. "Are you going to be alright?" you whispered. "Yes, darling, don't worry about me." "But I do," you said after a pause. She caressed your hand gently and smiled.
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fangirlingpuggle · 2 years
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Very very tired DP AU fic prompt idea with more Dad Clockwork.
Basically as Clockwork is the master of time and kinda exists outside of time the fate that he will ghost adopt Danny as yet to happen but has also happened so before Clockwork has ever met Danny or Danny is even born the bond is already there, when Danny is very little even before he’s half ghost him calling on the bond and CW being very confused when he feels a pull on his core and follows it and finds this tiny little...human? Maybe he seems human now but also...not.
CW appearing a lot as Danny is growing up helping him when he’s scared or alone, parents out ghost hunting or in the lab or arguing about Santa and is basically being a dad to him. Danny never thinks he’s a ghost cause he’s so little and all he’s heard is that ghosts are monsters and mean and CW isn’t mean or scary and he keeps the monsters away. When he mentions him everyone just thinks he’s his imaginary friend.
At times CW freezing time and taking Danny with him elsewhere to other places in the infinite realms because he has a job to do but doesn’t want to risk anything happening to Danny while he isn’t able to watch, even if he could rewind time and stop it he just doesn't want to risk it. This meaning baby Danny meeting the ancients and other powerful ghosts. Pandora adoring baby Danny whose just toddling around and she’s like ‘well done brave warrior you shall be a champion’. Nocturne constantly making sure he has no nightmares and showing him constellations that spark Danny’s fascination with space.
CW even ending up back in time at one point, because when he’s back in time he can see the Pariah he loved before...well everything happened. Pariah meeting Danny instantly declaring him his heir.
Pariah:BEHOLD INFINITE REALMS YOUR FUTURE RULER
Fright Knight: Sire please support the head, support the head!
Then either a) Canon happens, CW sees the future and takes a step back Danny eventually mostly forgets thinking they were just imaginary friends and stories he made up.Until portal incident happens and... things are familiar the powers he’s using places in the ghost zone everything feels familiar.... and then he meets CW again. (And man things get even more awkward when he meets Pariah again)
Or b) CW doesn't see and Danny just grows up with the ancients being involved, traveling tot he GZ and other pats of infinite realms with CW powers. Learning all about them and how ghosts actually work every time Maddie or Jack talk about them he has to bite his lip to not fact check them. When the portal is made the accident happens as normal and suddenly ghost powers... only he already has a huge support structure all of whom are so excited and ready to show him how to use his powers.
Also just
Vlad:I know you are alone and don’t know how your powers work I can help you teach you
Danny:...
Danny;Dude I know more than you do
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carnivalcarrion · 22 days
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On The Topic Of Eddie.
First of all, he’s completely fucked. He’s screwed. I’ve said it a thousand times and I’ll say it again: I’ve never seen a character more doomed by the narrative. 
Second, Eddie’s halloween costume was Frankenstein’s Monster. And pray tell, what was the Monster’s whole thing? That he’s betrayed by his own creator, rejected / attacked by the town, deeply misunderstood & interpreted as a violent beast despite being well-read and helpful/benevolent. There are some interesting ties there - especially with the Misunderstood Despite Being Well-Read (switch out violent beast with forgetful klutz and it’s a perfect fit). That, plus Eddie’s description of “...brought back from the dead… by the scientist… stitches… a deathly pallor… a bit of a moral conundrum…”
Take that and add it to how Eddie resembles the “night” side of the clocks (this will be expanded upon with Sally in a different post), and how @/theneighborhoodwatch once pointed out that the color purple is only shown in relation to Eddie & may represent secrets, how in livestream trivia it was implied that Eddie doesn’t sleep at night as he is a “busy guy”, and how Sally’s “monster” only comes out at night and likely isn’t a monster at all - she is dramatic, an embellisher, and said to present things that she herself doesn’t know / is uncertain of As Fact, or at least present them as if she knows exactly what she’s talking about (even when she doesn’t and knows it). 
Another tidbit that I may have mentioned but I’ll bring it up again: Eddie’s eyelashes match the scalloped trim under Home’s windows. Three round curves. 
As an additional tally in the “Eddie is soooo fucked <3” scoreboard, Eddie is the mailman in a story where one of the first things we knew to be actually happening was the WHRP receiving letters of Welcome Home media (now I’m not saying Eddie sent them, certainly not. He may or may not have had a hand in helping with the delivery, but what I mean with this is how it ties in symbolically/abstractly/thematically.) That plus the red envelope, the general unfolding delivery theme… Eddie even has a holiday explicitly associated with him - Mail-In Time Day. 
Then there’s the fact that Eddie tends to express Knowledge and a more worldly disposition, in a way. Despite Frank being mentioned as the neighborhood “intellectual”, and he is so with facts, Eddie seems to have a deeper well of… let’s say cultural know-how. Pair that with how his bio is the only one to say/imply that he comes from elsewhere, that he’s been Around. Everyone else came from their family or don’t have a stated before, but Eddie? He was strongly implied to have delivered to a lot of different places - this is made into a running gag, but we all know a running gag for the Show has deeper implications and meanings. 
And the fact that his genuine knowledge as well as his past are consistently dismissed and/or played off for laughs…
IMPORTANT NOTE FOR THIS NEXT BIT: I CANNOT FIND THE OG ASK OUTSIDE OF SCREENSHOTS SO TAKE ALL OF THIS WITH A MASSIVE GRAIN OF SALT, AS THERE IS THE POSSIBILITY THAT THE ASK WAS FROM PRE-2021 AND SO - ALONG WITH THIS SPEC CHUNK - IT MAY BE NULL & VOID. BUT IT ALSO MAY NOT BE! SO I’LL TALK.
A while back - this is related I swear - there was an ask Clown answered where they talked about some of his notes on Eddie. The first part that I want to point out is how apparently Eddie is a good source for information (specifically How-To), but despite being talkative he doesn’t share unless prodded for it. This directly relates to the above points. 
Then there’s the one I really want to talk about - how Clown says that “He [Eddie] has a great deal of precision for someone who presents themselves as a semi-clumsy busybody!” 
That single line made me insane, personally. First, the wording. The choice of saying presents themselves as instead of something like for someone who is. There’s an obvious discrepancy between his precision and clumsiness. Now I don’t doubt that he may be a tad accident-prone, but what if Eddie is dialing up the clumsy nature to disarm his Neighbors / craft a specific reputation for himself / give himself leeway in other areas. 
On one hand, this is suspicious as fuck.
On the other hand, this is so adhd of him. 
One of the things rarely mentioned about it is how sometimes we adhders will play up our more “useless” traits in order to create a bit of a social safety net. Admittedly, I will sometimes play up my forgetfulness so that a) if i do forget things (truth more often than not), people aren’t surprised. b) when i remember things, people are pleasantly surprised. I mean, if people start thinking we’re competent then they’ll start Expecting things from us, which is never a good thing! 
And another thing that relates to it that that ask said - Clown says in it that Eddie is slow to anger, but he gets frustrated more easily. Which is fascinating and very relatable. They also said that he can’t talk about it without wandering too far, which - if the post is viable - has… implications. 
Anyway I am very confident that Eddie is in fact adhd. List of reasons (refer to the wiki trivia Eddie Dear section for sources):
He’s forgetful
He gets so involved with a task and cannot break away until it’s finished, thus often making him late
He’s particular
He has a watch - likely to help him keep track of time, implying that he has difficulty with the concept (time blindness!) 
