#and it's a shame they took that identity away from him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

imjustasimpxd · 3 months ago

Text

Something Old, Something New

(Chapter One)

➬ Ken Sato x Fem reader

Summary : At first glance, Ken Sato seemed to have it all. With money, fame, and success surrounding his name, there was nothing he couldn’t get his hands on. They say money can buy happiness. That may be true to an extent, however, can money buy forgiveness? Unfortunately for Ken, no amount of money and influence can turn back time and change the past. No amount of bribery can erase the fact that he had chosen to abandon his wife in favor of pursuing his baseball career. That awful decision he made took place five years ago, when he was just starting out as a professional athlete. But now that he’s matured and had time to reflect on his actions, can he hope for a chance to rekindle his marriage? Or should he accept defeat and live with the consequences of letting the only woman he’s ever truly loved slip away from him?

Word count : around 2,500 words

Warnings : mentions of abandonment and neglect, arrogant Sato, sad reader, mentions of regret, angst

Author’s notes : comments and reblogs are appreciated!! I appreciate all feedback on my writing so that I can know what you guys liked and what you think I should improve on

Disclaimer : this is a work of fiction and should in no way, shape, or form, be taken seriously.

Side Note : This fic, and everything else I’ve written on my blog is mine and only mine. I work very hard on everything I write so do not, under any circumstances, modify, copy, or stela my work.

Ken Sato. Looks, wealth, talent, charisma, and confidence rolled into one good looking package.

The mere mention of his name was enough to cause an uproar of fanatics screaming and shouting in excitement, as if they were a pack of wolves howling at the moon.

Though he was mostly known for his impressive baseball career, being named one of the most eligible bachelors in sports didn’t hurt his credibility either. If anything, playing the part of the charming ladies’ man only increased his popularity, especially to any of his adoring fans that were women, which most of them were.

After becoming one the biggest celebrities in both Japan and American sports, there weren’t many people who were ignorant of a household name such as his. Every man wanted to be him, and every woman wanted to be with him.

To the public eye, Ken Sato seemed to have it all. But looks can be deceiving, can’t they? Especially when it comes to a man who’s spent years hiding his true feelings behind a veil of humor and charisma.

No one could know how much he was struggling to keep it all together, or the depths of the affliction eating away at his heart. He was Ken Sato after all, and Ken Sato wasn’t weak, he was a legend, and legends never died, they prevailed. So, he must too.

No matter how much the reporters hounded him, using every possible tactic they could think of to pry into his personal life, Kenji never gave them more than a shred of minuscule details. Feeding them like rats, giving them only the bare necessities to satisfy their hunger for a short while before they came crawling back, demanding more.

He never let them know more than he wanted, more than he felt like sharing, and frankly, there was a plethora of details he didn’t feel like sharing.

His reputation of perfection probably wouldn’t uphold itself that well if the media knew about all the things he was wrestling with. Between being a newfound parent to a kaiju infant by day and a masked vigilante known as Ultraman by night, Ken didn’t exactly fit the cookie cutter version of “having it all together.”

And if that wasn’t enough, then the shame he harbored towards a decision he made almost five years ago would definitely topple the pedestal he comfortably built his identity on.

The press loved gossip, and they’d fight tooth and nail for even the smallest scintilla of drama. Twisting innocent words and blowing frivolous details out of proportions was the job of reporters. So, imagine the headlines they’d make if those reporters found out any real insiders on the life of the world-famous baseball player.

Imagine the sales they’d make if a journalist ever got ahold of the information about his past, the same past he’s been hiding away from during his time back in Japan.

He’s thought about calling, maybe writing a letter to express some form of condolences, but what if word got out? What if the press found out about the woman he used to be married to, the same one he abandoned five years ago in order to pursue his baseball career.

Forget his most recent batting record, a scandalous story such as that would make headlines from both sides of the Pacific Ocean, and then there really would be nowhere else for him to hide from his past, lest he fancied moving somewhere more remote and secluded.

If that day came, if Ken Sato was exposed for the decisions he made before becoming famous, then his reputation might take some irreparable damage.

That’s why he was so closed off towards reporters, towards his teammates, towards everyone.

Never let anyone close to you and they can never betray you. That’s how Ken Sato lives.

At least, how he did live, before a little reptilian creature crawled into his life, forcing him to realize there were things that mattered more than wealth and fame.

Before taking care of a kaiju infant became the priority in his life, Ken Sato had rooted his worth in the success of his career. So once that career took off, offering him all the success and affluence he could ever want, he began to realize just how little he really had.

Despite the riches, the popularity, all of it felt meaningless with no one to share it with. He could’ve held a party with hundreds of guests, surrounding himself with countless people all desperate to please him. Nevertheless, none of it would fill the emptiness engulfing his heart; knowing that no one he interacted with would ever see him as more than a means to financial gain and an increase in social status.

He had a world full of convenience and opportunities at his fingertips, and yet, he never felt more detached from reality.

His family was complicated, his friends were more like business partners who benefitted from their relations to him, and the one person he had ever felt truly comfortable around probably hated him now, after being dismissed in favor of baseball.

In the end, even in a room full of dedicated fans, Ken Sato felt alone.

However, then that little kaiju infant came along, and everything started to get better. Caring for a child, though tiring at first, gave Kenji something to work towards; a purpose that mattered more than advertising for energy drinks or scoring another record breaking hit at home plate.

Emi finally gave him the one thing he always wanted, the same thing he always pretended not to need: family.

After that, baseball didn’t seem to matter as much as it used to, unless he was teaching it to Emi. And all the wealth he had acquired over the years didn’t hold the same value as before, unless he was spending it on his adopted daughter. His lifestyle remained the same, but his heart was in a different place, a more peaceful one.

Winning championships were more rewarding when he had someone to win for, someone to celebrate with afterwards. And now that he’d repaired the relationship between him and his father, things were looking promising for his future.

But there was still one more roadblock, one last regret preventing him from moving forward completely.

You. The woman he’d been married to for a whole year, and, regretfully, the same woman who asked for a divorce due to his neglectful and inconsiderate disregard for her.

He was young and immature back then, foolishly believing the pursuit of his baseball career was more important than maintaining a healthy marriage. He was arrogant, thinking that extravagant gifts and vacations would keep you happy and secure his role as a provider.

But he was ignorant to think that being married to you meant he no longer had to earn your affection. All the money and gifts in the world couldn’t make up for the fact that he was never home, and that you were never his priority back then.

Every morning he’d wake up early, well before you, just to attend practice. And every night he’d come home late, just after dinner, claiming he had needed to stay longer than normal to practice more.

You’d set out a plate for him, but after his baseball career started taking off, he didn’t really have the time for things such as family dinners or game nights; or so he said.

He’d usually come home and skip dinner, taking a shower or going to sleep instead. You didn’t necessarily blame him for that, it was only natural for him to be tired from practice. But as the days of barely seeing him turned into months, and he started traveling consistently for his games, you started to feel more like a stranger to him than his wife. He was your husband on paper, but, in the confines of your home, you barely knew how to keep a conversation with him anymore. If you were being honest, you didn’t even really know him that well anymore.

At least, not as much as you used to. Things were different when you first got married, he wasn’t always so arrogant and inconsiderate. Instead, he was passionate and playful, always knowing how to make you laugh after crying. Even on your first date, he was romantic and charming, making you blush to yourself every time a compliment slipped past his lips.

But I guess the honeymoon phase people always warn you about before marriage was real; at least, it was for you and Kenji.

Once his baseball career started taking off, the fame must’ve gotten to his head, and he forgot about the one woman who had been supporting him from the sidelines all along. You had gone to every game, recorded all his winning homeruns, supported his career even though it meant holding off on pursuing yours. And yet, he repaid you with neglect, with a one-sided marriage.

You held on for a while, convinced that he would come around, that his behavior would change and he would reflect on his actions. But after the one-year anniversary of your marriage arrived and he wasn’t even in town to celebrate with you, that’s when you made your decision. You were done being a second choice.

You got in contact with a lawyer, gathered divorce papers and waited with bated breath till he got home from his trip. And the moment he walked in the door, you practically shoved the papers in his face, all the emotions you’d kept bottled up for so long suddenly coming out in a volcanic eruption of shouting and sobbing.

And surprisingly enough, he stayed quiet through the majority of it, just watching with a hollow stare as you unleashed all the frustration you’d been harboring towards him. And without a word, he took the papers from you and fished out a pen from his desk drawer, signing them in silence.

Maybe he had realized from your onslaught of emotions that you were better off without him, that he was clearly causing you pain, and you’d be happier once he set you free of him. Or maybe he really was just that heartless and figured now was the perfect opportunity to get rid of you. Either way, your stomach seemed to twist into a knot at the way he so casually signed those divorce papers and handed them back to you.

