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livsbuffy · 10 days ago

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the long-term impact of buffy’s relationship with angel on her perception of love and her self-worth deserved to be explored more. the show touches on it a few times, but it didn't get nearly enough focus, considering how formative this first romantic experience was.

from the beginning, their relationship is doomed by the narrative : the soul curse, the slayer vs. vampire dynamic, angel's constant disappearing acts, etc. when angel loses his soul, he immediately expresses hatred for buffy. angelus doesn't feel an ounce of love for the girl. whatever angel felt never transferred to his uninhibited counterpart, angelus.

ANGELUS : She made me feel like a human being. That's not the kind of thing you just forgive. (Innocence, 2x14).

from the age of sixteen, buffy starts associating intimacy (emotional and physical) with punishment and hurt. her love is poison. it's the root of evil (angel losing his soul after their first time) and it hurts the people she loves (giles losing jenny). love becomes laced with guilt.

BUFFY (to Giles) : I'm sorry I couldn't kill him for you... for [Jenny]... when I had the chance. (Passion, 2x17)

angel taints buffy's sense of self. he makes her doubt herself. he never stops bringing up her age and immaturity (shocker, high school girl isn't an adult!!!!). it's a recurring theme in their relationship, one the show gives up on for some reason, but it was very much present in the beginning.

ANGEL : You're sixteen years old. I'm two hundred and forty-one. BUFFY: I've done the math. ANGEL : You don't know what you're doing, you don't know what you want... (Reptile Boy, 2x05)

this imbalance is a constant, but both shows gloss it over or try to reverse it. there’s a scene in angel’s spin-off where buffy finds faith with him and asks that she face legal consequences (a reasonable demand for someone who just stole her body). but buffy is painted as the irrational party by the writing. worse, when angel grabs buffy’s arm to stop her from going after a fleeing faith and she fights back, he justifies hitting her, completely disregarding her trauma and focusing on her physicality to distract the viewer from his emotional manipulation.

BUFFY : You hit me. ANGEL : Not to go all schoolyard on you, but you hit me first. In case you've forgotten, you're a little bit stronger than I am. (Sanctuary, 1x19)

the show insists on buffy’s strength, but ignores the emotional and situational imbalance. angel is older, more experienced, and constantly undermines her feelings. the narrative minimizes his mind-games by deflecting. angel twists buffy's need for justice into revenge. he takes her justified pain and shapes it into something vile, gaslighting buffy and invalidating her feelings.

ANGEL : Buffy, this wasn't about you! This was about saving somebody's soul. (...) ANGEL : You came because of Faith. You were looking for vengeance. (Sanctuary, 1x19)

angel plays tricks on buffy's mind during her most formative years. every time he dismisses her pain and struggles, it confirms her insecurities and feeds the voice in her head telling her she's the problem.

there are moments where buffy actively tries to change herself, be someone she's not just to please angel. she tries to lose herself in a performance for the older guy. one notable instance is her halloween costume choice : a woman from angel’s era, prettier from buffy's point of view, a woman that he would have been attracted to back then. ironically, buffy actually does lose herself because the costume is cursed.

BUFFY (to Angel) : I just wanted to be a real girl for once. The kind of fancy girl you liked when you were my age. (Halloween, 2x06)

not only does her love for angel cause tragedy and evil, it also makes her feel small, not worthy, not enough. it touches her self-esteem. this is apparent when angel mocks buffy after their first time, tapping right into her teenage insecurities :

ANGELUS : You got a lot to learn about men, kiddo. Although I guess you proved that last night. BUFFY : What are you saying? ANGELUS : Let's not make an issue out of it, okay? In fact, let's not talk about it at all. It happened. BUFFY : I don't understand. Was it me? Was I not good? (Innocence, 2x14)

he is later painted as the older guy who changed after sex. the show veers off-course in season 3 and completely disregards this aspect of their relationship in order to paint them as a tragic romance instead of sticking with the original subtext : teenage buffy, the "kiddo", being groomed and blaming herself.

BUFFY : Do you remember that guy Angel? JOYCE : Angel, the, um... the college boy who was tutoring you in history? BUFFY : (...) We're sort of dating, were dating. Going through a serious off-again phase right now. JOYCE : Don't tell me. He's changed. He's not the same guy you fell for? (Passion, 2x17)

you can see the impact later with parker. buffy thinks something is wrong with her. her instinct when parker decides that she was just a one-night stand is to put the blame on herself and question her worth, reminiscent of her conversation with angel after their first time :

BUFFY : Parker did I do something wrong? PARKER : Something wrong? No, of course not. It was fun. (...) PARKER : I'm sorry if you missed something. I thought things were pretty clear. BUFFY : I'm sorry if I miss. I'm sorry. PARKER : Look, I really have to go now. BUFFY : Parker wait. I did this all wrong.

angel was the first love that turned evil because of her touch. he was the first love that didn’t stay. so in buffy’s mind, it rings “this is all my fault” alarm bells. she’s not worth staying for. people leaving is her responsibility. it's always the slayer's responsibility.

then she settles for riley despite the lack of love or passion, to regain the normalcy that was shattered by angel. her relationship with riley only happens because of the damage angel caused.

BUFFY : I think [Riley] cares about me but I just feel like something's missing. WILLOW : He's not making you miserable? BUFFY : Exactly. Riley seems so solid. Like he wouldn't cause me heartache. (...) WILLOW : The pain is not a friend. BUFFY : (...) Part of me believes that real love and passion have to go hand in hand with pain and fighting. I wonder where I get that from. (Something Blue, 4x09)

she stays with him even though she’s clearly not fulfilled (running away to slay vampires in the middle of the night instead of staying with him). but even then, riley leaves. being in a relationship with the slayer hurt him in some way (well, his ego). buffy was caught in yet another relationship where she had to change herself, this time because she was too intimidating for regular human riley.

all the men in buffy’s romantic and sexual life made her feel like she tainted them in some way. they were worse off with her. angel loses his soul. she wasn’t good enough for parker. she was too slayer-y for riley. she voices this insecurity to angel in the series finale :

BUFFY : I always feared there was something wrong with me, you know, because I couldn’t make it work. (Chosen, 7x22)

this all starts with angel and bleeds into every single one of her relationships because he shaped her worldview at such a young age. angel being completely unable to love her without a soul also made it impossible for her to accept spike's love, at first. because if spike could love her, then why couldn't angel?

BUFFY : And the joke is... [Spike] loved me. I mean, in his own sick, soulless way, he really did care for me. But I didn't want to be loved. (Conversations With Dead People, 7x07)

accepting spike's unconditional love for her, with or without a soul, would mean confronting the reality of her relationship with angel. it was a superficial love that never transcended soul, conscience or morality. it wasn't deeply ingrained in the deepest parts of him (angel and angelus). strip angel of his inhibitions and he only has loathing for her. strip spike of his soul, and the love stays. twisted, perverted, selfish, but there. real and strong enough to make him want to be better on his own, no curse needed.

for spike, the humanity he gained from loving buffy was a gift he was grateful for, because he's always longed for humanity and never fully severed the link with it.

SPIKE : I know that I’m a monster, but you treat me like a man. (The Gift, 5x22)

he tries to be better for her, as much as his lack of conscience allows. from the start, buffy planted the seeds of his soul quest. it wasn't a spur of the moment thing. it was a process. when willow's spell backfires in Tabula Rasa (6x08), spike, stripped of his memories, already thinks he has a soul. even then, he instinctively gravitates towards buffy and tries to do good. his bond with buffy doesn't depend on souls or memories.

buffy being better and stronger than him—because of her soul, her true goodness, her slayer power—never scared him or drove him away. it intrigued him. it pushed him to stay. spike keeps coming back to buffy. it's all about buffy.

DRUSILLA : You're all covered with her. I look at you, all I see is the Slayer. (Fool For Love, 5x07)

at first, spike tries to drag buffy down with him, to keep her in the darkness, where he belongs. he isolates her further from her friends after her resurrection. by then, corrupting her is the only way for him to have her.

SPIKE : That's not your world. You belong in the shadows... with me. (Dead Things, 6x13)

but spike ends up having an epiphany thanks to love. the only way is to rise to her level. he's beneath her and he accepts it.

SPIKE : We were never together. Not really. She'd never lower herself that far. (Seeing Red, 6x19)

this is the culmination of years and years of performing goodness to please her, failing, trying again, that lead to one conclusion : he needs the missing piece. it's love that leads him to this. he got his soul back to be her equal. buffy is intricately tied to spike's growing identity. she's part of him. buffy changed him on a fundamental level, in a way that was never seen before. she made him go against his vampire nature.

SPIKE : You know, everything used to be so clear. Slayer. Vampire. Vampire kills Slayer, sucks her dry, picks his teeth with her bones. It's always been that way. I've tasted the life of two Slayers. But with Buffy... It isn't supposed to be this way! (Seeing Red, 6x19)

love has become transformative.

and even after his ensoulment, he still kneels in front of buffy. he voluntarily puts himself beneath her, to profess his love for her just the way she is. spike loves all of her, the failures, the cracks, the shortcomings. he loves her for trying and failing and being imperfectly good.

SPIKE : I love what you are, what you do, how you try. I’ve seen your kindness and your strength. I’ve seen the best and the worst of you. And I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are. You’re a hell of a woman. You’re the one, Buffy. (Touched, 7x20).

spike elevates buffy on her journey towards loving herself. he tells her what neither of the men who came before him ever did : she is better, she is enough, she doesn't have to change. he honors her.

caring for spike means loving the darkest parts of her. caring for spike means finally accepting that her love can be a power of good, that her relationship with angel doesn't define how she loves. through spike, buffy frees herself of the self-inflicted guilt in her failed relationships.

the last scene is extremely symbolic. spike gives buffy her fire back.

their clasped hands burn. fire symbolizes purification. when spike burns, it's the ultimate step of his redemption. purification of the soul. when buffy's hand burns with his, it signifies the change in how she views love. it's cleansed. it's pure. it's life-changing. it heals. she takes spike's burning hand because she's not scared of love anymore. because she accepts it, fully, in all its beauty and complexity.

angel was the problem. parker was the problem. riley was the problem. there is nothing wrong with her.

spike loved. spike stayed. spike changed. spike burned for her. spike became light because of her.

her love is light.

#spuffy #spuffy meta #buffy the vampire slayer #buffy summers #buffyverse #btvs meta #buffy meta #spike btvs #buffy x spike #btvs s2 #btvs s4 #btvs s5 #btvs s6 #btvs s7 #btvs #angel btvs #spike buffy #buffysource

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elysiality · 2 months ago

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-⋆˚꩜｡ synopsis — your little foraging trip with your girlfriend and the dictator of your village quickly goes south when said dictator pulls a knife on you. lucky for you, you've dabbled in the art of self-defense before. (requested !)

WOLF IN THE HEADLIGHTS —

★ natalie scatorccio and shauna shipman.

"How can a girl who couldn't even keep her title as queen keep a girlfriend?"

fuck this. onto rule five then.

rule 5— use violence to subdue the predator.