He is very talkative and rambley 
& seems to have slight difficulty with picking up on social cues telling him when to / when not to speak
He’s slow to anger but more easily frustrated 
Beyond all of this I don’t have much to add that I haven’t already talked about in a previous post! I’m sure even so I’ve restated some (or a lot of) things - it Happens! 
In conclusion: bbg is so screwed & also adhd <3
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andreafmn · 2 months
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Running in Circles | Chapter 10
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Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: mentions of death, religious trauma
Summary: (Y/N) Rossi is following in her father’s footsteps by joining the BAU team as a profiler. The girl genius knew almost everything but she could have never predicted falling for Aaron Hotchner, her boss, and her father’s friend. in their world mutual feelings are not enough to push them together. Will all the adversities and obstacles they face pull them together or push them apart forever?
A/N: a few days behind is better than a whole year 🫣 anywho very sentimental chapter ahead
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Winter had come at full force that December, and maybe that was the first sign of all that was to come. But for (Y/N), it only signified the anniversary of her mother’s death.
Just like she had done every year before, she had taken that day off, knowing her mind would be elsewhere, and her body would want to be there. Even if it fell on a weekend, she had to be sure that no calls would disturb the day. The monsters could wait one more day.
She looked herself over in the mirror. The turtleneck she had chosen felt particularly choking, her pants hung too low for comfort, and her mother’s necklace stood out too brightly against the dark clothing. Nothing was right. Nothing would ever be right. She pushed her hair behind her shoulders and sighed. That was as good as it would ever get.
She slipped her coat on before she left her house, and she wondered what her mother would have thought of her home. Would she have wanted her closer to the family home? Would she have liked the décor? Would she have poked fun at how messy the house could sometimes get, or would she not have cared at all?  Those were answers she would never get. At least not from the one person that mattered the most.
Her father’s car was waiting outside for her, his face wearing a similar solemn look to the one she had. It was the same routine every year. He’d come to pick her up, they’d go to the cemetery, and when David would tell stories of Iris, she would listen. Because she had none to share of her own. She had no memories, no stories, nothing to know of her mother that was her own.
“Hey, dad,” she said as she jumped into the SUV. “It’s a cold one today.”
“It really is,” he chuckled softly “I brought you some coffee and a butter croissant. Something tells me you didn’t eat breakfast today.”
“You know me too well, dad,” she snickered, taking the warm cup between her hands to heat her freezing hands. “Did you eat already?”
“Had myself a bowl of oatmeal with berries and bananas like your mom used to like,” he replied. “Washed it all down with some coffee and came here.”
“That’s good,” she croaked, forcing a smile. “Were you able to get the flowers? My local shop was closed when I went by yesterday.”
“Yeah. I’ve got the bouquet back there,” he smiled. “Peonies, irises, roses, lilies, and baby’s breath. All the ones she liked.”
Every time her father said things like that, her heart broke just a little more. He didn’t know it. She would never say it. But the fact that he had lived a life with her mother when she didn’t even know what she sounded like hurt. It pained her to miss a person she never had a chance to remember.
“Do you know it was your mom that would call you little bird?”
“Did she?”
“She said you were always jumping around and fleeting from flower to flower when you were outside, just like a hummingbird would. That’s why she got that necklace made for you,” David chuckled at the memory. “Even when you were just a little baby, you always seemed to calm when you were with her in the garden.”
“Well, her garden has to be the best one in all of Virginia. Even to this day.”
“You have Emile to thank for that,” he laughed. “If it had been up to me, it would have died so many years ago.”
“And I guess I inherited your lack of a green thumb.”
“That you did, little birdie,” he said. “But you did inherit her good taste. For your third birthday, the last one with your mother –may God have her in his glory—you insisted on having a garden fairy party. Iris asked you what flowers you wanted everywhere, and you said peonies. Well, at the time, you called them peenies.”
“I… I don’t remember that,” she stammered. “I wish I did.”
“That’s okay, little bird. We have the pictures, and I’m sure there’s a VHS somewhere with the video. Just have to check in storage, which might take a bit more than it should.”
“It wouldn’t if you let me organize it, dad. I’ve told you many times that you need to set up a system so things don’t get lost in all the junk you still have from the olden days.”
“Hey! You learned a lot from those olden days,” he pouted. “Those olden days paid for everything we have.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s not disorganized.”
By the time they had reached the cemetery, they were a mix of laughter and sadness, coupled with the most beautiful bouquet they’d brought to date. There was a thin blanket of snow covering the ground, a cold breeze whistling through the air. It was a horrible day to be out, but they wouldn’t miss it for the world.
(Y/N) was expecting the bad weather. And although her coat did nothing to warm her against the wind, she hugged it closer to her body. What she was not expecting was to find Hotchner and Jack waiting on a bench right in front of her mother’s grave.
“Aaron,” David called out with a smile that alerted the father and son to their presence. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
Once they were near enough, Jack took off on a soft run toward the woman. “(Y/N)!” he called as he reached to hug her. “You said we could come, remember?”
“Of course I do, buddy,” she smiled softly. “I’m happy to see you.”
“This is your mom, right?” The boy led her to her mother’s tombstone by the hand. “Iris Jensen.”
“That’s right,” she said. (Y/N) knelt down and ran her hand across the picture of her mother, tears already building in her eyes. “This is my mom.”
“She’s very pretty.”
“She is, isn’t she?” (Y/N) chuckled as her body betrayed her. Tears fell down her eyes before she could stop them, warming her skin before turning freezing under the weather. Jack quickly reached into his jacket, pulled out a blue handkerchief, and handed it to her. “Thanks, kid.”
“Jack, why don’t you join me on the bench, and I can tell you about her?” David said. “I’ve got some great stories.”
“Is that okay, (Y/N)?”
“Of course, Jack,” she smiled. “Go ahead.”
As the kid ran to her father, Hotchner wrapped his arms around her. Normally, she would have grown flustered at the interaction, but at that moment, she needed the comfort. “You okay?” he asked quietly. “This must be so hard.”
“I don’t know why I’m like this,” she muttered. “It’s been years already. I barely even knew her.”
“She was still your mom, (Y/N). It’s only natural that you feel this way.”
“I don’t even remember what she sounds like,” the woman sniffled. “I don’t even know what kind of mom she would have been growing up.”
“I… I’m sorry, (Y/N). I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s okay,” she smiled softly as she let him go. She got on her knees and started cleaning the tombstone, removing all specs of snow regardless of how futile it may have been. “There’s not much to say.”
“All I know is that I wish I had met her.”
“Yeah,” she chuckled. “Me too.”
Aaron left her by herself then, allowing her the space to tell her mother about the year that had passed. She told her about her cases, told her about her friends, and even told her about her ever-growing feelings for an unmentionable person. But, most of all, she told her about how much she missed her.
But it didn’t go over her head how she missed someone that much without really knowing who they were. She carried inside an emptiness that wasn’t easily filled, and as hard as her father tried, never would be. And David tried, in his own way. He had his own grief to carry, and she knew that. She knew he hurt and wished Iris was still with them. But he’d found solace in the time he had shared with her while (Y/N) yearned for even just a second more with her mom.
“I wish you were here, mom,” she cried as she stood. “I see videos of you, and I can’t tell if that’s what you really sounded like or if your voice is too distorted by the camera. I wish you’d had more time, mom.”
“You and me both, little birdie,” her father said as he joined her. “But she’s in God’s glory now.”