This was what you had wanted, wasn’t it? You’re the one who had gathered the papers in the first place, you should’ve been happy that he was finally ending it, finally setting you free. And yet, you felt yourself holding back tears at his lack of emotion. He didn’t try to argue, he didn’t plead with you to give him another chance like you had expected him too. He just admitted defeat, giving up on trying to fix your marriage and taking off for Japan two days later.

He left, leaving you back in America while he returned to his home country to continue baseball there; abandoning his American team in the middle of their journey to the championships.

He had given you an opportunity to move on, to become the person he always prevented you from being, and so you took it.

You cut all forms of communication, threw out everything of his that he didn’t take when he left, and moved into your own apartment. It was a fresh start, a clean slate, and you finally had the chance to chase after your dream career, just like he had been doing.

So, you did, and you didn’t give up. You refused to, you owed this to yourself, and you weren’t going to waste any more time pouring effort into someone who didn’t appreciate it.

So, you worked, tirelessly, anxiously, until the day came when your newest novel finally become a bestseller all around the nation, and you were officially titled a successful author.

Now it was your turn, to stand in front of a crowd of adoring fans, to sign autographs and attend fan events. It almost reminded you of your ex-husband, how people used to scream his name and cheer for his success. But now they were cheering for you, supporting you like he hadn’t. You almost laughed at the irony of it all. Five years ago, you would’ve never imagined the life you’d made for yourself now, celebrating your fourth bestselling novel in a row and becoming a well-known author like you always dreamed of.

And yet, looking back, none of this would’ve been possible had you not been set free from the restraints your marriage to Ken Sato had bound you to. Without him and the neglect he subjected you to, you wouldn’t have worked as hard as you did. So really, in a way, you had him to thank for how far you’ve come and all the success you’ve accomplished. Because if he never signed those papers five years ago, you would still be tied down to a one-sided marriage.

But you weren’t, and thank God for that.

Now you had moved on, and so had he.

Or so you thought.

Little did you know, Ken Sato was on a mission, and not as Ultraman this time. After undergoing the change and maturity necessary to become a parent to a kaiju infant, Kenji realized he needed to make things right between the two of you. Even if it had been five years since he last saw you.

He wasn’t looking to ask you to take him back and rekindle your marriage, though he wouldn’t have minded if that ended up happening. Instead, he simply wanted to apologize for his actions, for being such a crappy husband back then. He had reflected a lot on the subject of your marriage over the past couple years, but, he never reached out in fear of your reaction to seeing him again.

Although, after avoiding it for long enough, and getting a lecture about taking responsibility from his dad, he finally decided to go through with it and booked a flight back to America.

He was nervous to say the least, but he knew he couldn’t back out. Even if you screamed and yelled at him, he had to take accountability for his past actions and apologize for the pain he’d caused you, for pushing you to the back burner while he allowed baseball to take priority in his life.

He’d made peace with himself and his father already, thanks to the help of his adoptive daughter. So now it was time to make peace with you. And as he watched the plane lift off the ground from his window seat, he held his breath, wondering how you would react to seeing him again after so many years.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Blog Home

Tags : @thebadbatch @rlc-gg

If you want to be tagged in any of my works, whether it’s for a certain series, fandom, or character, please let me know in the comments below so that I can add you :)

Keep in mind that commenting to tell me what you liked, what you don’t, how I can improve, and any suggestions you have, helps me A LOT more than simply liking my posts. If you’ve had the time to read my story, how much longer does it take to leave me some feedback on it? :)

#kenji sato ultraman #kenji sato x y/n #kenji sato x you #kenji sato x reader #kenji sato x fem!reader #kenji sato angst #kenji sato fluff #ultraman netflix #ken sato ultraman #ultraman rising #ultraman emi #ken sato x fem reader #ken sato x y/n #ken sato x you #ken sato x reader #ken sato angst #ken sato fluff #ken sato fanfic #kenji sato fanfic

325 notes · View notes

yandereunsolved · 4 months ago

Text

Killing Me Softly - ,, yandere Aegon w/ assassin general reader (part 2) (part 1)

cw(s): yandere themes, descriptive self harm (reader), descriptive self-degredation (reader), suicidal ideation (reader), mild suggestive themes (breeding), dark fantasies (aegon: sa-ing reader, forcing them into traumatic situations)

𓍢ִ໋🀦 You were not able to escape by your own hand alone. You needed to enlist the help of Prince Jacaerys. So now, on dragonback, you sat, your hands tightly gripping his waist so as not to fall from such heights. He had shown you a manipulative tenderness that you had only seen from yourself. The shock was evident on his face as he saw the entirety of you for the first time.

It felt so jarring to be fully exposed to other's for the first time in many years. You managed to steal a pair of servant's clothes, so at least you were out of the skimpy lingerie Aegon had picked for forced you to wear.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 You thought you may have grown to love him in that time. Neither of you were saints, as you were well aware. Somehow, that made it seem like a match made by the gods. You'd torture his psyche and break his libido, and he'd trail after you like the desperate whore he is. You saw his other side as well. The one that almost became as sadistic as yours. It was a beauty unlike anything you could have ever imagined.

Only now you know that he needed to lose his life. The embarrassment and shame from that moon and a half will always scar your mind. He did not only take your pride away, but he stripped you of your secrecy. The king will die at your hands. He saw too much of you, and now even The Blacks will know your identity.

It's time to come into the light and for Aegon's blood to be spilled within the darkness of the night.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 It was quick—too quick, you thought. You were nestled away now in Dragonstone, with Jacaerys dotting over you like a worried older brother. He had given you a pair of cloth identical to his own, the targaryen seal pridefully showing itself off on the chest. Your physical wounds were attended to, and he even had the maids bring you multiple meals to choose from.

"You must be famished." He sighs in a way only known to those who have had too many burdens since birth.

You only had a few conversations with him before; you barely spared a glance his way.

"Why are you doing all of this?"

His head snaps up at such an unnatural angle you thought it would crack.

"It is my job." His words are eerily calm.

Your spine stiffens and you curl into yourself. You could feel your gut clench and push against your abdomen, urging you to approach with caution.

"Oh, yes, your job. Take care of the expendable asset whose cover has been blown." You hiss through your teeth in an effort to keep yourself from yelling. Jacaerys half expected a plume of fire to escape your throat.

"Be our general!" He blurts it out. His own face has surprise etched on it, with his brows raised and his cheeks fully flushed. "It has been something that has been talked about for many moons. I wasn't sure when to bring this proposal to you, but this is the perfect moment. Surely others must have seen your face and now know you are the feared assassin that makes every smallfolk want to cower and every noble want to open up their plentiful pockets. You'll win allies to our side."

The hairs stood to attention along your body as bumps of hesitation popped up right along side them.

"Yes, but on one condition." You smirk gleefully. You place your hands on your lap. You dig your freshly cleaned nails into your palms to ignore the tears that threaten to burst from the edges of your eyelids.

"What is this condition of yours?"

"After Aegon is dethroned, I want to be the one to keep his head. I need to mount it on a wall." Your voice cracks at the end—an embarrassing amount. You were suddenly all too aware of the anxiety that had filled your body as he stared into your eyes. It lasted a few moments, and you swear that bastard nearly took your breath away.

"Done. Welcome to The Blacks, general."

𓍢ִ໋🀦 You were graced with a room close to Daemon and Rhaenyra. They seemed pleasantly surprised that you agreed to work with them. Rhaenyra complimented you on your beauty, and Daemon said that you were much more handsome than he could have ever imagined. They probably decided to mock you behind your back. Damn assholes. The nobles were all the same. They all kept the same lightly mocking tone at the edge of their voices. Their words were like poison slowly infecting your eardrums, entering from there, and slowly spreading throughout your body.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 You awoke quickly once again—another night filled with memories of your time with Aegon. You could barely drag yourself back to sleep each night after your eyes flung open. You opted for either training until you exhausted yourself enough for sleep or chipping away at your scars with your own knife.

"Fresh blood to old wounds. Haha."

Drag the knife along your skin. Cut.

"You've become too weak because of Aegon."

Cut deeper this time.

"You stupid dick."

Deeper, deeper.

"You deserve it. Can you not take a little pain? Have you fallen so far that you hesitate to reopen wounds that have closed? Pathetic."

So deep you can nearly see bone.

"Aegon really got in your head. He really did. Are you cutting yourself for him? Are you doing it because you miss when he would do it himself? Tch—"

Your blood is now coating your nightclothes and the ground.

Like always, you picked yourself up and took care of your wounds. You don't let anyone see you bare, so it isn't as if you would have a need to worry.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 You were hailed as the new general in front of crowds of The Blacks supporters. They had a ball, and although it was centered around you, you spent most of the night avoiding those congratulating you and hiding within empty rooms. Jacaerys tried to approach you numerous times, most likely at the order of his mother, but you managed to slip out of his grasp each time.