─────────── ౨ৎ ───────────

PT 2 — ★

-⋆˚꩜｡ cw !! — fem! reader, spoilers for yellowjackets S3, yellowjackets typical antics, knife to throat bullshittery, flirting, mentions of blood, mild descriptions of cannibalism, shauna shipman, is it really infidelity if you're homoerotically pinning a girl to the floor of the canadian wilderness with a butcher knife in front of your girlfriend?

══════════════════════════

oh, for the love of the wilderness.

you're considering foraging for some of the poisonous mushrooms that you were warned to avoid and shoving them in your ears for earplugs.

the dreaded, painful sound of Shauna snarling an insult at Nat reaches your ears for the sixth time in an hour. they can't lay off of each other for ten minutes.

maybe you'd be a little bit more sympathetic towards Shauna in other situations. she's not taking her baby's death very well, as expected.

and yes, she would warrant empathy for that in usual situations, as expected.

that is, if she wouldn't go back to the village after this little trip of your trio was done and dusted and then order around everyone like some sort of fucked up, wilderness stalin. power really does get to one's head.

you feel some ounce of humanity surface in you when you think of the poor scientists. one dead, the other two trapped in the animal pen next to the carefully bred ducks and rabbits as well as their shit hole. and possibly remnants of coach's dead body.

but then it sinks back under the surface, along with the rest of your unimportant emotions. throughout this whole over-extended, impromptu camping trip with your soccer team, you've gained a reputation as the 'aloof' one. which, in wilderness terms, means being assigned hunting duty along with Nat.

you didn't have the same penchant for shooting with a hundred mile radius accuracy like she did, so your job was setting snares along paths where she found the most prey.

that was how you started talking. like— really talking.

pre-crash, your relationship was cordial and friendly— a wave in the hallway, informing each other on Jackie's constant practice time changes and then bitching about it for a little, sharing notes, making assists during games, etc etc, but it never went any further than that.

it was only during these hunting trips that you really started connecting. you were quiet and easy to talk to— a perfect listener to lend your ears to Nat's agitated rants. you told each other about your interests back home— you'd never have a chance to do them again, but it was nice to talk about them nonetheless.

one thing led to another, as it so often does, and you started up a secret relationship before you knew it was happening.

the reason for the secrecy wasn't for fear of homophobia— you were on an all-girls soccer team, for fucks sake, but more so because you started dating when Nat took on the leader role for the team.

building the huts, gathering animals to breed, all these different activities meant that a public relationship would cause quite the scandal, given that your 'community' was small enough to be surveyed from atop of a large rock.

so you kept it under wraps for the time being. the thrill only contributed to your excitement of being in this relationship— secret kisses on hunting trips, moving in with her on pretense of her needing moral support (which isn't even a lie), holding hands under the makeshift table during feasts.

things were about as great as they could be in the middle of nowhere— until they found Coach Scott. until Nat executed him via mercy killing and Shauna blew up on her.

your relationship with Shauna pre-crash was...strained, to say the least. you were friendly enough to each other— but the only reason for that was that Jackie was the bridge between you two.

you were close to her so by extension you were close to Shauna. she was like a second body attached to Jackie, immobile and rendered useless without her. your relationship was strained because it was hard to seperate her from Jackie— Shauna just did whatever Jackie wanted most of the time. you didn't know what her true colours were. you couldn't even imagine her without her other half.

it was only after Jackie's death and the posthumous cannibalisation of her body that Shauna truly started growing into her own person— and that person was not someone you liked at all.

to you, she was lukewarm— an extraordinary achievement, given her feeling blue all the damn time, but you were kind and sweet enough. helping her move around when she started showing, giving her some of your food to help with the unborn baby's growth, defusing the tension between her and Lottie when she started spouting weird shit about the baby— oh sorry, her baby.

you knew she appreciated it, given that she didn't lose her shit with you if you dared to breathe too loudly, so you were as genial to each other as you could muster.

it started to manifest post stillbirth when you realised that your portions of stew were increasing, that Shauna silently contributed to arguments between you and anyone else by glaring menacingly at the offending party, that she willingly helped you with your chores even though you pushed through it in complete silence.

these were jovial enough gestures and you were grateful to her. the only problem you had with her was her attitude towards everyone else— and more specifically, your girlfriend.

for whatever reason, she had it out for Nat, even before her crowning. she hated her with fervid intensity, which heightened your dislike for her.

then came the frog scientists. the poor things stumbled into your village just a few hours too late. they could've dealt with Nat, who would've been merciful. instead, they had to deal with Shauna 'the Butcher' Shipman who'd recently discovered that she liked the taste of blood. oh and of course, Lottie, the wilderness' divine prophet or whatever the fuck, who had kindly given Coach Ben a friend in heaven via axe-to-the-head.

you realised pretty quickly that these scientists could be useful to you. they knew the way back to civilization. they could help you get home. you dared to let yourself think about that word again. home. your friends. your family. school. a normal life.

but of course, life has a way of ripping your happiness out of your hands and landing a solid kick to the groin instead. Lottie chose to stay back. then Shauna. then Tai. Shauna hijacked the gun and took charge of the village, locking up your path to civilization in the animal pen (again). There goes all hopes and dreams of leading a boring, adventure-free life again.

even so, the world kept spinning. which meant another day of scavenging for food out in the wilderness— especially with winter so close by. you feel like quite the worker ant as you push through overgrown shrubs and bushes, two more pairs of footsteps behind you.

everyone felt a bit queasy at the thought of eating meat so soon after the whole Coach Scott fiasco, so you and Nat were told to go out and forage instead. you were more than happy to do this, since it meant you would have time together and you'd be able to pry Nat's thoughts open like a nutshell and let her rant to you.

she seemed to have the same idea, getting skittish and jittery as you got ready, exchanging agonised looks with you while grabbing the grass-woven baskets.

however, on brand with your shitty luck streak, your plans were rudely interrupted by Shauna, who clearly thought that maybe you'd attempt to poison her or something— a very likely possibility, given the Misty incident at the start of your stint in hell and how irritable she was becoming these days. she firmly declared that she was joining you— and of course you couldn't reject your queen. (heavy air quotes on that).

so now you have to go hunting for mushrooms and what not with a very antsy Nat and Shauna, who's always been a ticking time bomb. luckily, you'd remembered that you had strung up some nets around a couple of berry patches deep in the woods, which is where you're on route to right now.

the trip had been relatively peaceful so far, save for the occasional woodland creature sprinting across your path and the sound of dry leaves crunching under your feet— but of course that couldn't last.

you round on the two of them, halting in your tracks. they're arguing about the rescue thing again. good god.

"I've told you hundreds of times before— we can't leave yet because I say so." Shauna reiterates firmly, her grip on her knife tightening till her knuckles turn white.

Nat huffs, dropping her gun on the dirt, locking her eyes onto Shauna. "Then you're clearly a fucking psychopath. D'you think these people are just gonna be our fucking escape route whenever we want? Their fear is gonna dwindle soon and then they're gonna see us for what we really are— a bunch of scared, pathetic teenage girls who eat their friends to survive."

Shauna crosses her arms quietly, advancing on Nat with quiet footsteps. Nat steps back, just slightly, but a twig snaps under her heavy boots and it's enough to catch Shauna's attention. her lips curve upward into a canine-showing grin. like a wolf.

you, however reluctantly, take a step forward, ready to break up any potential fights. it reminds you of the basic rules you've set for yourself when going hunting with Nat— the rules on how to deal with another predator who has their eyes locked on your kill.

rule 1— be ready to intervene.

"No.", Shauna says softly, her intense gaze burning into Nat, "they won't. Because that's not who we are. We're so much more than that."

"Yeah?", Nat challenges, taking a shaky step forward. They're inches away now. "Then enlighten me. Who are we, if we're not the high school seniors who crashed into the middle of nowhere and have had to do horrible, fucked up things to survive?"

Shauna examines her for a moment, her eyes scanning Nat's gaunt, scar-streaked face. "We're predators.", she drawls out. she sounds each syllable out slowly, like she's explaining addition to a pre-schooler. "Yellowjackets, if you will." She grins like a shark.

"We kill to survive. We hunt, because we have to and because we want to. Our village is our nest— colony, pack, whatever you want to call it. We aren't just teenage girls and you know it." she pokes her finger into Nat's chest, rolling her eyes. "You're just too much of a wimp to admit it."

Nat gulps, that heavy, guilt filled gulp you've seen her do so many times— after devouring Jackie, when she found out that Lottie nearly froze to death during the hunting competition, after Javi died. you sigh internally. it's time to step up.

rule 2— create distance between the predator and the prey. DO NOT USE YOUR OWN BODY IF YOU DON'T FANCY BEING EATEN ALIVE.

okay, so you're only following half the rule. so what? you step in front of Nat, effectively shielding her from Shauna's gaze. the only problem? Shauna's attention is on you now.

two blazing brown eyes lock onto yours and you calmly hold her gaze, resisting the urge to drop it and run away squealing like a frightened rabbit.

her eyes are void of any emotion but morbid curiosity. like she's wondering what colour your blood would be. or perhaps how you would taste if she took a bite out of you. you wonder if this is what people mean when they say 'coming face-to-face with death'.

her mental deterioration was one of the most obvious, second to only Lottie's. when Jackie was alive, she was still somewhat tethered to the husk of her old self. the soft-talking, quiet smart girl who preferred to stay in her best friend's shadow. that persona froze to death with Jackie in the snow.

Shauna calls your name in a low voice. a taunting, almost playful tone— an echo of all the times she'd used it while reprimanding you during practice. "Move.", she almost croons, one hand tracing the sheath of her knife.

you stay rooted, raising your hands placatingly.

rule 3— attempt to calm the predator. diverge their attention. use bait if necessary. DO NOT USE YOUR OWN BODY.

"Listen. We have a job to do. I don't care what bullshit you two wanna argue about— don't do it now." you say, readjusting your basket over your shoulder for full mobility. "I get it. You're pissed that no one wants to turn our community into a dictatorship, she's pissed that you don't want us to be rescued and taken home." her eyes narrow dangerously— a sign that you should stop talking. you don't.

"But winter is coming. We need to stock up on food because what happened last time cannot happen again." her eyes flash with just the slightest hint of guilt before it melts into that corroded look that sits on her face all the time.

it haunts you, all of you. the first time you'd tasted human flesh. the hunger. the ravenous feasting. how you had learnt that day that human flesh tasted disturbingly like pork when cooked. how easy it was for civility and morality to leave when hope was lost.

"Come on." You plead with her, your voice dripping with honey. you can feel Nat's heavy breathing on your neck. she's torn between terror and rage. her hand finds yours and she squeezes, an action that does not go unnoticed by Shauna's trained eyes. "Let's go back to foraging. We survived a fucking plane crash. We'll get through this. Together."

oh. you wish you could've taken that last line back. you may have talked her down from the cliff if not for that last line.

something in Shauna's eyes splinters— like a mirror shattering into little shards of glass. her eyes flicker to Nat's neck, where Jackie's necklace sits on her collarbones, glinting gold in the sun.

Jackie. sweet, sweet Jackie, who always pointed out when your shoelaces were untied and redid them for you, who held your hair back when you threw up after a rough night out, who made sure everyone had snacks during halftime, who always let Nat stay over when things got rough at home even if they weren't all that close.