(Y/N)’s blood boiled at that moment. She had never been religious, much to her father’s dismay. More than just the deity not fitting into her scientific mind, she couldn’t believe in a god like her father did. Normally, she didn’t mind his religious interjections. They were a part of who he was, and she didn’t want to belittle his beliefs. But that day, something inside her couldn’t stand it. Much less when he started to mutter a prayer.
“I’ve asked you to please not pray aloud when we’re here, dad. Do you mind?”
“Honey…”
“No, dad. I really don’t want to listen to you talk about your god or ask to have mom in his infinite mercy. I don’t wanna hear about it!” Her tone came out harsher than she intended, but she couldn’t contain herself. Years and years of bottling up her feelings had her at her limit, and it was that moment that they had chosen to spill over. “Just, keep it in your head.”
“I don’t understand, (Y/N). You never minded before,” David muttered. “There was a time you used to believe in God. You even used to ask me to pray with you.”
“Jesus, dad, I did that for you.” As she exclaimed Hotch told Jack to wait for him in the car, that (Y/N) needed a moment to herself. Hesitantly, the boy followed his father’s instructions and walked the short trail to the van. All he could understand was that (Y/N) was upset. Once Jack was gone, she continued. “How could I ever believe in a god that took my mother away before I could even remember what my name sounded in her voice? I only went along with it because it seemed to make you happy, but I can’t anymore. I can’t listen to another word of how your god is merciful and how it was all his plan. He took my mother from me. How could I believe in a god that would take a mother from a child? All the memories I have of her are from behind a screen or moments lived by other people. I don’t remember anything about her that’s mine only, dad. You always tell me how you would love to have a second chance with my mom, and I didn’t even get one.”
(Y/N) crumbled to the ground once more and suddenly felt arms around her. Instantly, she knew who it was and found herself sinking into Hotch’s embrace. He tried his best to calm her, telling her that everything would be okay and that she wasn’t alone. She was normally the strong one. She was always the one who kept it all inside and helped others. But too many years of that had her shattered on the ground of the cemetery.
It took a few minutes for her sobs to finally subside, Hotch’s soothing circles on her arms working overtime to calm her down. They had ended up sitting on the cold ground, the snow slowly making its way through their clothes, but neither seemed to care. All that mattered was the comfort and the presence. Nothing else.
“You okay?” Hotch whispered as she finally seemed to calm. “Feeling better?”
“I don’t even know,” she chuckled weakly. “Your pants are dirty now. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry, I have a washer,” he joked. “But how are you feeling? I know this must be a very overwhelming situation.”
“I don’t know what I’m feeling, honestly,” she sighed, sinking into the warmth of Hotchner. “It’s the first time I’ve ever blown up like that toward my dad, and I don’t know why I did. It’s been over twenty years that we’ve been coming here, and I’ve never acted like this.”
“I think it’s safe to assume you’ve been bottling up all these feelings for all that time. They were bound to come out one day or another.” 
“Don’t profile me, Hotch,” she pouted. “But you’re right. I mean, he lost the woman he loved, and even though I lost my mom, I felt bad for him because he’s the one who had all the memories with her. I never wanted him to feel bad or guilty for the fact that I had to grow up without her. Still, every time he says something like her death was god’s plan or that he has her in her mercy, it just sets me off.”
“Have you ever thought that religion is the way that he copes with her death? Maybe thinking that she is in heaven or that it was her time is his way to come to terms with the fact that she is gone.”
“I guess a part of me does understand that. But there’s a side that doesn’t want to,” she sighed. “But I guess I have to apologize for the tantrum.”
“Your feelings are valid, (Y/N). It’s just the way you express them that could be hurtful to others. But your dad’s a big boy,” he chuckled softly. “He’s at the car with Jack. You ready to go over there?” 
“As ready as I can be.”
Hotchner got up first, waiting with his hand extended until she needed it. And with another glance at the tombstone, she took the hand and stood up as well. The man walked beside her the entire time, his presence alone was enough to keep her grounded. As much as she wanted to break down and fall apart, she needed to keep it together.
“And she could spend days in her studio just painting, forgetting that hours passed. She would just lose herself painting and painting,” her father smiled as he talked to Jack. “She would have been there the entire day if I had let her.”
“Do you have any of her paintings still?”
“Of course! All over the house,” he chuckled. “Would you like to see them, Jack?”
“Yes! Can we, dad?” Jack asked as he noticed his father’s approaching figure. “I wanna see the paintings.”
“If it’s alright with Dave, then it’s alright with me.”
“Of course!” the man exclaimed. “The more the merrier. We’ll see you there.”
David and (Y/N) walked to the car in silence. Not saying a single word until they were inside. “I’m sorry, dad,” she finally muttered. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like I did. You don’t deserve that.”
“I’d say it was long overdue, kid,” he smiled softly. “You like to keep the peace and keep everything in. I’m surprised it hasn’t happened before. You have nothing to apologize for, little bird.”
“But I do, dad. I shouldn’t have yelled at you regardless.”
“Your mother used to say that yelling is the way the soul speaks,” he said. “When you can no longer keep anything in, it comes out fast and unmeasured. Words come out with thorns and spikes. And much like a flower, they don’t mean to hurt you, but it is in their nature to protect themselves. It’s okay to let it out once in a while. Doesn’t matter how it hurts. If my beliefs hurt you, mia bella, all you have to do is tell me. I will try my best to keep it to a minimum.”
“And I will try to talk about how I’m feeling instead of yelling it,” she smiled, taking her father’s hand in hers. “I love you, dad. And I’m still sorry.”
“I love you too, little bird,” he beamed. “And you can make it up to me by helping with dessert tonight. We’re making your mom’s favorite.”
“Tiramisu,” they chorused.
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aloneinthehellfire · 2 months
Text
Chapter Thirteen: Three Weeks Later
Gates Of Hell [Masterlist]
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Word Count: 3.2k
Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, virus symptoms, self-deprecation, angst (always)
[A/N: We are so back.]
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Three Weeks Later
No one would have thought that the Upside Down could have been admired for its beauty. It mostly depended on the eye of the beholder.
The monsters that ran rampant in the reflected city were no less indications of the animal kingdom, with hierarchies and reproduction ruling above all else. The vines that slithered across the buildings were practically the beating heart of this place, growing like ivy and connecting every part of the Upside Down to its neighbour. And that bleeding red sky owned its own clouds, forming shapes and burning brighter when the lightning shines through, illuminating the land in its crimson light.
No one should notice these things about the Upside Down. Yet again, no one had to look for that beauty before, hoping it would protect their sanity. They weren’t trapped here.
“Y/n!”
Your head ducks, heels digging into the dirt as you spin around, arm whipping out to slash the beast’s belly with one sharp swipe of your blade. Its screech pierced your ears, yet you remain composed, driving your boot into its back and watching it crash into a pile of dust, its death commemorated in ashes.
So many new monsters had been discovered since coming down here, this one in particular attacking in surprise. It never truly died since it was simply a created shape, only dissipating when struck across the stomach. You and Steve dubbed them ‘dustwalkers’ after the pile of ash they become when struck down. Usually, neither of you would resort to naming the creatures, but with so many different ones surfacing, you became reliant on knowing what you were up against.
“Jesus, that was close. What were you thinking?”
Wiping the hair from your face, you turn in time to see Steve’s frown walking towards you. His hair had gotten messy since being down here, pieces falling down towards his face. But it still managed to look perfect, sculpted in recognition of the man below.