You were walking to your room an hour before the celebration was to conclude when you were bombarded by the squeaks of a messenger bird. You hastily snatched the rolled-up parchment out of the mourning doves anisodactyl feet, only to be met with the taunting seal of The Greens.

You tore the letter open, much to your own consternation.

𝘙𝘪𝘫𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘺𝘬𝘦āō𝘵. 𝘎ō𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘰 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘢?₍₁₎

— 𝘈ō𝘩𝘢 𝘥ā𝘳𝘺𝘴₍₂₎

You had to find a book to translate what Aegon had written. You skipped your bath and bed and went straight to a secluded area to let your frustrations out.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 The morrow arrived with your knuckles and knees bloody, having barely rested. Your demons taunted you, even while you lay awake. Shaking any stray thoughts from your head, you had your first order, stealing dragon eggs from the new clutch Dreamfyre just laid. It was simply a test of your ability as the new general. Your informants had told you that the clutch had five eggs. You were supposed to order those at your disposal to sneak into the dragon pit and grab as much of the clutch as possible.

It struck a bitter chord in your heart.

The ki—Aegon sends a letter just to irritate you. Now you must have some subordinates you do not know break into the expertly guarded castle.

No, that will not do.

You will put your second in command in charge while you retrieve the eggs. He's some loyal man to the family. He should be competent enough to fulfill your duties until you return.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 You send a letter of your absence a moment before you leave. It will take at least a moon to get to Kings Landing with your travel route and transportation in mind. A more than a month it takes. It took two more weeks than you had calculated due to their improved security and unseen consequences. Your body has not fully recovered, and you are still quite weak.

You narrowly make it, your body shaking from all the energy you have had to exert.

Under the shadows cast by the moon, you sit on the king's windowsill once again. You were hoping to taunt him, just like old times. You even brought a dagger for your revenge. However, he is nowhere in sight; his wife is the only one in bed.

She's tossing and turning as the moonlight shines on her pale cheeks. You are able to see they are bright red. It makes you reminisce about all the times you left Aegon, all weepy and hard. You dare to get closer and sit on the edge of the plush bed. Streaks of tears stain her face, which looks as if it were crafted out of porcelain.

Your fingers lift her chin after she settles from her fit. She looks so similar to Aegon. She is his sister, after all. Your other hand lands on her throat. You squeeze it gently, gradually adding pressure. The hand lifting her chin slides over her mouth. You feel more safe the more you cut off her airway. It makes your chest release that breath it was holding in.

Helaena abruptly awakes and sleepily fights against the assailant holding her down. The hand on her mouth retracted as she managed to bite your fingers.

"Shit, shit, shit."

She was screaming for help. It was a momentary mistake, but it cost you your chance at making Aegon suffer that much more.

You didn't have time to finish choking her out or to pull your dagger and slit her throat, as the guards were already bursting in the door. You stumbled out of the window and crashed into the roof of one of the connecting buildings below.

Multiple somethings were broken.

You can't breath. You can't move. You were spitting up blood that took up what you were able to see because of your blurry vision.

This isn't you.

This isn't you!

Get it together you dumb whore.

You crawled to the edge of the roof and pushed yourself off. You rolled and fell. Your body was numb; you could barely move by the time you reached a dark alleyway. You lie there in defeat, as that never-ending cycle of critiquing comments fills your mind with hatred for yourself. You succumb to your injuries.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 You spent six months stealing three out of the five dragon eggs. You used your connections to get yourself healed and fed and get more information on the greens. It wasn't easy by any means, and you were barred from going anywhere without at least one guard by your side. The Blacks were impressed, at least. It made you grin.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 You sat near the eggs most days while planning. They were one of your greatest achievements recently. The smallest one was mostly white with shades of gray and iridescent scaling. The second medium-sized dragon egg was a pastel red with black speckles and a gray undertone. Now, the largest one was a sight to be seen for your eyes. You would often hold it in your hands and hope for it to hatch. It would be a mighty dragon for someone. Lilac coloring decorated the entirety of it, with splashes of light blue that reminded you of blood spatters.

Your admiring was cut short as you were disrupted by the squawking of a particularly dissatisfied bird. Peering up, you saw a red-tailed hawk circling above your head, its zygodactyl feet holding another letter. You could see the seal of The Greens plain as day.

Bastard.

𝘋𝘪𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘫𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘺𝘴?₍₃₎ 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺. 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘦.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘦. 𝘈𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘦? 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘹 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵.

— 𝘢ō𝘩𝘢 𝘳𝘢𝘲𝘯𝘰𝘯 ₍₄₎

𓍢ִ໋🀦 Aegon assumes the letter must have gotten to you by now. He laid bare while writing it, his mind filled with thoughts of capturing you once again. You seemed so fragile. That's how the guards described it when they saw you trying to murder his lovely wife. It was undeniably amusing. You are the great assassin, a commander of the blacks, yet you could not slit his wife's throat?

All of his frustration and fury seemed to melt after he received that report. He nearly drunk himself to the grave after learning of your escape. That damned strong bastard took you from him.

You two were meant to be.

Why couldn't he see that?

Why can't his family see that?

He brought up the possibility of capturing you once again, but they are unaware of your previous stay. When he did explain it to the council, they simply stated that you were too much of a threat to keep. alive. They questioned his sanity and his ability to lead as king.

So he did the only reasonable thing one could do. He cut off all their heads and ordered for new councilmen to be put in place.

It was lucky that Aemond was unable to attend the meeting. He would have raised his sword against his brother as well. A kinslayer dying at the hands of a new kinslayer. That would be poetic.

He just cannot stand it. It makes his blood bubble within his veins.

Aemond was your original target. It's no doubt that you still think of him.

You shouldn't.

You should be thinking of Aegon. You should be thinking about how much you hate him and how scary he is! You should be fantasizing about him, just as he does about you.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 And the fantasies—they've only become more obsessive, yet domestic in a way he never thought possible. He imagines Helaena tragically dying due to grief. He would need a spouse and a son soon. So who better to marry than the one person who has been such a great enemy? He would be hailed as a peacemaker, a man who is able to tame even the darkest of hearts. He would also be feared, as he would have such a talented leader by his side.

You'd bear his kin. He'd force you to bear his kin, one way or another.

Then he'd take them away after you had given them life. He'd name them and pamper them all while you suffered with the lack of their touch and warmth.

Eventually he'd force you into spending time with your children. He'd be enamored by how paternal and hot you'd look while feeding and playing with them.

He'd always keep you round, full, and warm, so you wouldn't be able to escape. He'd make you replace the son you took from him with many more.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 He was so irritatable without you. He had no outlet to simply be himself. Sure, his relationship with Helaena has improved, but it isn't quite the same without you. She doesn't listen like you do. She spaces out and starts mumbling random things! He just needs to use you. It makes him feel all fluttery and soft inside.

He misses being used by someone who didn't pretend as if they were holier than thou. Your hits and your retaliation felt so fiery and passionate. They felt like love. The antithesis of what the physical abuse from his mother and grandsire felt like. They were always so cold and callous. Even in your most biting moments, with your words that could cast Westeros into winter, he still felt warm.

"Sentys, jentys, issa jorrāelagon. Skoriot issi ao? Māzigon arlī naejot issa, kostilus. Nyke beg hen ao."₍₅₎ He'd whisper in the dead of night when only the ears of the gods were listening.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 The pleas did not fall on deaf ears. However, the gods move at their own pace, which is usually agonizingly slow for mortals. What was also done this way was the war. Both sides took heavy losses, and while The Blacks were gaining ground, The Greens were supported by the smallfolk. It turns out that killing the opposing sides child and then attempting the life of the 'queen', is not exactly popular amongst commoners.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 Jacaerys stuck by your side like tree sap through the planning and the battles. He was like his parents little watchdog. You would be lying if you said you didn't find him just the least bit amusing. He did surprise you with the one-hatched dragon out of the three stolen from Dreamfyre's clutch. The biggest, most extravagant one had hatched to produce a much smaller than normal dragonet.

By imprinting on you at a young age, Jacaerys was able to use his commands in High Valyrian to bond it to you. He did take his time teaching you the basic phrases as well. Daemon seemed miffed at Jacaerys teaching you, but Rhaenyra loved it. You felt like a fucking suffocated child most of the time, but it wasn't that bad. Jacaerys made you feel safe.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 Your dragon was not large enough to ride, but they still followed you around. The dragonet was constantly at your side. They did have a bad habit of scratching you. So you often had to clean them up yourself. Just another set of wounds to heal. Nothing too out of the normal for you.

Until.

"General—" Jacaerys barged in unannounced. You were stitching a particularly deep cut the viscious rascal had given you on your lower stomach. You were not wearing any upper garments because of such. Jacaerys malfunctioned immediately to embarrassment, but his face only portrayed worry.

"Yes, Jacaerys?" You inquire while throwing a thin top on.

"Those scars." He states mournfully. "You have so many. I apologize that you have gone through so much." His words were genuine. They made your heart ache in a way that made you want to seek him out. Stupid. Don't.

