#BUT SHE NEEDED TO BE PARADED AROUND TO PROVE THERE WAS A BIRTH | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

soulcandi · 11 months ago

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𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 (𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬) | 𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 - 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

synopsis: jake knew he needed to quit while he was ahead, but the only thing he was interested in was chasing that thrill wherever it took him—wherever you took him.

warnings: jake's pov, alternating povs, mutual pining, written with afab!reader in mind, reader has a na'vi name, language barrier, age difference, cussing, slight angst, mentions of death/grieving.

a/n: i just wanted to take a sec and thank everyone for leaving such kind praise on this story! I'm so happy that you guys find joy in this fic <3

word count: 2,376

masterlist, previous chapter, next chapter

“It is shameful.”

You sat with your mother around the hearth of the marui you shared with your family, preparing ingredients that she would use in her remedies. You stopped and looked up through the yellowed flames, watching her tighten a string of twine around a large bundle of herbs. “Those demon children parade through our village. They stir trouble with my son.”

“Mama, they’re still learning.” You didn’t blame Lo’ak for immediately seeking out Ao’nung as his enemy. Your brother was ignorant. Proud and defensive to a fault, but ignorant nonetheless. He wouldn’t trust an outsider unless they gave him a good reason to and none of the Sully children seemed eager to prove their worth to the likes of him.

“Not fast enough,” she snarled, punctuating the end of her statement by roughly knotting her bundle shut and setting it aside in a pile with the others. “The forest people cannot escape their wars, not truly. Not without involving our people.”

“Please don’t say that, mama,” you whined. At times, it felt like you and Tsireya were the only ones making a true effort to befriend your guests and your mother’s firm opinions regarding Jake and his family absolutely weren’t helping the rest of the clanspeople warm up to them.

You stared out across the open flames as your mother paused and placed a hand over her swollen stomach. Your newest sibling would be born within the warm season and while she nurtured the baby in the weeks following birth, you would become Tsahìk in her absence. The idea frightened you to no end.

Swallowing, you looked down at your freshly wrapped bundle of crushed seaberries, subtly moving it aside and tucking it into your netted satchel for later. “May I ask you something?” you chirped, letting the fire warm your face as you leaned in close to the flames. “Something…about Toruk Makto?”

Despite pretending to return to her task, your mother’s ears betrayed her and stood tall in your direction. She was curious, though she didn’t want you to know it. “What is it, ‘evi?”

‘Evi. Child. You had long since earned your place amongst the people of your clan, but you would always be a child to her and your father.

You knew you had to tread carefully with your next words. The home of the Tsahìk was no place for gossip, no matter how desperately you wanted to know more about Jake and the life he led before the forest conflicts brought him to your shores. “When will Toruk Makto’s mate be joining us? Why did he leave her behind with the Omaticaya?”

It was a question that weighed heavy on your mind ever since the Sully family first came to you on a pod of ikran. If you grew too fond of watching Jake’s lone walks across the beaches right before eclipse, you knew it would just break your spirit to one day see his mate and the mother of his children joining him. Up until now, you always assumed that she had her own duties to attend to in their home village—but after a few days of hearing no mention of a mother from any of the children, you grew weary.

Ronal froze and looked straight up into the hearth. Then, after a long moment, her eyes drifted past the wall of flames and met yours before blinking and shaking her head, returning her gaze to her lap. “Netiri te Tskaha Mo’at’ite was a strong woman. She was admired for her bravery across the Omaticaya clan.”

Was.

Your eyes grew wide with realization, face falling when she looked up once more. “She has been with Eywa since the birth of her youngest, the one they call Tuktirey.”

She said Tuk’s name with distaste while you sat back on your knees, pondering. Tuk was only eight cycles old, or so she proudly claimed when you first met. For most of the Sully children, those eight cycles made up the majority of their lives. And for Jake to spend so long without his mate, his bond that was supposed to last a lifetime? So short it all must have seemed.

“That’s terrible.”

“Hm,” your mother hummed, almost in agreement. But you knew she was only trying to dismiss the topic from your mind. “Evi ‘evenge, will you take these?”

You nodded, scrambling to your feet and gathering all of the bundles in your arms. You considered yourself easy to please, but you wouldn’t let your principles take credit for how badly you wanted out of that room. Parting the the dyed fabric flaps that separated you from the rest of the village, you allowed a thin beam of sunlight to escape into the dark interior of the hut.

“Why so much interest in the forest people, my child?”

You winced at her tone—accusatory and cold. Ronal was a fierce protector of her family and of her people. You understood all of the helplessness she must feel inside. But you refused to let her lay all of the fault on Jake for being the exact same way toward his own family.

Standing in the threshold between the sunlight and shadows, you made a fist in the sun-bleached fabric. “We can’t all turn our backs on those in need, not matter how easy it is to do so. I don’t like being the only one trying to understand these people, but I will be.”

“We did not turn them away when they begged for refuge,” she snapped. “We welcomed them when no other village would dare.”

“You allowed their bodies into our territory. I welcomed their spirits into our village,” you corrected, letting the curtain fall in your wake as you stepped out into the midday sun.

I don’t like feeling useless. I didn’t like it as a human and I certainly wasn’t a fan now, sitting cross-legged on a flat rock with miles of fishing net laid out around me. At the crack of dawn, one of Tonowari’s men hauled me out to this rock to untangle the nets for the morning hunt. It was a simple task. An easy one. But it was half-past noon and I’d only completed a little more than an arm’s length.

The day before, I mastered the tsurak after what ended up being five attempts. I never tried anything stupid like strapping myself into the saddle again. Every time the thought came to mind, I imagined the look on your face when you saw the burns trailing down my arm. They still thrummed whenever I put too much weight on them. Despite how hard I worked, the triumph I felt was less than I anticipated.

During my first flight, I didn’t even realize that I had started combing the beaches for any sign of you until a small pit of disappointment formed inside my chest when I accepted that you weren’t there. As much as I would have loved to deny it, your presence was something that I longed for day and night ever since our arrival.

The boys had already run off with some of the village kids and Kiri always seemed to find comfort in solitary. Even Tuk now had her ilu who she spoke of constantly whenever she wasn’t gushing about you.

“Ällora is so nice, dad,” she’d said the night before, bouncing across the stretched woven material that made up the floor of our shelter. “She gave me a seashell yesterday but I lost it. And she’s soooo pretty. Isn’t she soooo pretty, dad?”

I smiled, stirring the fire in the sunken pit at the very center of the room. To call you pretty would be a tragic understatement. You were breathtaking—genuinely, physically breathtaking. There was a glow that seemed to follow you around everywhere you went. It was in your smile, in your touch. It hid beneath the rough waters of your eyes.

“Yes Tuk, she’s pretty. Eat your dinner.”

“Tsurak Makto!”

The sound of your familiar voice dragged me headfirst out of my thoughts and I whipped around to see you bounding down the beach toward the large flat rock I made my perch on. You scaled it easily and before I knew it, you were sat across from me, eyes wild and brimming with excitement. “I heard you mastered the mighty tsurak! I extend my congratulations.”

That rush of satisfaction I expected when I first mounted the intimidating animal finally surfaced in that moment. I rolled my shoulders back, jutting my chin up slightly as a wave of boyish pride swallowed me whole. “I’d still prefer it if you called me Jake,” I said, sheathing away the knife that I’d been using to pry apart segments of tangled net.

You shot a quick, teasing look my way. “My father wouldn’t be very pleased with me if he heard.”

“Well it’s a good thing we’re keeping it our little secret then, huh?” I had no idea where this was coming from, or what kind of game I thought I was playing. You were Tonowari’s daughter, for Christ’s sake. I was doing everything I sat the boys down and warned them explicitly not to do.

I knew I needed to quit while I was ahead, but the only thing I was interested in was chasing that thrill wherever it took me—wherever you took me.

“Very well, Jake,” you said without looking up. I tried to peer curiously over your hands as you pawed through the small pouch on your hip. I would never ever get used to the way you said my name, like you had all of your hope resting on it. I’d almost forgotten what hope sounded like. I hadn’t heard it since before the new star appeared in the night sky. “I have something for you.”

“Aw, you shouldn’t have,” I said as you lifted a bundle of folded palm fronts and unwrapped it with careful concentration. The inside of the leaves were painted in a thick purple paste. Laying it out across the rock, you reached for my hand. It took only a handful of seconds for it to click. Medicine. It was medicine.

“Oh nah, nah, nah, none of that. It’s better, see?” I twisted my forearm to give you a full view of my day-old injury, pretending it didn’t sting like hell to do so. “I’m fine, I swear.”

“Then this will make you even more fine,” you concluded, making another gesture for me to offer my arm. You were testing me, grinning like you’d already won this argument a thousand times over. I glanced away in defeat, sighing as I lowered my hand overtop yours.

You inspected my skin with feather-light touches that almost made me shiver—or maybe I actually did, judging by your quiet giggle. “It will burn,” you warned, and I nodded despite not acknowledging a single word you said, still too set on committing your expression to memory. I was vaguely aware that you had taken a dollop of paste and began smoothing it gently over the web of abrasions.

By the time I became aware of the fizzling sensation erupting over my arm, I didn’t have enough time to bite my tongue. “Fuck!” I hissed.

You jumped at my outburst, startled but not scared. “Fuck?”

The word sounded alien coming from your lips. I couldn’t help but laugh before catching myself and throwing a hand over my mouth. “No, shh , don’t say that.”

“Fuck,” you repeated louder, just to spite me. “What is that?”

I groaned and slid my hand up my face so that it covered my eyes. “English. A very bad word in English. Please don’t repeat that to your father.”

We stayed like that for a moment or two—you, nursing my wounds while I sat there like a total skxawng , hiding my embarrassment behind my fingers—before an idea occurred to me and I parted them slowly to peek out at you. “You don’t know English.”

It wasn’t a question, but I still gave you a moment to deny it. I watched intently as you slowly shook your head from side to side, like you were embarrassed to admit your lack of knowledge. I dropped the hand that wasn’t cradled in yours and oddly enough, I didn’t even notice the pain anymore.

We’d done our best to teach the kids both English and Na’vi when they were younger, but the more fluent I became in their native language, the less purpose it served to speak anything different. Of course, that was before the return of the skypeople. “You have no idea what I’m saying right now?”

Of course it occurred to me that the Metkayina never had the same exposure to humans as the Omaticaya, but I never stopped to consider what that actually meant. No human establishments meant no schools, and no schools meant no language barriers because there was no second language to build a barrier between.

You offered me a strange look and my impulsivity took my rational thought in a chokehold. I shifted closer, careful not to disrupt the work you were doing on my burns. “You’re gorgeous, you know that? Drop dead. And you have no clue how hard it is to try and impress you without making myself look like an even bigger idiot than I already am. It’s infuriating. God, and my life would be so much easier if I could just talk to you like this. Why is it so goddamn hard for me to talk to you?”

Without meaning to, I found myself seeking my answers in those round, stormy eyes of yours. You blinked, equally confused and stunned at my little display. At the end of my pathetic little rant, I exhaled deeply and shook my head to try and expel the thoughts I couldn’t even bring myself to say. “You don’t know English. That’s beautiful. Really, that’s perfect.”

Your mouth opened and closed almost automatically as you searched for the right thing to say. At a total loss for how I expected you to react, you held your hands in your lap. “Fuck?”

I exhaled softly from my nose, running a hand through my scalp. “Yeah, sweetheart. Fuck. Fuck indeed.”

#candywrites #atwow #avatar #avatar x reader #avatar 2 #avatar fanfiction #atwow x reader #jake sully x reader #dreaming (of all the possibilities)#dreaming #dilf jake sully

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rjthirsty · 2 months ago

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Chapter Eleven (Deceit and Decay)

Words: 3.5k

Tags: Self-Harm, Angst, Abduction

A/N: You can find my previous chapters on my masterlist, or on ao3. For a complete set of tags, please visit ao3.

What if Belle didn't fall in love with the Conqueror Beast? What if his last hope abandoned him, simply because she didn't know he existed? Would his black heart break and crack, or grow as hard as stone? An AU where Chevalier is crowned for Rhodolite, Gilbert lost his last shred of humanity, and MC (Dahlia) is thrust into a nightmare world where deceit and decay are everyday occurrences.

Rhodolite had not been idle during the last five days, though to say that a plan was underway to secure Dahlia’s safe return would also be oversimplifying a very complex set of decisions that may prove to ultimately be fruitless. King Chevalier had his kingdom to consider, and the actions of waging a war for a woman of common birth leading to Obsidian to overtake Rhodolite was likely a future that Gilbert had hoped would come to pass. And that was only one possible outcome. There were countless others that Chevalier could see, and finding the one that Gilbert had predicted would be difficult.

They had been entered into a game of chess without their consent, and now Chevalier had to keep his pieces from eagerly sacrificing themselves. His brothers didn’t have the foresight he did, and most of them could be hasty in their actions. They were more than pawns, they were worthy to carry their royal titles and all of them had something they excelled in. But they were all still far too emotional with a lack of concern for their own wellbeing and what their actions could ultimately lead to for the kingdom they were born to protect.

After the Obsidian Prince departed, his brothers inserted themselves immediately. First it was Clavis who refused to work until Chev confirmed Gilbert was responsible. Informing him did nothing to ease Clavis’ tumultuous emotions and he was the first that Chev had to warn from doing anything rash. He also barely functioned for the rest of the day, neglecting his work in lieu of spreading the information to his other brothers.

And thus, the parade of concerned princes who approached King Chevalier at every hour began. Most were still managing themselves and their designated tasks, but some were more constantly buzzing around as if Chev wasn’t attempting to find a way to bring Dahlia home himself. He hadn’t forgotten her. He wouldn’t give up on her. It was simply pointless to rush into something of this nature, especially with his duty to prolong the life of his kingdom resting on his shoulders.

There were also other issues that needed to be addressed before he could bring Dahlia back. Prince Gilbert had left Chevalier a crucial piece of information referencing ‘gifts’ that he had left for Chev’s coronation. Chev was certain it was meant to be an obstacle to prevent a swift recovery of Dahlia, and while he hated to admit it, it was going to prove to be a hefty project to clean up. If Prince Gilbert was involved, it likely had to do with weaponry, and if it was meant to cause discourse, it would be provided to the Anti-Monarchy Faction - a group that had assembled after Bloodstained Rose Day but hadn’t gained much traction until the last few years.

Most of the citizens that participated in the faction despised royalty, and Chevalier most of all. Clavis often set up ‘parties’ where they would gather and air their grievances, it also proved beneficial to keep an eye on the group in order to prevent them from becoming a problem to the crown. Clavis was all too happy to allow those with a grudge against Chevalier to network and hone their edge aimed at Chev’s throat. As long as Clavis didn’t personally provide support or involve himself in any misguided attacks, he was allowed to do as he pleased. Chev saw his worth even if Clavis did not.

Arranging an event took time, however, and there was no way to hurry that time along. Clavis had set it up, as ordered, but the party wouldn’t be held for another week. In the meantime, Chevalier had the Domestic Affairs Faction scoping out illegal sales and attempting to pinpoint Anti-Monarchy meeting places and warehouses. They were effectively down two members as Yves was not ideal for this sort of work, and Licht was under Yves care, forced into taking a leave of absence. Nokto had his hands full trying to identify smuggling lines from Obsidian, and Clavis was barely maintaining the Foreign Affairs Faction.

On the fourth day of Dahlia’s absence, King Chevalier met with a foreigner who operated a bookstore in Rhodolite. Mr. Akatsuki had no blood relation to Dahlia, however, he had functioned as a father figure to Dahlia since she was a young child. Dahlia’s disappearance wasn’t something that needed to be made public, but it had been brought to Chevalier’s attention several times that Dahlia’s family should be made aware. And so, a summons was sent, and Mr. Akatsuki, who had experience with royalty, princes, and Chevalier many, many years ago, arrived to be given the news.

It went about as well as expected when one is informed their adopted child has been abducted and everyone knew of the culprit but no one was able to do anything about it. In other words, it was a very tiresome meeting. Even with Clavis and Leon in attendance, there was very little anyone could say to assure Mr. Akatsuki that Dahlia would be brought home swiftly. She was not the highest priority at the moment for Rhodolite, and even if she were, Chevalier’s hands were currently tied by the lack of proof more than anything.

While Gilbert had given Chevalier enough to conclude that Dahlia was in Obsidian, he had not expressly stated it. Furthermore, Gilbert’s position as a prince of a neighboring country would offer significant protections for something as small as abduction of a commoner, even if she had been training to be a court minister. She offered no value as a political hostage, either. No one but those who care for her would care that she had been abducted.

Mr. Akatsuki leveled some insults about how useless Rhodolite’s palace full of princes was, driving the dagger deeper in the hearts of all three men and cracking the divide wider between Chevalier and his brothers. They already thought of Chev as heartless, and his steadfastness in handling things above board did nothing to lessen his cold character. Chevalier didn’t refute. He would not be shaken by words, having experienced harsher ones in his past. He could allow others their outbursts and insults and he would continue as he saw best… for Rhodolite.

Their guest stormed out of the meeting, yelling that he would collect his daughter himself. Clavis and Leon traded a look, and Chev understood what the both of them were considering. He knew it would be best to caution with another warning. He knew neither of them were a match for Gilbert’s intellect and strategic planning. He knew that even if both of them crossed into Obsidian, neither would return with Dahlia, and it was likely neither would return at all. He knew what was best. He knew what choice he’d make. But he hesitated.

He missed her.

If his life was so affected by her absence, surely his brothers with more human hearts were fighting something much harder than he was.

“Clavis,” Chev’s words were a rope that twisted around Clavis, tying him in place. “You are required for your gathering.” With that, Clavis was bound and tethered from any other foolish action.

With a faint hope that Leon would manage something impossible, Chevalier kept his eyes on Clavis, purposefully ignoring Leon’s hard stare as his brother tried to puzzle out Chev’s actions. It seemed like Leon was considering his own next move. Of all times for Leon to finally think things through and not act rashly, this was not the moment Chevalier expected nor wanted it to happen. Perhaps Leon was waiting to be shackled as well, for he waited much longer than necessary before he quickly followed after their retreating guest.