“I got distracted.” You shrug, wiping the blade on your jeans as he collected his bat from the ground. You hadn’t even noticed he’d dropped it.
“Distracted?” He looks at you in disbelief, running a hand through his hair out of frustration. “Y/n, that’s the fourth time you’ve done that.”
“Huh.” You frown, depositing the dagger into your makeshift belt. You were getting distracted a lot more lately. Sometimes it felt like you weren’t even in control of your attention being pulled elsewhere. If anything, the ever-growing dark veins stretching across your skin could be the culprit.
Steve watches your eyes drift away from him again and he sighs, slotting the bat into his backpack and closing the space between you, his hands resting gently on either side of your head so he can bring you to look at him.
“I’m fine, Steve.” You say as he searches your face for any sign of the virus.
It had been… hell, neither of you know how long it has been. Days? Weeks? The virus hadn’t affected you yet, much to his relief. But it had been growing since the lab blew up and left you stranded, winding up your leg and spreading with no sign of slowing down. The last Steve had seen of it, it was already wrapping around your torso, leading to a conversation he never wanted to have again.
“It’s okay.” You brush it off, snatching the shirt you had found from off the ground and tugging it over your head.
“Fuck, Y/n.” Steve runs a hand down his face, still sat in shock.
Every so often, new clothes were needed. The old ones would keep getting destroyed or covered in blood, not to mention the exercise the Upside Down was putting you through made everything sweaty. You both made sure to loot wardrobes and drawers whenever possible, and this time Steve caught a glimpse of something he shouldn’t have.
“How long has it been like that?”
You turn to his hushed whisper, his eyes still gazing on you, not out of lust but out of fear. Neither of you knew how this virus worked, how long it would take. The only thing you could be certain of is that once the veins reach your brain, it will all be over. Part of you had hoped it would never grow, but the universe has never been on your side.
“I don’t know.” You admit, crouching down to meet his eyes. He reaches his hands out to tangle his fingers between yours, releasing a breath.
“Steve?” Your small voice prickles his hearing and he moves his gaze from your hands to your eyes, darting between the pupils in silent study. “If I… if it-”
“No.” He immediately shakes his head and you could almost sob. For what felt like days, you’ve been trying to have this conversation with him, but he always shuts it down, pretending like it wasn’t needed.
“You need to listen-”
“I am not killing you.” He says with conviction, and he feels your fingers slip out of his reach. “That’s not happening, Y/n, you can’t expect me to-”
“And what then?” You cry, standing taller, making his head crane to look up at you as you wrap your arms around your torso. “You’re just gonna watch me turn into a monster and let me stay that way?!”
“This isn’t just some sort of favour you’re asking for!” He frowns, shaking his head. “You want me to kill you. To end your life!”
Your lips part but words never leave them, any anger in your expression diminishing to that same pure look of guilt he’d never grow accustomed to.
“You’re right.” You say, and then you return to the clothes, tugging back on your boots.
You stopped updating him after that, keeping yourself completely covered with the clothes you had managed to scavenge from the houses you passed. Steve convinced himself you were just doing it to remain warm, especially in this eerily cold climate. He didn’t want to imagine you were hiding something from him.
“Steve.” You say softly, reaching up and placing your hand over his. His eyes finally settle back on yours, speaking louder than his lips ever could. “I am fine, I promise. Just a little tired.”
With a sigh, he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. It wasn’t an unusual show of affection. In fact, with the threat of danger being an all-time high, you both relied on touch to bring you out of the darkness and remind you why you were fighting in the first place. But it was nothing more than that, just two people surviving together. At least, that’s what you’ve convinced yourselves.
“Come on.” He finally whispers, pulling away from you and you already miss the warmth of his palm on your cheek.
The two of you were currently stood outside of The Hawkins Post building, mentally marking off yet another destination on the map when you’re out of the open. Every single place you’ve been, you’ve searched, fought, defended, and escaped without any victory of your mission. And each time, you felt your heart break just a little more.
It had been days since the gate home was destroyed, and you still hadn’t found El.
You had already searched the south, starting at Hopper’s cabin and slowly working your way up. The trailer park had been the worst, a whole sea of monsters chasing you through a maze of mobile homes. You weren’t sure why that place was so infested. You were just lucky you both made it out alive.
Motel 6 was what you and Steve had to call home for the moment. It resided just outside of Hawkins’ centre, close enough to travel to and far enough to not have any unwelcome visitors. It wasn’t a homely place at all, the Upside Down’s effects only adding to the misery. The beds were uncomfortable, mould growing in places you couldn’t tell were the before or after effect of an evil alternate dimension. But it was free of monsters, and that was the real luxury down here.
“Should we try the police station or the Radio Shack next?” Steve asks, hands on his hips. He had scanned the area as well as he could, paying special attention to the shadows. It all seemed clear for the moment. For the moment. That was the most important part to note down here.
When you don’t respond, he turns back to see you still staring up at the Post like you had been before. Without the threat of the dustwalker attacking him, he could see the indents between your brows, that gnaw of your lip when you were struggling to hold your emotions. You seem to feel his eyes on you because you drag your eyes away and offer a sad smile, brushing the hair out of your face.
“Let’s just head back to the motel.” You say, a hand on his shoulder as you walk past him. His hand is on your waist before you can go anywhere, bringing you back to him. “Steve-”
“What’s wrong?” He frowns and you can only shake your head. “We’ve barely searched three buildings today, we’re so close-”
“No, we’re not.” You let out a breathy laugh, wearing the same dark circles under your eyes that Steve bore on is. “We’re both tired, and there’s been so many more creatures here today, we should just head back.”
Steve hates seeing you like this, hollowing yourself into a corner of guilt the longer it takes to find your sister. You’ve been pretending like you’re okay, obviously not wanting to burden him with the heavy weight of emotions tearing your walls down each time you fight through another monster just to find the building empty. He can’t give up on this, and neither can you.
“One more.” Steve says and you look surprised, his hand still poised on your hip. “We go to one more building, we check it, we leave. Okay?”
You study him meticulously, making his skin feel hot under your gaze. His touch was set ablaze by your stare more often than not, that soft look in your eyes that melted him completely. He wasn’t sure what is was about being down here, the threat of death, or the dread of loneliness perhaps, but everything was even more clear than before.
Steve was falling for you. Hard. And he wasn’t sure he’d be able to pick himself back up after this one.
“One more.” You finally agree and his breath relieves him in silent doses, missing the warmth of your gaze when you step away from him and head North.
The Radio Shack had certainly seen better days. The vines had managed to build pressure on the sign, it now hanging loosely above. One gust of wind and you were sure it would crash into a pile of dust.
Steve leans against the window, a hand pressed against his forehead to block out any light. It looked empty, but that was never a guarantee.
“On three?” Steve props his shoulder against the door, bat at the ready. You give a swift nod, retrieving your blade. “One. Two.”
The third count was represented through a hard shove on the front door, ringing a small bell above his head as you rush in, prepared in a stance as you duck your head through the small aisles. You would never get used to that feeling of fearful anticipation, just waiting for something to pounce.
“Clear?” Steve asks from the other side of the store, surely reflecting your own technique.
“Clear.” You respond, relaxing your shoulders with an exhale.
Of course she wasn’t going to be here. You already knew that, like you’ve known it the past 9 times you’ve been battling guards for reward.
"...thssacobsever..."
An icy feeling creeps up your spine when you hear something whisper at you. You remained calm, lowering your head. It was all in your mind. This has been happening since the black veins had reached your chest, debilitating you with some mere hushed voices that didn’t belong to you. And it was your symptom to bear; Steve didn’t know, and you weren’t going to.