"I hardly even notice them. They should not be any concern to you. What is it?" You question, more defensively this time.

"They are of concern. It is not my place but may I ask—"

"You're right," you cut him off before he is even able to finish the sentence. "It is not your place." You feel your throat close in; a cough escapes it. "You don't know what it's like to be a smallfolk, to be on the street and have to fight for scraps!"

"I have had hardships as well. I am sure I will be able sympathize with you." He states in the most friendly and loving voice he is able to muster.

An intense memory materializes in your mind from the one person who helped you in this world. A phrase that has stuck with you through all of your years, even into your mentor's death.

You snap.

"Those who have been served silver spoons with golden plates..." You can't speak for a moment. A handful of pitiful tears escape you. "They will always sneer at those who have been fed by hand and then take a plate from those who barely eat off it."

You shove him out of your room. You don't leave it for the rest of the day. You don't sleep, but you don't cut either. It's impossible in a way.

Your interaction with him is minimal after that. You actively avoid him and how he makes you feel.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 He drove himself into battle. You only heard reports of it as you were busy on another field, being aided by your draconic companion. Vhagar and Sunfyre targeted Vermax, burning Jacaerys from the skies. You were told this by a messenger. You didn't have the lack of heart to kill the messenger either.

He only gave you a letter. He was told that if Jacaerys died in battle, then he was supposed to give it to you.

𝑰 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆, 𝒔𝒐 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒂𝒚. 𝑰'𝒎 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖. 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕. 𝑰 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒚 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅. 𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒅𝒊𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒕 𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒔.

— 𝑱𝒂𝒄𝒂𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒔 Jace ♡

𓍢ִ໋🀦 You could not take it any longer! Did you love Jacaerys back? Maybe. Did you love Aegon? Perhaps. Aegon still needs to die, love or not.

You had to rush back to Dragonstone and make sure The Blacks were not overtaken. You heard of the warpath the Greens dragons were making. It gave you a valuable opportunity. You could kill the king, Aegon.

You could finally win against him.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 You didn't.

The Greens overtook Dragonstone.

They killed all of the blacks dragons, including your own.

You failed.

You should have killed yourself when you had the chance. So many chances, and yet you were too much of a pussy to take one.

Now you are within Aegon's grimey hands again.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 The last two remaining blacks, other than yourself, are dragged off somewhere, probably to be tortured. Tears almost left your eyes. Rhaenyra would be killed, Jacaerys's last connection to this world. Daemon, you didn't care as much. Still, he was quite brilliant in his tactical nature and taught you a few things here and there.

It's now just you and him, all alone in a secluded room far from his own.

"Ruo₍₆₎," Aegon purrs.

You don't dignify him with a response. You sit on the floor with a blank expression. You are simply a propped-up doll, leaning against the wall, getting ready to be played with again.

"Playing hard to get? Are you so torn that I killed your little boytoy?" He taunts. His legs are spread across the king-sized bed. His body leans down towards the edge of the bed, one of his hands bunching up the bedspread. He cocks his head to the side like an innocent child and grins.

"You—" Your voice trails off. All you are able to think about are those stupid fucking letters.

"Me?" He mumbles wistfully.

"You're dead."

"You won't kill me." He teases lightheartedly, his other hand pushing against his chest and pawing at the fabric of his top.

"Why is that?"

"Let's be honest with ourselves; you could have killed me the first time you saw me. Yet, you didn't. You have had so many other chances to kill me. You haven't. You love me."

"No."

"Kill me then." He lazily tosses you a fork that had been left on the edge of the bedside table. "Come on, it isn't much, but you've killed someone for much less. Avenge Jacaerys. Slit my throat, please." His last words come out in a begging tone. The hand pawing at his chest moves up to wrap around his throat. He squeezes gently and moans so prettily for you.

You take the fork. Your hand shakes vigorously as you stare at the piece of metal.

Why keep lying to yourself? You know he has called your bluff.

The cutlery slips from your hand and clatters against the floor.

You love him. You loved Jacaerys.

"I can't." You scoff indignantly.

"Then fuck me like how you've imagined. Take out all your hatred onto my body. Defile the king that defeated you. Paint my body with welts and hickies. Make my wife die within herself at the sight of her own husband thoroughly taken by the likes of you."

Well, who are you to defy your own king?

ᝰ translation(s) ᝰ.ᐟ

1. Rijes nykeāōt. Gōntan ao miss issa? = Congratulations. Did you miss me?

2. Aōha dārys = Your king

3. jentys = commander

4. aōha raqnon = your love

5. "Sentys, jentys, issa jorrāelagon. Skoriot issi ao? Māzigon arlī naejot issa, kostilus. Nyke beg hen ao." = "Killer, commander, my love. Where are you? Come back to me, please. I beg of you."

6. Ruo = baby

𓆝 𓆟 tag: ( @eexphoria ) 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

219 notes · View notes

just-aake · 10 months ago

Text

Chasing Shadows

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: A sudden mission on New Year’s Eve brings Natasha face to face with someone from her past.

Warnings: light fluff, light angst

Words: 1410

11:55 P.M.

Surrounded by the lively atmosphere of Times Square, Natasha glances at her watch to check the time before looking around at the excited crowds of people, all waiting for the annual New Year’s Eve Ball Drop to start.

Laughter and cheers fill the air as she withdraws to a more secluded spot, raising her hand to her earpiece to speak through the comms.

“I’m at the location.”

SHIELD had intercepted a suspicious encrypted message a few moments ago, indicating that something was set to happen in the area tonight. Being the only one available nearby in such a short time, Natasha took on the assignment.

After a brief static pause, Maria's voice comes through the comms.

“It’s a shame that this had to interrupt your holiday evening.”

Taking a moment to scan her surroundings, Natasha replies nonchalantly, “I could say the same for you. Besides, it’s fine. It’s not like I had any plans.”

A curious hum comes in response before Maria asks, “No special someone to begin the new year with?”

At her words, the face of someone from years ago unexpectedly crosses Natasha’s mind, accompanied by flickers of memories recounting moments filled with late-night escapades and adrenaline-filled touches.

One particular memory stands out–of a night similar to tonight, atop a rooftop, shielded from prying eyes.

Two people shared a rare moment of vulnerability, and against her better judgment, she wished life had played out differently for them—an unrealistic hope.

11:56 P.M.

“No,” Natasha replies to Maria’s question as she pushes away those thoughts and refocuses her attention back on the crowd.

Amidst all the joyous people, Natasha finally spots the individual they were seeking—a slippery criminal with a history of working for a notorious crime family that once controlled these streets.

The members of that family were taken down and arrested by an undercover SHIELD operation years ago, leading many of their associates to either scatter or continue their own shady activities in the city.

This particular individual belongs to the latter group and has proven to be very elusive, successfully evading capture from SHIELD multiple times.

“I’ve got eyes on the suspect.”

As she utters these words, the man locks eyes directly with her, as though she is the intended target instead.

Discreetly, he reaches into his coat, revealing a mysterious device with an ominous, glowing red button at its center. He briefly flashes it at her before tucking it away and swiftly turning around to disappear into the crowds.

11:57 P.M.

Immediately, Natasha gives chase, her eyes fixed on the suspect darting through the masses of people. With adept skill, she effortlessly maneuvers through the crowds, rapidly closing the distance.

As the suspect pushes through the final layers of people, Natasha spots another figure emerging from the shadows toward him.

In a swift and seamless exchange, the mysterious device changes hands from the original suspect to the newcomer.

Natasha’s eyes narrow suspiciously at the action when suddenly, the two figures split off in opposite directions, causing her to realize what that means.

Either she continues chasing the elusive criminal they've sought for so long, or she goes after the person now in possession of the unknown device, which may pose a potential threat to everyone in the area.

Without missing a beat, Natasha alters her course to pursue the newcomer. Surging forward, she vaults over one of the crowd barriers, tackling the figure mid-stride, and sending them both crashing to the ground.

The impact elicits gasps of shock from the few people nearby as Natasha swiftly recovers, pinning the suspect to the pavement.

The newcomer wears a mask over their eyes, concealing their identity from anybody who looks at them.

Not from her though.

Natasha is taken aback as her lips part in surprise. She easily recognizes those particular sets of eyes, especially when accompanied by the knowing smirk forming on their face in response to her reaction.

11:58 P.M.

Natasha is still rattled by the revelation of the figure before her, allowing them to seize the opportunity to escape from their pinned position, forcefully knocking the Black Widow aside before swiftly resuming their sprint.

Partially recovering from the shock, Natasha's instincts kick in, and she rushes to pursue, her mind still grappling with disbelief.

It can't be. That thought repeats in Natasha’s mind as she follows the figure into a condemned building site.

She recognizes the structure immediately, both from that particular memory of the past as well as its status as an old building that fell victim to one of the Avengers' numerous battles.