Chevalier knew he would live to regret this. This is what happens to kings in love.

Leon caught up to Mr. Akatsuki before he had left the palace proper. Jogging to get in front of the older man, Leon held up his hands placatingly. “Would you hang on for a minute? Give me just a little more of your time. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

The man from Ruby narrowed his eyes at Leon. “Spit it out. But you have two minutes before I walk out of here.”

Leon gave his best charismatic grin. “I won’t need two minutes. Allow me to go with you.”

Mr. Akatsuki remained silent, crossing his arms over his chest but allowing Leon his two minutes (or less, as he claimed). Leon had at least expected him to refute or deny him outright, however, it seemed that he was going to wait to cast his decision.

“Not as a prince of Rhodolite. You know I love your daughter, right? Dahlia means more to me than anything, even my title. I would do anything to protect her– and I was willing to fight everyone inside the palace the night she was taken from me– from us.” Leon swallowed hard, fighting the anger, frustration, and pain that came with this confession. But he knew that in order to convince Mr. Akatsuki, he needed to be honest. He had to lay his feelings bare.

“I get it�� not to the same degree. I didn’t raise her. I have only spent a year by her side. But, please, if there’s even a chance I can get her back, I want to take it. I want to bring her home. I want to keep her safe.” Leon paused, waiting for some sort of sign from Mr. Akatsuki. The elder man pursed his lips and frowned, eyeing Leon.

“Will you take me with you? That's all I’m asking.” He kept his amber eyes locked on Mr. Akatsuki, showing his determination and his sincerity.

“You’ll need a change of clothes,” Mr. Akatsuki stated pointedly before he looked away towards the grand entrance, the main gate, and beyond to where Obsidian laid far, far away. “Dress for colder weather. Bring enough for a few weeks. Come to my shop before sunrise tomorrow.”

Leon clapped a heavy hand on Mr. Akatsuki’s shoulder, wanting to hug the man he had only met a handful of times, but restraining himself. “Thank you.” He met Mr. Akatsuki’s eyes once again to show how meaningful his approval was to him, then jogged off through the palace to set about gathering enough clothes for his trip.

He knew he couldn’t tell anyone he was leaving or else he’d be facing other obstacles outside of Chevalier. Sariel would surely find some way to tie him down, and Jin might just lock him in a cell to keep him from making a stupid mistake - like attempting to rescue his girlfriend from a foreign nation. Yves would tell everyone, and Licht would beg to come with him. It was a little ridiculous that Chevalier was the one who allowed him the opportunity to pursue his own choice. It really wasn’t like him.

Finishing his work for the rest of the day like nothing was wrong was easy enough. Leon felt no shame in his choice, and despite knowing he was lying to Jin and would be saddling everything with him come tomorrow, it wasn’t the first time he had kept things from his brothers and it wasn’t likely going to be the last.

The sun set on Rhodolite in blazing reds and oranges. The stars appeared in the sky, shining brightly, only dwarfed by the silver moon.

Clavis sat in his room on the sofa he slept on clutching at his chest. He hadn’t felt like this since he was a young child. It hadn’t hurt this badly since that day so many years ago when it rained and he began to hate the smell of wet roses. He hadn’t tinkered or created anything in days. He hadn’t dug a pitfall or planted any traps since before Chev’s coronation. Instead he sat in the darkness of his cluttered room, barely able to drag himself through the motions of his work. Even Chevalier had been giving him less errands to run. He was truly worthless, Clavis thought to himself.

Jin drank alone in the large sitting room. Drinking with company was always better than none, but company sounded like it’d be more trouble than it was worth tonight. Glass after glass, he tipped the liquor back, trying to rid himself of the worry that held fast to his thoughts. He was more perceptive than most people, he saw how his brothers were all hiding their dark thoughts of Dahlia being gone and never returning. Knowing she was in Obsidian did nothing to rid them of anxieties, because there was no way to easily retrieve her. His reach wasn’t that far. Not even Sariel could manage that.

Licht dragged the knife across his skin. The familiar burn of his flesh slicing and blood rushing to the wound seemed to be the only sensation he could feel beyond the numbness. He kept a blank face as he watched the dark red seep from inside him to fill the void he had made. The pain was nothing. Inconsequential. Perhaps he’d cut deeper tonight. Perhaps he’d add a new scar on top of old ones lined up in their rows. What did it matter anyways? No one would care if he took care of himself any longer.

Chevalier sat in the wooden chair positioned on one side of the chess board that decorated his room. None of the pieces had been moved, and there was no partner for Chev to play against. However, that didn’t stop him from moving pieces in his head. As he ran through strategies and tactics of every book he had ever read, he fought himself in a battle of wits on the chess board in his mind. He purposely busied himself so as to not put a stop to Leon’s misguided rescue attempt. If he gave himself enough time to reconsider his negligence in caging Leon, he knew he’d succumb to the logic and reasonable decision to keep him in Rhodolite.

Nokto stared into the darkness of the night, leaning against the window in his room. The roses several stories below were colored so dark, it looked like they had all been painted black. The dark circles under his eyes mirrored the deep shade of the flowers. He hadn’t been sleeping well. He never slept well without someone next to him. It had only been four days since she was taken, but those four days continued to stretch from evening to morning to another sleepless night to putting on another mask for the day. How was the world colored so plainly without her here?

Before the sun had risen, when the staff was waking to start their morning shifts, Leon discretely left the castle full of lonely beasts to meet with a foreigner who owned a bookstore. He walked the whole way on foot, not wanting to leave a palace horse as evidence for Sariel or Jin to find where he had gone. When he arrived at the bookstore that Dahlia had once worked at, he found a small but sturdy covered wagon hitched and Mr. Akatsuki had already loaded books and other supplies into it.

“You’re one of those that shows up right when you ought to and not a moment sooner.” Mr. Akatsuki eyed Leon and glanced at the thinning shadows on the horizon.

“That’s what a hero does, and Dahlia believes I’m one.” Leon grinned, tossing his clothing into the wagon and hopping onboard.

“Wouldn’t have hurt to get out of here before first light. It’s a long trip to Obsidian Castle.” The older man climbed onto the driver’s bench, collecting the reins for the harnessed horses.

“And you’ve got a way through, right? We’re not going to have to sneak across the border, are we? I don’t think this wagon will make it if we did.” Leon chuckled, ribbing the old man who seemed perpetually grumpy.

“I’ve got a way. You’re my apprentice, understand? Training to pick up the store once I give up traveling. You look young enough to pass for it.” Mr. Akatsuki gave the signal to the horses and the wagon began its bumpy journey through the streets of Rhodolite’s capital.

“Does that mean I call you Master?”

Mr. Akatsuki huffed, cutting a glance to Leon. “Mr. Akatsuki.”

“Alright, Mr. Akatsuki it is.” Leon watched Mr. Akatsuki for several minutes in silence, trying to come up with something to express his gratitude for allowing him to come along. But every time he grasped for a word or a sentiment that might come close, it didn’t feel like enough. There were no words to say how much this meant to him. So he said the only thing that he could manage, a sincere and firm “Thank you.”

It was several hours after the sun had taken its spot in the sky, slowly traversing over Rhodolite Castle when Jin poked his head inside the Foreign Affairs office. He had been running throughout the palace in search of Leon, unable to find the head of the Domestic Affairs Faction. Meanwhile, he was also picking up the slack for every other member who was missing, and now Leon hadn’t shown.

Clavis was sitting at the single desk, head down as if reading paperwork, but he sat there staring at the same page for far longer than would have been needed. Jin’s eyebrows knitted together and he frowned, watching Clavis who hadn’t even heard him come in. In an attempt to make himself known, he rapped loudly on the door he had already opened, startling Clavis from his inner thoughts.

“Hey, Clavis, is everyone else out?” Jin shoved his hands in his pockets and lazily strolled into the empty office.

“Oh, you know how it is. We’re not much for working together. Nokto is probably still sleeping, and Chev is handling kingly duties.” Clavis smiled the same smile he always had.

“And Luke?” Jin asked as he peeked out a window, attempting to keep the conversation casual.

“Who can say? Ahaha. He has never volunteered to show up to work.” Clavis shuffled the papers on his desk, the dark circles under his eyes giving away how many restless nights he had been experiencing.

“He’s still not interested in being a prince, it’s gotta be hard for him.” Jin agreed, circling back towards the door from the far end of the room. “Speaking of hard work, have you seen Leon? I’m swamped in Domestic Affairs all by myself. With Yves and Licht out of commission, it’s just me and Leon.”

Clavis paused in his organizing of his paperwork and looked up at Jin. Something about the way his smile fell and his eyes blinked wide for a moment didn’t sit right with Jin. Clavis slapped his mask back on and was smiling like he always did, his hands folding together on top of his desk. “Ah, I see. Of course he wouldn’t have told you. Chev all but gave him permission to force his way into Obsidian and gallantly bring our dear Dahlia back.”

“That’s not funny, Clavis.” Jin stopped moving, his feet frozen to the floor.

“I’m not laughing.” Clavis clenched his hands together tighter, squeezing his own emotions down, his white knuckles safely hidden under his gloves. “And I’m not lying.”

Jin sprang into a run and darted out of the room. He had to find Chevalier to verify where Leon had gone– No, he had to find Sariel to stop Leon from crossing the border. Shit. This was bad. This was really, really bad.

#ikemen prince au #ikepri fanfic #dark fic #ikepri #fanfic #ikemen prince #repost from ao3 #rjthirsty fanfic #rjthirsty deceit and decay #rjthirsty on ao3 #long fic #chaptered #ongoing

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elegantsplendour · 2 years ago

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Dance of the Empire

Chapter 2. The Exquisitely Odd Lannister

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Katherine Lannister x Aegon II Targaryen

Sometimes, love can be just as destructive as hate.

Especially the politics of the realm rip away an all-consuming love: especially when demons of the second-son are unleashed by thirst of vengeance.

Our choices have consequences.

Warnings: None

As Katherine Lannister stood atop the steep cliffs of Casterly Rock, she hurled rock after rock into the tumultuous sea below. Each boulder seemed heavier than the last, straining her slender frame and causing a tear in the fine fabric of her bright red dress. Despite the thunderous impact of the rocks against the waves, the sea appeared indifferent, effortlessly swallowing the missiles.

With heaving breaths and a growl of frustration, Katherine seized another boulder, its weight causing her delicate features to contort with effort. With a fierce roar, she flung the rock with all her might, watching as it vanished into the frothing abyss. As the salty wind whipped her hair and the light rain kissed her skin, Katherine's mind drifted to Borros Baratheon, a crude and illiterate brute whose lecherous gaze had often made her skin crawl. She could still feel his eyes upon her, roving over her body with a lascivious hunger that made her blood boil.

With a fierce punch, Katherine struck the rocky ground, her hand stinging with pain. It was a small but satisfying hurt, one that matched the fierce turmoil of her thoughts. For a moment, she surrendered to her anger, to the primal bestiality that lurked beneath her carefully cultivated veneer of elegance and poise. She needed this moment of pure anger, irrationality and bestiality. On her way back to the castle, she rearranged her dress and assessed her figure from a small pond formed by accumulated rainfall. Her lips formed into a slycurve, her beauty was nothing short of incomparable and she knows it. Katherine Lannister enchanted everyone but the Lannisters.

She remembered when the Princess Heiress’ letter congratulating her thirteenth nameday, subtly reminding her that her exceptional appearance might become an inconvenience. From then on, she noticed the lingering gazes of admiration, longing, sympathy, and lust. And she used those glances to her advantage, relishing the power she wielded with her effortless moves. She despised her father for treating her like a prized breeding mare, and the lustful men to whom he paraded her, but she had scoffed at the idea. How could something so beautiful ever be an inconvenience? The inconvenience was them. Some day, she would make sure there will be none.

As she entered the hall of the castle with her usual graceful and confident demeanour, her younger half-siblings gathered around the Cyvasse table glared at her presence.

"Oh well well, isn’t this our broodmare half-sister ," sneered her sister, her tone dripping with malice. "Father will sell you off to the highest bidder, and you'll be nothing but a breeding machine for some lordling's pleasure."

Her brother snickered, his lips twisting into a cruel smile. "Or maybe he'll just marry you off to some old, ugly lord. That way, you'll be stuck birthing his heirs until you're old and grey."

Katherine's doe eyes narrowed, a subtle yet unmistakable expression of disdain crossing her delicate features.

"How kind of you to entertain me with your charming wit and eloquence.” With effortless grace, she sank onto the couch, her silky brown hair falling in a cascade around her delicate features.

“It’s funny how you naively believe you can prove to father your worth with your studies and your pretense of grace, but do not forget your place,” Lanna Lannister gritted her teeth, “you are the same breed as a bastard. You do not share our family features, with your earthly colour of eye and hair. Who knows if you are the fruit of some indiscretion your whore of a mother had,” her voice dripped with cruelty.

Katherine forced back her chuckle as she recalled the distant days where Alerie Tyrell snuck out of Tyland Lannister’s chamber when Ariane Stark was still alive.

"Bastard?" Katherine scoffed, her laughter ringing out like silver bells. With an almost teasing tone, Katherine raised her eyebrows provocatively and let her doe eyes return to their innocent expression, "My dearest, I do wish you success in achieving the things you crave in life. For myself, I am quite content with all that I have," she said, her voice carrying an air of superiority that could only be matched by her enviable reputation, the Exquisitely Odd Lannister, across the realm.

But beneath the facade of her impeccable appearance and charismatic persona, Katherine knew that there was one thing that she desired above all else, something that she had yet to attain. It was a desire that burned within her, driving her soul forward with an unrelenting force. And though she would do whatever it takes to achieve it.

Just as Lanna and Tybolt Lannister were ready to retort with fury, Tyland Lannister’s voice interrupted the rivalry, “Children. Behave yourselves. I have important matters to discuss with your sister.”

Lanna Lannister whispered cruelly before making her exit, “Looks like you’re finally going to meet your destiny.”

Katherine was consumed by an inferno of desire to greet Lanna with the most violent and bloody treatment known to men, to witness her squirm in agony, plead for forgiveness, and succumb to fear. For as long as she could remember, Katherine had imagined herself as a dragon, like Rhaenyra, soaring high and spewing flames of vengeance. In her vivid imagination, she would reduce Casterly Rock to ashes, relishing the sight of her enemies writhing in agony and pleading for mercy, but for the moment, she kept her wrath in check, her dark eyes revealing nothing but an enigmatic mask of composure and innocence, belying the tempestuous storm that raged within her.

Tyland sat across Katherine with his usual calculating smile, “my dear, I have a great honour to offer you.”

Katherine’s heart sank as she heard the words.

In spite of her hatred towards Tyland, she preferred him over her spoiled half-siblings. At least, he had some sense of how much of an asset his elder daughter was. Could it really be there was a match for her that convinced him to betroth her to some lord? The thought of it bathed her in a draining sea of powerlessness.

“Yes father, I am eager to hear it,” Katherine smiled with a pretense of obedience.

“Queen Alicent Hightower has invited you to reside in King’s Landing to accompany her second son, Aemond Targaryen,” Tyland paused.

As Tyland's words entered Katherine's ears, her eyes widened. A Targaryen. Her mind raced to Rhaenyra, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne who developed some sort of care for her. Katherine recalled the subtle message she had sent to Rhaenyra about the possibility of marrying Jaecerys Velaryon, hoping for a glimmer of hope and escape from her miserable life. But Rhaenyra's reply was vague with comforting words. Katherine understands her choice - the inheritance of Driftmark was being questioned, and Rhaenyra needed to strengthen her political alliances with the Velaryons, including marrying her sons to Baela and Rhaena Targaryen, the granddaughters of Corlys Velaryon.

For a fleeting moment, Katherine believed that this was all part of Rhaenyra's plan to rescue her from her wretched family. But she quickly dismissed the idea as she remembered the growing tension between the Targaryen Court, with the Greens led by Queen Alicent and the Blacks by Princess Rhaenyra, especially after the infamous incident on Driftmark six years ago had only deepened the divide.

"My dear," Tyland continued, "I know it may seem unjust to be assigned to a crippled second son, but this is not a betrothal. You are only to accompany him," he smirked, "While residing in the Red Keep, you will have the opportunity to meet countless noble, handsome suitors who will be immediately smitten by your charms."

Katherine's mind was far from Tyland's words as he spoke. Aemond Targaryen, Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of meeting the One-Eyed Prince. She couldn't deny the admiration of the second son of House Targaryen, he was the spare, the only one without a dragon in his family. But that didn't stop him from claiming the largest dragon in the world at the tender age of ten, unapologetically. The sheer audacity of his feat was awe-inspiring to the young Lannister. He had seized the opportunity, even when others thought it was not the right time (Laena Velaryon had just died, after all). But he didn't care. He had boldly taken his chance, and now he was riding high on the back of his dragon, unfazed by the doubts of others.

"I will go," Katherine declared, this time, her tone devoid of formality or gentleness.

Tyland's grin widened, pleased with her response. He placed his arms on her shoulders. "Excellent, my daughter. I always knew you were more astute than your mother."

At the mention of her mother, Katherine’s anger flared. Why did everyone have to compare her to Ariana Stark? She was nothing but a stubborn woman whose arranged marriage had ended disastrously, dying of depression and leaving behind a beautiful child who lacked Lannister features but inherited the Stark ones. Katherine couldn‘t remember how many times people had asked her if she considered herself more Lannister or Stark. In truth, she didn’t care. She was Katherine, an odd name bestowed by gods-knows-who, but one she had learned to embrace. That was all that mattered.

Rushing through the halls, Katherine's mind raced as she paced back and forth in her chamber, her half-siblings' whispers fading into the background noise. Closing the door, she took deep breaths, feeling her heart racing with excitement.

Queen Alicent Hightower from her distant memory of her five-year-old self, now summoning her to King's Landing to be her son's Lady Companion seemed absurd at first, but as she calmed down, she realized that the queen's choice was no surprise at all. With her father's propaganda of her rare beauty, intelligence, and so-called virtue, her reputation should have been the talk of King's Landing.