Jackie, who had died so easily, like she was born to die there, nestled under layers of snow shrouding her dead body after an argument with the girl she loved so much.

Jackie, who above all, wanted the group to stay together. who wanted to get through it together.

you tense up. you know what's coming. you can sense the storm brewing in Shauna, you can see it in her eyes. you've finally struck a chord.

"Yeah?", Shauna asks quietly, taking another step forward towards you. you're now mere inches away from each other. her breath is cold against your face.

"And where's she gonna go, even if I do agree to this stupid rescue plan?" it's Nat's turn to tense up. her family has always been a touchy subject for her and for good reason. you place your hand on hers, stepping closer to her body.

"Back home to her shitty trailer? With her alcoholic mom who waits for daddy dearest to come back from beyond the grave?" she's sneering at you. sneering.

you can't remember step four. your fists are clenching and unclenching desperately as you try to resist the urge to beat her into a pulp.

"But of course you'd defend her right?" Shauna taunts further. step four, step four— what was step four?

"You and your pathetic little girlfriend. What a perfect pair. I'm surprised you'd even want her, though."

Shauna directs her attention to Nat now, who's quivering behind you. a lesser woman than your girlfriend would've quailed under that gaze.

"How can a girl who couldn't even keep her title as queen keep a girlfriend?"

fuck this. onto rule five then.

rule 5— use violence to subdue the predator.

in one smooth motion, you vault over to Shauna, closing the gap between you two, tackling her to the ground. your nails, rough and jagged, dig into her wrists, knocking the knife right out of her hands as she hisses in pain.

your fingers close around the handle of the falling knife, already guiding it to her neck. just before you can cut her throat open into a pretty red smile, her hand comes up, gripping onto your wrist, shaking against the force you're using. just barely preventing her own death.

you lock eyes with her. those brown eyes, dark as the earth, once bright as stars, stare back at you. she's shaking under you, and panting, trying to regain her breath. the impact must've knocked the wind right out of her.

your legs are splayed out on either side of her waist, keeping her pinned down. one of your hands, the free one, is keeping her wrist pinned down. the other is holding the knife to her throat, where her other hand desperately struggles against it.

"Do you really think you're that important?", you ask her in a low voice. her eyebrows raise as you press the blade in your hand closer to her throat and she pushes back harder. she makes no move to get you off her even though she probably could— and easily, that too.

you're vaguely aware of Nat's laboured breaths behind you.

"Anyone can do what you do. You aren't our leader— you're just the butcher.", you spit out venomously. "Do you really think anyone would protest if I ended your shit right now?"

she tilts her head at you impassively, but her body trembles under you. you smirk. you know what she's actually feeling.

"You're shaking...", you sing-song gleefully, trailing the knife down her collarbone. she stiffens up as the cold metal scrapes against her bare skin, trailing along the fabric of her cloth.

"Yeah, people tend to do that when they're being threatened with a fucking knife." she grits out. you tut and tighten your grip on her other hand, pinning it forcefully to the ground.

"Come on now. Don't be a smartass..", you roll your eyes, dropping your voice to a low husk that imitates hers. "You look so much better when you shut your mouth."

it's her turn to smirk now. her gaze drops to your lips and she raises her head just enough to press her nose to yours, but you pull away just slightly. you still have a girlfriend, after all.

she snorts, her eyes pulling away from your plush lips to focus on the blade that's now resting against her throat. "I knew you weren't boring."

you raise an eyebrow, digging into her skin just a little— not enough to draw blood, but enough to elicit a delicious gasp out of her. "Was that supposed to be a compliment?"

Shauna shrugs, grinning. her body language betrays that she's loosening up now. her previously strained shoulders have now dropped, and her fingers are indolently intertwined with yours.

perfect.

you stare at each other in a quiet few seconds of silence. then, you brusquely press the knife into her throat, drawing a thin line of blood. the red drips out of the wound, vibrant on her pallid skin.

she chokes in surprise, a whimper of pain finding it's way out of her throat, her eyes widening. the element of surprise. always works.

you lean in a little closer so that your breath mingles with hers. your hair tickles her face, blocking you two from Nat's view.

"Listen to me.", you say genially, holding back a maniacal grin. "You need to drop this whole terrorist act of yours. It's not cute on you." your thoughts wander to Nat and you add, "— and stop targeting Nat to be your stress relief. It's not her fault that we were actually willing to let her lead us. That she was actually capable of doing it too."

Shauna's eyes flicker with a hint of something— admiration, maybe. Nobody has stood up to her like this since— well, since Jackie.

her breathing grows ragged— not in trepidation, but in anticipation. the sicko is enjoying this. she chews her bottom lip, almost agitated, squirming a bit under you. you remain firm as a statue on top of her.

"What if I don't want to?" the statement is almost petulant in nature, but you know what she wants. and if it'll get her to put a halt on her plans for wilderness domination then...

you carve another pretty line across her throat, just below the first one. Shauna groans, her eyes hooding in hunger.

"Then I'll give you want. Do you want to see Jackie again? I know you do. I'll help you. And I'll do it while you're wearing her necklace, so that you can give it back to her."

You tangle your fingers in dark, sunkissed hair, yanking it back so that more of her throat is exposed to you. her Adam's apple bobs tantalizingly, practically begging for you to draw a pretty pattern into it.

you don't. yet.

"Will you be good?" you ask her quietly. her eyes are completely clouded now, scanning your face as though she's seeing you for the first time.

they're still glistening with just the slightest hint of shock. like a deer in the headlights.

your eyes trail to the empty dagger sheath still hanging off her belt, the callouses on her hands from all the time she's spent gutting animals with that beloved knife of hers.

no.

a wolf in the headlights.

"Hey." you prod her throat again with the tip of the knife, glaring. "I asked you a question." you let go of her wrist to move your hand to her chin.

she immediately takes the opportunity to rest her now free hand on your waist where your shirt has ridden up, no doubt leaving dirty streak marks that you're too lazy to clean behind.

you tilt her chin up, forcing her eyes off your lips and back into charged eye contact. she scans your face, as though evaluating you and weighing her choices— before she cedes with a small, almost imperceptible nod.

you smile. "Good dog.", you coo in the most condescending tone you can muster. she bares her teeth at you before snapping her jaw shut, realising that she's only proving your point.

you stay on top of her for one beat— then two—

you roll off of her, dropping her knife to the ground. she immediately straightens up, leaning back on her arms and cracking her neck.

you rub at the crick in your own neck as you smile sweetly at a dumbfounded Nat, who had evidently been watching the whole thing with a wide open jaw.

you strut up to her, your gait eased and relaxed now that you can breathe freely and push her lips closed with a single finger.

"I'm gonna go see if that mushroom thatch we set up last week is still intact." you tell her. she stares at you like you just told her that you wanted to join Lottie's weird prayer circle cult.

you giggle, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips before skipping off. god knows you needed that little stint of open violence. saying that you wanted another hunt would be too crude— but you doubt that anyone would've protested against harming Shauna. except maybe for that little pet of hers, Mel.

Shauna, who had been preoccupied with twirling her knife over in her hands and wiping her own blood off of it, comes to stand next to Nat. she stares off at the spot where you vanished out of sight and into the bushes, her face identical to Nat's. the sight is almost comical.

then finally, after a long, extended pause—

"Hey. You up to sharing?"

Nat whips her head around to glare at Shauna so fast, she thinks she might have whiplash.

"Not a chance in hell, you little bitch."

══════════════════════════

a/n: holy moly this took foreverrr— I might go back and proof read this, idk. this also had a lot more shauna x reader than the anon who requested this prob had in mind. sorry anon !

anyways, reminder that requests are open for thoughts, drabbles, etc etc for all the Yellowjackets girls— dead or alive !

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #shauna shipman x reader #natalie scatorccio x you #natalie scatorccio x reader #shauna shipman x you #shaunanat #shaunanat x reader #shauna shipman #nat scatorccio x reader #nat Scatorccio #yj s3 spoilers #yj season 3 #yellowjackets spoilers #yj season 3 spoilers #—₊˚⊹ 𐂯 works

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hadesisqueer · 10 months ago

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One thing I really like about RWBY as a show is that the heroes do not have a strict no kill rule. Like, obviously, they very much prefer not hurting or killing anyone at all, but if it comes to that, they do not hesitate.

-Tyrian is trying to capture Ruby and kill her uncle and her friends? The moment he gets slightly distracted, Ruby takes the chance and cuts his tail off without a second thought.

-Cinder is affected by Ruby's silver eyes in the Battle of Haven? Jaune doesn't hesitate and the moment she lets her guard down he tries to stab her in the face; had he gone for a slash instead, Cinder would be dead.

-Tock has blinded Maria and is about to kill her? There you go, Maria will decapitate her. Bye, Tock.

-Adam keeps trying to kill Blake and Yang? Oh, he gets stabbed by both of them. No more Adam.

-Ironwood tries to shoot Winter again with that weird gun even though she's a Maiden now? Winter just sends the blast back at him and leaves. Doesn't even check if he's still alive.

-Neo just pushed Yang to the void and they think she's gone? Blake WILL try to cut Neo's head off. And while they're fighting Ruby doesn't hesitate to push Neo off the bridges even if she thought that would kill her.

Which are all like, normal. Those other people are actively trying to kill them or their loved ones as well. Which is why I used to be really confused when I kept seeing some people complaining mostly about the Ruby with Tyrian and the Blake and Yang vs Adam things. Saying they are supposed to be the good guys and they should set an example to viewers instead of maiming or killing their foes.

What example do you want them to set? That letting others kill you and your loved ones is okay? Because that's what was gonna happen; Tyrian had just poisoned Qrow, actually he's lucky Ruby only went for the tail. Adam was not going to stop and he going to take Blake's sword to continue to try murdering her and Yang, who had no Auras either and were as vulnerable as he was. They either did it first or they could die, and they did. It's self-defense. Tyrian and Adam were trying to kill them and they were the ones who started the fights. You fuck around, you're gonna find out.

#rwby #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #ruby rose #winter schnee #jaune arc #adam taurus #tyrian callows #cinder fall #james ironwood #neopolitan #qrow branwen

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merrinla · 3 months ago

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DATV - FINAL BATTLE CUT CONTENT

What changed during the fight with the final boss. The Archdemon was supposed to die from a cannon shot in the Archon's Palace. Bellara or Neve would boost the cannon with the red lyrium the Venatori had pumped into them. Or Emmrich would cast enchantments on it. Solas didn't turn into a wolf, he was holding back a portal of blight. The wolf was his beast, which was supposed to be a distraction. Rook meanwhile fought the demons, and then Elgar'nan, who took on different forms of Pride, Envy, and Rage. There were more banters during the fight. I wouldn't say these dialogues are very diverse. But if someone wants to read it, here it is.

Soals: Rook. Our only chance now is to work together! Rook: Really? While you drown the world in demons? Soals: If you recover the dagger, I will do what I can to stop Elgar'nan! Soals: I must hold back the blight! My wolf will distract Elgar'nan while you take the dragon!

Soals: Rook, I will hold the portal as best I can!

Elgar'nan: The Dread Wolf? Elgar'nan: You cannot stop me! You never could! Soals: No! Elgar'nan: Yes! The portal opens! Feel the true power of the blight, Fen'Harel! Soals: You will not bring your poison into this world!