Steve is frozen still, eyes still fixated on the back wall where one of the radios started spurting something. What the hell was that?
He looks over to where you’re scanning some shelves, his eyes wide. The noise was hard to ignore, and yet you’re not reacting at all.
“Y/n?”
“Hm?” You raise your head from behind a shelf and notice he’s pointing to the back wall, frowning.
“You heard that, too, right?” Steve watches your face harden into recognition and you hesitantly nod.
Something like static echoes once again and you’re both practically flying to the back of the store, eyes darting between rows and rows of radios, walkies, any kind of device that could be picking up frequencies from the other side.
And then you both hear it from the third radio resting on the top shelf, crisp and clear.
“This is Echo Base, come in Falcon. Over.”
The message repeats over and over, fading in and out of static, but it was undeniable.
“Dustin.” You both breathe out, shock widening your eyes.
Steve’s already holding the radio in one swift swipe of his hand before you can say anything, moving it to his lips.
“Henderson?!” He calls out into the speaker, leaving you both in silent and bated breath. Steve’s brows furrow even further and his voice cracks. “Henderson?”
The tickle of static cemented that feeling of dread in the air, the familiar wave of failure hitting every crevice in your chest.
But you weren’t the only one feeling it.
As you look over, Steve’s back has hit the wall, sliding down until he can almost feel his racing heartbeat hitting the rough denim on his legs. You’ve never seen this side of him, never even imagined it. Steve Harrington looked defeated.
“Hey.” You crouch in front of him, searching for his eyes. But his head was down, a tight grip on the radio leaving his knuckles white. You almost feel helpless, seeing him so distraught. But you swore you would never leave him like this. Not after everything he’s battled for you.
Silent tears have already hit his warm cheeks when he feels your touch, gentle fingers prying the radio from his hand. He thought you would try and use it yourself, prove he was being dramatic.
Instead, he hears it clatter to the floor and your fingers are intertwining with his, holding him while he ducks his head to hide from you.
This wasn’t him. He wasn’t so… weak. He was the strong one, the reliant one, always picking up the pieces, always fighting, protecting, leading, asking for nothing in return but a home, a family, anything like the care he would never have from his flesh and blood.
But this was his final straw. He didn’t expect it to break him so easily. Hearing Dustin calling out and not having the voice to scream back. Trapped.
“And you’ll be out soon, right?”
“Yeah, we’ll be out soon.”
It was a lie that felt bitter on his tongue even now, infecting his mind with hesitation. When would his words save them, offer truths and promises he could actually keep? He shouldn’t have tried to run without checking you were all safe first. Maybe if he wasn’t so dumb he might have actually avoided all of this.
“Steve?” Your voice is a whisper, your breath brushing against his hair. He can’t look up. He can’t face you, not like this. “It’s not your fault.”
His teary eyes find yours in silent shock. How was it that you could hear him so perfectly even in his quietest moments?
“We’re gonna get out of here.” You say with more determination than you’ve ever felt possible to express. “I mean, we managed 4 days of the apocalypse with the worst possible detours of our life, we can do this. Together.”
His eyebrows raise slightly when you hold out a pinky finger, rising a laugh out of him in surprise.
“A pinky swear? Really?” He manages to smile, but his own is already wrapping around your finger in promise. A smile he hasn’t seen for days spreads across your face, a shine in your eye that left his thoughts incomprehensible. “Thank you.”
Involuntarily, his eyes dart to your lips. It was simply a flicker of movement, but you must have caught it because your lips part and you blink, making the heat flush to his neck and creep up to his cheeks and ears. Shit.
But then you’re leaning in. It was unexpected, and he’s never felt this kind of intensity in a moment that hasn’t even happened yet.
“Steve?”
The static crackles out, and you both sit there for a moment, wondering if the anticipation was driving you both to genuine madness.
“Steve, this is Mike, do you copy?”
He practically lunges forward, a hand on your back to make sure you didn’t topple back from his sudden action.
“Hey- hello?! Mike?!” He blurts out into the radio and your eyes are so fixated on the radio, you barely register the way his hand travels to your arm and down to your hand, holding it for support.
“Oh my god, Steve!” Mike’s voice blares through and Steve cries out in happiness, sharing the grin you have plastered on your face. “What- you’re alive! Where are you?!”
“Radio Shack.” Steve responds, almost feeling too giddy to even get the words out.
“Seriously? Wait… in the Upside Down? But it- it’s been three weeks, we thought… You’re in the Upside Down?!”
You and Steve share a look and then, with the drop of your face, it finally hits. They had no idea you were down here this entire time. All they would’ve seen is the explosion, the fact you weren’t there, and presumably Dustin’s ramble about chasing after El.
“Yeah, man.” Steve finally says, shoulders dropping. “We’ve been down here a while.”
“We- Y/n?!”
Steve hands the radio to you and you gladly take it, holding in the sob currently building in your chest. “Yeah, Mike, I’m here.”
“Ohmy-” Mike’s finger must have slipped off the button because his excited ramble cut off at the very beginning of his gleeful scream, making you and Steve laugh.
“They know we’re here.” You say out loud, looking at the boy beside you. His eyes were already on you, a smile creasing the corners of his eyes.
Only then were you conscious of the way his hand was still holding onto yours. And, when you look down, he only responds with a squeeze, burning that desire like the imprint of his fingers digging into your flesh.
“Y/n? Steve?”
Your heart almost leaps into your throat, tears pricking at your eyes. Steve’s eyes have widened, the joy of freedom now shadowing a dark cloud over both of your heads. The voice calls through again, making your mouth dry. You couldn’t even speak.
For three weeks you have been chasing the ghost of a girl who was never here in the first place.
Chapter Fourteen: We're Running Out Of Time ->
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uuuu +,+ can I pleas have fungus for Malleus
maybe where mc is lonely bc she misses her familly and she is longing for some type of affection 🥺
Malleus Draconia:
Fungus - loneliness that causes the search for comfort in anyone.
You had been told to never wander into the woods alone.
The gentle sounds of the wind rustling branches and leaves was all you heard as you walked along the rocky little path just on the edge of the looming doom known as the Misted Moons Forest. Most nights when the moon hung bright in the sky there was still a distortion, as if a mist surrounded it in a comforting embrace. You had never thought it particularly scary but according to the elders, the moon used to shine bright unimpeded until a year before you had been born.
There had been whispers about your birth, that it was actually a curse meant for the town, but your parents had been well-liked up until you came into creation. You don’t remember being treated poorly while they were present, but even adults whispered within your earshot when your parents were busy elsewhere. A cursed child, a wicked child, who were you and why had you come to be?
Things only got worse for you when your parents were set to go on an adventure. They had apologized for it’s abruptness, holding you as you cried for them, begging them not to leave you behind. They promised they’d be back within a month, two at the longest, but you couldn’t ignore the forlorn looks on their faces as they started their trek with only the clothes on their backs. You had seen them reading a variety of books in the previous days, with words too difficult for you to read but you could make out a handful of them.
Bargain. Deal. Vow. Breaking. Mercy. Begging. Forgiveness.
You could never piece together the sentences, never able to understand what had plagued them and what had plagued your tiny little town. But you knew the moon was mentioned, and you think your mother had said once before that there was a child born of the moon every year, turning into a monster upon its eighteenth birthday, cursed to a destitute life in the scary woods just behind your house. You had thought it was just a story to scare you, and you still thought that, just because you had taken to walking this path so long you had yet to see anything scary yet.