Natasha enters the ruined building through the recently shut side door, finding herself in the emergency stairway that miraculously remains intact.

Glancing up, she spots the suspect running up the stairs, quickly ascending to the higher levels of the building.

11:59 P.M.

The anticipated event unfolds outside as the ball at the top of the Times building starts its descent, marking the last minute of the year.

Amidst the beginning of the countdown chorus from the crowds outside, Natasha also starts running up the stairs.

The echoing footsteps of the other person above her drive her to accelerate to catch up, sprinting up the stairs two at a time.

11:59:30 P.M.

Natasha’s heart beats painfully in her chest, and she’s not sure if it’s from adrenaline or from the overwhelming sight of seeing you again—maybe it’s both.

After all, you’ve always had that effect on her.

“Three!” - 11:59:57 P.M.

Bursting through the roof door, Natasha slides to a sudden stop at the edge of the dilapidated floor. Dust rises at her movement, and small rocks roll and tumble over the edge, falling into the gaping hole.

“Two!” - 11:59:58 P.M.

On the opposite side of the large chasm, balancing precariously on the rooftop edge, the suspect stands, hands clasped behind their back, awaiting Natasha's arrival.

“One!” - 11:59:59 P.M.

With her attention now fixed on them, the figure removes the mask covering their eyes with a dramatic flourish, letting it drift off in the wind and fall gracefully towards the cheering crowd below.

12:00 A.M.

The night sky explodes in colorful lights, illuminating your silhouette.

Natasha stands frozen, mesmerized by the sight of you again, with your Cheshire smirk firmly in place as the remnants of the fireworks rain behind you.

It's a perfect reminder of who you are—beautiful yet dangerous.

In one of your hands, you teasingly wave the device with its ominous red glow at Natasha, while your other hand raises to your lips, playfully sending a mock kiss her way.

With a mischievous wink, you suddenly toss the device toward her, the gentle force of your action causing it to barely reach over to her side.

Reacting quickly, she stretches her arm to catch it before it can fall down the hole, pulling herself safely back from the edge once it is in her hand.

Regaining her balance, Natasha's gaze shoots back to you, or where you should've been, but now there's only dust kicked up by the cold wind. Furrowing her brows, she scans her surroundings again but finds no traces of you anywhere.

You've slipped away.

Returning her attention to the device in her hand, Natasha turns it around, removing the back covering.

Now knowing who she is dealing with, she is not surprised when she finds no activation triggers or wiring—just a battery-powered red LED bulb and a piece of paper folded inside.

Natasha raises her hand to her earpiece, activating the comms.

"Hill, the device is a fake. It was all just a wild goose chase."

"And the suspects?"

"Escaped," Natasha replies regretfully, looking back at the empty rooftop space.

"From you? That’s impressive."

Again, Natasha isn't surprised; time in prison clearly hasn't dulled your skills. Though, now, she needs to consider the implications of your unexpected and sudden return to the city.

"Can you check something for me?" Natasha asks into the earpiece.

"Sure, what is it?"

"The confinement statuses of all the members of the L/n family."

Maria lowly whistles before commenting, "Haven’t heard that name in a while. Isn’t that the crime family that you took down during your first solo undercover mission?"

12:01 A.M.

Natasha remains silent at that, her eyes fixated on the piece of paper in her hand. The fireworks illuminate your familiar handwriting periodically against the darkness of the night.

Happy New Year, Natasha Let’s play again soon 🤍

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: Thank you for reading, and an additional special thanks for all who have read any of my other writings this year. I really appreciated all the likes, reblogs, and comments that you have given me (many of you are so sweet and kind for reading most or almost all of the things I wrote). Thank you again, and I hope you all have a happy New Years!

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

440 notes · View notes

sylusjinwoon · 7 months ago

Text

{ 146 }

sands of time.

academy arc

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

{ the spell on me hasn’t been lifted | i want to use the sands of time | i want to be by your side }

you never liked the freshman student who entered the same high school as you.

the one who made all the boys become green with envy over-

the one who made all the girls practically fall to their knees for him-

sung jinwoo.

despite how all the girls went crazy over his dashing good looks and charming smile, you sadly never saw his appeal. for you personally, he looked just like any other guy. nothing about him stood out to you-

especially not his perfectly styled ebony locks of hair,

or the grey eyes that you swore sometimes glowed purple in some instances,

or the full lips that remained in a permanent smile whenever he met your gaze-

yeah, there was absolutely nothing appealing about him!

you suppose you should count yourself lucky on how you didn’t share the same class with him, being in a different homeroom as you simply saw him in passing within the hallways and heard stories about him from the gossiping girls who wished to date him.

as you trail your eyes away from your open textbook, the sounds of a certain commotion was heard as one of your classmates runs back into class. her friends were comforting her as angry tears fell down her face.

“what gives?! just what is up with that sung jinwoo guy! doesn’t he realize that i’m practically the most beautiful girl in school here!”

ah, ji-yeon was throwing another tantrum again, running her hands across her luscious, brown locks of hair with her blue eyes fuming after what you assumed was sung jinwoo’s rejection.

filled with amusement from witnessing the spectacle, you trail your eyes over to ji-yeon and her lackeys, ara and cho. “he kept telling me that he couldn’t possibly give me a chance; that he was already in love with someone else, yet refused to relinquish her identity to me!”

“ah, he probably didn’t want you to bully her, ji-yeon.”

“and come on, you shouldn’t feel so upset! you can do so much better than him!”

“but i don’t want anyone else…! i want him!”

you had to bite back your laughter the moment ji-yeon stomps her feet against the ground, “and that’s what pisses me off the most! who even is she, managing to steal jinwoo away from me like that?!”

you could no longer hold back your laughter, making a snort escape from your parted lips in response to ji-yeon’s anger. she hears you and turns to face you, tossing back her hair in response. “what’s this?”

she lets out a hiss of your name, “how dare a wallflower like you eavesdrop on my conversation.” the girl gains up on you with her two friends in tow.

“i didn’t eavesdrop. you were the one who kept airing out your business in class.”

she clicks her tongue in response to your words, “it’s lunch time, are you really that much of a loser, eating all alone in class like this?”

“no, i simply didn’t want to eat in the cafeteria and be bothered by idiots like you. but i guess even with my best efforts, i couldn’t escape you at all.”

your gaze was unflinching even as ji-yeon raised up her perfectly manicured nails to strike you, ready to take the hit when the sight of someone tall stops ji-yeon’s hand from making contact with your cheek.

your eyes go wide, seeing sung jinwoo himself hold ji-yeon’s hand in a vice grip. his eyes were glaring down at her, making you see that same familiar glow.

his voice was filled with authority when he lightly shoves ji-yeon away from you. “that’s enough.”

“sung, what are you doing here?” ji-yeon’s voice comes out as strained as ara and cho took a stance behind her, ready to support her even when they felt intimidated by jinwoo’s glare.

“i heard you throwing a tantrum and decided to intervene before you did something stupid.”

ji-yeon’s face became a vibrant shade of red, its scarlet hue depicting her embarrassment and shame at being scolded by the man she had a crush on. with a huff and a final flip of her hair, she walks away from him, hearing her high heeled shoes tap against the linoleum flooring of the school.

“hmph, i suppose you’re right, sung. that bitch isn’t worth getting expelled for.”

ara and cho follow from close behind her, yet you were the one that stopped jinwoo from following after them.

“it’s okay, just hearing her complaints was more than enough for me.” even if you didn’t like him (and no! you were not in denial!) you didn’t want him to do anything that would further jeopardize his education.

he was already under suspicion due to his shady past, disappearing for two years before returning unexpectedly-

despite how odd he was, you truly didn’t hate him enough to want to see him fail.

in the end, he relaxes his stance and looks down at you, eyes still glowing with that strange, purple hue. you swallow thickly, but did not look away from him, maintaining eye contact with jinwoo as you waited for his next words.

instead, he ends up shocking you when he places a hand against your cheek, caressing it softly while asking you, “are you alright?”

you give him a nod in response, all while trying to hide the heat from your cheeks. “yes, i’m fine.”

you shiver when he lets out a rich chuckle in response. “that’s good.”

looking away from him in hopes of calming down your rapidly beating heart, you ask him, “why did you come to my rescue?”

he remains silent for a few moments before gently giving your head a few pats.

“because i would hate to see a bruise blossoming on that pretty face of yours.”

his admission was enough to make you do a double take, looking up at him with wide eyes while catching his smile.

“do you have any club activities later today?”

your mouth was still dry, and because of this fact, you were afraid to speak. this was what prompted you to shake your head in response to his question, earning yet another smile from him.