But Katherine knew that this was more than just about her reputation. The question of succession loomed over the realm, and with King Viserys' health deteriorating, a political alliance with the wealthiest house of Westeros was crucial for the Greens to secure their power. And what better way to do that than through a marriage with the eldest daughter of House Lannister?

As Katherine stood on her balcony, she felt a glimmer of hope and freedom washing over her soul for the first time in her life. The salty scent of the sea and the chirping of the birds seemed to rejoice with her.

But amidst her excitement, Katherine swore to herself that she would not be manipulated no more, not by her father, not by the Lannisters, not by Queen ALicent and the Greens, not even Rhaenyra, whom she had only met once yet strangely considered as somewhat a big sister, or even a mother figure. Once again, she swears to fulfill her duty to herself, to her desires, to her freedom, and only to herself. The idea of stepping foot into the centre of power and knowledge, yet also of adventures and unknown burnt like an eternal flame, and she will embrace the fire within with passion even with the risks of being burnt.

Katherine Lannister

#aemond targaryen #aemond the kinslayer #aegon x oc #aegon targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond x fem!reader #aemond stannies #aemond fanfiction #aegon x y/n #hotd aemond #house of the dragon #hotd #dark aemond targaryen #aemond x y/n #aemond x oc #aegon x you #games of thrones #Spotify

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toshj13 · 2 years ago

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Bickering

“Another born a woman?! Father, surely you jest?! Olympus will echo with the twittering of nonsensical chatter and unrighteous indignation! For Gaia’s sake!” ARIES

“Aries, once again you prove your helm would better serve to decorate Lord Hephaestus’ workshop or these hallowed halls than have the disgrace of protecting you in battle.” ATHENA

“Ah, dearest Athena, your ever biting wit, suits you handsomely, Sister.”

“Dear Brother, your endless chatter akins more and more to dullard than God.”

“A true warrior has little need for rapier wit. It is might that prevails in battles and wins wars! Perhaps that is why you were unsuccessful in Sparta’s yielding.”

“Again you prove the difference between us two, Brother: I am warrior born, while you were merely forged.”

“For once we can agree; your strategies do glean from the musings of babes.”

“You forget yourself, O God of War. I was fully grown when I emerged from Father’s cultivated mind, armed with wisdom and cunning that rivalled his own. You on the other hand suckle at the teat of destruction and chaos just for chaos’ sake — apologies ‘Dite — parading it as battle strategy.”

“Harpy bitch! The gaze of your shield has rendered you frigid, Sister dear.” APHRODITE

“ENOUGH! This is a celebration of life, the youngest of you all! I’ll not let your petty squabbles scorn such an occasion!” ZEUS

“All our births are shrouded with scorn, Father! Laying with Demeter did nothing but beget you another spawn!” ATHENA

“Mind your tongue, Athena. Pride is a wicked web you entangle yourself in far too many times.” HADES

“Forgive me, Lord Hades. But Father, do you really think Lady Demeter, Goddess of Seasons, least adaptable to change will allow you a fruitful relationship with the girl? Father, truly?” ATHENA

“I’m well aware of the lack of affection held for me by my elder sister, Daughter — the lack thereof affection she holds for Olympus. Which is why I beseech you, my Pantheon, to insert yourselves into the babe’s life, best you can outside your duties. Demeter may reject my efforts all she pleases, Great Mother Gaia sees her heart. But to turn away you all…well that’s quite an affront to the Great Mother.” ZEUS

"Wicked, Father." ARIES

“Clever, Father, clever." ATHENA

-- Working on fic about Persephone. Got on this tangent about the gathering at Olympus to officially name her "Persephone" and introduce her to the other Gods and Goddesses, and ended up with this dialogue. However, I'm not quite sure have to work the descriptions around it. Thought you'd all enjoy it at least!

#short fiction #dialogue snippet #my post

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otomegema · 2 years ago

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Title: Convergence Theory

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Rating: M

Summary: Years after a botched engagement meeting, your path once again converges with one Gojo Satoru’s. And this time, the scheme is of his own design.

Notes: Reader is a jujutsu sorcerer and a lower member of the Gojo family through her great grandmother. She has the limitless ability. The only set physical trait are two patches of white hair that grows out near her temples (Aka Rogue from X-men style).

—

August, 2005.

That summer had been oppressively warm, a layer of heat trapped beneath a layer of moisture that made even the light fabric of your kimono stick to your sides. It was the kind of weather that made your body beg for relief, to lay shivering and sweltering under the barest breath of cool air.

Your mother had opened the outside screens in the room, letting you sit on the porch overlooking the small garden at the center of the expansive, traditional home. The view was lovely, overlooking a manicured garden, a small koi pond bubbling pleasantly even as the night air chirped with the sounds of insects.

The main house was equipped with air conditioners in some of the rooms— just like your parent’s own home, only a short distance away, but somehow so far removed from the atmosphere of this place it felt miles away. Centuries. The clock on the wall seemed suspended in time, halted too by the weight that fell over this place.

There was nothing to be done. When the head of the Gojo family called, even the smallest vine, hanging from the tiniest branch, curled in. Your great grandmother had bore the Gojo name before she married, a detail of minor significance that had not effected your own family until your birth. You had often heard your parents discussing the main family in hushed voices when they thought you were not listening. First with excitement and eagerness and then with worry.

There had been a phone call, an order disguised as invitation.

Gojo Satoru, heir to the name, barer of the Six Eyes, was turning sixteen in December, a scant four months away.

Six Eyes.

Two words that managed to leave the bitterest taste of bile in your throat.

It had been thought the next Six Eyes would be born in your generation, your parents hopeful at one point that you were the one so blessed. A hundred years of waiting ended by the birth of another child, honored above all other sorcerers. You had been born with the Limitless technique, that much was certain and an extra unnaturally keen ability of foresight… the signs were there. The possibility that the the massive potential of the Limitless was within your grasp if you could only prove to possess the fabled Six Eyes…

You were hailed for a short time as possibly a true child of the Gojo blood, a blessing. A boon. And then not even a short year later that boy was tested. No two Six Eyes could exist and it was him, not you, who was truly blessed.

You ran your hands up the back of your neck, dislodging the hair stuck your heated skin.

And worse yet, now you would suffer the indignity of being paraded around with every other eligible girl with a single drop of Gojo blood diluted enough to be proper for marriage.

Gojo Satoru needed a betrothed and only the best would do, naturally.

You were to be polite, courteous and docile. Laugh at his jokes, bat your eyes. Play the role of the pursued for the pursuer.

Did you even want to be selected? Once hailed as the promised child, now degraded to probable broodmare?

You sucked your teeth, holding back a feral shriek somewhere deep in your throat. There was a knock on the wooden frame of the room, lazy and slow. The door slid open before your mother could get you to return inside to the low tables and too hot tea laid out.

You were all but deaf to the sounds of stilted, forced polite conversation, but could not ignore the sudden presence of a young man who came to sit down hard at your side.

Gojo Satoru was not an unattractive young man. He had the signature Gojo coloring, his eyelashes even as pale as driven snow. You yourself had even inherited two streaks of white in your hair, framed near your face and standing in contrast against the rest.

But that handsomeness was hard to enjoy when his expression was one of such utter indifference. He did not even bother to remove the dark glasses that shaded over his eyes, but you hardly were offended. It would have been all the worse to have to look at the very thing you coveted most in this world. Taunting you. Dismissing you.

How many girls had he been forced to sit with today? Judging by his bored expression, too many.

“This is the part where you tell me your name.” He said, voice amused, yet slightly condescending. Behind you both, his father spoke with your parents, but that too was part of the charade. All eyes were on you. All ears tuned to your words.

“You know my name.” You said with a thinly veiled sigh. His attention shifted just a fraction and you noticed with an indignant flush he was wearing his school uniform. Shirt untucked, jacket unbuttoned. You had been forced to spend hours getting ready for this meet-up. Forced to wear a kimono in this hot weather.

He tilted down his glasses to give you a halfway appraising look and you turned away.

“Goin’ for the aloof angle then? Some other girls tried it too. As if you pretend hard enough that you aren’t interested somehow I will be.”

How fucking arrogant.

Your fists clenched in your lap.

“It won’t work.”

“I’m not working any ‘angle’.” You grumbled, “I was told to be here so I’m here. That’s all.”

“You expect me to believe that, huh?”

“I don’t care what you believe.” You spat back, turning to shoot him a piercing glare.

There was silence then, even the voices behind you seeming to falter and lower as if worried they were missing out on some secret hushed conversation.

“Ohhh, wait. I remember now! I do know your name.” Gojo continued, taking off his sunglasses and wiping off some smudge or dust from the lens, “Aren’t you that girl they thought was gonna have the Six Eyes in her?”

Your fist clenched tighter.

“I get it now. Sour grapes and all. Tell ya what…” he spoke softer and leaned in until you felt his breath against your ear, “If you ask me really nicely, for one night, you still could."

The only sound that came after that was the harsh strike of skin against skin. The contact of your palm connecting to his cheek stunned not just the adults inside, but you.

No self respecting sorcerer with the Limitless ability would have been taken by surprise and yet here you sat, having successfully struck the heir to the Gojo name right across his smug face.

You drew your hand back. His cheek had turned a throbbing red so quickly, his smirk raised as his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose and revealed how his blue eyes danced with open amusement.

—

September, 2017.

The uproar that followed that moment twelve years ago had been profound. Your parents had spent the remainder of the visit profusely apologizing and demanding explanations… and the entire time Gojo had stared only at you. Blue eyes wide and engulfing, a smirk etched in the corner of his mouth even as he got up and strode out without another word.

You remembered he had whistled as he went. As if it were all according to plan.

No betrothal was agreed to that night nor any night since. You were never summoned to the main house again.

It had been the most freeing moment of your young life, opening the world from the one pinpointed hope you’d be born with the Six Eyes or wed to the one who had it into a kaleidoscope of possibility.

You attended Jujutsu Tech’s Kyoto branch, keeping far out of the way of the rising star of the Gojo clan.

Well.

Sorta.

—

The problem with having an inherited technique that allowed you to “see” curses and cursed energy users from great distances? Gojo Satoru. The man was such an expansive supernova of energy that when you opened your mind and utilized your gift of telemetry to try and pinpoint targets you had to navigate around his massive, dominating aura.

It was like counting stars against a sunlit sky. The ability, that should have been astronomically useful, rendered inert if Gojo Satoru was on the field.

You tried not to have your own missions line up with his. Which meant keeping tabs on him. Which meant having to live with this gnat, this buzzing fly of cursed bullshit constantly humming in the background when you used your gifts.

You wished everyday you had swatted him harder.

Missions in Tokyo were the worst, but you accepted them without complaint. The fact you’d even managed to rise to second grade despite your public humiliation of the main family’s golden child was a miracle in itself and not one you would squander.

The task was simply. There was a cursed entity that was utilizing the signal within electric devices of all things to move from device to device, rapid as an electrical pulse. It had already killed five non-sorcerers in surge related house-fires in two days. The risk of it causing a massive firestorm in any district rising.

The air had begun to cool in Tokyo, the heat of the summer giving way to fall. You sat on a bench, wireless com already clipped to your ear, the only sound so far the faint static of the open radio and the sound of your breath. The air had that crispness already, the bare cusp of autumn. You steadied your thoughts and began to shut down your senses.

The cursed energy of the young sorcerer students around you began to glow in your mind’s eye, the rest of the world fading into shades of imperceptible grey. Blurring. Distorting.

If you had the Six Eyes, you would be able to see it all. But instead, you blinded yourself to everything but the cursed when you utilized your skill.

You shut your eyes and with a soft breath you whispered, “Cursed technique— Limitless Telemetry: Grey.”

The city revealed itself to your five senses like a massive overflowing of information. Had you not taken the time to adjust, quickly shutting down your hearing, sight, taste, smell and touch in order to compensate, the mental load would have stunned you into a comatose state for several hours. Another thing a Six Eyes user would never need to do. You mentally chastised yourself for allowing the distraction of a deprecating thought, and focused instead upon your sixth sense. The one that tracked beyond the physical.

You were effectively helpless in this state, but within your mind you breezed through the city like a thumb pressed over the pages of a book. Flipping at your leisure as you focused in upon the fastest moving pulse of cursed energy.

In your “peripheral vision” or what acted like a sort of peripheral vision, you could sense the constant presence of Gojo. It was far away, diluted. You wondered if perhaps he was overseas for the barest moment until your senses snapped together and fell upon your target.

You spoke. Your words falling on your own deaf ears as you gave the location into the com. You perceived the movement of the three students. Good kids, fast learners. One boy was even a scion of another great house and the one girl among them possessed a cursed technique of extreme value. The other boy, the pink haired one, you had yet to understand, but his cursed energy output was impressive.

The entity moved. You adjusted, giving new instructions. The curse had not yet caught on to the fact it was being tracked, a fact you would use to your advantage as long as possible. If the curse sensed you, it could easily close the distance and attempt to seek you out… which was why sitting in a park, far from any electrical devices other than your battery powered radio was the safest place you could be.

And if worse came to worse, at least it would be drawn out in the open.

The entity jumped again, following the planned route the three had decided upon to box it further and further into a section of the city that they had already prepared to shut down. Without power, the curse would have to break free of its hiding place within the electric current.

How did a curse even get into the power grid? Too many lost football games on TV? You chuckled a bit to yourself without thinking, providing the newest coordinates as you watched, like an omnipresent spectator as the energies of the curse and the students moved.

This is why I score the highest at Pac-Man…

Everything was going according to plan. You had begun to even let your thoughts wonder, your focus softening just the barest fraction as the students rounded the final corner and blocked the curse into the chosen spot.

And now here comes the switch…

You braced for the surge of cursed energy you expected to feel from it’s ejection…but the power stayed on. You had to stifle the sensation of panic that sparked through your heart, your cursed energy rising a fraction.

And there it was. You felt the shift, the sudden adjusting of the entity. The students flared bright, attacking to try and ward off its escape, but without the power shut off they were waiting for, the curse easily vanished, pulsing through the city and heading now straight ahead… to you.

It’s fine. Fine. Nothing electric by me, so no fast travel.

It couldn’t pass through the coms. It would need to branch off into another grounded circuit and then physically come out to face you in the empty park.

You could hold unto the technique a little longer. Guide the students a little longer. You snapped information in quick short terms. Watching the cursed energy approach closer and closer until it reached the last building at the far end of the park.

And then, inexplicably, it jumped again.

The force in which you were propelled did not immediately register to your mind as your senses flickered and began to come back on line one by one.

The first was touch.

And thus pain.

Your muscles contracted, shot full with an electrical pulse. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, the strike coming indirectly as if someone had forced the curse away. Something blinding and bright exploding over the far-reaching vision of your Limitless technique before your ability snapped off like a cut thread.

Your hearing came back first from sheer force of will. Sight returning in blurry, slowly filling shapes. You forced yourself up from the ground, feeling scrapes biting along your palms.

“You fucking dick.” You managed to hiss, your vision returning just in time to witness the exorcism of the curse by none other than Gojo Satoru.

—

“You used me as bait!”

Your voice reverberated off the hallway walls, your mild injuries tended to but your grievances still in desperate need of airing.

You were only comforted by the fact his students had not been involved in the deception, having also thought Gojo was away while they worked under her guidance in the meanwhile. You were no teacher, but you had taken enough students through missions to be adequate at “babysitting”.

Gojo grinned easily, eyes hidden behind his blind fold as he ran a hand up his neck, feigning a bashfulness you knew had not an ounce of genuineness to it.

The bastard had quietly set up a god damn daisy chain of extension cables into the park, ending plugged into a cheap TV set… right next to you. And he’d done it only after you’d entered your Limitless, taking advantage of your lack of senses to literally bait you like a god damn fish hook and then swoop in to destroy the curse.

His students had been a distraction. A means to force the curse into seeking you out and getting into the open where it could not easily run again. It was the most convoluted, infuriatingly, ridiculous brilliant bullshit you had heard in a long while.

“Pretty clever, yeah? I’ve been practicing my multi-layer tactics.”

“That wasn’t a tactic, it was a gamble and a shitty one at that!”

“Yeah, yeah, but did you die?” Gojo asked, tilting his head to the side. His voice was tinged with amusement and you wondered for a moment if he even remembered you and this was some elaborate “gotcha” twelve years in the making… or if this kind of backhanded backstabbing was common place for him.

“It was interesting to see your technique in action. I could probably give you some tips on how to make it more effective, but they’d be pretty useless to— well. You. So I figure I’ll just make the tweaks and practice it myself!”

You stayed silent.

“What did ya call it? Limitless Telemetry?”

You turned and walked in the opposite direction.

“Whoa— hold on.”

Your exit was cut off, the grinning face you wanted nothing more than to connect your fist into coming back into view.

“I’m kidding. Don’t run off and cry now, we got some other business I wanna discuss.”

“If you’re planning on pitching another mission to me, I pass.”

“Nope. Well— yes. But not like this one.”

You sighed, side stepped, and continued around him again.

“I’ll buy you lunch!”

You stopped.

“And maybe even some kakigōriiiiiiii—“ he continued, his voice lifting to a sing-song tone as he stretched out the word. Your stomach twisted and grumbled in response. Using your Limitless always took so much out of you… a side effect you wondered if he experienced to.

You turned to look back at the man who hadn’t so much as glanced your way in years and wondered again if he was so stupid he didn’t remember who you were or if he was hatching some new plot.

He smiled in what you assumed he thought was a disarming and charming way.

“Fine.”

—

You had settled for a sweet plum flavor, dipping your small wooden spoon into the shaved ice and enjoying the way it melted across your tongue. Flavors always felt more pronounced after you used your Limitless, smells more intense. The sights sharper. It was probably just a placebo effect from being without them, even for a short amount of time, but regardless you enjoyed the sweet flavor and the fruity smell of the different syrups… most of which were coming from Gojo’s own cup.

He had gotten every flavor. The shaved ice in his cup a rainbow of color and tastes as he scooped several together at a time.

The lunch he promised had yet to come, but the treat was enough for now as the sugar helped give a little more pep to your body and your mood. The amount of calories you expended using your gifts was another thing entirely.

The two of you walked a ways in silence, giving you time to observe him for the first time in over a decade.