If there was a person in there, you would’ve seen them, right? They would tempt you with honeyed words or perhaps a promise too good to be true but it tugged at your heartstrings too much for you to deny. You couldn’t think of what they may offer you for you to take such a chance but now that you had lived without your parents for so long, years, if the creature had promised to let you see them again, to let you have a family once more…
Thinking about the old tale your mother wove was what led you to the forest that night, and soon temptation struck. You had lived without them for awhile now and had continued living by their rules, yet you knew there’d be no consequences. They’d never know if you stepped foot into the woods, they would never have to know. Because you would never tell them, and you would return in one piece and that would be the end of it. You’d prove to yourself that it hadn’t been the woods that swallowed your parents whole and then you’d be able to continue waiting patiently for their return.
Your first step is careful, but the following ones are confident, more confident as you continued to stride forward. You checked behind you every now and again, able to see town, then suddenly not, but you could recognize the path you had made in the dirt. You should turn around, at least your brain was telling you it was the best course of action, yet there was something compelling you to go deeper. You were already here, so why not keep going? Your parents would have been home already if they were arriving tonight, so what was a little more adventure?
The forest grew darker as the trees curved in, blocking out the moon, leaving you in a panic. You wanted the light back, needed it back to feel safe, and catching a sliver of it in the distance had you breaking out into a run. There was a clearing up ahead, moonlight shining down brightly as the trees parted to allow it in.
You find a man who looks like he could match your loneliness, kneeling on the forest floor and peering up into the sky like it may offer him a gift at any moment. His eyes are piercing as is the point of his ears, but the horns atop his head draw your attention the most. They look finely crafted by the gods, long and smooth, your eyes following each curve until they reached the tip. You had the inclination to reach out to touch them, to run your thumb along the hardened surface and get a real feel for them.
You’re interrupted by the shifting of the forest behind you, a small white rabbit darting out of the bushes and into the open field where the stranger with horns rested. He gave it a quick glance, fingers running along it’s fur; you almost thought he’d snatch it but he allowed it continue on his way, watching as it dived back into darkness on the other side of the meadow.
You take a step into the light, and its your turn to get his attention.
He stopped kneeling when he saw you, eyes widening briefly; you’d also be shocked to run into someone a mile deep into the woods. He seemed to be looking you over for any signs of a threat, his mouth curving into a smile as he realized you would do him no harm. He towered over you, and though he was covered head to toe in a fine black robe, you didn’t doubt there was at least the hint of a muscular body.
“What is your name?” He asked smoothly, eyes softening as he waited for you to approach him. You did so at his question, suddenly feeling… safe. You told him your name without another moment of hesitation.
It was like a precious treasure to him now.
“You may call me Malleus.” The implication that this was not his real name intrigued you, head tilted in curiosity though you wouldn’t voice your thoughts to this stranger. With horns. The horns should really freak you out more, yet they’re so beautiful. “What brings you here tonight?”
“…I was just on a walk. I was looking for my… parents…” You don’t like that your mouth is moving without your consent, this stranger now knowing how vulnerable you were. “They left on a trip a long time ago and I haven’t seen them in a long time. And the other townsfolk… They don’t like me much.”
“How awful of them. I know a thing or two about being disliked without reason.” He approached you now and you continued forward, pausing only when you were inches away. “Could I see your hand?”
“I… why…?”
“It simply looks like you need someone to hold it. Do you mind if it’s me?” He tiled his head, mimicking your earlier movement perfectly, “We know each others names. We aren’t strangers any longer, are we?”
You reached out as if to touch him and he took your hand first, leaning down to press a kiss; you’re surprised by their coolness, expecting something warm like his hands but the shock died down the longer he held your hand.
His eyes looked as if they were beginning to glow.
The promised one.
The one promised for him, to him.
“Come with me,” He whispered, clawed hand gently stroking your cheek; you’re worried he might cut you but Malleus is showing great care, only touching your face with the dull side of his nail. “I will never let you be lonely again. Can you promise the same to me?”
The logical answer would be to hightail it out of there, to not promise your life away to a stranger, but it had been so long since you’d felt this type of comforting touch. So long since you had been wanted, since the look you were given was one of kindness rather than suspicion and disdain. Would your parents ever come home? Would you ever see them again? There was no guarantee in a world like this. So, if someone had approached you with something like this, a vow that would be sealed with magic so it could quite literally never be broken, what were you supposed to do?
The moon was clear once more, the mist dissipating as if it had never been there at all.
Your parents, lost due to magic, unable to find the correct path home until that very night, return to an empty home.
But they had no need to fear.
Because you were where you truly belonged now.
A place where you’d never feel lonely again.
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esther-dot · 4 months
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I'm sorry, that's gonna be a really weird ask from one jonsa stan to another but I'm genuinely curious - is there any anti jonsa argument/claim that actually made sense to you? I'm really asking for the sake of, well, civilised discussion - because if there are arguments there ought to be reasonable counterarguments. And all that I see is the same tired old crap - "she's not his favourite sister" and "but they are relatives!" and all the other stuff. Given, of course I'm not hanging around jonry@ and jon@erys side of this fandom (dark things happen to any sansa and jonsa stans there) and have no idea if they have any reasonable metas. Or maybe if there was a moment that made you actually question possibility of jonsa happening in books? (once again - because I'm anxious like that - I'm not asking this to disprove something or make people question jonsa but because I wonder if you personally had this sort of experience).
Thank you and hope you're having a nice day!
No worries! I enjoy looking at things from different angles, so I don’t mind at all. Unfortunately, I haven’t read anti jonsa stuff that isn’t exactly what you described, so I can’t actually have the convo you want about this. I tried to go to some jonerys blogs but their anti tags weren’t what we’re looking for. There’s a blogger people view as neutral who other Sansa fans/Jonsas put on my dash, and a BNF who people I follow also reblog from, so I went over to their blogs to look around and they’re less rabid, but I can’t say they offered though-provoking pushback. I’ll share some snippets though, in case you’re interested.
There was the old "but their siblings" argument:
I, ah, I do not think Jon marries Sansa in any scenario. Regardless of biological relationship, they think of themselves as siblings. The people around them are also quite likely to consider them siblings or as good as, having been raised as such (see also Theon being accused of kinslaying over his apparent murder of Bran and Rickon). Nor do I think either would be in a rush to go back to the traditional “but the Targaryens practiced incest,” again considering that their society is strongly anti-incest. Jon and Sansa were raised together, in the same house, as brother and sister, and that makes a material difference.
But you know, raised as siblings and please nobody try the “but they weren’t close” with me, that’s so not true.
It’s interesting to see someone say they were close, that’s not something I’ve seen before. I suppose my biggest issue with this line of thought is that it feels true for a generic fantasy maybe, but hardly convincing when talking about ASOIAF? Martin wants to talk about incest. So far, we have all the bad, abusive variations covered. I think he’s gonna work some shades of grey into it the same way he tries to do with everything he discusses, and to pretend like he would never feels disingenuous to me. Even if he ultimately abandoned the initial draft, from the author’s mind came the idea of a Jon / Stark girl romance. He has entertained it. Secondly, Jon is a Targ and it’s reasonable to expect that to manifest somehow, or at least, for Jon to experience the fear that there’s something latent there. And third, if we’re gonna get a romance, I think Martin would write it with the complexity and inner struggle that he writes everything and fauxcest offers him that opportunity, not to mention all the parallels it would allow as well.