Rook: Let's move. As long as any of us are still alive, nothing gets to Bellara/Neve! Emmrich: We'll protect Bellara, no matter the cost! Lucanis: We'll give Bellara/Neve the time she needs! Neve: For Bel. Whatever it takes! Taash: For Bellara/Neve! Bellara: We'll keep you safe, Neve! Emmrich: We'll shield Neve, come what may! Harding: We've got her back! Lucanis: Just give me something I can kill! (if romance with Neve)

After the fight with the demons

Bellara: The cannon is ready and targeting the Archdemon! The firing panel should be nearby. Neve: Cannon's ready, and the Archdemon's in sight! The firing panel should be close. Emmrich: The cannon is ready and aimed at the Archdemon! The activation panel should be nearby.

Bellara: The mechanism for firing the cannon must have gotten damaged in the fight! Davrin: The mechanism to fire the cannon broke during the fight! Harding: The firing mechanism was damaged in the fight! Lucanis: The cannon must have been damaged. Neve: The firing mechanism—it got damaged in the fight! Taash: The demons broke the thing that fires the cannon!

Rook: Bellara/Neve/Emmrich, the firing panel's damaged. Is there any other way to fire the cannon? Bellara: Let me see.... Yes, there's a manual firing mechanism, but it's all the way over on the Archon's throne! Neve: Damn it. Wait—there's a manual firing mechanism, but it's over on the Archon's throne! Emmrich: Let me—Yes! A manual firing mechanism, over on the Archon's throne!

Solas: Rook, I cannot reach the mechanism while keeping the portal closed, but I can make you a path! Rook: Appreciate it.

Rook: Crystal's down there. Let's move!

Elgar'nan: Bear witness, mortals, to the power of a god. Bellara: Still not a god! Davrin: I haven't been impressed so far! Emmrich: History will record your fall here! Lucanis: Do you ever shut up? Neve: (Laughs) You think a speech will impress me? Taash: You talk too much! And your dragon is ugly! Elgarnan: You cannot harm me. All you can do is flee. Davrin: I've got a few moves left! They all end with you dead! Emmrich: Your fellow god thought so as well! Harding: This is for the Titans! Isatunoll! Harding: It is no longer your time, it is ours! For the Titans! For the dwarves! Isatunoll! Lucanis: We'll see about that. Neve: I run toward disaster. Bad habit! Taash: Davrin/Harding wouldn't give up! Neither will I! Taash: Lace is gone because of you! (if romance with Harding) Elgarnan: You will fail. You will fall. And then you will submit. Bellara: The elves will never bow to you again! Davrin: Wardens don't know how to do that! We fight to the end Emmrich: Neither the living nor the dead shall ever bow to you again! Harding: I am the memory of my ancestors. I am the heart of the Titan. I will never submit! Harding: I am the child of the Titans, and it is you who will fall! Neve: Not my style! Taash: You're not even that tall! Lucanis: Say that again when my knife is in your back.

Lucanis' last line gives the vibes of his narrative sketches.

Elgar'nan: You cannot win! Elgar'nan: I am your god! Elgar'nan: This world is mine! Elgar'nan: While my dragon-thrall lives, I am invulnerable. Yet still you fight. Pathetic. (ingame line) Rook: We killed an Archdemon at Weisshaupt, and we saved the Dalish at Arlathan. Rook: I don't need thralls. I've got a team. Rook: That was enough to take down Ghilan'nain, and it's enough to take down you.

Elgar'nan turns into Pride

Elgar'nan: This is my moment of triumph. Nothing shall interfere with the dawn of my empire! Bellara: What is this? It's more than just a demon! Davrin: What is this thing? Has he got a demon impersonating him? Harding: What is this thing? Did he force his form onto a demon? Lucanis: What the—? Is a demon impersonating him? Neve: What is this thing? Not a demon impersonating him? Taash: What is this vashedan? Has he got a demon impersonating him? Lucanis: This is no demon. This is Elgar'nan's will. Bellara/Harding: It's not a demon. It's a manifestation of Elgar'nan's will! Neve: It's not a demon. It's Elgar'nan's will—a full manifestation of it! Taash: It's not a demon! It's his feelings or some crap! Emmrich: This is no spirit. It's a manifestation of Elgar'nan's will!

Rook: Keep him off Bellara/Neve!

Reaction to Pride v.0.1 Taash: This thing's tougher than a regular demon! Bellara: That demon's going to be tricky! Davrin: That's one tough demon! Lucanis: This demon is not going down easy. Harding: This one's a lot! Why isn't it down yet? Neve: This demon's a damn pain! Harding: It's not a normal demon! It's Elgar'nan's will, in physical form! Emmrich: This isn't a mere spirit of pride, but a manifestation of Elgar'nan's will! Taash: I don't think it's just a demon! It's Elgar'nan's feelings or something! Neve: It's not your typical demon! It's a manifestation of Elgar'nan's will! Lucanis: This is not just any pride. This is Elgar'nan's pride. Bellara: Not just a demon! It's a manifestation of Elgar'nan's will!

Rook: Bellara/Emmrich/Neve? Elgar'nan's taking a personal interest in the crystal. We might be a minute. Emmrich: I'll ready the cannon while you see them off! Neve: You get that handled. I'll get us a cannon! Bellara: You can do it. I'll get the cannon ready!

Elgar'nan turns into Envy

Rook: Right. We got him. Elgar'nan: I am rulership. I am authority unchecked over all the sun touches! None who live will oppose me! Rook: Here he comes again! Elgar'nan: All who serve me are extensions of my will. My power is manifest across this world... while you stand alone.

Elgar'nan tries to mindcontrol Rook

Elgar'nan: "Goodbye, Assan." The final words of the elf who sacrificed himself for your failure. (in this version, Assan survived) Elgar'nan: "Tell my ma I love her." The final words of the dwarf who sacrificed herself for your failure. Rook: Oh, you really wanna do this? Rook: "Elgar'nan. I had such plans." Ghilan'nain's never gonna finish those plans, is she? Rook: She died a failure, because Harding/Davrin chose to give her/his life like a damn hero. Rook: And you're not saying anything about Bellara/Neve, are you? Because we got her back.

Elgar'nan: Empty words from a mortal who was little more than the Dread Wolf's tool. Rook: Yeah, I got played. And then my friends were there to help. Rook: But you have no friends. All you can send against me are copies of yourself, because you have nobody. Rook: And when we're done with you, you're gonna die alone. Elgar'nan: (Roars in anger)

Elgar'nan: (Straining) You will kneel! Rook: (Straining) Not today, and not to you!

Rook back

Bellara/Davrin/Emmrich/Harding: Rook, you're back! Are you all right? Taash: Rook! You good? Neve: Rook—Trouble! Are you all right? (romance line) Neve: Rook—you're back! Everything good? Rook: Never better. Neve: I'm done with his mind games! We're ending this. Neve: You don't give up, do you? So let's finish this! (romance line) Neve: Good! Now let's kick him out of Minrathous—and the rest of Thedas, too! Bellara/Davrin/Harding: Then let's finish this! Taash: Good! Now let's kick his ass! Lucanis: Then let's finish this bastard. I have a contract to fulfill.

Bellara: How's it going down there? I can't finish with the cannon 'til you destroy that crystal! Neve: Rook? Hate to bother you, but I can't do much with the cannon until that crystal's destroyed. Emmrich: Are you all right, Rook? I can't do anything with the cannon until you've destroyed that crystal. Rook: Soon as we're done with Elgar'nan!

Elgar'nan turns into Rage

Elgar'nan: I am fire and darkness! If you will not bow, you will burn!

Bellara: This feels like a lot of manifestations of will for one person! God. Whatever. Davrin: Oh, come on—how many forms does this guy have? Harding: How many of these shapes does he have? Lucanis: Mierda. How many shapes does he have? Neve: Another side of Elgar'nan—well isn't he charming! Taash: How many damn different shapes does this asshole have?

Solas: Rook! I cannot hold the portal much longer! Rook: Hey! You wanted this fight! Don't you dare give up on me now!

Bellara: Now! Take him down! Davrin/Emmrich/Lucanis: Now! Finish him off! Harding: Now! Finish it! Neve: Now's your shot! Take it! Taash: There! Take that asshole down!

Rook: Solas! We've got the dagger, but we still need to kill the Archdemon!

Solas: Rook! Here! Solas: With my power, you can stand against him!

Post fight

Bellara: Okay! Destroy the crystal before Elgar'nan returns! Emmrich: Quickly! Destroy the crystal before Elgar'nan returns! Harding: Get the crystal before Elgar'nan can come back! Lucanis: Now! Smash the crystal before we get more trouble! Neve: Quick! Destroy the crystal before he comes back. Taash: Come on! Destroy that vashedan crystal before that vashedan elven god comes back!

Crystal broken

Rook: Crystal's shattered! Bellara: Perfect! I'm finishing with the cannon. Just give me a minute! Neve: Knew you had it covered! I've almost got it. One minute! Emmrich: Perfect! I've nearly aligned all the enchantments. One more minute!

Rook: Solas! It's time! Solas: Ready when you are, Rook!

Solas: Elgar'nan! Elgar'nan: Nothing is over. I am eternal. You are an insect. Solas: Surrender now, and this insect will let you live. Elgar'nan: You cannot kill me. You cannot even hurt me. And yet you expect me to yield. Solas: No. Solas: I expect you to gloat. Solas: I was just the distraction.

Bellara: (Grunts with effort) Come on... Neve: (Grunts with effort) Damn it! Come on... Bellara/Neve: Almost got it... Bellara/Neve: (Final scream of effort) Bellara/Neve: (Breathing hard) Rook, the cannon's ready! The firing control is on the Archon's throne! Rook: Got it! before the shot Bellara: The Dread Wolf won! Neve: It's the only shot. Neve: I'll set the dogs on you!

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allpiesforourown · 5 months ago

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I'm sorry but omega harem member Shen Yuan AU now has me in a choke hold-

Like,

Binghe is trying to find the perfect way to seduce Shen Yuan, because god knows he needs a miracle to unfuck up his entire 'I don't care for you, its just political' situation

Universe does its thing and sends a wife plot, Shen Yuan gets poisoned with some fuck or die plant when helping one of the wives meet with their family in a very dangerous section of the demon realm.

Binghe hears about his omegas poisoning and jumps at the chance to finally get closer to his A-Yuan. this! This is familiar to him, he's saved his wives from all kinds of poisons and aphrodisiac fueled heats before, he'd fuck him so good and show how great of an alpha he could be to him.

Only when he makes it there, Shen Yuans already been serviced by his bodyguard Liu Qingge. (its LITERALLY his job to save and service this omega, of course he fucked the poison out of him)

Turns out the news had reached Binghe far too late to be put to any use, partly do to Shen Yuan begging the wife he had been helping when he was poisoned to not bother Binghe with it. He just doesn't want to force Binghe to take care of him! (Binghe had just gotten back with a new wife too! Imagine how pissed he'd be if he interrupted them!)