He had changed, that much you could tell. There was something less harsh in his general demeanor and he had grown considerably since he was fifteen. The boyishness of his face had sharpened, the man overtaking his features. He was broader, less lanky than his teenage self and while his easygoing and devil-may-care attitude was still present, there was something less— edged about it. Less angry.

“Your hair is shorter now,” Gojo said suddenly, “And your chest is bigger.”

You immediately frowned. A look of open disgust flashing over your face. Gojo laughed.

“Thought I forgot about ya, didn’t you?” He slid a thumb over his cheek, the gesture making you flush at the memory of what it felt like to slap the smirk off his face.

“Honestly? Yes.” you answered shortly, taking another bite of your ice.

“Nah. I remember, just figured there was no point in makin’ nice. You seem to be doing fine on your own these days. Second grade, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“As short worded as ever.”

He strode off, forcing you to match his pace. He found a park bench and sat down, sprawling out lazily. You sat next to him at his insistence, knocking your knee into his own until he closed his thighs a bit more with a chuckle.

“Thought you’d be a first grade by now.”

“I have not been recommended.”

He snorted, “Bet you know why.”

You clenched your teeth, holding back a sharp word and an even sharper desire to toss your kakigōri right in his face. Arrogant as ever. Some things, you guessed, did not get better with age.

“The great and fabled Six Eyes holding a grudge over a love tap? How trite.” you said, trying to keep your words indifferent.

“Is that what it was? I had a bruise ya know.”

“You could have stopped my hand before it ever even touched you. You wanted me to slap you so you could get out of having to do anymore meetings.”

His laugh was all the confirmation you needed.

“Is that what you’ve thought all this time?”

“It’s what I know.”

Gojo turned his attention back to his shaved ice, the two of you sitting in silence long enough for the weight of it to become uncomfortable for you. Finally you shifted and scrapped your spoon down the ice, leaving trails of melting syrup.

“What is it that you want?”

Because that was what this was about wasn’t it? He wanted something. The main family never disdained to speak to the lower members without a need and Gojo Satoru was not about to be the exception.

“I’m going to recommend you for first-grade sorcerer status.”

You scrapped your spoon through so harshly a chunk of colored ice fumbled down the side of the paper cup and down your hand. You dodged just in time to avoid it landing with a wet smack on your pants.

You gaped openly at him, but Gojo kept his attention fixed on his ice, happily stirring it up into a soupy, syrupy mess.

“… and yet again I ask, what is it that you want?”

Gojo leaned back, tilting his face towards you with an easy grin. You wondered if he saw the world the way you did with your Limitless with his eyes shaded. Seeing only the impressions of energy and sensation. Could he see your expression? The confusion in the downturn of your mouth or the suspicion in the narrowness of your eyes?

“Nothing too crazy! Just need a fiancée.”

The breath punched out of your lungs.

—

You waited outside the small convenience store across the street, feeling your cheeks beginning to lessen in redness from both anger and embarrassment at your sudden outburst.

When Gojo returned from inside, his hair was still wet… and there was still some redness from the syrup stuck to the strands. You hadn’t been able to control the impulse to throw your kakigōri at him, the breaking of your composure having flowed directly down your arm. It could have been worse, you supposed. You could have punched him.

He had needed to rinse off his blindfold, the fabric now folded and tucked into his back pocket. He had replaced it with the dark glasses you recognized from his youth, giving you a glimpse of the bright blueness of his eyes every once and awhile.

Gojo sighed and tossed a damp paper towel into a bin and turned to you expectantly. You gingerly handed him back his own dessert, having minded it for him while he went into the men’s room to clean up. It was practically soup now and you winced when he lifted it to his lips and drank it.

“As I was saying—“ he began with a smack of his lips.

“No—”

“—it’s a pretend engagement.”

Your mouth hung open, half ready to utter another refusal, which you swallowed back in as he waited expectantly for you to cease interrupting him.

“You let me take you on a few dates, we put on a show of my courting a potential betrothed and in exchange I green light your promotion.”

You narrowed your eyes, biting the corner of your lip into your mouth in obvious consideration.

“For how long?”

Your directness didn’t seem to offend him. Quite the opposite actually. Every time you curtly dropped a single or few word sentence he seemed to only smile brighter.

Gojo shrugged, “A few months. Maybe more. Until I figure out a permanent solution.”

“Your parents want you to get married?”

“The whole clan wants me to get married, sweetheart. I am the strongest.”

And now came the obvious question.

“Why me?”

Gojo shrugged, “You were one of their first picks to start with, so they’ll approve. And there isn’t a risk of you falling for me…”

His lips upturned into a sly grin, “… too quickly.”

You scoffed.

“Family will back off. I get a bit of peace until I have to kick you to the curb, and you get to be a first-class sorcerer. Everyone wins.”

“I’m not going to fall for you.”

Gojo gave a sad little nod, like he was agreeing with a deluded person in order to keep them calm and reasonable.

Granted, you did just effectively hurl a slushy at him a few minutes prior.

“This seems a bit extreme, even for you. Why do you think I’d even say yes? You know exactly why you got slapped. Can I expect that same level of charm from our future ‘dates’?” you asked, kicking yourself for having implied in your words you knew him well enough to even know what was extreme for him. The comment did not go unnoticed, even with his half expression hidden you could tell his interest was piqued. The last thing you wanted to do was to explain to this insufferable man how his very presence was as constant as the sun. Always nagging in the back of your mind and in your abilities.

You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“That was awhile ago. Most girls find me pretty charming these days. As to why you’d say yes— given it is probably your best chance at getting to first grade sorcerer status, I can’t think of a reason you wouldn’t.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Fifteen year old you would be outraged, furious. She would not have considered this offer for a second. She would have stamped her foot and told him exactly where he could stick his offer.

But twenty-eight year old you had learned that very often principles were made to be damned.

“And the fact I can tell you are just dying to say yes.”

There was that arrogance again.

“You still buying me lunch?” you countered and the smile he gave you was a bit different than the ones before.

“Wow. No one will even question how I could have been charmed by such a talented freeloader.”

“I am exceedingly charming.”

“And what an arm. You play softball or you just start a lot of food fights as a kid?”

“I want sushi.” You said, the finality of your voice inarguable. You thought he might have rolled his eyes, but nevertheless you got your lunch and even managed to bargain a single day to think about the offer.

Read the rest on ao3!

#fic; convergence theory #ConvTheory #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #jujustu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #chapter one #the fic is posted in it’s completed entirety on ao3 #I’m just cross posting so folks can reblog to share with others!

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finelinevogue · 3 years ago

Note

Can you write something about when Harry and Y/N broke up but fans speculate that they got back together and they did get back together. They broke over something stupid, please. You don’t have to do this exactly it can be something like that.

let’s see how this turns out! hope it’s what you wished for?!

The last few months had been rough.

What had started as rumours of a breakup between everyones favourite couple, you and Harry, had turned into an actual breakup.

It had started by Harry spending more time with Olivia, due to press for Don’t Worry Darling. They were always hanging out with each other, even when there was no publicity stunt telling them to. You found it appropriate at first, wanting the movie to gain some form of reputation, but after a while you believed it turned South. It was becoming a definite friendship and not just because they had to. It was the way that Harry would bring Olivia over for dinner without checking with you first, or taking the dog for a walk with her not you, or even staying longer out on stunts than they needed to just because they wanted to.

So you challenged Harry on it. Hell, even the tabloids were challenging you both - claiming Harry had split from you for Olivia. You made him question whether he thought his actions were irresponsible and appropriate or not, to which he thought there was nothing wrong and thought you were being irrational. You didn’t speak to him for the rest of the day, only to find him later on the phone speaking to Olivia about how crazy you’d been acting about it all. So you showed him crazy and walked out.

Until today.

For over a half a year your sister had her wedding planned and Harry was supposed to be your guest. You were nervous about turning up without him, because your family were very judgy. Your sister couldnt help being the smarter and the prettier one, but she also didn’t have to parade it around so everyone knew of it. Your mum and dad thought you a disappointment for the longest time, but once you’d gotten a job and had moved out they were a bit more loving over you. Still didn’t hide the fact they desperately hoped for you to have a relationship. It wasn’t that you were bringing Harry along to prove that someone loved you, but more to prove that they would never fully be satisfied whether you had a boyfriend or not. There would always be a podium stand slightly lower for you to stand on.

However, they didn’t know about the breakup.

“Y/N, nice to see you. Where’s Harry?” Another guest asked you, relatives of your mum. It was the same question over and over again, no one really caring about how you are but instead whether you’re in a positive relationship.

“Oh um I think he’s just running a bit late.” Was your chosen answer to respond to said question. It was repetitive, but it kept people off your back.

The wedding was completely beautiful. It was in a beautiful church and was decorated to perfection. The theme was white and royal blue, something your sister had always dreamed of. Children played amongst the pews and family relatives mumbled to each other about gossip. There was still a heavy sadness to the event. Maybe it was because your sister hadn’t asked you to be a bridesmaid - instead, choosing her best friends instead - or maybe it was because you missed Harry so much.

He’d fucked up. He really had, but it didn’t take away that burning passion for him that spread like a wildfire in your belly. You missed him. You still loved him. Worst of all, you had to pretend everything was all alright in front of your family when actually you were breaking apart inside.

Harry hadn’t messaged saying that he was or wasn’t coming, but after everything that had happened you were confident he was going to be a no show, and you would be the embarrassment of the family once again. Your relationship had been very private and exclusive, but Harry’s fans were so investigative you wouldn’t be surprised if they knew that you’d broken up and were aware that you were at a wedding today without him. Neither of you had made a public statement about your breakup, but neither of your wanted to damage each other even more. Fans suspected though and rumours travel fast.

“Y/N how are you doing? How’s Harry?” Another aunt came and asked you, this time with your mother in tow.

“Oh he’s great, yes.” You smiled forcefully, not actually having a clue how your ex-boyfriend was doing. You didn’t keep up with his social media because you were afraid of what you might find.

“Where is he? Is he here?” Your aunt asked.

“He’s late, apparently.” Your mother answered for you, sneeringly. “You’ll be made a fool of if he’s a no show Y/N.”

“I know.”

“I hope everything goes well for you both.” Your aunt kindly said, before waiting for your mum to say something nice too. That was a mistake though.

“Well it’s unlikely she’ll find someone again!” Your mother laughed and pulled your aunt away from you. You furrowed your eyebrows and let your heart sink low.

What were you thinking, letting Harry go like that? Your mum was right, you were never going to find anyone else again. You were so lucky with Harry. He was so kind and so patient with you, but obviously he’d run out of steam towards the end. It doesn’t surprise you. You’ve always been told you’re a mighty handful and you need a lot of work put into looking after you, so you understand why you were probably too much for Harry. The showbiz life had never really been something you’d completely submerged yourself into, whereas you guess for Olivia it was rooted in her from birth. She understood Harry’s world the same way he did hers. They would match perfectly for each other, if that’s what they wanted.

You watched the room continue as usual, but you couldn’t keep yourself here. There was too much sadness welling deep within you that you wanted to just run and then keep running. So you did, only to get as far as the bench in the front courtyard. The outside felt calmer and more freeing than inside, you sat and absorbed it for a while, not realising that you were crying until your pretty multicoloured dress had grown darker with a pool of your tears.

“Shit.” You tried rubbing the tears out, but only made you cry a little harder. You thought about your makeup running and tried to compose yourself, fanning your face to calm it down from the heat now.

“And here I was thinking weddings were supposed to be happy.”

You stopped fanning your face to look at him. You couldn’t believe he was standing there, dressed in a beautiful white suit and salmon pink shirt underneath to compliment the colours of your dress - the outfit that you’d helped him pick out over a year ago. He’d remembered. He trusted that you’d still be wearing this dress. He was a sight alright. A vision of beauty and love.

“Harry?” You questioned, wiping your under eyes to clear away any running mascara, not quite believing he was standing there.

“So what was it? Bad music playing? No vodka? Or maybe there’s nowhere for you to escape to go read the book I know you have stuffed away in your clutch bag.” He stood at a distance from you, hands in his trouser pockets, to make sure you were comfortable.

“I brought vodka instead of the book.” You chuckled, reaching into your clutch to prove it to him.

“Lucky for you, i’ve come to save the day.” Harry reached to the inside of his blazer pocket and pulled out a Kindle. You’d always been debating whether or not to buy one, because the feeling of having a book to turn its’ physical pages is a feeling second to none. “Take it, it’s yours.”

Harry handed it out to you and you stood up to reach for it hesitantly. Harry assured you that it was okay and that you’d been reading too many books if you thought it was a trap of some sort.

“Thank you, Harry.” You spoke sincerely. You stroked your thumb over the cover and turned the case lid over to start up the screen. The screen lit up and it was set to a picture of your favourite quote, annotated just as you would have in your own book. You chuckled and let a few tears drop from the kindness of all of this.

“And then…” Harry unlocked the Kindle with your birthday as the password, before clicking on the library so you could discover what was waiting for you on your virtual shelves. Harry had downloaded all your most favourite books, whilst also downloading the ones he knew had been on your to-be-read list. He’d even added a few of his favourite books too, just because you liked reading his recommendations.

You smiled, but felt so lost.

“W-why are you here, H?” You asked, closing the lid and bravely looking up into his enchanting eyes. You had to control yourself not to comment on how wondrous they looked.

“To save the day.” He chuckled in repeat, until he knew you weren’t taking that for an answer. “Because I fucked up. Big league time.”

“Yeah.” You whispered, looking down at your shoes to see that they weren’t that far apart at all. He was so close to you, yet he wasn’t yours to catch.

“And i’ll never forgive myself for letting you walk out of that door. The promotion shit with Olivia? Done. I’ve finished. I explained that the movie isn’t as important to me as you. You,” Harry paused to breathe out, and took the risk of guiding your jaw up to meet your gaze with his soft hand, “you are real Y/N. You’re so important and key to my life and it bloody terrified me, still does actually, to think that you make me feel this way. I want everything with you. Marriage, kids, a home. A life. I was so worried I would screw it all up, though, to the point where I did screw it all up. I lost you and so I lost me. It’s selfish of me to ask whether any part of your heart still wants me, but—”

“Yes.” You quickly interjected before he could say something he’d later regret. “There is, yes.”

“R-really?” He stumbled over his response, not expecting you to react so soon but his words had got to you. His feelings were vulnerable and raw and it reminded you of how much you love him and feel safe with him.

“Why? Would you like me to say different.” You teased.

“No,” Harry rushed, stepping closer towards you, “God now. Stay, please. Forever, if you’ll have me?”

“I can deal with forever.” You leaned up to where his lips were, craving the taste of them against yours so badly. “Can I?” You looked between his lips and his eyes, watching his eyes coo in admiration of you. His arms snaked around your neck and cupped the back of your head, resting his ringed fingers against your skin delicately.

“You don’t have to ask, angel.” And with that you didn’t hesitate to reclaim your clips on his. He tasted as sweet and as soft as you could remember. The hint of mint sweets he kept in his car could be tasted all over his mouth, and he could no doubt taste the vodka on yours. He took no time in rushing to have his tongue exploring your mouth once mouth, biting on your lip when he got the chance to. He wanted you to remember this moment and how much love he has for you, and always will. Just as you do for him.

Hesitantly pulling away you smiled at him cheekily, feeling so much lighter and happier to have him here. With you in his arms so expertly.

“What?” He asked, leaving a quick kiss to your nose, inhaling his scent as he did.

“Just can’t believe you’re here.” You stroked his cheek with your thumb, and he leaned into your touch so comfortably. He had missed you so damn much, and it showed.

“Let you down once before and I wasn’t going to do it again.”

“So you’d have shown up even if I hadn’t?”

“Not happily, but yes.” He laughed thinking about it.

“Why?” You laughed with him.

“I’ve got to make my impression on your family somehow. Need to remind some of them how amazing and beautiful their special Y/N L/N is.”

“Some are going to need a lot more persuading than others.” You sighed, side-frowning over your words.

“No offence, but anyone who doesn’t treat you as a fucking diamond doesn’t deserve you and should watch out for kick up their backside from me.” You laughed over his empty threat and buried your head against his chest, listening to the heartbeat and rumble of laughter that came from within. This moment alone felt like home. Safe and warm.

“I love you, H.”

“Bloody love you too.”

Harry ended up returning to the wedding with you, much to your mothers surprise, and you both enjoyed the celebrations together. You shut yourselves out from everybody and just danced, talked and drank the night away.

You were so in love.

Later, photos got leaked of the wedding and it showed you and Harry dancing away in one of the backgrounds of the photos. It was supposed to be a shot of just the bride and groom, but you two have managed to get caught in it. You looked so caught up in each other that you still weren’t even aware the photo had been taken. You and Harry had determinedly avoided the camera all night, exactly for this reason, but a part of you was kind of happy that this one photo got leaked, because it showed the world that Harry was yours and you were his. It showed that you were together, or back-together as addressed by some FBI fans, and that you were stronger for it.

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oncemod · 2 years ago

Text

OK SO RINGS CIRCUS

unlike the greatest showman he doesn’t start out in an office job. he works the bars at a very unpopular burlesque show, which is where he meets his wife (she’s a dancer there). they have big dreams of running their own show. one bigger, better, cleaner. they ditch their jobs and pour their entire combined savings into buying a building.

the first show is a flop and they struggle. when his wife gets knocked up he gets desperate. it’s fine if the two of them are broke and living off love, but babies need food and diapers and toys and all kinds of shit. it occurs to him that they could potentially make more money if they make the show family friendly. he reworks everything into less of a strip show and more of a musical. he steals workers from their old job by promising them better than working conditions (tho he makes sure to skirt mentions of better pay). he rents a horse and paints it like a zebra bc ✨exotic✨ animals sell.

they limp along like that for a few months, barely making enough to keep the lights on. but Ring is charismatic and stubborn and persuasive. he moves from traditional advertising methods to more… innovative ones. (he pays some kids on the street to act excited and impressed and desperate to see his show and it catches the attention of other kids who then genuinely beg their parents to go see what the fuss is about)

it’s a rocky start but they gain a repeat audience, and the money lets him slowly expand and upgrade. his wife gives birth and steps back from the show, he starts hiring the cheapest workers he can find (so, outcasts) while putting any extra money he can into fixing up the building. his new employees, originally hired to be general labor crews (janitorial, sales, assistants to the performers), gain attention from the regular crowds, leading Ring to discuss with them becoming sideshow acts. they’d fudge some details, parade them around as “freaks,” and they’d get a 60-40 majority split of the profits.

all the while he’s buying more animals, more equipment, hiring musicians, biggering and biggering his show. his family is no longer poor, but he’s investing everything he can into his show.