Let's see...I also saw that they object to the Beauty and the Beast reading of Jonsa:
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And I've been searching but apparently I never posted the rest of my "Bear and the Maiden Fair" thoughts, but that's the in-world Beauty and the Beast story. Through that and looking at bears elsewhere in the story, you can track this idea of the beast not being a monster, but being perceived as one by society, an outcast, which is why the Hound, Tyrion, and Jon all fit the role/are related (in a way), and why Jon will be the final suitor or real bear/beast.
The next one, I’m just gonna post the whole thing:
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I’m not sure if the best part is the implication that Jon/Dany (which they believe is inevitable) have what’s required to allow for “quick deep emotional connections” or if it’s reading the Hound insult and threaten and then finally put a knife to Sansa’s throat and deciding “romance! chivalry!” The Hound may be disillusioned, but the fandom has got to stop pretending like some of his espoused beliefs aren’t self-serving, a defense because he is a monster. We have Brienne and Jon showing us different versions of knights, true knights, so acting like the Hound is in the right is just bizarre.
Anyway, no, I’ve not read an anti argument that made me doubt it. I do doubt what Martin is aiming for at times, so I’ve vacillated between potential paths/endgames for them over the years, but the anti arguments generally are coming from a reading of characters and dynamics that’s disturbing to me which means I’m usually alienated, not compelled.
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goaways-stuff · 2 years
Text
ABC's of Sex with Marc Spector
pairing: Marc Spector x gn!reader (mentions of Steven and Jake x reader)
warnings: smut, spanking, exhibitionism, dom!Marc, sub!reader, bratty!reader, marking, edging, sex toys, bondage,daddy kink, lots of smut and kinky things
summary: a headcanon style fic about the different aspects of sex with Marc Spector
a/n: I don't have DID myself, but I have done research on it and have tried to stay accurate to real life and the show. That being said, I can still make mistakes so please don't hesitate to point any harmful stereotypes or inaccuracies. I also apologize for any writing mistakes.
dividers by @firefly-graphics
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A=Aftercare
(what he's like after the deed)
Marc doesn't speak much during aftercare, opting to show his love and care for you through his actions. Marc has been used to many one night stands and had a fuck then leave policy with them, but with you he shows his vulnerability. His soft side. He places a few soft kisses to ground you before retrieving a warm washcloth to clean your bodies. He'll silently grab your favorite snack and drink and bring them to you as an offering. You're the one who does most of the talking with Marc, but even then it's minimal. He doesn't need to hear that he was good in bed, but he may need to hear that you love him. That he deserves you, that he's not a monster. It's those things he needs reassurance about. You remind him of this, how much you love him and how he deserves so much love. How you're going to give him (as well as Steven and Jake of course) all of your love. With Marc, you also opt to show your love more as well. After everything is settled, you brush your hands along his scars, dropping light kisses over them. A silent act of your love, showing him that you know what he's been through, but you love him anyway.
B=Body Part
(favorite of his and favorite of yours)
Call him cocky (haha get it?) but his favorite body part of his is his dick. It wasn't always his favorite- he did always know he had a nice one, but after meeting you, it became his favorite body part. Everytime he sees it, he's reminded of the pleasure he brought to you with it. He'll smirk at himself in the mirror after getting undressed to shower, just remembering your contorted face of pleasure as you came all over his cock.
If you're a girl with boobs, Marc is an absolute boob guy, marking them, sucking them, massaging them. Even if you're a guy without boobs, he just loves marking your chest, sucking on your nipples, playing with them with one hand as his other pleasures you elsewhere. Even forming a letter "M" out of hickies. (Admittedly, this made Steven and Jake a bit jealous, which lead to them making there own marks on you).
C=Cum
(where, how much, what he's like, etc)
Marc holds up to his name and loves to mark you with his cum. His favorite place being between cumming all over your face or deep inside you. He tries to keep his volume down with you as to better hear your pleasure, but once he hits that peak- it's useless to try to hold back. He's letting out grunts and deep moans as his hips stutter.
D=Dirty Secret
(what was he hiding from you until you found out yourself?)
While Marc loves being in control in the bedroom, he loves it when you fight back. He lives your smart mouth when he asks you do to something, even in everyday life. He had been teasing you all day this one time, leaving you very frustrated and unable to do anything about it, so when he asked you for a glass of iced water, all you did was bring him a glass of ice. When he questioned where the water was, all you replied back with was "Wait, bitch, it'll melt and you'll have your damn water," and he swore he hot an instant boner. Marc also enjoys you attempting to take control. Sometimes, he'll let you start. You'll tie him up and tease him, but it almost always ends with you getting distracted by your pleasure and him flipping you around and pounding you into the mattress.
E=Experience
(how much/ little does he have?)
Marc has much more experience than he would like to admit. He honestly regrets a lot of it, knowing that sex was a unhealthy coping mechanism for him. He is glad that he knows how to pleasure you though, he loves learning and finding his way around your body. He knows exactly when you're getting close and will use it to his advantage to edge you. He knows all the spots on your body that make you melt like butter in his hands.
F=Favorite Position
(self explanatory)
Doggy. He loves watching your ass jiggle as he fucks you dumb. He loves how deep he can reach in this position, how he can touch pretty much your whole body. Now, he loves seeing your face when you cum, so if there's not a mirror available to put in front of you, at the last second he'll flip you on your back and put your legs over his shoulders so he can watch your face of pleasure as you cum on his cock.
G=Goofy
(is he more goofy or serious in bed?)
Marc tends to take things more seriously, only cracking jokes once he's really comfortable with you and only after the two of you finished.
H=Hair
(does the carpet match the drapes?)
He keeps things neat and trimmed, only completely shaving for special events (honeymoon, big anniversaries, birthdays, and valentine's).
I=Intamacy
(what is his version of intamacy?)
Sex wise, it wasn't long into your relationship before he was pounding you into the mattress, but for actually intamacy beyond that took much longer. He had so many walls built up, for good reason of course. While some walls took many, many months to even begin to chip away at, a huge one came down on just one night. It was a rough mission, some innocent bystanders, one of them being a kid, ended up getting killed by the bad guy and Marc blame himself. That night, he came home and not just cried- full on sobbed in your arms. He eventually came clean about what happened, the innocent bystanders, the kid, how it reminded him of his brother. He came clean about his childhood and what happened, how horribly his mother treated him. It all just came out. Tears formed in your eyes as well. How could someone ever do this to your Marc? He may not show it as much now, but he's kind, caring, and gentle. He only wants to help others, and he constantly puts others above himself- even if they're complete strangers. You held him until he eventually cried himself to sleep, you brushed his hair out of his face and reached over for the blanket before pulling it over the both of you. That's how you stayed the rest of the night, in each other's embrace, and after that Marc started being more open with you. You never judged him, only listened and he fell all the more in live with you.
J=Jack Off
(how, when, where, why does he jack off, if he does?)
Marc doesn't really care for jacking off unless he's truly desperate for release. Before you, he would head out to find some stranger and get his release with them. Sex became somewhat of an unhealthy coping mechanism for him. Even at the beginning of your relationship, he would come to you for release. The guilt ended up getting to him and you helped him find healthier ways of coping.
K=Kinks
(what's he into?)
Marc is a kinky guy. He loves being in control and dominating you. He loves seeing you tied up, and he honestly has a daddy and sir kink. He loves praising you degradingly, calling you his good little slut. He loves spanking you (or other punishments) when you're being a brat. He also has a bit of an exhibition kink, fucking you in the alleyway on a rooftop after a fight. He's pretty kinky and loves to explore new things with you.