“good. how about you keep me company and watch me do track on the bleachers?”

his question leaves you gaping in response, and jinwoo didn’t even bother waiting for your answer when the 5-minute bell rang, alerting you to the end of lunch as your classmates slowly filled the classroom once more. you wanted to call out to jinwoo and tell him how you had much better things to do than watch him running around in circles-

but his smile when he looks back at you while giving you a wave manages to make your heart flutter in response.

dammit to hell-

this boy had you wrapped around his fingers after all.

{ … }

the sun was slowly setting as you found yourself on the bleachers, watching jinwoo and his track team practice their endurance and speed for the next competition.

as you sipped at the bottle of water jinwoo had given you, you couldn’t deny that he was a beautiful runner.

he was graceful, while maintaining a good speed. he never once appeared to be out of breath, even when he was working up a sweat.

during his run, you notice the way the upperclassmen kept gesturing at you while talking to jinwoo. he gives the senior a smirk before telling him a few words, making them all smile at you in response.

you had a sneaking suspicion that they were talking about you, and the thought alone was enough to make you bristle in response. you were on edge when the track team finally finished their practice, with their coach commending them on their good work as he allowed them all to return home.

jinwoo makes his way back to you while extending his hand out to you. “water, please.”

you look down at your half empty bottle of water. “what- but… i already drank from this?”

“so?” jinwoo gives you a smirk before taking the bottle of water from your hand, uncapping it as he worked on drinking the rest of it. you were captivated by the movements of his lips, emptying the bottle with greedy gulps as you watch the droplets of water slide down his chin and onto his throat…

you immediately snap out of your reveries when jinwoo meets your gaze. as if sensing your thoughts, he tosses the empty water bottle into the bin with his smirk growing wider in response, “what are you looking at?”

“n-nothing!”

you ignore the heat felt against your cheeks and step out of the bleachers, feeling jinwoo place a steady hand against your waist and shoulder as he helped you back on the ground. he flashes you a wide grin before picking up his duffel bag.

“come on, i’ll take you home.”

he interlocks his fingertips together with yours, pulling you closer to him as he walked out of the school with you. by now, your heart was pounding within your chest, feeling deeply affected by his close proximity.

“jinwoo.”

you say his first name out loud, making jinwoo stiffen in response. feeling proud at being able to make him lose his cool, you proceed to ask him.

“what did you tell our seniors during practice? they kept looking at me, laughing while giving me winks each time they ran past me.”

you look up at jinwoo, seeing him scratch the tip of his nose as a light blush was settled against his cheeks. he remains silent for a few extra beats, as if carefully considering his words before confessing to you,

“i told them that you were my girlfriend.”

your brain seemed to short circuit in response to his answer, unable to fully comprehend what was going on as you sorted through your emotions.

you felt…

annoyed,

confused,

but perhaps above all else-

you felt happy.

“y-you, are you joking, sung jinwoo?”

your pout was evident when jinwoo looks back down at you, eyes glowing a faint purple once more before he leans down closer to your height.

“if you don’t believe me, how about i show you just how serious i am…?”

somehow understanding what he meant, you close your eyes in response, allowing jinwoo’s lips to perfectly slot against yours in a sweet kiss-

but little did you know, you were once jinwoo’s lover in another timeline; a timeline that he now spent years correcting as he made an oath to himself to bring you back to him, no matter what the cost may be.

a.n. - my jinwoo obsession will never stop, lmao, and i’m afraid i’m going to keep flooding everyone’s feed with stories of him 😭😭😭😭

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo sung x you #solo leveling x reader #jinwoo sung #sung jinwoo #.stories

329 notes · View notes

gosmigenergy · 1 month ago

Text

KINKTOBER 2024 / Day Six

PROSTITUTION / SEX WORK / MIRROR SEX (@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction)

Starring: Jake Lockley x F!Reader

Summary: The boys never take you like I want you, that’s what Jake said and now he’s going to make sure this memory is one you’ll both remember.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No use of Y/N, language, pet name, dom!Jake Lockley, hair pulling, public sex, rough sex, P in V, unprotected sex (protection in real life, please, thank you), praise (if you squint), cream pie

Word Count: 2.5k

You don’t know when the change happened.

In the morning, you were talking to an incredibly sleepy Steven who was reminiscing about the dream he’d had last night that featured you in a starring, also heroic, role. It took the pair of you a while to get yourselves out of bed and you had a leisurely start, making it from the bed to the sofa of his attic apartment.

He insisted he needed to go in the shower before Marc exited and returned to you.

Apparently, he had made plans for the evening, booked a fancy restaurant that he knew you’d love. He watched you as you got ready, teasing you with the gentlest of touches and kisses with the softest lips. Your boys would talk to each other, mostly Marc proclaiming that Steven would have his turn later.

You giggled when their argument turned heated and Marc saw it fit to cover the mirror you stood in front of.

He rolled his eyes, only hearing Steven still running his mouth.

Turning on your heels, you place a palm on Marc’s chest, smiling sweetly.

“Tell him, I’ll make it up to him.”

“I’m gonna hold her to that!”

Marc sighs, “Don’t worry, he knows.”

The restaurant he took you to was nestled on one of the city’s hidden alleyways, the underground location made to cosy and intimate but the place was vast. You followed the waiter to plush booth dressed in rich red velvet, a tiny lamp in the centre of the table being your main source of light.

Dinner couldn’t have gone any better.

You excused yourself once you’d ordered dessert.

The journey to the toilet was a tricky one, you were pointed to doorway and told which directions to turn. It was almost a labyrinth, each wall appearing the same until you came to a corridor filled with doors.

You sighed with relief when you sat on the porcelain throne of the closest available stall.

When you were washing your hands, your peace was interrupted by someone knocking heavily on the door. You were surprised that someone was looking for a free stall, there seemed to be plenty if they’d only continue walking.

“Just a second, I’m just washing my hands,” you called.

As you reached for the paper towels, there came another series of knocks. You swear no one has the fucking patience in London. Stretching to unlock the door, you prepare a scowl on your face as you drop the handle.

The next few seconds is a blur.

Marc shoves the door open swiftly, crowding your frame with his as he forces you back until your ass is resting on the sill next to the sink.

“Marc, what the fuck?”

The door slams shut and you hear the lock click, he’s turned away from you.

“I’m not Marc.”

He wasn’t, his accent was different, his voice more gravelly.

“Well, it’s definitely not Steven.”

He chuckles, “You know your boys so well, kitten.”

A shiver shot up your spine as he turned round.

They always had identical features. The same dark curls, same softly tanned skin, same notch in the tip of his nose. You had learnt early on in your relationship to look at the mannerisms but these were like none you’d seen before.

He stepped towards you, looming over you as you try to somehow move away from him in this confined space. He stands tall, shoulder back with his chest puffed out yet his head hangs low, heavy lids hiding the spark in his eyes as if he’s lacking a soul.

“How well do they know you?”

“Barely.”

There had been instances in the past where both Marc and Steven said they couldn’t remember shit. You had told them about strolling into the apartment late at night, waking up to find them asleep in the armchair or when you’d jumped awake at the sudden sensation at your ankle, only to find them perched at the end of the bed.

But still, nothing.

“And what about me?”

His stern expression contorts into a crooked, wicked smile.

“Oh, I know how they feel about you. How Steven gets butterflies when you smile at him, how Marc’s heart skips a beat when you hold his hand, how hard they both get when they picture you in that dress…”

Your hands squeeze onto the lip of the shelf as his eyes flit over your body.

“But they never quite fuck you the way I’d like.”

You swallow nervously as he brings his body centimetres from yours, your doe eyes are reflected in his black irises.

His fingertips skim your hip, trailing up your waist, making your body quiver.

Part of you knows you should be scared, that maybe you should be screaming the place down to get someone to save you. Against him? They probably wouldn’t survive anyway. However your body didn’t react through fear, you were actually finding this intimidating figure in front of you a turn on.

His presence so much darker than Steven’s, even Marc’s.

His other hand comes to your face, featherlight on your chin before he runs his thumb along your bottom lip. You release the breath you didn’t realise you held, the exhale shaky as he brings his lips to yours.

Your body goes rigid when he kisses you.

“I won’t hurt you, kitten,” he says after he removes his lips, “I promise.”

His calmness finally managed to take over the fever that ran through his veins, he smooths a warm palm over your cheek. He watches how your lips part forming the smallest gap between them, it’s like you’re about to say something yet you can’t utter a word.

You feel yourself deepening into his touch, the warmth of his hand.

In the confined space, your senses were heightened, the finest details coming through. His steady pulse, the low monotones of his voice, how the orange glow of the light made his skin look golden however he was shrouded with a darkness that pulled you in.

Your eyelashes flutter shut and your weight shifts forward.

Your lips meet again and you press swiftly before going back for more. As you push, he pushes harder, nudging his chin to coax you to allow him access. When you open your mouth, his tongue slips through effortlessly, hungrily searching for yours.

He knows what you can do, he’s watched how you submit with the others and now, he wants that too.