Ring reaches a point where he wants to expand beyond their little building. he tracks down a man named Theodore Barnum, a trust fund baby who runs in the high class social circles of the local opera houses and theaters. Ring’s sure if he could get his crew in just one theater one time they could pack the place and make enough to buy a bigger permanent residence. Theo isn’t convinced, and Ring strikes a deal with him. Theo will come work his show for three days, see what Ring’s group is capable of, and if he’s still sure they won’t make it in the upper crust world Ring would pay him for his time and they could part ways. but if Theo sees what Ring sees then they get one night in one theater to prove themselves.

at the end of the three days Theo decides he wants to stay permanently. he thinks they can do something even bigger than one night in a stuffy opera house. Rings wife is pregnant with their second child, Theo has signed on to be Ring’s apprentice, and the two are making plans for a traveling show.

aaaaand then it all goes to shit. Theo falls for Ring’s wife, their behind-the-scenes bickering reaches a boiling point, and an unruly group from their old burlesque show blame them for their own bar finally going under. the burlesque workers set fire to their building during the night and Rings wife says she wants a divorce.

Ring begins sleeping around (mostly with his employees bc convenience of location) as a (he thinks) “healthier” form of self destruction than drinking. he’s still stubborn, though, and refuses to stay down for long. he’s got just enough money and just enough bullheaded grit to buy some land and pull the pieces back together. he gets a tent, scrapes together some seating and lights, and reopens his circus down by the docks.

not only are people excited for his return, now he has the free press of being a successful comeback story. he makes back what he would need to fix the building and more, but he’s already set sights higher.

the first thing he does is make nice with Theo and his ex wife. he doesn’t trust Theo enough to bring him back to work with him, but as far as his ex goes they come to a mutual decision that they’re shitty lovers, but actually pretty decent friends. plus Rings kids are his whole life and she knows it, she agrees to let him still be in their lives.

the tent circus (a la the end of the greatest showman and named The Three Rings Circus) lasts him a few years while he saves up in the background. he starts buying land and building on the down low, keeping it hidden from the public and vague in front of the majority of his employees. when the entire complex is ready, minus the furnishings, he unveils Bailey Park Circus to his employees.

Bailey Park is the current iteration of his circus. it’s a huge, permanent, Disneyland-esque park. there’s a main show tent that can fit 10 thousand when fully packed, several other stages and shows and rides and restaurants, shops, a medical center, a petting zoo, nightly adult only show times, yearly Halloween events with scare houses and actors, and on-site employee housing. still favoring the outcasts, Ring makes sure to have apartments available for any employees that may not have a home or may not be able to return to theirs for any reason. rent is free, utilities are discounted. Rings own house is on property as well. he made sure to have the buildings set back enough from the main park and built specifically enough that noise isn’t much of an issue, and all walkways that lead to private property areas are either labeled as employee entrances only or so well hidden in the scenery that the only people who would find them are those that already know they’re there. along with housing employees Ring keeps a chunk of land open for any animals that may work in his park. there is at least one live-in vet on property at all times, as well as the rest of the regularly employed team.

(Bailey Park is only part of his empire, though. Ring never let go of the idea of a traveling show. He’s hoping to revive The Three Rings and send her on the road as a good old fashioned pop up tent circus.)

#i am so sorry this post so damb long

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years ago

Text

seven

Rich and powerful men can marry seven different women in a wild attempt to produce the perfect heir. Todoroki Enji is one of these powerful men, and you’re his seventh bride.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

pairing: todoroki enji (endeavor) x fem!reader

warnings: edo period!endeavor (king henry viii inspo), forced marriage, alcohol consumption, 18+, smut, non-con, dub-con, size difference, breeding kink, rough-sex, pain, degradation, & mind break

word count: 5,750

a/n: fuck that family who started the fire in socal. my campus is literally raining ashes up in oregon. im so tired. two exams monday. im going to be going on meds for anxiety and adhd soon, so thats new. uh,,, this is like LOL its a bit bad,,, but I really, really lust over asshole enji who only wants to breed bitches and thats it. this is for the bnharem fantasy au collab, i wan’t that creative sorry see ya later skaters.

PLEASE CAREFULLY READ THE WARNINGS. PLEASE CAREFULLY READ THE WARNINGS. PLEASE CAREFULLY READ THE WARNINGS.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

One.

Fate: Spared.

Two.

Fate: Executed.

Three.

Fate: Died during childbirth.

Four.

Fate: Spared.

Five.

Fate: Executed.

Six.

Fate: Executed.

Seven.

Fate: Unknown.

Silks and expensive cloth held a scent that was irreplicable.

The smooth smell of the layers upon layers of fabric wrapped around your body did nothing to quench the building layer of ice in your stomach.

You were scared.

Rightfully so.

Six women came before you, and if you wanted to live, you would have to do better than them.

Marrying the Todoroki Clan head was something that most women could only dream of accomplishing in this day and age. The Todoroki’s, after all, are strong, rich, powerful, undefeated. They held the real power in this age, more influential and notable than the emperor that repeatedly begged the family for support, be it in power, strength, or money.

But, it was also known knowledge that the man who sat at the head of the clan, who held the power of the Todoroki name and future, was a man not to be trifled with.

Todoroki Enji was an endeavor of a man.

There had always been whispers about the head of the family, how he stood eight feet tall, and how his body was not lean like most warriors, but thick and savagely sturdy. His hair was red, blessed by the sun some claimed, or cursed by the devil others alleged. His temper and barbaric nature on the battlefield were, of course, rumored by the people on your lands, who had been indebted by the Todoroki Clan because of their protection and profits.

Todoroki Enji was not a man to be trifled with.

Especially not if the rumors were true.

He was painted as a demon by everyone. Still, Enji was no demon, he was human, and if he was to allow the Todoroki Clan's legacy to continue, he needed an heir… but since he was human, he was aging.

Six women.

You knew that it was six women because you had been alive to experience five of them.

You remember the newly married couple being paraded through the streets.

Todoroki Enji remained hidden within his vehicle's confines while his new wife, doe-eyed, smiling, effervescent, would greet the gathered crowds. You often wondered what they thought when you would conjure in respect for the man who ensured your childhood and adolescence were not corrupted by thieves and horror.

You wondered what she thought when promising the village elders that she would produce a strong, male heir. You raised an eyebrow at the thought that maybe, just maybe they believed that they would be different -- be able to birth a strong, capable male heir.

Six wives.

Twenty children.

Two weak, sickly boys.

A whole clan of girls.

Were they idiotic, blind, or batshit insane to ever believe that they would be different?

You undoubtedly didn’t know.

Three of the six had been executed.

Three of six had been proud to state they would produce a strong male Todoroki heir, noting that his two sons -- Touya and Natsuo -- would be removed from the family as soon as their strong son was born.

One of those three birthed a weak, sickly baby boy. She passed in childbirth and took him with her one day after.

Another of those three birthed four girls, two sets of twins because, of course, they were given two chances. She was executed on treason.

The final of those three had simply pissed him off; rumor had it. Her pussy was too tight, unwilling to sheath the thick massive cock that belonged to him… no point in breaking something that wouldn’t bend when there was more pussy out there (you remember she had been ugly too).

But what you didn’t expect was for his clan members to come through your village's streets with an announcement in hand.

Of the six women before you, three had held significant political power -- the three that survived.

Of the remaining three, there was a poet, the other a woman soldier of his, and the last being a clan member.

You had never known what the decision process was, not even a little bit, so when men dressed in dark robes with the Todoroki sigil and katana’s strapped to their sides infiltrated your village, you were on edge.

“All women who are fertile and beautiful, line up, and no, we don’t care if you’re married,” was the short, almost taunting order, and you had never felt sicker.

You were among the seventy females in your village that matched the requirement they demanded.

Your sight was almost glued to the floor as they walked through you all, your fists grabbing your light blue kimono as the men groped the women in line, teasing the breasts of the pregnant women, rutting their poorly concealed cocks through the valley of asses, shoving between some girls thighs with loopy, proud smiles on their faces, beating any man who attempted to protect any one of their honors.

But you were towards the end of the line, standing where they decided to save for last, and you were helpless to it all. You watched knowing that of the sixty-something women ahead of you, none of them remained.

The whimpers, cries, and whines grew louder by your ear, your spine rigid and sore with its tightness as the girl beside you dropped to the floor in her fear. You couldn’t bother looking at her as the parting of their robes seemed to be akin to gunpowder going off in your ears. The horrified squeal on her tongue being silenced when a cock slammed through her lips, the tears pouring down her face useless, if anything, only encouraging their roughhousing.

Your lip curled at the sound of her pathetic whining, the incessant need of her to tell them that she was not okay with this was nails on an iron plate. It annoyed you, it pissed you off.

“Look at this one,” the snickering laughter of a man breathed by your ear, instantly stilling and freezing the anger that was once radiating like fire from your chest. “She doesn’t look ashamed… she looks like she’s jealous. Maybe these common bitches do have someone good enough for Boss.”

Spluttering gasps and hiccuping cries came from the ground, and you couldn’t even bother glancing at the woman you had known all your life laying on the floor, kimono ripped open, and white, sticky cum dripping from her mouth.

“Well, there’s nothing like taking her out for a test run,” came a sleazy smile, and when two hands gripped at your clothed breasts, you didn’t so much as raise a brow at their perverted actions.

You had won in the end against them. Each perverted, twisted intention they placed against you, dirt crusted fingernails digging into your arms, purpling, throbbing cocks pressed into your backside… it hadn’t mattered.

You didn’t budge.

You didn’t cry.

You didn’t make a noise.

A simple smirk remaining on their faces at your inevitable victory against the other women in your village -- against the crying, cum stuffed women who stared at your victorious and stubborn form without a clue on how you managed.

And where did that land you?

In a room with only one window too high up for an average person to reach, white silks and fabrics adorning your body, and ceremonial ornaments in your hair.

Six women came before you, but today, you would become the seventh.

With you, there would be seven women to have wed Todoroki Enji, but you weren’t scared because you feared the fate of the six before you. No, you were much better than them; you already knew that for a fact.

The anxiety that coursed through your veins created that ice pit in your stomach came from one place and one place only.

Your cunt already sobbed at the thought of even attempting at taking his thick, veiny cock you knew was the size of your thigh later tonight.

A virgin like you had no chance of survival.

The doors to your room soon slammed open, and your back stiffened at the sight of a familiar face of an escort you had. His eyes didn’t meet yours; they were focused at the wall, his face tense and tight.

“It’s best we leave now, y/l/n, Todoroki-sama doesn’t like waiting.”

The weight of the white silk on your body felt like a brick when you stood up from your position, and you wondered if the sweat from your pits and palms would damage the kimono -- if it was noticeable. But you had a duty, and as number seven, you had no motive to be executed before even getting the chance to prove yourself.

You knew how wishes worked; the secret was in being silent about your desire… never reveal what your wish was, or the world wouldn’t grant it.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself every time you heard the all too familiar words of: “I’ll produce a fine Todoroki heir,” through the lips of the dead and the divorced. They had spoken it to the universe, acknowledged what they needed, and the cruel world failed them each and every time.

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts, so consumed by the idea of what would happen tonight, you hardly realized that with the heaving puffing breathes you took to keep up with the man’s ridiculous strides, that you had made it to the shrine that you had been brought to wed.

But you couldn’t even take in the beauty of the shrine to your left because you were more interested in who was standing in the pathway towards the shrine.

Todoroki Enji.

He stood on the stone-paved path, his bulky, beefy arms folded across his chest, the fabric of his kimono taut and tight against his flexed muscle, and a sour frown on his face. It was as the rumors had spoken, you realized when you stopped mere strides away from your future husband, he was a man that looked both godly and cursed.

Bright red hair glistened like copper pans under the sunlight, waving and flickering like a raging fire with every small burst of wind. He stood at almost eight feet high, maybe eight feet, you had no idea. All you knew is that as your feet stumbled when getting near to this man, you were dwarfed, feeling like a child next to their father as you gazed up at his unmoving, scarred face. His eyes didn’t look down at you, but even you could see the clear, sharp blue in them, and for the first time, you questioned reality.

Was this man truly human? Was he genuinely Japanese?

Seeing him before you made your knees buckle in fear, arousal, and anticipation.

You wanted to see what had made the sixth scream to stop.

You wanted to see just what he was hiding behind the ridiculously tight fitted kimono, but your thoughts were yanked away when his hand -- no doubt bigger than your head -- pressed to space between your shoulder blades and pushed you.

“We’re on a tight schedule,” he merely growled, his eyes burning at something a million miles away, and with a small, pitiful whimper, you allowed him to lead the way.

The wedding ceremony was… odd, to say the least.

While you had never been married, you had attended a few weddings within your lifetime already, and never once had it felt so disturbing dead and raw as it had today. This Shinto ceremony, typically doused with symbolism and motifs for the greatest possible outcome for the union between you and Todoroki Enji, was stripped from the shrine walls, leaving the walls barren and cold as both he and the priest proceeded through the ceremony at breakneck speed.

It wasn’t something Enji wanted; you realized that clearly the moment he refused to meet your gaze; his blue eyes remaining on the priest.

Everything the both of you performed together was done haphazardly, the lack of symbols you had always wished to see in your wedding ceremony forgotten, undoubtedly seen as a farce by a man like Todoroki Enji, but still, your heart ached.

You hadn’t noticed when the ceremony had ended; Enji never once allowing you to move, or do anything for that matter, by yourself. There was no use in fighting against a man who’s entire hand fit around your forearm, his thumb even resting against his fingernail -- oh yes, this man was huge.

There was no telling when he paraded you through the streets of his territory, allowing you to numbly speak to the village elders, to allow your parents to press their sweaty palms to your cheeks because god, please, please survive this, their touch practically sobbed. You smiled at them, eyes numb with the reality of what this was going to be for you, but the cheerful tone on your tongue remained optimistic and bright with every passing word.

The scornful thoughts of the sixth woman being too weak to handle Enji had dissipated, and you wondered just what the other five did to survive what you knew was a massive fucking cock hidden beneath the shrowds of his black kimono.

You would survive, you would survive, you would survive.

But far before you were ready to, you arrived back at the Todoroki front, the wooden estate standing sturdy and strong, the air of power and aura almost tangible. The samurai and clansmen who had undoubtedly awaited for you and your now-husband (that was still odd to think about) to return. Pairs of warm, weathered hands helped you from the carriage, and without so much of a whisper of thanks, they escorted you away, heads bowed at the mercy of their leader.

Once more, you were abandoned in your room.

The window no longer allowed the streaming setting sunlight in, your room was in the eastern part of the estate, and with the nighttime coming, the setting sun was merely a memory to you.

And in that room, the tiny, unspacious room that seemed much more for a prisoner than the seventh wife of Todoroki Enji, you tried not to cry.

The door slamming open hours after you had fallen asleep had taken you by surprise.

Enji had left you to your own entertainment, and long after you were served dinner, and informed that no, Todoroki-sama would not be visiting you right now because he was busy, you had sat on the bed in your silks and robes, numbly looking at the star-filled sky. Sleep was the only thing you could do, and with the last servant visit being past midnight, you took to sleep.

Except that you forgot a sparing, important detail.

This was Todoroki Enji’s world, and you were merely his legal fuckhole.

The heavy footsteps of Enji entering the room echoed in your ear, and the door closed behind him, solidifying the end of the beginning of what you once knew.

“Seven,” he growled into the night, and your spine snapped straight.

He loomed above you, the tatami mat suddenly feeling like a brick wall against your side, and you swallowed pathetically at the way his deep, raspy voice sent shivers down your spine.

This had been the first time you had heard him speak, all other forms of communication between him and the priest and he and his clan members had been nonverbal, solely told through those piercing blue eyes that only let you dream of what he sounded like -- of what he was demanding. But you lay confused, your eyebrows scrunched at just why he had called out the number seven?

Seven what?

You twisted where you lay, your eyes meeting his own, and despite the lack of light in the room, you could see the cold, distant glint in his eyes.

“Oh good,” he mocked, his voice low and dangerous, eyes squinted in his apparent lack of approval. “You can hear.”

“S-Seven what?” you stammer, your elbow pressing into the mat, pushing you up so that you could look at your husband, uncertainty and discomfort scorching every nerve in your body.

You didn’t know what to do.

Then, it hit you. The bitter, numbing smell of alcohol coated in a fine layer around his skin, the small puffs of angry air from his mouth letting you know that your husband was inebriated, and your throat clenched when he began to dismantle his kimono.

“T-This isn’t a good idea!” you stammer, the white silk robes you were still dressed in because they refused to allow you a set of sleeping clothes because the marriage needed to be consummated, felt stiff and not protective enough. “You won’t produce a proper heir if you’re intoxicated.”

Enji raised an eyebrow at you, and your thudding heart failed to cease as his robes hit the floor with an unceremonious thud.

Whiskey dick wasn’t something foreign to you; the countless men you had sucked off in your time, the numerous sex stories you had been shared with always had some instance of a man getting drunk and being able to get their cock hard, but this…?

If this was Enji’s whiskey dick, you weren’t sure what to expect of his sober cock.

His cock was already hard, the veins in his cock large, plentiful, and bulging in many areas. It was thick, without a doubt thick enough where it would take both your hands to circle around his cock, and it was long, the swollen weeping tip leaking against his abdomen. His cock was magnificent yet deadly, and your pussy spasmed in fear of having that monster all twelve plus inches shoved into your virgin cunt.

“The fuck are you doing, seven?” Enji snarled, his powerful naked legs moving toward you, his feet pressing into the mat, and his hand reaching out to you. “I didn’t marry you for you to just stare at my fucking cock like some piss-shit baby.”