The wife takes Shen Yuans insistence and worry as him being terrified of Binghe so of course she couldn't bring herself to tell the demon emperor (as should have been protocol). And if she actively helped hide his condition then it wasn't like anyone would rat her out for it, at least not after she told them how scared Shen Yuan had been of his Alpha husband. (Cue them believing that Shen Yuans wedding night must have been traumatising or something) rumors only spiral when an omega will take dealing with a deadly poison over fucking their literal husband.

So by the time the news reached Binghe it had already been a day. Bonus points if he walks in on Liu Qingge still inside his husband who's completely out of it from being throughly ravished for 12+ hours on and off to get the poison completely out of his system.

The stand off would be prime tea for the harem but absolutely terrifying to anyone who actually witnessed it. Binghe seething as his temper flairs to record levels.

"under what authority did you decide you could take such advances with MY omega."

"It's my job."

"No. its Mine."

"I was told you wouldn't be here"

"Well clearly I'm here now."

"Now is too late. he'd have been dead by now."

"...What?"

"He was poisoned yesterday. He'd have been dead by now."

And Liu Qingge isn't even being judgemental, I mean why would he be, this is a part of his job and a very enjoyable one at that. But Binghe is crumbling mentally as he tries to piece together how things went so wrong: Why wasn't he informed immediately? How had this been kept from him? Was someone trying to kill Shen Yuan? And now he wonders HOW exactly had his omega gotten poisoned?

The impulsive thoughts come too, he wants this bodyguard fired. But if he fired the man who saved his omega now, it would only seem like he'd wanted Shen Yuan dead.

An even uglier, more desperate part of him wanted to purposefully poison Shen Yuan with a poison only HE could cure, to have Shen Yuan need him.

POISONING YOUR HUSBAND AS FOREPLAY .... God I love binggeyuan and liushen, just the most emotionally dense people imaginable falling for each other

#harem member shen yuan au #svsss #luo bingge #shen yuan #liu qingge #liushen #binggeyuan

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ablobwhowrites · 5 months ago

Note

Circle guard reader gives pills or medicine to the older players and gives hints to the next games. Cause of that a LOT of players survived. Or if the reader had enough and snap so they go the room filled with those people wearing the masks and killed them and had their money clear all the players Dept or problems and reaming money to them or put poison in the food and knock out the guards. Bro basically went John wick. I saw the mother and son duo and it broke me😭 did same to the reader.

circle guard y/n does try and keep most of the players alive even sometimes risking themselves to hide a player like when the game mingle was happening, they would try to lead some of the players to vacant rooms that players could go in but still they can't save them all and sometimes wishes to bascially go John wick on the people who started and kept this game running knows they can't. They are the lowest rank and yet somehow befriended half of the square guards and the triangles with some of the circles but they are stuck with this job, even if it kills them. They know they can't escape this web so might as well help the players survive to have them get out of this web.

A lot of the players do like circle guard y/n as they are basically the only one helping them have a more likely chance of survival and helping give medicine to the old players or ones that are injured. Even if it's not allowed the higher ups allow it because to the VIP's it makes things more interesting as they think it's random circle guards but the players kinda know which one is which but theres subtle hints y/n gives to the players. As sometimes when y/n has the duty of cleaning the beds the players have, y/n tries to put little things of extra food, medical aid or anything to help and tries to not get caught but of course they can't get to all of them and having to be subtle with the taking some supplies is a bit hard so not all the players can be lucky.

One of the square guards that y/n befriended is basically the only thing letting y/n continue this because if it wasn't for cube (it's what y/n kinda nicknamed the square guard) as cube knows the dangers of this and if y/n was caught then who knows what would happen. They could get killed or even put as a player as punishment and could be killed by the people they tried to help. But that doesn't happen on cubes watch as they try to make excuses for y/n to kinda get the others not suspicious of y/n's activity. Also circle guard y/n doesn't talk much and more uses some body language or movements as not much people hear them talk but cube knows what y/n says but they worry that y/n is getting way over their head. Cube just hopes that y/n knows that no matter how much they help, there can only be one winner to this game.

(HI! hopefully I cooked with this one but for now I'll continue to work on more DC and some squid game stuff but if you guys like this, don't be shy and request more if you guys like but for now. Please stay safe and drink water!)

#yandere x male reader #x male reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #x gn reader #yandere male x male reader #yandere x gn reader #male reader #yandere squid game x reader #yandere squid game #squid game x male reader #squid game #squid game x y/n

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paradisewithinpain · 8 months ago

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my take on "the hero would sacrifice you to save the world but the villain would sacrifice the world to save you" & tf141....

DARK THEMES, PLEASE BE WARNED

we all know these men are soldiers through and through. they put their lives on the line for the good of the world and they do it no questions asked.

but when it comes to you?

fuck that

there is nothing, and i mean nothing, that will stop these boys from keeping you alive and happy.

JOHN PRICE knows the power he holds. he knows the respect and fear that ranks both above and below him have for him. he knows that and he's going to abuse it when it comes to you.

you come to base and someone's bothering you? they're answering to a pissed off captain who doesn't give two shits about the morality of his punishment. as long as his love is happy, he's happy.

and who cares if he sends that idiot of a soldier into a situation where he's sure there's a good chance he won't make it out? price claims it to be "good experience". no one but him needs to know that it's more of an execution than anything

SIMON RILEY is the guard dog you never thought you'd need but boy are you glad you have him. walking places is a mindless activity knowing you have a giant of a man watching every single moving thing that enters your presence.

he was a weapon of mass destruction when he wanted to he. and when you came home crying, telling him about the store clerk who yelled at you because you tried to them that they over charged you for an item, he knew that his brute strength was needed.

and who cares if the store clerk was found outside in the alley by the shop, their face bashed in over and over and over again until they were almost unrecognizable? that's one less employ the store had to pay

JOHNNY MACTAVISH is a dedicated lover and an even more dedicated demolitionist. he's constantly showing you his silly little notebooks that are detailed with fun chemical reactions and ways to make green fire using sugar and boric acid. it's always fun to keep you entertained and a smile on your face brings a smile to his

but when you come home from work and that smile is no where to be found, he's immediately inquiring why. when you tell him about your shitty boss and the horrible way you've been treated, he's immediately pulling out his notebook and distracting you with silly chemical reactions and even putting on a small show for you to cheer you up.

and who cares if a week later your boss was found dead in his apartment, some type of untracable lethal poison infused in his coffee? you had always liked the assistant director better anyway.

KYLE GARRICK was a sweetheart through and through. he sweet talked his way into your life and you're glad you let him. his affirmations were always what you needed and when you needed. the way he'd hold you in his arms and whisper all the incredible things he saw in you never failed to warm your heart. he was observant and smart, seeing right through you and everyone else around him.

so when you had to delete a few nasty messages on social media after kyle made a post about you, he was less than pleased. he took you and your happiness very seriously. he posted you because he wanted to. he loved showing you off and he wanted the world to see how happy you made him. a few anonymous profiles weren't going to change that.

so who cares if their names, jobs, profiles, browsing history, and text messages were all exposed? the nasty information was all kyle needed to know that those men would never see the light of day again

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milkbobatyun · 8 months ago

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a fallen star

pairing: zhongli x reader

genre: angstober, events

summary: to spend an eternity with him, was something you could only hope fate was kind enough to grant you in your next life.

word count: 1.7k

a/n: i love archon zhongli smsm, im sorry to all the guizhong lovers for making her evil, but it's for plot purposes alr :( lwk ended up rewriting this like 3 times cus i didn't feel like it was good enough LMAO

when guizhong was there, morax barely spared a glance towards you. her beauty and skill easily outshone yours, rendering you a mere shadow in her presence. it made your heart ache with sadness. she was the sun, you were the moon, silently beautiful.

they were comfortable, guizhong laughing daintily at a joke morax made, hand placed on morax’s arm. she held his attention, like she always did.

“...what do you think, [name]?” the sudden question startled you from your thoughts as you blinked and smiled apologetically.

“sorry, i was lost in my thoughts.” your own voice sounded dull, not tinkling and pleasant on the ears like guizhong’s.

morax’s amber eyes swept over yours, picking up the dejection in your posture, how you seemed uncomfortable, every muscle tense, as though you were ready to flee at any moment.

“i was just considering some new activities we could introduce for the upcoming lantern rite.” guizhong piped up, cheerfulness lacing her tone.

morax nodded in agreement, “guizhong’s ideas were innovative, as expected from the goddess of dust.” he praised.

of course, guizhong would be praised for her brilliant ideas. she was the perfect goddess, flawless in every way. unlike you, whose body was adorned with imperfections, from battles with the enemies of war and your own inner demons.

standing next to her felt like standing next to the sun, bright and warm, while you were the moon, unnoticed, but trying your best. thinking back, you realised that it was a long time since morax glanced at you the same way he looked at guizhong.

to him, you were the reliable goddess of strategy, someone he could always trust to have his back. in his eyes, you were his world, the one who hung up the stars and kept the world turning.

like stone, his faith in you was immovable, he trusted your words and plans for the archon war, to train and teach xiao. but guizhong, she held a different type of beauty, her presence commanded attention, her creations and innovations new and intriguing. he found himself spending more time and attention on guizhong, pushing you aside.

like stone, he was dense. if he had known earlier, had accepted his own feelings and understood why, when he was lost in the sea of people at a festival, his eyes searched for you, how your touch sent sparks of electricity across his skin, then this, all this, could’ve been avoided.

poor cloud retainer. she pitied herself. how did she, the clever, unparalleled adepti, become chained down by two idiots for friends? it was clearer than day that the two of you harboured feelings for each other, but how did neither of you realise.

it was time for her to be the perfect wingwoman and start her matchmaking career earlier than anticipated, before she lost the chance.

the tea had been poisoned. from the faint curve of guizhong’s lips, her eyes, alert and watching as you downed the cup she had given you, it was so obvious a five-year old could guess.

but you were preoccupied, the slip of paper your messenger pigeon delivered sat on your desk, strewn about with papers on war strategies and your mind racing through all the reasons why he wrote that message.

‘come meet me at the pavilion balcony. xiao will come find you.’

xiao escorted you along the path, the two of you discussing his training, for morax had entrusted you, the goddess of strategy, to be his teacher.

the terrain to the pavilion was difficult, you found yourself panting for breath. halfway up the mountain, the path began to twist and turn under your feet, sweat beading on your forehead. you tripped, feet stumbling over the stones of the path, each step weighing down on your feet.

xiao reached out, brows furrowed in concern.

“is everything ok, shīfu?” xiao’s quiet voice cuts through the ringing in your ears.

you lean against the stone face, shaking your head.

“i must be too tired.” you assure him, though your voice was tight with pain. “you little rascal and morax, always keeping me on my toes, overloading my desk with work.” you jested, playfully poking xiao in the side. “let me rest for a bit and we can keep going.”

pausing, you take in several shaking breaths. xiao’s golden eyes remained fixed on you, concern reflecting in his amber eyes.

with an effort, you pushed yourself off the stone face, marching onwards. xiao crouched in front of you, offering to carry you on his back. you stubbornly disagreed.

“whoever heard of a disciple carrying their master?” you teased, though pain was etched in the lines of your forehead.

xiao hesitated, his eyes flickered between your pale face and the inclining path ahead, but he respected you. thus, he fell into step beside you, ever watchful.

shadows crawled into your vision, blurring the edges and twisting the view of the path. a sudden wave of lightheadedness forced you to your knees, the world spinning sideways. xiao’s quick reaction caught you, leaning you against his shoulder.