His hand lets go of your cheek, cupping the back of your head as he forces you into him more. He hugs you with his other arm around your waist and you sigh, hands dropping from the sink.

Cautiously, your hands reach for his arms like he was going to snap and break them off.

Underneath you know there’s Steven and Marc, you know how they like to be touched and they have more similarities than they’d admit. You trail your palms up and over his shoulders, the friction tugging gently at the shirt he wore. Digging your nails into his back, the purr rumbles through his chest.

Unlike your boys, he doesn’t melt.

His teeth sink into your bottom lip, the smallest twinge as he sinks them further.

“Unfortunately for you, that don’t work on me.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

In quick movements, you find yourself being spun round, the bones of your hips bumping sharply to the edge. You grunt meekly, your face scrunching as his fingers bury into your hair.

His breath flows down the crook of your neck before he brings his lips to the skin.

Opening your eyes, you catch the reflection in the mirror. He watches you behind heavy lids, gauging your reaction as he pulls, changing the angle of your head. The tingle travels through your body, settling low, your pussy twitching as your juices pool in your underwear.

His other hand lifts the hem of your dress, his palm spreading over your one ass cheek.

You try to fight the pleasure running through your veins but you can’t help pushing your weight onto him, unable to catch the desperate mewl from escaping when you feel his stiff length contained within his trousers.

He chuckles, “Can’t help yourself, can you?”

You shake your head yet it barely moves under his hold.

His hand moves across and you anticipate a slap that never comes, maybe that’s only something Marc likes. You wriggle to chase the pleasure you seek though he’s choosing to be difficult, predicting every move before you make it.

You whine as his fingers wrap tightly around your underwear and he yanks them, bearing your warm cunt to the cool air of the tiled space.

He leans back, seeing how it still manages to glisten in the dim lighting. He was planning on playing with you, teasing you until you reached the edge however like this, he could just push through your slick walls without any friction.

You watch his hand come behind you, hear the metallic jostle as he gets his belt undone, the sound of his zipper going down.

His grip on your hair loosens, his fingers falling down your spine and your back arches to his touch. The valley of your ass meets his hardened cock and as you follow the outline, you both groan.

He slams his hips into you, flinging you forward just enough for him to whip himself from his briefs.

When you return to him, he keeps you steady and slaps your ass a few times with his tip, precum decorating your skin. You glance over your shoulder, teeth grazing your lip as you wait for him to meet your eye.

He does.

“Eyes in front.”

“Yes, sir,” you say softly, doing as you’re told.

He shoves you back heavily and you gasp as his cock encroaches your entrance, the smirk rising on his face. It’s the way he looks at you that tells you, you’re in danger and you strengthen your grip on the lip of the sink.

There’s no warning as he fills you to the hilt.

He takes the air from your lungs, your mouth falling open without a sound. Your legs quiver as he cradles under your stomach, as if he knows how deep he buried himself into you. He gives you another second before he slowly drags his way out.

“Oh fuuuck.”

Your voice raises and a hand snaps around your mouth, he doesn’t want anyone to hear you quite yet.

He shushes you as he thrusts into you again, your squeal muffled by his broad palm, his other hand gently easing into your back to position you in a perfect curve. Holding you steady, he frees your mouth, you barely catch your breath before he starts to plough into you full force.

All you can do is take it and let him consume all you.

His eyes drill into your reflection bringing the heat to your skin, the sweat arriving onto your chest. The clamminess in your hands makes you lose your grasp on the sink, your heels slipping on tiles with every brutal impact.

His fingertips dig into the flesh of your hip to keep you upright.

This is what he’s always wanted.

The other two always fucked you wrong. Steven was always soft and gentle, some may even say sensual whilst Marc, though he had more dominating tendencies, never went hard enough. And there he was, hidden away somewhere the pair of them couldn’t find, waiting to pounce at any given moment.

Except because he’d held back for so long, he chose to go hard and fast before he exploded.

“Please, I can’t,” you choke, the words struggling to come through.

He had been pummelling the same spot over and over and you weren’t quite sure whether you should be seeing white spots in your vision. You couldn’t bare to keep looking, squeezing your eyes shut as you drop your head.

His hips grind to a halt, his cock staying snug in your walls.

Unleashing your hips, his hands wrap around your neck before using his strength to lift your head up. Your throat bobs under his digits and he gives you a minute to open your eyes, the mirrored image of them glossy.

You groan as he nudges you with his tip, bringing himself forward so he could plant a kiss on your shoulder.

“You’re taking me so well, kitten.”

He rolled his hips, steadily picking up the pace again.

With each hit came a sweet grunt, your body rippling from the collision, the straps on your dress slipping to reveal your matching bra. He couldn’t take his eyes off your reflection, he had to make sure this was ingrained in his memory, for all the future times he had to sit and watch.

The room was getting smaller, the heat between you rising though he hadn’t broken a sweat.

Every part of you started to burn, the tingle travelling up your spine. You raise your hands, helplessly clawing at his until suddenly you became limp, your muscles vibrating uncontrollably.

He held strong, your toes the only remaining part of you on the floor.

“Not much longer,” he said through gritted teeth.

You couldn’t hear him as your head went fuzzy, vision blurring as you went crosseyed yet he had never seen such a beautiful sight.

His hips started to stutter as your walls clung onto the feeling of him, the suction pulling him back before his balls receded. He ensured his last thrust was strong, one that rooted within your pussy, filling you with his load.

He growled, roaring as he pulled himself out of you swiftly, droplets of cum falling down your legs and to the floor.

You gasped like you came back to life, falling back to earth from your sexual ecstasy. As his hands loosen, you drop to towards the sink and save yourself on your elbows. Your chest heaves as you try to get oxygen into your lungs, legs trembling as you struggle to stand.

The energy settled between you.

His hand coming to your back made you flinch, the expectation different to the reality. He stroked softly, soothing you, before pulling up your strap.

“We should go,” his voice was still gruff.

You managed to lift your head to see what a mess you were. He was polite enough to pass you some tissue to sort out your appearance but you had questions.

“What about dessert?”

He scoffs, “I cancelled it.”

He sees how you pout in the mirror, eyes narrowing.

“Did you even pay for dinner?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t want to draw attention to himself, to what you were both doing.

You spread your palms over your dress, bend at the hip to fix your shoes. Snatching your handbag, you rummage for your lipstick before leaning into your reflection.

He continues to watch you, you hadn’t even asked for your underwear, not that he was complaining. His brow arched when you turned round, the lid of your lipstick clicking before you matched his stance.

“What?”

“I’m waiting for you to tell me your name,” you cock your head to the side.

He tuts.

“You just railed me in a public toilet and filled me with your cum and you expect me to walk out of here with you.”

His chest expands as you step closer.

“It’s Jake.”

“Nice to meet you, Jake, you owe me dessert.”

#kinktober 2024 #kinktober #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #jake lockley x f!reader #fanfic #moon knight fanfic

93 notes · View notes

another-supernova-girl · 1 month ago

Text

An Exercise in Control - Cooper Adams/Abbott x F. OC

* Part 1 : The Beginning of the End *

This story is *VERY LOOSELY* based on some of my own personal experiences, not with a serial killer, but with a security guard at a place I worked at, who paid way more attention to me than he should have at the time - something I wouldn't really come to comprehend until many years later. This story will feature explicit sexual content in some future chapters (I'm currently aiming for 5-6 chapters total), all of which should basically be considered dubious consent (let's be honest, that's about the only consent there really could be, given the power dynamic issues). There will be no DDLG kink, breeding kink, degradation kink, or...some other kinks popular with this character's fandom that is prominent in other fics. Other writers are thoroughly filling that niche. It's more of a...love bombing-ish situation, with plenty of manipulation for the aim of control. ( gif is mine, watermarked because I witnessed one of my gifs being stolen recently )

(( word count ~ 4,600 ))

🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪

There had been no answer when Cooper had called out and rattled the metal shutters to the bookstore within the mall he patrolled, but the faint sound of lofi and very soft human speech clearly indicated an occupant. When he called out once more, received no response once again, he reached for his ring of keys and went to work opening the aluminum gating. It was almost one in the morning, and even the cleaning crew had gone home. There should not have been a soul in the building save for the assigned security guard, and Cooper just happened to be the man tasked with that assignment.

After the concert in Pennsylvania, the confrontation, and his subsequent escape from the incompetent police department, the Butcher had gone on the run, inadvertently aided by the media's purposeful downplaying of his escape that would have shamed all law enforcement involved. Cowards, the way Cooper saw them, but convenient cowards. In the months that followed, he had moved around quite a bit, never settling anywhere for too long, utilizing a slew of motel rooms and stolen identities. When he finally felt like he'd reached a destination he could call permanent, he'd gone in search of work and found himself right at home in the convenience of mall security. The idea had seemed laughable at first as he'd scanned the wanted ads in a local paper, weeks after chopping up one of the previously employed night guards, but the more he'd contemplated it, the more perfect of a fit it seemed to be. That had been about a month ago, and now he found himself in one of the stores, hours after closing, not as alone as he should be.