There was no time to panic, protest, or even prepare yourself for the sudden sharp, dull ache in your jaw when he pressed his monster cock past your chapped, chewed lips.

Immediately, it was overwhelming.

The engorging cock had barely passed your lips, but you were already gagging against the unwelcomed size, the horrid ache sending spilling tears down your cheeks, doing nothing but annoying the man before you. His hands gripped your hair, his eyes not even bothering to look at you as he fucked your mouth.

“Stop fucking resisting,” Enji snarled, his hips coming to meet your mouth in a vicious, unpleasant snap, the head of his cock pressing down your clenched throat, and so much of his cock still remaining far from your mouth. “Take my cock like the fucking whore I know you are, seven.”

You gasp for air, but with his cock ramming further and further down your throat, the scalding heat emitting from his skin burning your throat, making you gag and choke around him in your fear. You couldn’t breathe, you realized in a panic, and your eyes widened in fear, drool and spit spilling down your chin pathetically as Enji hums contently.

“Don’t feel so scared, seven,” Enji cruelly smirked up at the ceiling, his hips lazily, sloppily, yet powerfully delivering his cock into your bulging throat. “I heard what you did to my men, how you let them fuck you however they saw fit, how you scoffed and scowled at the other pathetic weak bitches who couldn’t handle a little groping… I thought you would like this? What is it? Never had a real fucking cock before? A little whore like yourself only gotten shitty little cocks?”

Wordlessly, you begged to be shown mercy, your vision blackening as he choked out all forms of oxygen, his war weathered body unbothered by your clawing fingers on his thighs. No, you were too weak for it to hurt him.

His hands left your hair, and you collapsed back onto the bed, gasping for air, choking, and coughing for oxygen that only burned all through your system, sitting unpleasantly in your lungs while tears and saliva mixed on your throat.

“Where the fuck are do you think you’re going, seven?” Enji barked, his body suddenly looming over yours, and you felt trapped, unable to move as the mountain of a man trapped you between his sturdy arms and legs. His cock, warm and sticky with your spit and his precum, sat heavily on your stomach, the size difference between the two of you even more pronounced when the tip of his cock rested at the bottom of your ribcage. “All you did was lube up my cock for your stupid, tight pussy. Don’t think I was satisfied with that childish blowjob -- next time, if you want to cry, make sure it’s loud enough that I feel it against my cock.”

You pathetically moan at his words, the tears still falling from your eyes because your throat and jaw hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt.

“Please,” you gasped as his cinder hot hands pressed to your breasts against your kimono, he quickly enveloped your tender flesh in his hands despite the fabric. “Please, no more.”

“I don’t remember this marriage being about you,” he mocked, and with no more of a glinting snarl of his mouth, he tore the kimono straight off your body. The horrified scream that left your lips was silenced by the echoing slap across your face.

Pain blistered at the side of your face, and the resulting tears couldn’t be felt against your numbed skin as Enji continued his conquest, his fingers pulling and ripping any and all fabric pressed against your body.

“Get away!” you weakly whimpered, body trembling and twisting as you attempted to escape the man looming above you, finally ridding you of all dresses, hands pressing to the back of your thighs to push you into a position that he liked. “Leave me alone, leave me alone…”

There was no fire in your words, nothing but the aching fear and undeniable terror.

But the words did nothing to Enji, who continued to move you so that your tight, virgin cunt lined up with his throbbing, red cockhead. Even like this, your face was pressed into his chest. His body unworldly larger than yours, incredibly goliath compared to you.

“You know, seven, if you keep trying to escape me and you keep trying to save yourself, then why are you so fucking wet with everything I’ve done?” he growls down at you, his piercing blue eyes staring straight through you, the tears falling down your face doing nothing but encouraging him because he was right… your cunt, just like his cock, was wet, dripping with the undeniable pleasure of this all. There was a fire, a shameful fire, in your pussy, throbbing in time with the stinging pulse in your face that begged for Enji’s cock despite it all. “You fucking tiny little slut… I can feel just how my actions -- how my words -- affect you, getting you off like a bitch in heat! Your efforts to hide it are pathetic, fucking useless.”

Pain.

If you thought you knew what pain was before right now, you had to be wrong.

Enji’s girth was overwhelming, nearly splitting your shuddering tight walls while he buried his cock entirely within you. Nausea builds in the back of your throat, a soundless shriek breaking past your bleeding lips, your hips bucking in their relentless attempt to adjust to the way that he was splitting your walls in two, and your face flushed in pain and lust press into his chest, the only part of him you could touch.

Fuck, fuck, “fuck!” you cried, fat and painful tears pushing past your eyes, dripping down the apples of your cheeks while Enji sighed at the feeling of your hot cunt against his cock, blood seeping out of your pussy in such a pretty way he couldn’t help but smile.

“You’ve got a really tight cunt,” he observes, his hips slamming against you without warning, his mind only caring about him, setting off another round of painful screams while he situates within you. “Mhm, this is nice. A tight, young pussy always means a good womb, you’ll give me the heir I need… I’ll make sure to fuck you full of my cum.”

His hips then begin to thrust upward into you, the tip of his cock unable to reach the beginnings of your walls that he seemed to attempt to get to with each powerful blow. But it was his girth that had your body tensed, back arched in pain, eyes clenched in nothing but pain.

Pain.

“Hey.” SLAP. Your head snapped to the side, a burning, stinging pain on your cheek, alerting you that your eyes were closed. Your piqued breathing spluttered and so spaced between it was as if you were having some sort of asthma attack. Enji looked down at you, blue eyes burning demonly down at you (you wondered if this was the same look those who survived to see him on the battlefield claimed he had), his lips curled into an unapproving snarl while his hands pushed at the bottom of your knees. You pressed further into the tatami, the angle of penetration only furthering with your desperate screams to be gentler. “Shut the hell up, you’re annoying me with all this fucking screaming. Don’t waste my time.”

You whimper loudly, the feeling of his forcibly moving hips not becoming any easier on you, no longer a wave of intensive horrifying pain, but still a throbbing pain than had your fingernails cutting into his skin. “You have to be gentler! Be gentler, please be gentler! You’re so much bigger than me!!! My pussy can’t… my pussy can’t handle this!”

The fabric of the kimono under your body seared with heat when Enji shoved you further onto the mat, your legs twitching almost pathetically around his waist while your sight nearly blackened with his next action. He slammed your knees into the mat, increasing the angle of his penetration by a tenfold, sending you into another round of howling pain and pleasure as his cock slammed into your cervix -- bruising and scalding your puffy, sensitive walls with every powerful thrust. With his drilling hips and snarling speed, your screams and shouts of pain and pleasure and fear were cut off by an enormous fist around your neck, and his voice echoed from above you.

“Didn’t your dad teach you fucking whore to be quiet, seven?” Enji hisses, his thick hand clenching around your neck. Oxygen refused to flow to your lung, you went light-headed and limp, choking noises emitting from you while he continued to slam his cock in you, your clenching and splitting walls unable to keep up with the speed of the esteemed nobleman of Japan. “You’re my breeding whore, do you understand? You have no value to me except to be breed, to be full of my cum, to carry my child. You are nothing more than an object. Do. You. understand?”

Your head throbbed, the blood forcibly kept in your head, and the lack of oxygen made your world spin.

“Y-Yes!” you choke on your tongue.

“Repeat it!”

“I’m your breeding whore! Fill me with your cum, I wanna… fuck, I w-wanna carry your children! I’m your object, I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours!”

“There we go,” Enji sighs contently, his broad chest pressing your thighs further into the bed, cutting off what limited oxygen you had left, and increasing the jabbing pleasure within you by a tenfold.

“Shit, such a filthy fucking cunt you have,” he groans, your walls spasming against him with his wild, obscene thrusts. He moves his hands further up your legs so that they press against your knees, your legs then wrap around his body, shaking as he makes no effort to slow in his advances, your finger drawing blood from where they raked down his back because he was burning an outline of your body into the mat. Your strangled scream goes unnoticed by Enji, a desperate plea for him to be softer.

But he wasn’t someone who cared.

You were only here to be bred, to give him a son, the strongest son the entire country of Japan -- nay, the world -- has ever seen.

Pathetically, your hips attempt to rise up to meet him, a prayer that it would ease this brutal force he was using. It was too much -- his cock easily overpowering your throbbing cunt.

The sounds of his cock slamming into your sopping pussy created loud wet noises that made you cry in embarrassment. Your face felt like it was seconds from popping out, Enji’s weight crushing you on top of the abhorrent position he was fucking you in, but he found it as an excuse to speed up. His rugged grunts are warnings in your ears as his cock finally hits your cervix with consistency that makes you wail. The stretch he gave you was boggling, and you were progressively less cognitive aware as he drilled in harder. His slams were so hard that the sound of his thighs hitting your ass let out a continuous and loud slap.

His fingers gouge into your skin, and you cry his name like a hopeful prayer as he is fueled by your appraisal, your breath hot and sticky between the valley of his chest. Your tongue pressing against his skin akin to some infant looking to suck their mothers tit.

The force in which Enji slammed his hips to meet yours. Above your ear, the growling pants that mocked you for enjoying this demeaned you for thinking you were anything more than his breeding whore sent a liquid fire that could never match the heat of a conflagration to your core. When your head smashed against the mat because you could no longer keep your head up.

“That’s fucking right,” he laughs, drool pouring past your lips with your mindless babble, your eyes fluttering closed. Pleasure drowned in pain sobs expelled from your lips, invigorating something powerful within the entire family who watches on with impatient stares at the sight of your squeezing cunt around Eniji’s cock. “Take my fucking cock, bitch, don’t fucking pass out yet, we’re far from over.”

Enji was raw power, destruction, and strength. He pistoled into your sobbing core with the intent of getting his sperm into your cunt, to get his sperm that would get him a son into you, other than that, he was uncaring, unmotivated by your pathetic whining and crying. Your thrashing and wailing do not stop Enji, nor do they lessen the pace and the force he’s settled in as the floor begins to creak with every powerful thrust.

“I needa — holy shit, r-right there! M-More, more, more, more--”

“What? Do you need to come already, seven?” Enji mocks you pushing up off you so his back is curved, and your body so small underneath him. “Do you really think I’ll let you cum before me?”

Your eyes can no longer stay open as the only noises leaving your mouth are whines and begs for more. You forcibly clench around him to stir a reaction from him, but all he does is snarl quietly as he continues his rutting force. The pounding is rhythmic. His balls bruising your ass where he hits you. The feeling of Enji’s cock entering and leaving you draws your eyes to the back of your head as you pathetically whimper his name, his thighs hitting your ass at bruising force, only adding to your pleasure.

Each powerful snap of his hips sending your back arching to the heavens, the balls of your feet digging bruisingly into his back. In and out he goes, your cunt nothing more than a cocksleeve for him, and your wanton screams and mewls taking him further and further.

Enji all but laughs into your ear, his hand moving from pressing onto the tatami mat and pushing into your opened mouth, pressing onto your tongue. “Suck my fingers like a good whore, show me that you’re not gonna disappoint me. Suck my fingers.” you sob in the thought, not because you’re fearful of disappointing the man, but because the feeling of his fingers in your mouth makes your cunt throb ludicrously, your tongue desperately wrapping around the appendages, pushing through the space of his fingers. “I’m going to fill you up so good, breeding whore. You’ll be leaking my cum for days. I’m going to make sure you carry the Todoroki gene, and I hope that it’s my son you carry.”

The words incite clenching heat in your core, your lips unable to form anything but a weak, pitiful moan because the thought of being filled to the max with Todoroki cum makes your mind spin. More, you want to milk them all dry. You want nothing more than that. With a ragged breath, a consecutive full thrust that sends his cock slamming against your cervix, Enji cums fully within you. His load is long and heavy, your belly feeling like it’s bulging when he finally emerges from your cunt. His once hard cock limping in his hands while you lay there defeated, his and your intermixed cum spilling from your pulsing cunt.

Your mouth opened, sobbing at his absence, a need for him to return despite your core's undeniable tremor and ache. He’s off your body as well, and oxygen floods your lungs in dizzying and shallow pants, your vision fuzzies out, and you stare almost brokenly at the window painted with the rising morning sun.

Your room was in the east wing, after all.

You didn’t even protest when he pressed a smooth wooden plug into your cunt to “ensure you were bred to succession.”

He would soon leave your room, stumbling out with a drunken hiccup, leaving you to lay on a once white kimono… a once white kimono drenched in cum, blood, sweat, and tears.

You wouldn’t know until two weeks later, but Todoroki Enji had succeeded in breeding you, and you would eventually lay in a birthing room with blood and sweat and tears soaking your skin as a silent baby boy was placed in your arms.

“And what will his name be?” the midwife asked, her eyes wide with joy for you and Enji.

“...Shouto.”

#endeavor x reader #todoroki enji x reader #endeavor smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha

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rhaenyratargeryn · 3 years ago

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So I wrote an entire Gojo x Reader multichap fic in the space of like a month?? And it’s the first multichap fic I have ever completed.

Title: Convergence Theory

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader (oc)

Tropes: Fake Engagement, Idiots in Love, Canon Divergence, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Porn with Feelings (after ch. 13)

Summary: An on-going and haphazardly updated series of works where you, the reader, are a sorcerer and Limitless user in a not all-together fake engagement/relationship with one Gojo Satoru.

Status: chapters 22/22 ✅

Ao3 Link

Excerpt:

August, 2005.

There had been a phone call, an order disguised as invitation.

Gojo Satoru, heir to the name, barer of the Six Eyes, was turning sixteen in December, a scant four months away.

Six Eyes.

Two words that managed to leave the bitterest taste of bile in your throat.

You ran your hands up the back of your neck, dislodging the hair stuck your heated skin.

And worse yet, now you would suffer the indignity of being paraded around with every other eligible girl with a single drop of Gojo blood diluted enough to be proper for marriage.

Gojo Satoru needed a betrothed and only the best would do, naturally.

You were to be polite, courteous and docile. Laugh at his jokes, bat your eyes. Play the role of the pursued for the pursuer.

Did you even want to be selected? Once hailed as the promised child, now degraded to probable broodmare ?

You were all but deaf to the sounds of stilted, forced polite conversation, but could not ignore the sudden presence of a young man who came to sit down hard at your side.

How many girls had he been forced to sit with today? Judging by his bored expression, too many.

“This is the part where you tell me your name.” He said, voice amused, yet slightly condescending. Behind you both, his parents spoke with your own, but that too was part of the charade. All eyes were on you. All ears tuned to your words.

He tilted down his glasses to give you a halfway appraising look and you turned away.

“Goin’ for the aloof angle then? Some other girls tried it too. As if you pretend hard enough that you aren’t interested somehow I will be.”

How fucking arrogant.

Your fists clenched in your lap.

“It won’t work.”

“I’m not working any ‘angle’.” You grumbled, “I was told to be here so I’m here. That’s all.”

“You expect me to believe that, huh?”

“I don’t care what you believe.” You spat back, turning to shoot him a piercing glare.

There was silence then, even the voices behind you seeming to falter and lower as if worried they were missing out on some secret hushed conversation.

Your fist clenched tighter.

“I get it now. Sour grapes and all. Tell ya what…” he spoke softer and leaned in until you felt his breath against your ear, “If you ask me really nicely, for one night, you still could."

The only sound that came after that was the harsh strike of skin against skin. The contact of your palm connecting to his cheek stunned not just the adults inside, but you.

No self respecting sorcerer with the Limitless ability would have been taken by surprise and yet here you sat, having successfully struck the heir to the Gojo name right across his smug face.

You drew your hand back. His cheek had turned a throbbing red so quickly, his smirk raised as his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose and revealed how his blue eyes danced with open amusement.

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru x oc #gojo satoru x reader #ao3 #jjk fanfic #jjk fanfiction #gojo satoru #THE BRAIN ROT WAS HOW BAD???#80k+ WORDS BAD #reader insert

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notquitetwilight · 4 years ago

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THE CULLANOS: A TASTE OF BOSTON, PART ONE

The Cullanos head to Boston to take care of some business.

“Well?” Carlisle Cullano asked his wife from across the table. “How does Boston pizza compare to Jersey pizza?”

“It doesn’t,” Esme answered her husband automatically. “Especially not ours.”

“Typical Jersey girl,” he smirked. He looked to their daughter beside her. “Rosie?”

Rosalie wrinkled her nose, looking up at him from the slice she was chewing on. “It’s too thick. I don’t like it. But then again, Jersey pizza doesn’t compare to New York pizza, either.”

Esme gave a deep sigh and threw her daughter a look. “Really?”

“What? You know I’ll always be a Manhattanite.”

“You were born in Jersey City Med,” Esme pointedly reminded her.

“Where I was abandoned,” Rose said slowly. “…To be raised in Manhattan.”

“You weren’t abandoned at the hospital,” Carlisle countered.

“She wasn’t abandoned at all!” Esme hissed before he could continue. “How many times do we have to go through this?”

“I know, I know, you were just kids, younger than I am now,” Rose waved the hand that wasn’t holding a pizza slice dismissively. “I’m over it. But I don’t know why you always get mad at me for saying I’m a New Yorker when you’re the ones who chose not to raise me in Jersey. Well, chose not to raise me at all.”

A tense silence fell over them. Rose lowered her eyes to the table of their booth as she continued chewing. Esme glowered out the window, her jaw clenched. Carlisle nudged his foot against her leg in an attempt to comfort her, but she ignored him.

It was a little over a year since the couple had gotten their daughter back. Though she had left her adoptive family and seemed to have settled into their lifestyle, the topic of their lost time together still occasionally raised its head.

The couple had had her at the tender age of 17, unbeknownst to their families. Both of them decided they were too young, too broke and already too involved in the mafia game to raise her themselves. She was adopted by the Hales, a wealthy couple of lawyers who raised her in a Manhattan townhouse and gave her the finest private education New York City had to offer. Carlisle and Esme secretly watched her grow from park benches and the back of school auditoriums. They never interacted with her or allowed her to see them, but watching her grow up safe and happy from a distance filled the void that giving her up had left.