“shīfu,” his tone filled with a rare edge of worry and fear. “you’re in no condition to continue.”

you shook your head. “i can do it, it’s going to be fine.” you didn’t know if this was to reassure yourself or xiao, but the sentence repeated itself like a mantra in your head.

the sun slowly set, painting the surrounding mountains with stunning shades of orange and gold, before the deep velvet of night overtook it, stars twinkling in the sky, the moon a watchful guardian.

with xiao supporting your weight, you stumbled up the last few paces up to the pavilion, not noticing the tall figure already present.

your heartbeat raced in your chest at an uncomfortable pace. the hollow thuds rang in your ears, mixing into a clashing melody with the piercing ringing. it made you feel nauseous, bile rising in your throat. you clawed at your chest, hoping it would slow down.

with a heave and a wretch, you threw up, the scarlet liquid splattering on the pristine stone tiles underfoot.

startled by the noise, morax spun around, amber eyes falling upon your trembling figure. xiao’s golden gaze, usually so calm and steady, now radiated desperation a silent plea for help.

for a heartbeat, morax stood frozen with shock. then, without a second thought, his posture of elegance thrown to the wind, morax races towards you.

he dropped to his knees, sinking to the floor, gently cradling you in his arms, gloved fingers gently tapping against your cheek, desperate to keep you awake. his voice trembled as he chanted your name, praying to the stars you would stay with him.

“[name],” he murmured urgently. “wake up, look at me.”

through the fog of pain and exhaustion, you felt the warmth of his embrace radiating, a familiar voice cutting through the pain. his scent–earth, osmanthus and tea…no, the scent of home–wrapped around you like a hug. you squinted up at him, your body feeling impossibly heavy, darkness threatening to bring you under.

“morax,” you breathed, chest heaving as you fought for breath. “i came…to see you, as you asked.”

morax looked at you in confusion. “wasn’t it you who asked to see me?” he questioned.

confusion surfaced on your face, until you realised who the mastermind behind this meeting could’ve been. you chuckled, clear and bright, gave way to violent coughing, which left you gasping for air.

“it must’ve been cloud retainer then.” you wheezed, breath struggling. “sly crane,” you teased, voice devoid of malice or hate. “this is her way of meddling.” you manage a wry smile.

you don’t give morax a chance to reply before you’re speaking again, holding a finger to his lips as words gushed from yours like a fountain.

“you know, i’ve liked you for a long time,” you confessed, your words carrying the weight of years of longing. “so long. i’d always hoped that you would look at me the same way, but you never did. seeing you with guizhong all the time breaks my heart.”

your chest tightened painfully, each breath a battle, but you fought on. “you mean everything to me, but i dont mean anything to you. i see the way you look at her, i hope she brings you joy.”

you open your mouth to speak again, but cold droplets that land on your face interrupt you from speaking. with an effort, you tilt your head up, watching the tears cascade down morax’s face.

with a trembling hand, you reach up to wipe his tears. morax’s hand envelops yours, his warm hand contrasting against your cold, clammy skin.

morax’s breath hitched, as his amber eyes searched yours. you open your mouth to say something more, but morax interrupts you.

“no,” he breathed. “i do love you too, i think,,” he pleaded, “ if you give me some time, let me work this out slowly.”

“i want to,” you breathed out. “but i dont know if i have time left. i’m cold.” you snuggled deeper into morax’s embrace, uncertainty weighted in your heart. you could feel your life slipping away, the edges of darkness creeping closer.

“im tired.” you mumble, your voice barely a whisper. “i’ll just…sleep a little while…”

“shīfu,” xiao’s trembling voice broke through the silent night, “please, don’t leave me yet.”

you peel your eyes open, turning your head in xiao’s direction, motioning him to come closer. obediently, xiao approaches, tears streaming down his face like a waterfall.

“shǎháizi,” you breathed, voice light with teasing. “listen well to morax, he will be your new master from now on.” you instructed, hand reaching out to pet his head. “smile for me?” you mustered a weak smile that xiao reflected, his own sorrow mingled with hope.

a final bought of violent coughing tore through your body, each one sending pain sparking through your body. blood spilling from your lips. the metallic taste filled your mouth, mixing with the bitter taste of fear as darkness overtook you.

your eyes fluttered shut as the life left your body. in the distance, a star fell out of the sky, its tail trailing like a sorrowful goodbye.

“[name]?” morax whispered, voice raw with regret. “open your eyes, look at me.” his plea fell on deaf eyes. “you never heard my response, you can’t leave me yet.”

“i think…no, i know, that i do love you.”

fate was cruel, you had found your forever, but at the wrong time. someday, perhaps fate would grant us a second chance.

footnotes:

1. shīfu (师傅) — meaning master or teacher, this word is often used in chinese to express respect to someone who is skilled in a particular area or field.

2. shǎháizi (傻孩子) — "shǎ" meaning foolish (傻) and "háizi" meaning child (孩子), this word can be used as a term of endearment, meaning foolish child

taglist (open): @leehanscorydora

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳) © curated with love by milkbobatyun 2024 / づ ♡

#angst #genshin impact #zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #morax x reader #guizhong #zhongli x reader angst #morax x reader angst #genshin x reader angst #genshin impact x reader angst #no comfort #angstober #angst oneshot

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exitingmusic · 21 days ago

Text

Second Chance

(Ex- Husband Sylus x reader)

(Part 2)

WC: 6k EXACTLY

Warnings: mentions of drugs, drinking, black market, slimy nasty men (tsk, tsk), divorce

AN: I know i haven't been too active lately but I've been prepping for exams but (not to brag) I cranked this all out today in like 3ish hours hehe also lmk if yall want a pt 2

Your fingers curled against the glass in your hand, the amber liquid shimmering in the harsh lights of the auction house. You were standing on an upper deck, watching the dirty men on the floor, young pretty things on their arms, clad in as little clothing as possible.

You had yet to take a sip of your glass, unsure of what was in it besides the alcohol. The auction house was dangerous, especially for a lone woman. Drugging someone’s drink was the nicest thing that could happen to you.

The dress you were wearing was relatively simple, and quite modest compared to the mere scraps of fabric the young women wore.

You were not here to find a rich man, you were here to make a deal.

Your boss, Rafayel, was a black market art and goods dealer and recently, he had made connections with some powerful people, powerful enough where it would be too risky to actually show up, which is why he sent you.

He had given you dozens of warnings, don’t drink, don’t eat, don’t talk to people unless you knew 100% you had the upper hand and wasn’t being poisoned.

Still having roughly a half an hour til your deal, you decided to wait up here, able to see all of the exits and all of the dirty scumbags.

It might be an auction house in name, but it was really a black market. Valuable weapons, information, and technology were all being discussed, as well as the young women attached to the men’s arms, freely traded to the highest bidder.

Luckily, there weren’t many people on the upper deck, most choosing to dabble in the illegal trades and bartering going on downstairs.

Tonight was supposed to be simple. You’d wait until 9:38 then slip into one of the locked doors along the hallway where you’d meet a group of private art collectors and dealers who would seek to buy a dupe of a famous painting from Rafayel, stealing the real one and replacing it. They’d underestimate you easily, only interested in your body, distracted as you scammed them out of their money.

The dress you chose tonight was perfect for it. Black, short, tight, with a low neckline and a slit in the side, showing just enough skin to tempt but not enough to bore. Perfect to distract men enough to scam them out of information and their money.

Not many people had approached you in your many adventures here. No one would to a lone woman. You could be a prostitute, or more likely poor, which was far worse to the men here.

But now, a presence sidled up next to you. You refused to look at them, not going to give in. But then, his voice, smooth, rich, and all too familiar slides through the air like a serpent.

"Now, now. I didn’t expect to see a kitten at the auction."

Sylus.

Your jaw clenches involuntarily, instantly recognizing the voice. It was the same voice that lured you in years ago, when you were much softer, much more naive. You fell for his attention, his sweet words. You shined as bright as a star, soaking up all of the luxurious life and the comfort he brought you. Sylus had taken you in, took you to all those fancy balls and meetings and let you humiliate yourself each time. Each time letting you fend for yourself and leave you out to bleed at the sharp verbal weapons of those slimy, powerful men and their jealous young women. He let you believe you were special, that he’d protect you, he was just showing you what his life was like. But it went on, even after you were married. He’d take you out, poke at all your weaknesses, publicly, showing your emotions, your makeup smudged, you looked weak? All unacceptable. He turned you cold, unfeeling, locked in your own skin.

He had confused you. In public Sylus acted cold, leaving you to your own devices, but in private, he was tender, gave you anything you asked. Each time you came back from an event, you were mentally and physically exhausted from the verbal sparring and the torturous clothes and heels. You’d collapse on the couch, sighing, Luke and Kieran giving you pitying looks. You ended that marriage, walked away. You were a star that had been extinguished out, too cold to burn any longer.

And you weren’t going to fall for the same trap again.

Sighing, you turned around, scanning him with cold indifference.

Sylus stands there, just as you remember him. A sharp black suit hugs his frame, all power and danger wrapped in elegance. His red eyes glint under the low light, the same look of charm and menace that always lurked beneath the surface. His hair glinting in the light of the fluorescents, the silvery strands casually waving, framing his sharp face beautifully. He hasn’t changed. His face was built of such cruel beauty that it hurt to look at, no, he hadn’t changed a bit.

“Well I wasn’t planning to see a past mistake here,” you say coolly.

A smirk tugs at the corner of Sylus’s mouth, his gaze roving over you just as you did to him.

"A mistake, huh?" he mocks, his lean frame moving closer, his presence as imposing as ever. "And here I thought I was the best decision you ever made."

You arch your brow, carefully adjusting the strap of your dress, “Which ended how again?”

He stops in front of you, the scent of him familiar and unwelcome all at once, his red gaze pinning you in place. Sylus lets out a low chuckle, his words tinged with cruel delight. "Oh, you know how it ended. With divorce papers and a lot of tears, if I recall correctly."

Shrugging casually, you play indifferent, “All temporary.”

His smile sharpens, his gaze narrowing on her. He steps closer, nearly invading her space. "Temporary?" he scoffs. "Divorce tends to be a pretty permanent thing, sugar."

“I sure hope so.”

His smirk grows, his eyes turning impossibly colder. His eyes that you once got lost in but now only reflected how damaged he left you. It was ironic, his eyes, the color of life, had shattered yours.

"Oh, darling," he says, his tone almost mockingly sweet, "you don't sound too convinced. Hoping I’ll come crawling back, begging for another chance?"

It was your turn to scoff, a hint of anger in your voice, “You’d never so much incline your head, much less lower yourself to that.”

He leans in closer until they're nearly nose-to-nose, the air between them crackling with tension.

"You're right," he whispers, his voice a mixture of arrogance and mockery, "why would I beg for something I had in the palm of my hand once before? No. If I wanted you back, I'd make damn sure you'd come back."

You bared your teeth, eyes narrowed as you spat, “Glad we’re on the same page then.”

He raises a hand, his finger lightly tracing the line of your jaw, a possessive gesture that feels more like a threat than a caress, his other hand taking the alcohol out of your hand and placing it on a nearby table, his fingers sliding underneath yours.