L=Location
(where's his favorite place to do it?)
Marc is a horny bastard and would probably do it in the middle of a crowded street if you asked him. Though, his favorite is probably the shower, but only after he had you in bed first. He'll take you to the shower and make love to you, kissing anywhere he can reach on your naked body, cleansing your body gently, as if you were made of glass.
M=Motivation
(what gets him going?)
The minute you say something sassy to him or someone else, he's a goner; he loves when you brat to him. He'll ask you to do something for him and out of the blue he hears, "Make me." Boy does he make you. If the two of you are alone at home, he'll have you over his knee spanking your ass until your leaking onto his thigh. Sometimes, you'll tease him for being older than you and he'll edge you until you scream that older guys do it better. But anything bratty has him on you in a heartbeat.
N=No
(what are his limits?)
Marc is game for a lot of stuff, but any kind of like bathroom stuff (vomit, shit, etc) is beyond his limits. He just does not get what people see in it. He's by no means a germaphobe; he's come home covered in blood that's not his more times than he can count, but he does not understand why someone would willingly put themselves in nasty situations like that. Arguably much worse than being covered in blood.
O=Oral
(is he a giver? a taker?)
Marc is truly split on the giving versus receiving. He loves making you cum until you're crying with his mouth, but he also loves making you cry with his dick down your throat. Both are such beautiful sights to behold, how could he ever choose? He won't. You've asked him and everytime he refuses to choose and shows you exactly why he refuses.
P=Pace
(how fast, slow, rough, or gentle is he?)
Marc takes things much more to a pace of his own liking, which is typically rough, hard, fast, and deep. He'll come home after a particularly rough day and pound into you as if there's no tomorrow. He loves seeing tears stream down your cheeks as you beg him to cum. Truly, he loves the control. He relishes in having you submit to him and become nothing but a blabbering mess. Of course, there are those occasional nights, once in a blue moon, where Marc hold you as if you were made of glass. He makes love to you, he kisses you gently and praises you. "You're too good for me, Y/N. I don't know what I did to deserve you." You do chew him out a bit for talking about himself that way, but he just keeps grinding into you. He nozzles his nose into you neck and you can feel the wet spots from his tears, but you say nothing. You don't want to lose these moments, so you just hold him a little closer, a little tighter, kiss him a little deeper.
Q=Quickie
(how's feel about them?)
Marc is almost always down for a quickie. Pre-mission, post-mission. About to go on a date? "We got time baby, don't worry." About to leave for work? "It won't take long sweetheart, promise." Though, nearly all of your quickies end up in him really fucking you later. But Marc loves riling you up with quickies.
R=Risk
(is he willing to get a little risky during the frisky?)
Marc takes risks everytime he steps foot out to go on a mission. The thing he loves about risks in the bed is that it won't end up with someone dying. He's more than willing to experiment in the bedroom. He loves finding new ways to torture you. If things don't work out, he's chill about it. As long as you're both okay, that's what matters. He'll run a bath for you as a silent apology, bathe you off, maybe even massage some lotion into your sore muscles if he's feeling more guilty about you. You assure him that is wasn't his fault, knowing he needs to hear it. He gives you a soft smile and nod. You kiss him and hold him little tighter on those nights, knowing how guilt can eat him up and make him push you away.
S=Stanima
(How long can he go for?)
Marc has the stanima of the gods. This man can hold back his cum for an insane amount of time. Play your cards right and sometimes you can even get him to cum twice. Give him a few minutes between rounds and he'll be hard again, ready to go. He's an absolute horndog and he's much less afraid to show it than Steven. He'll be all up on you, even just to tease at any second he gets.
T=Toys
(does he own any for himself? for you?)
Marc loves toys. He'll use a vibrator on you while fucking you, handcuff you to the bed, make you fuck yourself on a dildo until you're begging for him to fuck you. He has all kinds of ropes and will practice knots and bondage techniques in his time alone.
U=Unfair
(is he a tease?)
Marc is a huge tease and he knows it. He'll spend the whole day, riling you up. He'll wake you up with head (with prior consent, of course) and right as you're about to fall over the edge, he'll stop. He comes up to your side and cuddles you, as if he wasn't just eating you out like you were his last meal. "Mornin' baby, you sleep good?" You sat at his chest, scoñding him for leaving you horny. He just shrugs and continues his day. When given the chance, he'll come up behind you and grund his crotch into your ass and whisper something dirty in your ear then leave again with your cheeks heating up. By the end of the day, you're already begging him for release, so yes. Marc is totally unfair.
V=Volume
(how loud or quiet is he during the hanky panky?)
Marc prefers to be quieter because he likes to hear your moans. Don't get him wrong, he'll still let out grunts of pleasure, telling you how good you feel around him. Especially if you're giving him head, that's when his true volume shines. You've made him shout your name after you kept going down on him even after he came. It ended with a noise complaint and Steven lecturing Marc about how they can't afford to be kicked out so keep it down. You let out a giggle and assured Steven it wouldn't happen again.
W=Wildcard
(Random headcanon about him. Go!)
You were by no means a fighter like Marc was. Hand to hand combat was just not your speciality, but sometimes it has to be done. You had gone out with Marc on a mission, much, against all of the boys' will, but they knew they needed you for this. Unfortunately, things went south and a group of guys had the two of you cornered. Of course, Marc went after them having the suit, but you lacked the healing powers. You tried to get away, but of course they saw you trying to escape. One had you pinned to the ground in a matter of seconds with a knife to your throat. Within an inch of your life, you mustered up everything in you and grasped his arm, twisting his to make the knife fly out of his hands. In his split second of vulnerability, you flipped yourselves over, pinning him to the ground. You used your elbow to punch him in the face, and delivered several more punches to his face, leaving with a bloodied, broken nose, and several knocked out teeth. Marc watched the whole thing happen, at first worried that he was going to lose you, but as soon as you started to fight back, he felt his suit getting much tighter in the nether regions. He knew that it shouldn't turn him on, watching you best someone until they were unconscious, but he couldn't help it. As soon as all the men had been dealt with he took you to the nearest alleyway and fucked you right there, only letting the suit dissappear from his crotch. Even his masked stayed on. Marc could here Khonshu grumbling about how he needed to get going and stop wasting time with "the foolish mortal," but he ignored Khonshu, mentally cursing him.
X=X-ray
(what's going on down there?)
They all share the same body, so they all got the same dick. Though each of them uses it completely differently, it's always several shades darker than the rest of his body. When hard, it's big and thick. The tip is almost purple with red undertones. Since Marc is Jewish, he's most likely cut.
Y=Yearning
(how horny is he?)
As stated before, Marc is a horny bastard and is not ashamed about he. He is all up on you any second he gets. Telling you how good you look, how much better your clothes would look on the floor. Marc is very handsy, even if it doesn't always lead to more, he needs your touch. Honestly l, it grounds him. It reminds him that you're here, right now, with him.
Z=Zzz
(how fast does he fall asleep after the deed?)
Marc does like to go to sleep after sex, but he loves pampering you a little bit first. He prefers to just shower after (maybe go for a second round if you're up for it) and order some take-out or pig out on whatever sweets are in the house. He'll wash your body was warm suds and kiss your shoulders and neck. So, he can keep himself up for quite a bit before the two of you finally fall asleep tangled in each other's limbs.
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