Well, it did, until it didn’t. A year and a half ago, right before the couple finally married, Esme’s sister gave birth to her first child. The family rejoiced in the arrival of the baby boy, with Esme’s mother proudly parading her “first grandchild” around. “Aren’t you jealous, Esme?” Mrs. Platt had asked at the wedding. “You hate it when others have something you don’t.”

“No, mom, I don’t get jealous,” came her answer. Carlisle stifled a laugh at that. The death certificate of his previous wife proved otherwise.

“I always thought you’d be the one to give me my first,” Mrs. Platt continued, causing her daughter to bristle. “But your little sister has beaten you to it.”

Esme’s knuckles went white around the champaign glass she held. “She’s just drunk, baby,” Carlisle muttered in her ear. “Fuggedaboutit.”

But it didn’t matter. Esme’s moods worsened in the weeks that followed as she grieved 17 years’ worth of parenting the daughter they tried to do right by. She stopped parking outside the Hales’ Upper East Side building in hopes of catching a glimpse of the girl, or regularly checking her social media pages for updates on how she was doing. Carlisle knew it had become too difficult for her, particularly when her sister got to be a mother so openly. Mrs. Platt was right; Esme hated going without what others had. And Carlisle could never let her go without.

So one day, he pulled his yellow Alfa Romeo into the garage of the couple’s home and paged Esme to meet him there. “Hey doll,” he greeted her from against the bonnet as she entered and closed the door behind her. “I gotcha somethin’.”

She looked around in confusion. Normally when he asked her to come to the garage it meant he had bought her a new car. “What?” She wondered, but before her husband could respond, she was answered by a chorus of thumping and muffled screaming from the trunk.

“Who’s in there?” Esme asked, bored. Visitors to their home arriving by car trunk wasn’t exactly new. He grinned at her smugly as the thumping continued. “What?” She said again, but he could tell he had piqued her interest. He sauntered over to the trunk and opened it, a flurry of blond immediately lunging at him from inside. Esme instinctively reacted with a raised gun, but as Carlisle restrained the girl, her eyes widened and she lowered her weapon. “Is that…?”

He beamed at her as Rosalie struggled in his arms. Her wrists and ankles were tied, but still she writhed around. Her eyes blazed with a mixture of anger and fear, and duct tape covered her mouth. “Take that thing off of her,” Esme commanded. “I wanna proper look.”

“Hold still or it’ll hurt,” Carlisle told the girl. She stopped wriggling long enough that he could gently remove the tape without ripping her skin. She immediately attempted to bite his hand, but he was too fast. Then came an ear-piercing screech that caused both adults to wince, but Esme was smiling.

“You wait,” Rosalie said once she was finished screaming, her voice hoarse. “Just you wait. If it’s money you want, good luck. You might as well kill me now.”

“She looks just like you,” Esme said as if she hadn’t heard her, though she didn’t take her eyes off the girl. “We knew it already, but up close, it’s crazy. I didn’t get a look-in.”

Rosalie’s face contorted to an expression of both confusion and disgust. “What the fuck…?”

Carlisle laughed at her exaggerated expressiveness; the narrowed eyes, the over-the-top frown, the grimace that caused her cheeks to apple. He had seen Esme pull that face a million times before. “I wouldn’t be so sure,” he told her as they both went back to staring at Rosalie — who was attempting to naw at the rope around her wrists — with the kind of fascination people usually reserved for newborn babies.

“Carl, untie her,” Esme instructed. He gave her a hard look, thinking it was a terrible idea. She arched an eyebrow in response, and he knew better than to argue with her.

“Wait ‘til my father hears about this,” Rose grumbled as he began cutting through the thick rope. That amused him, and he couldn’t help but grin. “What’s so funny?” She demanded.

He shook his head. “Nothin’,” he tried, but he heard Esme giggle and he started laughing again.

Rosalie’s face flushed angrily as she looked wildly from her almost-free hands to Esme and then to Carlisle. “I said, what’s. So. Funny?” She said it slowly and punctuated, as if she thought he was stupid. Esme’s laugh was turning into the loud cackle she gave when she was particularly thrilled. He sniffed with a smile and shook his head again.

Rosalie was then red-faced, her eyes flashing with rage. “What the fuck is so funny, you piece of shit?”

The couple collapsed into full belly-laughs for what had to have been at least a full minute as Rosalie could do nothing but glare. “It’s funny—“ Carlisle started, pausing to try and compose himself. “It’s funny that you said ‘wait ‘til my father hears about this,’ because I am your father.”

Rosalie rolled her eyes, irritated. She clearly thought that was his lame attempt at a joke.

“It’s true, saweetie,” Esme tried to turn her amusement into a sincere-looking smile. “Your our daughter. I’m your mommy! Were you ever told you were adopted?”

“What kind of weirdos are you?” Rosalie mused, her eyes still narrowed. “Don’t normal kidnappers just tie someone up and leave them be ‘til they’re paid ransom or get arrested? What is this, some sort of house-play shit? I saw something about that on TLC once.”

“Look, princess,” Carlisle started, struggling to get the blade through another bit of rope. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but it’s the truth. I didn’t bundle you up in my car for money, or to hurt you. I bundled you up in my car to bring ya home, where you belong. We’ve missed you your whole life, and now that you’re a lil’ older, we’d love to make up for lost time.”

She looked silently from one to the other. Carlisle could see that it would take a while to convince her. She was suspicious, defensive, and unyieldingly stubborn. Just like her parents.

“Whadiya say, kid?” He smiled at her. “Wontcha give your ol’ man a hug?”

The last of the rope snapped and Rosalie immediately punched him so hard in the nose that it made a horrible crack. He held it as she tried getting away, having seemingly forgotten about the rope around her ankles.

The pair of them allowed her to hop around the garage as both exits were locked. Esme handed him a tissue for his bloody nose and they stood side-by-side against the car, watching Rosalie noisily hunt for something she could either free her ankles or hurt them with. It took him a second to realise Esme was quietly crying.

“Don’t worry, doll,” he put a consoling arm around her and pulled her into him. “She’ll come round eventually. She just needs time. And maybe a car, or a pony, or whadevathefuck teen girls are into deeze days. Whadeva it takes, we’ll do it.”

“It’s not that,” Esme swiped at her tears and turned to him. He was surprised to see she was smiling.

“Then what? What is it, baby?”

Esme wiped another tear away as she proudly cried, “she’s got my uppercut!”

Getting the three of them to work as a family unit had been no easy feat. After showing her the paperwork that proved they were her biological parents, the couple brought Rosalie back to her adoptive home the same evening they had taken her from it in an attempt to show her they were no danger. She didn’t tell the Hales about what had happened, instead blaming her broken curfew on losing track of time while at a friend’s house. Carlisle knew that this was more out of anger at them for lying to her her whole life than it was out of loyalty to the Cullanos. The couple returned to watching her, but this time it was on a daily basis, and they made sure she saw them either by waving across the street or approaching her if she was alone. They often arrived with bribes, but she rolled her eyes each time.

“Hi, Rosalieeee,” Esme sung one day, the two of them having waited for her to get home at the corner of her block. “How was school?”

“Get lost,” Rose muttered as she went to walk past them as usual. Carlisle caught her arm, so she begrudgingly came to a halt and rounded on them with a glare. “What? What do you want?”

“I bought us matchin’ Birkins!” Esme said excitedly, unfazed by Rosalie’s attitude. She held up her arms, each hand gripping the handles of a bag.

“I already have expensive bags. I don’t need more. You know what? I already have parents, too.”

“Who had about as much of a hand in raisin’ you as we did,” Carlisle said. “Tell me, Rosie, which nanny was it you used to mistake for your motha?”

She flinched for a second before recovering her steely expression. “I told you not to call me that. You don’t get to give me a nickname. You don’t get to ask me how my day was. You don’t get to wait around for me every single day. Seriously, you’re both stalkers. You’re already breaking the law by seeking me out before I’m 18. Stop before I call the police and report you for harassment.”

“I don’t think you will,” Esme said gently.

“Oh yeah? What makes you so confident?”

“If that’s what you wanted, you’d have done it already.”

There was a pause. Esme took her chance to hand Carlisle a bag, freeing a hand to caress Rosalie’s arm. “Look, sweetheart. All we’re askin’ for is for you to get to know us. If you get to know us, and you decide you want nothin’ to do with us, we’ll walk away, no questions asked.”

Rosalie considered this for a moment, then looked back and forth at the two of them. “You swear?”

Carlisle traced the cross-my-heart motion on his chest. “Hope to die.”

“Promise,” Esme said firmly.

She let out a sigh. “Fine. But how will it work? I can’t just disappear to go live with you. I’m in my senior year, and my parents would have the mayor turn the city upside-down looking for me.”

“Well, they work ‘til late, right? So we’ll start pickin’ you up from school, and get you back before they come home,” Carlisle said.

“No, you can’t pick me up. Friends will see me getting into some random car. Plus, I’ll have homework...studying....that kinda thing.”

“Ahrite-ahrite,” he nodded. “Responsible, I like it. Education is very impawtant.”

Rosalie rolled her eyes again. “Yeah, it seems to have played a huge role in your life.”

“How about we get you a cell that you can use specifically for us?” Esme asked. “And you can call or text us whenever you’re finished with schoolwork? We can take ya out to eat or...well, do whateva you wanna do.”

Rosalie paused again. “Do I get to pick the phone?”

“Of course,” Esme smiled. She had told Carlisle the bribes would pay off eventually.

“What about your...business?” Rosalie asked curiously. They hadn’t explicitly told her what they did, but she was bright enough to guess.

“We do most of our work at night, anyway,” Esme answered.

And so the months that followed were filled with evening family bonding. Rosalie would call or text, they’d go out to eat, do different things around NYC or Jersey City, drop her home, go take care of business, get home either a little before or after dawn, and sleep while she was at school. She seemed to enjoy her time with them; she never said she was happy to continue allowing them to be in her life, but she never again brought up wanting them to leave her alone, either. So they continued the way they were as her 18th birthday drew closer.

One evening, when the family had gone go-karting, Carlisle noticed Rosalie’s ability to drive with extraordinary speed and precision. He decided to test it out in an actual car, just the two of them, and was thrilled to discover this skill was transferable.

“Guess what, baby?” He approached Esme from behind at their kitchen counter the next afternoon, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on her shoulder.

“What?” She smiled sleepily as she prepared breakfast, though it was 1pm.

“I think I’ve found us a driver.”

“Really? Who?”

“Rosie.”

She frowned and pulled away so she could properly look him in the face. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Remember how great she was when we went go-kartin’? Well, I brought her to a track last night and she was amazin’. Turns out she’s actually really into cars — kid knows more about ‘em than me!”

“First of all, drivin’ round an empty racetrack at night is very different from drivin’ the streets when you’re fleein’ a scene or bein’ chased,” Esme said, pulling fully out of his arms and heading for the sink. “Second, Rosie’s goin’ to college.”

“Whadiyamean, she’s goin’ to college?”

“I mean what the fuck I said: she’s goin’ to college!”

“We just got the kid back and now you’re gonna send her off to some otha parta the country to go to college?”

She turned back to him with a glare. “The whole reason we left her in the first place was so that she could have a normal life. College is a normal life.”

“Normal life? She was bounced around from nanny to nanny! We didn’t give her a life with normal parents, we gave her human cash cows and babysitters!”

“Well, at least she was safe.”

“We’d never let anyone hurt her.”

“We couldn’t guarantee that. We still can’t. That’s why she should go to college like the rest of her friends.”

“What, because college is so safe for young girls? Have you neva read a newspaper?”

“Don’t tell me about the dangers young women face,” she practically growled.

“She’d be with us,” he said, his tone much softer. “Where else could possibly be safer for her to be than with the two people who’d die for her?”

She stared at the counter for a moment. “Her 18th is comin’ up,” she said slowly. “That’s her opportunity to decide if she wants to come live with us or not. If she does, she does; if she doesn’t, she goes to college like the private-school kid she is should. But I don’t wanna force her like we did last time. If she chooses us, I want it to be because she chooses us.”

“Okay,” Carlisle smiled, then added, “and she will.”

And she did. She turned 18, deciding to finish out the school year where she had always lived. After graduation, she packed her bags, told the Hales she knew the truth and that she was leaving them for good, and came to live in the Cullano house. The Hales were a little persistent in trying to convince her to come back to them, but it was nothing that couldn’t be solved by sending Emmett, the most intimidating-looking member of the crew, over to their house to smash a couple of things up. As Carlisle had envisioned, Rose started driving for the Cullanos and their team, initially just the occasional, stress-free errand here and there. But she found it brought a certain amount of thrill and excitement her life had been missing, and so she worked her way up to riskier jobs. This trip to Boston would be her riskiest job yet.

“Is everyone done?” Carlisle now asked. Esme still had a slice left over while Rosalie sat with nothing but crust in front of her.

“Mmhmm,” Rose answered. Esme mumbled something about being full.

They gathered their things and headed back to the borrowed Bugatti that Emmett had arranged for them. Though Emmett was a Brooklyn boy, Boston was his father’s city, and he had relatives all around it. Relatives that would be more than happy to see the Cullanos through what they planned to do tonight.

Rosalie set the GPS to their hotel. “How many Ivanovs are there, again?”

“Six— well, 4 Ivanovs, a Petrov and a Ryan,” Esme answered from the back.

“Who’s the head?”

“Mmm, Tatiana. Or at least she thinks she is,” Esme smiled.

“Is she the one who...did she kill Emmett’s dad?” Rosalie met Esme’s eyes in the rear view mirror. She had developed a bit of a soft spot for Emmett over her time with them.

“No,” Carlisle answered instead. “That was Katarina and Garrett.”

“Garrett doesn’t sound very Russian.”

“Garrett is the Ryan. Irish mob, like Emmett’s dad,” Carlisle said.

“They worked together ‘til he fell for Katarina,” Esme added. “So it was a real blow when the two of them killed him. A big betrayal.”

“Then how come no one’s taken them out yet?”

“They’re powerful. Ruthless. Batshit crazy,” Carlisle said.

“Look who’s talking,” Rose said with a slight smile.

“That’s why Emmett’s mother left here and raised him in Brooklyn,” Esme said. “That’s where she grew up, so she knew she’d be safe. The Ivanovs have people everywhere around Boston. And with a target on the back of every McCarthy, stayin’ woulda been a death sentence.”

Rosalie frowned then. “If they’re that bad, what are we doing here? There’s three of us— two, technically, since I’m just the wheels. Those don’t seem like very good odds.”

“There’s also Alice, virtually,” Carlisle reminded. “She’ll be there behind every camera to tell us what we’re dealin’ with.”

“Cool, so she can say, ‘hey guys, you’re about to die’ right before we die. Helpful.”

“It is helpful,” Esme said. “Even the shortest of warnin’s can buy you just enough time to save your life.”

“Besides, we’re not plannin’ a massacre,” Carlisle said. “I’m expectin’ only one to be there. We hit ‘em, we go. Then we’re even for how they fucked us over with the Kiev deal they were supposed to facilitate.”

“So it’s...a blind hit? It doesn’t matter who you get, as long as you get one of them?”

Carlisle nodded. “But it would be...convenient, if it was Tatiana.”

Once they got back to the hotel, they freshened up and changed. The couple pulled out the stuffed bags Emmett had also organised for them. They took only what they needed, a couple of guns and knives each, and shoved the rest back under the bed.

“Don’t forget my favourite,” Carlisle smirked, waving Esme’s thigh holsters in the air.

“Never,” she said, holding up two pistols that were identical to her favourites back home. “Put them on for me?”

He knelt down, lifted up her skirt and strapped one around her right thigh. Then he moved to her left as she slotted her gun into it. After buckling the left one, he ran his hand down her inner thigh, causing her to giggle. Rosalie burst through the door of their adjoining rooms and froze as she registered them, her face immediately screwing up in disgust.

“Oh, for shit’s sake,” she said. “Get a room.”

“This is our room,” Carlisle pointed out.

She rolled her eyes. “Why aren’t you in all-black?”

She was wearing head-to-toe black like they taught her, as she always did. Carlisle was dressed like an office worker from Mad Men, while Esme looked like a housewife from the 50s. Neither of them said anything.

“This isn’t one of your weird sex things, is it? Like, you can’t possibly get off on killing people together?”

The silence continued. “Ugh, don’t answer that.”

They made their way down to the car and Rosalie silently drove them to a street two blocks down from the address they’d given her. As the pair got ready, she drummed her fingers against the wheel.

“You scared?” Carlisle asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“No,” she said, a little too forcefully.

Esme leaned forward into the gap between the two front seats and put a hand under Rosalie’s chin, directing her so she could look at her intently. “Remember the plan. Stay inside the car at all times. Stay put here, lights off, engine off. Only turn it on when you see us. Or when you see people who aren’t us carryin’ guns. If that happens, you drive and you drive and you don’t ever stop. Same goes if we’re gone past, mmm, a half hour. Forty minutes, tops. There’s a loaded gun in the glovebox if you need it. Got it?” Rosalie nodded. “Good.”

“Stay safe, princess,” Carlisle kissed her on the cheek, opening his door. “Love ya.”

He closed the door and Esme took her hand and squeezed it. “Everything will be fine. But in case it isn’t, you know what to do. I love you, sweetheart.”

She nodded wordlessly again. She never said it back; it was probably still too weird for her. But she swallowed tightly. Esme brought the hand she held onto up to her lips and kissed her knuckles. She then let go and opened the door.

“Esme?” Rose choked out just as she was about to close it.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Come back to me, like you did before.”

Now Esme was the one who could do nothing but nod. And with that, she closed the door, and the couple walked off into the night.

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thewildomega · 4 years ago

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Akainu x Motherless Daughter Headcanons

@iamemmalindberg Ask: Hello, I really enjoyed the headcanon with whitebeard and a pregnant omega and I just read you love angst. So I have a request for a headcanon with Akainu: The (vice) admiral's wife died during childbirth, but their daughter survived, how will he raise the child as a single parent?? Some context if I may include it - she is the sweetest and quite understanding with Akainu's job, but it hurts her that she is motherless and dad is hardly present. she cries easy, when "family" is brought up. Thanks

A/N: This proved to be more difficult than I intended but only because it hit me right in the feels. Thank you for the ask, hope you like it.