"Oh, we're on the same page, alright," he murmurs, his gaze locked with yours. "You've made it clear that you're never coming back to me. But I wonder, do you ever lie awake at night, dreaming about what could've been? About the power we could've wielded together?"

“You flatter yourself,” you say, tone smooth and emotionless again, “Quite bold of you to believe I think about whatever fragments of our marriage ever existed.”

A scoff of disbelief escapes him, his gaze hardening. "You underestimate me, sweetheart," he shoots back, the edge in his voice sharpening. "You might think you've put me in the past, but you're wrong. You might not be heartbroken, but you're sure as hell haunted."

You scoff, “Only thing I miss is your money.”

He grins, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Oh, sugar, I know you missed more than that." His hand drops from your jaw, sliding down your neck and resting on your waist, tugging your closer against his body with a force that speaks of a familiarity they both deny. "You used to burn for me, didn't you?"

Glaring at him, you dig your nails harshly into his arm, “Things only burn for so long.”

The sharp sting of her nails into his arm only seems to fuel his arrogance, his hand on your hip tightening. He leans in closer, his breath hot against her ear.

"Oh, you were always full of fire and sparks," he murmurs, his words a mix of taunt and memory. "Too bad it never quite burned bright enough to keep me satisfied."

You flash him a sharp smile, tearing his arm off of your waist, “I’m sure you’ll find another thing to ruin.”

He lets her go, his expression hardening. His gaze locks with yours, a strange mix of irritation and something like regret flashing in his eyes.

"Ruin? Or perfect?" he replies, his voice smooth as silk. "I always had a knack for finding things, and people, in desperate need of a little... refinement."

You laugh, the sound harsh and cold as you take another step back, “Not everyone wants to be perfected,” you spat with fury.

His gaze sharpens at your reaction, his own annoyance flaring.

"Oh, sweetheart," he drawls, his tone as smooth as ever, "everyone needs a little direction. A little... guidance. And let's face it, you were a raw gem when I found you. I just added a bit of polish."

“You tried to polish it too much and ended up breaking it,” you said, jaw clenched with quiet fury.

For a moment, his mask of confidence slips. He looks stung by your words, his face betraying a hint of vulnerability. But just as quickly, he composes himself, the smirk back in place. "Break you? Or bring out the best in you?" he counters, the words half-mocking, half-defensive. "Sometimes, a few cracks are worth it for the masterpiece that remains."

You look at him, gaze shuttered, “I’ve really been feeling my best self I guess.”

The sarcasm hits him harder than he expected. The smirk on his face falters again, replaced for a brief moment with a flash of guilt or shame.

But he quickly shoves it aside, his expression hardening.

"You always had a mouth on you," he mutters. "A mouth that used to be good for more than just smartass comments."

Your expression flashes with disgust, partially at his words and partially at yourself, “I guess I know where your priorities lie. I’m sure there’s enough other people willing to suck your cock,” you spit, turning on your heel and walking down to the auction floor.

He watches your walk away, a mix of anger and something like regret tightening his jaw.

"Damn it," he mutters, his gaze tracking you until you disappear into the crowd, your words and presence leaving a sour taste in his mouth. Sylus stands there for a moment, but after a beat, he shoves his hands in his pockets and follows you.

He weaves through the crowd, the auction already in full swing. The room is filled with a buzz of chatter, the air thick with tension and excitement. Fat, old, balding men eagerly eyeing the women walking around or glaring at their other rivals.

He spots you easily enough, standing off to the side, gaze fixed on the various items up for bid. Sylus moves through the crowd until he's standing behind you, his presence an unignorable force. He doesn't speak; he just stands there, watching you with an intensity that's almost unnerving.

His gaze roams over you, taking in every detail. The curve of your neck, the way your dress hugs your figure, the determined set of your jaw. He should walk away. He should leave you alone. But he can't.

Finally, he speaks, his voice low and rough. "I remember the way you looked at me the night of our wedding, you know. So full of hope and excitement. You looked at me like I was your goddamn world."

“And yet I needed to be ‘perfected’,” you say quietly, your voice bitter and cold.

"You were inexperienced, naive," he retorts, his voice hard. "The world we live in doesn't care about hope and innocence. You needed to be toughened up. I was trying to make you stronger."

Your eyes didn’t leave the items, refusing to look at him, “Great job.”

His fingers itched to touch you, to force you to look at him. But he resisted, knowing it would only fuel the flames of your anger. Instead, he leaned forward, his lips hovering a hair's breadth from your ear.

"I did my best to prepare you," he murmured, his voice dark and deep. "But you were never really cut out for the life I live."

“Then why have you been following me all night?” You spat, studying a priceless glass piece in front of you.

His eyes narrow at your words, a mixture of irritation and something else that he can't quite place coursing through him. He takes another step closer, invading your personal space, his presence overwhelming.

"Curiosity, darling. Call it a lingering fascination with all those flaws and weaknesses I know you have, begging to be exploited."

Your lips purse with disapproval and disgust, “Of course.”

His gaze darkens at your disapproving expression, his arrogance and ego itching for a fight. "Naturally," he repeats, mimicking her cool tone. "Or would you prefer I say I couldn’t help myself? That you looked too damn good in that dress, and I just had to follow you?"

You scoff, jaw clenched, “I’d prefer if you left.”

He can't help but scoff as well, his irritation growing.

"Right," he retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Leave you alone at a high-end auction, surrounded by criminals and shady characters. That sounds like a brilliant idea."

“Isn’t this what you were ‘perfecting’ me for, huh?” You spit, finally turning to glare at him, “And besides, this isn’t the first time I’ve been here.”

You weren’t lying, you had been here dozens of times on your bosses account. Sometimes small jobs, simply observing other deals taking place but sometimes having to play the part of a naive little girl to appeal and extract information from the men there.

You can see Sylus’ expression flicker to one of surprise, “I never brought you here.”

“I know,” you say simply, glancing at the clock.

9:35.

His brow furrows with suspicion, “And why would you ever come here?”

“To make connections,” you say simply.

His frown deepens at your words, his gaze hardening.

"Connections, huh?" he repeats, his tone flat. "You do realize the kind of people you're making those connections with, right? They're not the warm and fuzzy type, sweetheart.” He studies your face closely, his gaze calculating.

He scoffs. "And what kind of business are they offering you, hmm? Are you making friends or just looking to fill the void I left?"

Your expression turns cold, narrowing your eyes at his audacity, “Throw all the insults you want, but don't think I'm out here whoring myself about.”

He clenches his jaw at her words, the implication sending a wave of unwanted emotion through him.

"I didn't say you were," he retorts, his voice low and tight. "But let's not pretend there isn't a certain... appeal, shall we say, to the kind of attention you're likely getting here. You were always a damn good looking woman. It's not a shock that men would take note."

You scoff, brushing past him, “Excuse you, I have a meeting.”

He feels a twinge of irritation as you brush by him, his hand shooting out to grip your arm, pulling you back towards him.

"A meeting, huh?" he repeats, his voice edged with something akin to anger. "Care to let me know with who?"

Baring your teeth, you speak in a condescending tone, “Information isn’t free, you should know that, Sylus.”

And with those words, you disappear in the locked door with the number 036 on it and gears whir as it locks behind you.

Sylus’ eyes narrow with frustration and sits down in a chair near the entrance, picking up a glass of liquor and downs it, eyes locked on the door that swallowed you up.

He wasn’t concerned, no not at all. He wasn’t concerned that his ex-wife was becoming more involved in criminal activity than he was. Of course not.

The lies he told himself didn’t stop him from waiting on you, eyes locked on the door and glaring at anyone who dares to approach him, he had no time for distractions.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄

As you stepped into the meeting room, your eyes fell upon the familiar sight of Rafayel’s discussion room. A long, mahogany table was centered perfectly with a mini bar in the back, expensive whiskeys, rum, wine, and brandy were laid out on the table, already opened and poured.

You took your seat at the head of the table, leaning back and crossing your legs, not bothering to fix the way your dress rode up. It was all calculated and just like clockwork, several pairs of eyes flew to the newly exposed skin.

A drink had been already poured for you, not like you’d drink it anyway. It was only a prop, something to add to the suspense and to increase the tension in the room.

One of the men narrowed his eyes at you, or more of at your chest, “Are you Rafayel’s escort?”

Smoothly, you leaned forward, folding your hands on the table and ‘accidentally’ giving him a better view, “Something like that. I will be his representative tonight.”

He fell into your trap, eyes darting downward with more intensity, oblivious to the straining of the buttons of his shirt.

With much more of this, they’ll go flying across the room, you thought dryly.

Yet you held still, no matter how much your skin was crawling from his gaze. You would not flinch, nor shy away.

The man with a receding hairline next to him cleared his throat, passing a folder to you with classified papers inside. He was skinny, almost alarmingly so and appeared to have no weapon. No threat.

You opened the folder, descriptions of certain paintings and locations and prices jotted down along with names and times. You leaned back, pretending to look over the folder and offers, propping it up with your crossed legs. In reality, you were letting the hidden camera behind you capture every detail, Rafayel no doubt peering through.

Each man looked at you expectantly as you scanned the information. The bracelet on your wrist vibrated each time you turned the page. One buzz for yes, two for not a chance, and three was telling you to negotiate a higher price.

It seemed you’d have a lot of negotiating to do.

It didn’t matter in the end. If you didn’t come to a consensus before 10:15, then you’d leave unless they changed their minds.

Clearing your throat, you set a few of them down, “These are do-able but not for that amount.”

The few men paying attention frowned and started to argue but you held your hand up, silencing them with a simple gesture.

“Do you want a realistic dupe or not?” You asked, voice calm but commanding.

Now you’d never admit it but you were channeling your inner Sylus. Watching him through all of those deals and meetings certainly paid off in this business. Walking in and commanding the attention, reading people’s body language and the art of temptation were all things you learned from him.

Over the next 20ish minutes, the men were tripping over themselves to try to settle on prices, desperately trying to please whoever they were sent here by.

You practically didn’t have to do anything, only watching them up the prices astronomically, oblivious to how little profit they’d be making later.

One of them started catching on though, but before he could stop them, you raised your hand again, “Done.”

The men let out a sigh of relief, glad they had made the deal, unaware of the scam.

You stood, folding the papers in the folder and left without a word, they could find their own way.

Closing the door behind you, you sighed, satisfied and proud.

As you exited, you saw Sylus sitting in the chair in front of the door. He smirked, tilting his head and standing up.

“You seem awfully smug, sweetie,” he drawled, “I assume it went your way?”

You didn’t even have to answer, the door opening again and the men came out, looking slightly shocked and irritated, their expressions widening as they saw Sylus, darting back to you, looking a little scared.

Sylus’ face grew cold, looking at them with disdain as he took a step closer, right behind you continuing to glare at them until they were out of sight. Safe to say, none of them looked at your body.

After they left, he spoke again, “You got what you wanted?”

“I did,” you say, a hint of pride in your tone, lips curving into a satisfied smile.

He cocks an eyebrow at your words, curious.

"Did you now?" he says, his voice low. "Care to share what it was you wanted? If it's good enough to leave that lot looking so upset, it must've been worth the wait."