Sakazuki would hang onto the last memory of his wife forever. Her face was flushed of color and her eyes weak as she looked up at him. Moving to stand beside her bed he swallowed thickly before crouching down to be close to her face as her lips started moving the slightest.

“Saka... look isn’t she b..beautiful..”

Seeing his dying wife smile so sweetly like she always did he blinked and forced his eyes down to the newborn babe currently laying on her chest. Their tiny daughter was sleeping peacfuly in her mother’s final moments.

“Our perfect l..little g..girl. You’re going tttoooo be a... great dad Saka...”

Looking away from the girl he instead moved his eyes to the window. “How am I supposed to be a father to the thing that killed the woman I love.” Feeling something touch his jaw lightly he turned his face back to her, clenching his teeth when she stroked his cheek with her trembling fingers.

“Oh Saka p..please don’t be like that... This isn’t her fault and you know that. If y..you must blame someone t..then blame me... I.. I wasn’t ssstrong enough...”

Closing his eyes he shook his head. “Don’t. You are the strongest person I know Y/n.” Hearing the babe make a small noise and then her weak voice speaking to their daughter he felt the knot in his throat growing.

“You and y..your daddy are going to b...be the per...fect little fa..family.”

“It isn’t going to be a family without you.”

“Sure it will... You and o..our little Sakura here and... and maybe someone else one...”

“No. No I will never love another Y/n. You are my wife, forever.” Laying his forehead on hers he closed his eyes.

“Saka m..my love I..I’m afraid I h..have to gooo now...”

Shaking his head he moved his hand to her hair and pet it like he did so often when they were alone. “No you can’t. I can’t do this on my own. I don’t know anything about being a parent.”

“You’ve always been a quick learner. Besides she needs you... P..promise me Saka... promise you’ll t..take care of her. Be t..there for her...l..love her...for the both of u..us.”

Nodding he lifted his head to look her in the eye. “I promise Y/n.” Seeing her smile at him with tears in her eyes he felt his own start to water as he watched her use her last strength to kiss their daughter’s head.

“I love you... both of you...”

“I love you.” he told her and saw her eyes lift back to his. Bending down to kiss her lips he pulled away and watched her eyes slowly close. Feeling tears roll from his eyes he heard their daughter start crying, her mother’s heartbeat no longer there to sooth her. Dropping his head to the bed beside hers he continued petting her hair with one hand while the other moved to the wailing babe.

Loosing his wife was hard, being a single father was not something he was prepared to take on.

At first he would not know where anything is, he hadn’t been there when his wife had placed everything up in the nursery, preparing for their child.

He couldn’t tell you how many nights he sat in that rocking chair staring at the crib as she slept.

Being on leave both for the birth of his daughter and grieving time for his wife he would work on getting a routine down.

He must have lucked out because as it turned out his little flower was easy going. After the first few weeks she slept through the night and hardly ever fussed.

Hiring a nanny once he started back work was a long process. No one seemed qualified in the beginning but he came to realized that no one was ever going to be what he really wanted, his wife.

As the years passed his daughter grew and he tried to spend as much time with her as he could, tried to fulfill his promise to his wife but work was work. The navy was his life too.

Sakazuki is a very strict person and that carries through to his home as well. His daughter has gotten used to it though and she understands perfectly well who her father is.

She never bothers him to play with her, knowing full and well he doesn’t have time.

When the nanny would tell him about his little girl drawing pictures of her mother, him and her all together or how she cries silently in her room whenever the word family is mentioned around her he would feel guilty but he wouldn’t show it.

Most of her time is spent alone but when Sakazuki is home he makes it known that she can talk to him about anything.

Although many people would think he is uncaring all the time that isn’t the case. He does love his daughter very much and it secretly hurts him when he realizes how much he isn’t there for her he pushes himself harder. She was already motherless he wouldn’t make her feel fatherless as well.

Dinner time is their time and as long as he isn’t away he makes it his top priority to get there on time for them to share the meal and talk.

He may not say much himself but he is a very good listener and takes everything his flower says in. He knows her likes and dislikes, her favorite color and animal.

He also invites her to sit with him while he is pruning his bonsai trees, holding her in his lap and glancing down to see her small eyes watching him carefully.

The vice admiral may not be the one to parade parenthood all around but you can best believe he keeps a picture of her and his wife on him at all times.

In his office on his desk is the framed picture his flower drew of her family all together but everyone knows not to dare mention it.

The man is very protective over what is the only family he has left.

Once she starts school he keeps up with her grades, she will no doubt have the best grades in the school. The navy man already has his heart set on his child being the next marine prodigy.

His mind often drifts to his wife, the woman that he loved so dearly and he wishes more than anything she was still here so their daughter wouldn’t have to be alone.

He is lucky to have such an understanding child but he will always push himself to do better, to be better.

Once she is old enough he will tell her everything about her mother, answer any of her questions. “Did you love her?” the quiet question stunned him for a moment. Lifting his eyes from his plate he looked into the identical eyes his wife had and took a deep breath. “Very much.”

#sakazuki x reader #sakazuki one piece #akainu #akainu x reader #sakazuki x daughter #One Piece Fanfiction #One Piece headcanons #sakazuki headcanon #vice admiral sakazuki #akainu headcanons

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sidehugsnsideblogs · 3 years ago

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FCSU #50 The Winds of Change

Every family in the FCSU worked hard to present a perfect image to the rest of the community. With everyone living on the same compound it became harder and harder to keep any family drama under wraps. Elden Brown thought he had done a good job of maintaining his façade but small doubts started to eat at him. He noticed that while the jailed Prophet was quick to assign his daughters to marry Elden’s sons, he only gave Elden older wives who were past their childbearing years. The birth rate in his household was slowing with only two wives still able to conceive and Elden himself was beginning to slow down, he needed fertile young wives to prove that he was still virile. He began to worry that word had gotten out about how chaotic his home could be behind closed doors.

Historically FCSU men had been tasked with treating all their wives equally. To favour one over another was considered a sin until Leroy Culton came to power. Now Elden was more comfortable parading Charlene around as his favoured companion but he didn’t want the rest of the church to know just how badly the rest of the wives had it. Nina was growing increasing depressed and withdrawn, she took care of her own children but largely avoided everyone else. Sometimes her old temper would flare up and she would take her frustrations out on other wives’ children. Charlene was also enthusiastic about corporal punishment. Aj and Jayne would try to protect the children from their outbursts but there were so many children to keep up with it was inevitable that someone would get hurt.

Nia busied herself with the majority of the housework but the house was so large with so many people living in it, it required multiple rounds of vacuuming daily. Charlene and Elden came and went as they pleased, taking business trips to far away cities and fancy dinners. Elden insisted that he had to “wine and dine” clients for his construction companies and as his faithful secretary and assistant, he needed Charlene by his side. Neither of them contributed to the housework nor childcare, despite the fact that several of the young children belonged to Charlene. The other wives and children actually preferred when Charlene and Elden were away, it was a welcome break from the relentless pressure to be perfect.

The first new wife to arrive was Sally, Jerrod Culton’s former wife. She had eight children but all were "grown and flown" as she put it. She had been the first wife and was largely responsible for running her previous home. She kept a strict schedule and was exasperated by the chaos that engulfed the Brown household. She spent her first week praying silently in her room, Jayne was quick to reach out to her but Sally needed time to adjust first.

Loretta was the second wife added to the family. She was a widow hailing from a remote FCSU farm to the west. She was also Evelyn’s youngest sister. Loretta was never able to have children so she had no dependents to protect. She knew about the years of abuse her sister had faced at the hands of Charlene and Elden. She was tall, muscular and brash from her years on the farm. She regarded Charlene with thinly veiled contempt and complete indifference towards her new husband. She hadn’t wanted to marry Elden but he and some Priesthood elders arrived at her door and told her to choose between marriage and expulsion. She was told Elden would be her Priesthood Headship for the remainder of her mortal life, she would be reunited with her first husband in heaven. Loretta was quite imposing to the other wives at first, she had no filter, she laughed freely and broadcasted her emotions loudly throughout the house. The children quickly grew to love her.

One day while doing the dishes after breakfast she saw Charlene take Autumn downstairs, she was whispering angrily and the child looked terrified. Loretta tried to focus on the dishes but then she heard a slapping sound and muffled crying. Loretta strode out of the kitchen to see Charlene, hand raised, ready to hit Autumn again. The child was crying so hard her body was shaking. “Why don’t you let the child’s own mother punish her?” she asked, she knew that Aj was far more lenient with the children. “Why don’t you mind your own business and focus on pleasing your husband?” sniffed Charlene. Loretta took Autumn’s arm and led her out of the room. Charlene grabbed Loretta as the turned to leave and raised her hand to slap her. Loretta caught Charlene’s hand in hers and squeezed it painfully tight. “I am not my sister, I am not afraid of you. Do not touch me again, do not speak to me again.”

Charlene’s face was white, no one had ever stood up to her before, the other wives either stayed out of her way or obeyed her without question. She ran to Elden’s office to tell him what had happened. He summoned Loretta to his office and screamed at her for over an hour about respecting her sisterwives. Loretta stood stoically, she knew Elden had no leverage. He couldn’t retaliate against her children, she had none. He couldn’t send her away to her sister, that would be a reward. Elden never consummated his marriages to any of his elder wives so he couldn’t even take that away from her. She waited until he was done before going to her room. Allie Jayne came in to quietly thank her for intervening.

Jayne was also grateful to Loretta for standing up to Charlene. The two started sharing their morning coffee together before the rest of the house awoke. Sally and even Nia joined them after a while. The had all been reassigned to Elden and were finally able to talk about their experiences. Sally was a true believer but she was also very honest. She couldn’t believe the things her former husband had been accused of. Loretta had a wicked sense of humor and brought laughter back to the home. The “Old Gals” as they began calling themselves hatched a plan.

Sally would tutor the children after school and teach them theology in the evenings, she felt a set routine would be good for them. Jayne would do the majority of cooking and gardening. She and Aj would keep the most frequently targeted children by their sides from morning till night to keep them safe. Nia and the teenage daughters would be responsible for keeping the house clean and Loretta would do the laundry. With these changes the house ran more smoothly than ever. Elden never once acknowledged the changes nor his wives’ hard work. He and Charlene began to spend more and more time away from the house.

#fundie sims #fcsu #fundie tumblr #fundiesims #sims 4 story #sims 4 #cult blog

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lacrimaomnis · 3 years ago

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BRF Reading, 21/7/2021 (Part 2 of 3)

This is the second of three spreads.

Yesterday, after I posted my first spread, I came across a post saying that there is no birth certificate for a Lili Diana, but there is a birth certificate for a Diana Mary Mountbatten-Windsor issued in Los Angeles. Now, this significantly changes the direction of my readings, because if the baby is indeed named Diana Mary (which is proved by the birth certificate), then, of course, there is no Lili Diana in the first place because she was not named as such. As the result of that development (I am aware it is well known by this point in Tumblr, but for me, this is absolutely new since I first read it in a passing and had just gotten the full gist of it last night when I came across it again), I decided to redraw the two spreads I have had previously drawn, this time with two different questions.

I also decided to do the Celtic Cross spread since I wanted to get clarity on both the internal and external motivation of these two.

As written, this is merely a speculation and therefore must be taken with a grain of salt. This speculation is not true until proven otherwise.

My question has changed into if Lili and Diana Mary is one and the same, why did Meghan and Harry decide to publicise her name as Lili(bet) Diana?

Cards drawn: Three of Wands, Seven of Swords, Ace of Cups, Two of Swords, Justice, Four of Wands, Five of Pentacles, Three of Cups, Three of Pentacles, The Emperor

Remarks/Comments: Well, well, well. Would you look at that? We have 3 Three cards (sorry, did that throw you off guard?), which prompted me to look into the numerology of the cards because the Threes seem to be particularly important.

Summary: They decided to publicise the baby as Lilibet Diana in part to get their business opportunities ongoing, and in part, as an act of revenge against BRF for the perceived slight they had received from the royal family. This is just one sad reading.

First part: Three of Wands, Seven of Swords, Ace of Cups, Two of Swords, Four of Wands, Justice

First card: Three of Wands. This is the first card of the cross part, and this card indicates the "present situation". As the card of enterprise, cooperation, and future financial success, this card told me Meghan and Harry decided to publicise her name as Lilibet Diana in order to have future financial success.

This is in line with all the readings I have done so far or the circumstances as they are known to the public: Meghan and Harry are in debt, they have purchased domains of Lilibet Diana, they already have plans to merchandise her. This card is very important because this card sets the entire tone of the reading. When they decided to publicise her name as Lilibet Diana, at that particular time (the present), they thought that she would be able to get them those business partnerships and cooperations.

This card also told me that instead of being an 'idea pops in my head and let's do it immediately' plan, Meghan and Harry's decision to publicise this baby as Lilibet Diana is well-thought-of and was planned to be their long-term plan insurance. In my deck, this card is illustrated as a stag looking away into the distance, a representation of visualising a future and thinking of long-term plans.

Second card: Seven of Swords. The card of deception and hidden plans, this is the "problem" card. Harry and Meghan thought they could keep "Diana Mary" sealed from the public's knowledge forever, and that they can profit off the "Lilibet Diana". Or, this could also be a plan from their part: they would first publicise her as "Lilibet Diana", and then when people are coming at them, they could show off the birth certificate of the baby being "Diana Mary" and then go on into the victim narratives we were all too familiar with. The problem is, they will eventually be figured out, sooner or later. They might get away for some time, but they will be figured out. And they perhaps did not think of that.

Third card: Ace of Cups. This is the "past" card, the motivations leading up to the event. This card speaks about new opportunities and beginnings, and this card affirmed to me that Meghan and Harry thought that publicising this baby as "Lilibet Diana" would give them new opportunities and a new beginning to get those moneybags back into their pockets.

Fourth card: Two of Swords. This is the card of difficult decisions, and as the card of the near future, this may imply that soon, a difficult decision must be made. This could also be interpreted that instead of getting them those business opportunities and beginnings, the decision to publicise the baby as "Lilibet Diana" will force them or the royal family to make a difficult decision regarding the baby.

Fifth card: Justice. The card of law, karma, fairness, honesty, balance, and reason. This card represents the effects of one's actions and the consequences of their decisions. Looking at the position of this card, this card is in the "conscious" position -- to put it simply, this is the "I want to do this to get something" card.

This card tells me that the reason why Meghan and Harry took this decision was to "get back" at the royal family for "cutting them off". This is the "justice" they think they deserve -- after all, they are the victim and the royal family is a "hostile" institution where they were constantly denied of what they "need". Is it the "justice" they "deserve"? That is up to your interpretation, but honestly? I don't think they deserve this "justice".

Sixth card: Four of Wands. In three separate readings done on different days, this card likes to show itself, all in readings related to Harry and Meghan in any sort. The position of this card in the spread speaks about the "unconscious" part of oneself. This card speaks about the "why I want to do this" card.

Four of Wands, is again, a card closely associated with the elements of home and family. A card of celebration and happiness. This tells me that by deciding to publicise "Lilibet Diana", Meghan and Harry had hoped that they will get their "justice" over the royal family and that they perhaps wanted their way back in so the royal family can be "whole" again. They had hoped that the public will celebrate this baby's birthday and had hoped that the public's celebration will drive home to the royal family that they are not "whole", that Meghan and Harry are "needed", because look at the public's celebration! ...which is little to none. Rather than celebration, all they get was negative PRs and people being fed up with them.

Second part: Five of Pentacles, Three of Cups, Three of Pentacles, The Emperor

First card: Five of Pentacles. This card is about financial hardship, loss, and poverty. As the first card of the staff section, the section that rules the outside situation of the subject, this card once again affirms to me that yes, Meghan and Harry are in a difficult situation, money-wise, that they decided to take this step. They really think that parading the baby around as 'Lilibet Diana' would get them the money.

Second card: Three of Cups. This is the card of celebration, weddings, friendship, and parties. If we look at the first card, the Five of Pentacles, this card seems to tell me that Meghan and Harry were in a difficult financial position because they partied way too hard. They were not careful with their money. They perhaps had said yes to one too many opportunities to party; or to splurge on money to celebrate something, whatever the occasion is. A friend's birthday? A friend had a child? Someone bought a new house and invited them all over to a party? You name it, they spent money on it.

Third card: Three of Pentacles. I have 3 Three out of the four possible Threes, the only missing Three is the Three of Swords. What are they trying to say?

I looked up a little bit (I am not at by any means versed in numerology) -- threes are usually about imagination, about someone with great creative energy but little to no direction. Threes tend to speak about frivolity, lack of discipline, naivety, and egoism -- things we all have seen from Meghan and Harry.

Three of Pentacles speaks about future building, diligence, hard work, and teamwork. As the "hopes and fears" card of the spread, this tells me that by deciding to parade the baby as "Lilibet Diana", Meghan and Harry had hoped their decision would contribute to their "future building". Pentacles are all about anything material and wealth, so this could well mean that the "future building" they wanted was synonymous with "racking in the cash".

Fourth card: The Emperor. This is the card of authority or a father. He is the patriarch, the card that urges one to choose the mind over the heart, to make decisions based on available facts rather than feelings.

In this spread, the card that can be read as The Emperor's pair is the Two of Swords -- implying that the difficult decision must be made by using a fact-based approach with little to no room for sentimentality or feelings. This card comes across to me as BRF as the institution, and that because of Meghan and Harry's decision to publicise the name of the baby as "Lilibet Diana", BRF has to make a difficult decision: for me, that manifested in the palace's statement where the palace will not tolerate any mistruths spoken by Meghan and Harry -- for years, the royal family's motto is to "never explain, never complain", and for the first time in their long existence, they are now forced to speak up.

Conclusion: They really think of this baby, whoever she is, as a means to cash in the moneybags and as a weapon to get their "revenge" over BRF and to get their "justice". This is just sick. How could someone decided to have a baby (surrogate or not, it matters not) just so they can use the baby as a weapon to get back against a perceived slight? As a way to milk money? I am sick to my stomach just thinking about it.

#reading: brf #g reads

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