“Information isn’t free,” you repeat, taking a few steps away to hand the folder to your boss.

Rafayel quickly scans the documents and gives you an approving smile, “Your money’s already transferred.”

And with that he vanishes.

When you turn back around you nearly slam into Sylus’ chest. He looks down at you with an amused expression, but his eyes are sharp, “Who was that?”

“My boss,” you say simply, stepping around him to sit on the couch, grabbing a glass of alcohol from one of the trays, checking it thoroughly again.

“Why are you doing that?” Sylus gestures to your examination.

You shrugged, “I ain’t getting drugged.”

He watches you laugh, a mix of irritation and familiarity flitting across his face.

"And why do you think that, huh?" he mutters, his tone a mix of skepticism and curiosity. "You just assume every bastard here is out to drug you?"

You look at him condescendingly, “Sylus I just came out of a meeting with some very powerful people who look very angry about the outcome, what do you think?”

"I think you're being paranoid," he retorts, his voice edged with irritation. "You think every high-powered person here has time to mess with you?"

“When they know who I work for? Hell yeah,” you say, tilting back your head and downing the glass.

He watches you down the glass, swallowing hard as his eyes linger on your exposed neck.

"And who do you do business for, then?" he asks, his voice low and a hint of curiosity in his tone. "You seem to have connections here, sweetheart. I'd like to know who exactly you're in bed with."

You frown, clearly irritated, “I already told you, I’m not whoring myself out to the highest bidder.”

His mouth quirks into a bitter smile at your irritation, his gaze hardening.

"Right, right. You're just here making connections out of the goodness of your heart, are you? You think I'm dumb enough to believe that?"

There's true anger in your eyes as you glare at him fiercely, “I think you're dumb enough to believe I’m a slut.”

His eyes narrow at your words, his own irritation flaring up. "Oh, don't play the victim here, sweetheart. Don't act like I don't have a right to be concerned" he snaps, his grip tightening on your wrist once again, pulling you up to stand. "You're out here, making deals with God knows who, putting yourself in these situations. What am I supposed to think?"

“And why would you care?” You spit out, tearing your arm away, not missing the crescent shape craters in his arm from earlier.

His hand closes on empty air as you tear your arm away, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

"You think I don't care?" he says, his voice sharp. "Sweetheart, don't be naive. I may be many things, but I have never stopped caring about your stubborn ass."

“Then you should know better than to think I spread my legs for whomever pays,” you hiss.

He scoffs, clearly not believing her. "Oh, I know better, do I? Well, forgive me for having doubts, sweetheart. You've been making a lot of new friends today, haven't you? Who's to say these friends aren't expecting something in return?"

“They can’t lay a finger on me,” you snarl.

He narrows his eyes, his expression hardening even more.

"Oh, really? And what makes you so sure about that, huh? Are they just sweethearts, these new friends of yours? Or do they have a different way of paying debts?"

You roll your eyes, “Sylus, I can handle it, I’ve been doing this for a while.”

He crosses his arms, a scowl on his face, “Well are you trying to get yourself killed or what? People will target you now.”

“And you think they wouldn’t if I was your wife?”

He pauses at your words, his irritation fading for a moment.

"No one would have even dreamed of touching you if you had stayed with me," he says, his tone low. "But you were the one who left."

“Because I didn’t appreciate being humiliated and lied to daily,” you grit out.

He scoffs at that, his irritation returning once again.

"You call it being lied to, I call it keeping information from you to protect you. There's a damn difference, sweetheart"

“Sylus, I’ve been doing this since we started talking about divorce, I’m doing fine.”

His eyes narrow at your words, the irritation flaring up again. "And when exactly were you planning to tell me that, huh?" he says, his voice sharp.

You shrug, “Well I wasn’t planning to see you here, much less talk to you. So probably never.”

He scoffs at your indifference, his expression hardening even further. "So, you were just gonna go on and keep this little secret from me, huh? Even though you damn well know this isn't the life you're meant for?"

You bare your teeth, pissed, “What about my potential? Isn’t this why you tried to perfect me? So I could be strong?”

He scoffs, "There's a damn difference between trying to perfect you so you could be strong and watching you throw yourself into danger you aren’t equipped to handle."

“Well too damn bad for you,” you hiss, “I’m not some science experiment you can change and test to fit your liking.”

He sneers at your words, his irritation turning into anger. "You think I wanted to change you? You think I wanted to shape you into something you're not? I was trying to toughen you up, sweetheart. Make sure you could stand up for yourself in a world that'll eat you alive."

You cross your arms, voice cold, “Well I guess you got what you wanted.”

His jaw clenches at that, anger flaring even further. "You think this is what I wanted? You think I wanted to see you put yourself in danger? You think I wanted you to throw yourself headfirst into the exact damn life I was trying to keep you away from?"

“Look Sylus, I’m done arguing. You can either leave or shut up,” you retort, sitting back on the couch.

"Oh, I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart. I'm gonna stay right here and watch over your stubborn ass," he snaps.

“Then drop the conversation,” you spit.

He grinds his teeth, irritation etched into every facial feature. "Fine," he mutters. "But this ain't over, sweetheart. We're not finished discussing this." He crosses his arms, leaning back against the wall as he studies you. His expression is still a mix of anger and irritation, but there's something else swimming in his gaze that he's doing his best to conceal. It's almost like... concern.

You just pick back up your drink, trying to pull your dress down to cover your legs.

Sylus watches you sit down, his irritation fading slightly as he notices the effort you're taking to avoid exposing herself too much. He can't help but feel a pang of protectiveness.

He takes a deep breath, trying to keep his tone flat, "You're going to draw attention, sitting like that. And judging by the way men are looking at you it won’t be the good kind."

“It never is,” you mutter, sighing and sitting more proper, more calculated, putting on a facade of comfort.

He watches as you shift, adopting a more calculated and formal pose. He recognizes the facade you’re putting on, the same one you used to use whenever they went out together.

He feels a pang of familiarity, mixed with a hint of guilt. This is what he made you into.

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, his irritation transforming into something mischievous. "You're doing it on purpose, aren't you? Trying to drive the other men crazy?"

You sigh, crossing your arms, “Well first of all it helps with business. They see what I want them to see, a pretty little girl that can be easily manipulated. It helps them underestimate me and gives me an advantage. Secondly, I enjoy seeing them get pissed when they realize they can only look and not touch.”

"You're playing a dangerous game, sweetheart. You shouldn't have to use your body like that just to get what you want."

Sighing, you just take a sip of your drink.

He studies you, his concern growing. "You've changed, sweetheart. You used to be so innocent, so pure. Now look at you, using your body to get what you want, drinking like there's no tomorrow..."

“Wonder what happened,” you mutter against your glass.

He meets her gaze, his expression serious. "Don't act so surprised, sweetheart. I know damn well that I played a part in who you are now. And I'm not proud of it."

“Hmm, surprised you’d admit it,” you say bluntly.

He grimaces, his irritation mixing with some kind of bitter sense of acceptance. "Yeah, well, I guess I'm just full of surprises today, huh?"

He notices your hands holding the dress shut. Sylus wonders if it's because you feel vulnerable for some reason or maybe it's because you know how much the damn dress is showing off.

“What?” You hiss at him, “What am I supposed to do?”

He studies you, his amusement fading, pushing off the wall, taking a few steps closer, his gaze fixed on you.

"You're acting like a goddamn blushing virgin, trying to cover yourself up like that," he mutters, his tone a mix of irritation and something else.

You glare at him, clearly uncomfortable now that you don’t have any reason to show off.

He sighs and tosses his jacket in your lap, sitting down next to you and throwing his arm over the back of the couch, glaring at the wandering eyes.

You fix the jacket so it covers your lap, now able to sit comfortably without having to worry about anyone.

Sylus takes you in, his gaze lingering over your body covered in his jacket. He can't help but feel a mixture of pure satisfaction and affection bubbling up inside of him. It's a feeling he thought he had buried and forgotten, but somehow it's resurfacing faster than he can handle.

You aren’t paying attention to him, only sipping on your drink and scanning the room.

He observes you, your gaze still focused on the room around them. He can't help but feel a pang of loneliness at her disinterest.

He clears his throat, trying to get your attention.

“Hm?” You ask, turning to him.

He straightens, relieved that you’re looking at him. “Nothing," he mutters, his voice gruff. "Just wanted to see if you were paying attention."

You hum, “Well you have it.”

He lets out a scoff, his irritation dissipating slightly, "About damn time."

You frown and take another sip of your drink.

Sylus watches you take a sip of your drink, the frown on your face making him feel a pang of guilt. He clenches his jaw, his irritation morphing into something else. "You shouldn't be drinking that much," he grumbles, his tone slightly softer than before.

“It’s only my second,” you correct.

"That's still too much," he mutters, his tone more concerned than irritated now.

You raise an eyebrow as you bring the glass back up to your lips, taking another small sip.

He scoffs again, irritation and concern warring with each other. "You really shouldn't be drinking that much," he grumbles, his tone firmer now.

Grinning, you take another sip, mirth swimming in your eyes.

He scowls at you, frustration replacing concern. "Damn it, sweetheart, you need to stop drinking or you're gonna mess something up," he snaps, his tone harsh.

At his tone you frown, gingerly setting the glass down on the table, the temporary happy mood gone.

He freezes, noticing your expression change. His frustration fades into remorse as he realizes he's ruined the brief moment of playfulness. "Sorry," he mutters, his tone more gruff than sharp.

You don’t look up at him, expression betraying your disappointment, though it doesn't show on your face, he can still sense it. You were having fun, and he ruined it, just as he'd done so many times before.

Your hands toy with each other, staying quiet.

Sylus stills beside you, his gaze locked onto your hands, specifically the shiny ring on them. The engagement ring he gave you years ago, just moved onto a different finger.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, half hoping he didn’t hear it.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetie,” he says softly, his tender voice feeling like a shot to the heart.

Sylys stands up, gently pulling you up, his hand tugging your dress down, covering you up.

“C’mon, let me take you home,” he says gently, tilting your chin up and settling his jacket around your shoulders.

You let him lead you outside, maybe you were tired, or slightly tipsy, or just still missing him, but you don’t protest, not when he hands you a helmet, or drives you home on his bike, or how he cradles you in his arms.

All you do is relax in his arms as he gently takes your key out and unlocks the door, helping you take your dress off and remove your makeup, putting on your skincare and getting you into sleep clothes, some shorts and one of his old shirts. It was as if nothing happened, like you were still together, like everything was still okay. If he was surprised you kept his clothes, he didn’t show it, only tucking you into bed like you meant something to him, like you meant everything to him.

You were half asleep by the time he finished, head lolling against his shoulder as he laid you down, smoothing back your hair and kissing your forehead.

“Good night, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

And then he was gone.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄

In the morning when you woke up, you almost believed you had dreamed of it all, but the heavy black coat near the door proved the opposite.

He had hung up your dress and put away your shoes, a crisp envelope on your dresser with your name on it.

Sweetie,

You can come return my coat at 11:30. Be on time.

Yours, Sylus ♡

(Also the twins miss you.)

So there might be a good chance you’d be out for the day.

Actually, there would be a 100% chance.

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