Officially armed with a flash light and a baton, unofficially armed with a taser and chloroform, Cooper proceeded through the store, quiet and alert, glancing in all directions as he moved toward the back corner of the store, the source of the soft music, and the the faint glow of an electronic device. Expecting to find some stoned teens or a homeless person, Cooper instead stumbled upon a store employee, ambient synthwave streaming from the speakers of her laptop as she typed away. Apparently, she was so engrossed in her after-hours work that she failed to notice him until he switched on his flashlight and shone it against the wall in front of her, and all around her. She nearly fell out of the store chair that cradled her body when she finally took notice of him.

“Who the f-...oh, thank god, security,” she breathed a sigh of relief when she noticed his uniform, her vision not yet reaching the stern look across his face.

“Mall's closed,” he stated simply, switching off his flashlight and sliding it back into the assigned holster.

“Yeah, I know. Sorry. I, uh...the other security guard just lets me hang after hours,” she explained, closing her computer and sliding it into her bag.

“That's probably why he got fired,” Cooper commented harshly in return. Well, fired in the literal since, as Cooper had burned his body to reduce the evidence. He was far less bold in his disposal of victims' remains, since his temporary capture. The bookstore worker paused at his statement. She hadn't seen the other guard in weeks, and had assumed he'd simply quit. If she were really the cause...she felt a twinge of guilt at the idea.

“I'm sorry, I hadn't heard that. I...I'll get my stuff. It won't happen again,” she assured, keeping her focus on her belongings she gathered, making sure to pick up her accumulated garbage from her food court-sourced dinner so she could dump it in the trash. Cooper nodded, but said nothing, as he watched her move about, and followed her as they trudged back out of the store, the door coming down in a noisy crash at the insistence of Cooper's harsh yank. It felt excessive to the bookstore employee, but she said nothing. If she'd already gotten someone fired for bending the rules, she certainly didn't want to end up on the bad side of his replacement. The store didn't exactly pay well, but she couldn't afford to lose the income.

“Um...sorry, again,” she mumbled as Cooper walked a few steps behind her, seeing that she got to an exit so he could re-lock the doors. The Butcher shifted his gaze from the empty corridor stretched out before him, to the young woman a few steps ahead of him. Already nearly a foot shorter than himself, she seemed even smaller with her shoulders hunched and her arms meeting at her clasped hands before her.

“It's...it's fine,” he finally uttered, and her head seemed to tilt briefly toward his voice, before focusing on her destination again. “I need this job. I can't afford write-ups, already.”

“Right...s-” she began to apologize again, but her words were cut short by the light contact of his fingertips upon her shoulder, and her feet slowed to a stop as she turned around to look back at him, confused at his odd touch.

“Stop apologizing. I get it. You're sorry,” his voice was firm, but less harsh than it had been in the bookstore. “Let's just...make it a habit of being out by midnight, alright?” he offered, his thick, dark brows raising as if to punctuate his request.

“S-...sure,” she managed, and no more words were exchanged between the two strangers the last hundred-ish feet to the exit nearest her automobile. She paused at the door, but said nothing, as Cooper unlocked it and held it open, watching her exit. She glanced back at him briefly, before heading for her car, Cooper's dark eyes focused on the lock as he re-secured the exit. His gaze rose to watch her walk alone, along the empty parking lot, until she reached a car he reckoned was hers, the guard not turning around to resume his patrol until her lights were on, and her vehicle set into motion.

🔪

A few evenings had passed since the incident at the bookstore, Cooper's night off falling the day after, a different shift the day after that, and he was back to night duty. He didn't mind it. He enjoyed the silence. During the day shifts, his gaze would wander, taking in the multitude of mall patrons, contemplating his next kill, but the evenings were peaceful. More time to think. More time to plan without distractions.

It had also been a few nights since he'd stopped by the bookstore, and though he'd avoided it for the bulk of regular operating hours, his feet did eventually guide him in the shop's direction, and he found himself standing against the wall across from it, staring in through the door-less entry. His eyes followed the movements and actions of a slightly familiar figure inside, Cooper watching as the young woman he'd escorted out a few nights before flitted around the store, assisting what few customers stepped inside, straightening books, re-homing the tomes that wound up in the wrong locations. Cooper had watched for a full fifteen minutes, almost unflinching, before she looked up from her work long enough to notice him, and she made no secret of it when she did.

“Hey!,” she waved him down, completely unnecessarily, as she crossed the short distance through the store and out into the corridor to greet the security guard. “Hi, I just wanted to apologize again for the other night, I don't usually-”

“Ah, no need,” Cooper raised a hand as if to put a barrier between the two of them. “It's these late nights, you know? I'm not used to the overnight shift and I was just...” he shrugged his shoulders, and put on a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “I was just...kinda grumpy” he suggested.

“I get that, but, um...I mean, I really don't usually hang around that long-”

“Really, it's fine,” he reiterated, the false smile still in place. “Hey, I'm Cooper. I didn't catch your name,” he offered his hand, and she hesitated only for a couple of seconds before accepting it, a half smile forming on her lips that was far more sincere than his.

“Delilah. It's, um...nice to meet you, Cooper,” she shook the hand he'd offered lightly before withdrawing her own again. “Hey, um...did I really get the other guard fired? I feel terrible-”

“Oh, no, he, uh...” Cooper began, his mind searching, quick as lightning, for a reasonable lie. “He didn't show up to work a couple of days in a row, and no one heard from him, so he got let go...apparently,” he quickly tossed in.

Delilah's brows knit together as she contemplated his words. “Well, I'm glad it wasn't me...I hope he's okay. I don't think he had much family,” she thought aloud.

Cooper considered her briefly before speaking again, “Did you know him?”

“I mean, not well, but...about as much as anyone around here who works the night shift, and...doesn't keep their face buried in their phones,” she shrugged.

“Well, I'm sure he'll turn out to be...just fine,” Cooper lied, his umber eyes fixed on her forest green ones.

“Yeah, I...I hope so,” she nodded, her gaze transfixed by the strange intensity of his stare, as if he were waiting to see if she believed him. “Well...I gotta get back before we lose another customer to Amazon. It was nice to meet you, again,” she explained as her eyes finally glanced back to the store, and the annoyed-looking customer inside. When she looked back again, just inside the entrance below the giant letters that spelled out PAGE TURNERS, he had vanished.

🔪

Days turned to weeks as Cooper acclimated to his position as the primary evening security officer, scoping out all the stores, and the dark hallways that led to back rooms, every inch of the oversized shopping destination. He was attentive to his duties, though less than invested on a personal level. His job was nothing but a cover, and a convenient location for his executions, in the basement levels that most were either unaware of, or considered abandoned. He'd stored away plenty of money over the years in a dozen locations in case he were ever discovered and had to run, and his home was far more comfortable than any normal security guard could truly hope for. Unfulfilling as his duties were, however, his employ did lend him opportunities to gain trust within the micro-community of this retail mega-facility, meeting various store employees, making nice with managers, cleaning crew...book sellers.

Nearly every evening that they shared a coinciding schedule, Cooper found an excuse to at least pass by the Page Turners book store on the top floor, a shop that he silently questioned the need for in the age of giant online sellers that an independent bookseller could not complete with the prices of. Business appeared fairly slow to him, but the main evening employee he'd began having brief, friendly interactions with, seemed to always find something to do. He usually had to clear his throat just to gain her attention when he'd enter the store, but she always seemed pleased to see him.

“You always manage to look busy,” Cooper commented from just beyond the threshold between the store interior and the walkway, and he watched her shoulders jump slightly in surprise, before she turned in the direction of his voice from where she crouched beside a bookcase on the floor.

“And you always manage to make me jump,” she answered, though nothing else about her demeanor suggested that his presence bothered her. “I'll have you know that I've had a whopping...three? No, four groups of customers, tonight,” she declared, rising up to full height, nearly a foot shorter than the security guard, and dusting her polyester slacks off.

“That many?” Cooper asked, his eyes following her form as she abandoned the half-stocked box of tween novellas to circle around to the employee side of the register desk. “I guess it's only Tuesday, though.” Delilah shrugged as she slid her phone into a compartment out of sight, the need for distraction lessened by Cooper's companionship. “Do you ever manage to get a night off?” he asked suddenly, and her eyes that had already been trained on his features lit up with surprise at the inquiry.

“Um...well, yeah, of course. I just, uh...I'm the only non-manager who actually volunteers for the night shift, so my schedule is pretty predictable,” she explained, and he nodded, leaning his weight into his hands that gripped at the side of the register table opposite her.

“Night owl?” he suggested, and she shrugged, her expression unaltered, though her gaze diverted from his, as it often did when his proximity to her increased.

“I guess...it's more like, most of the other employees are teenagers, and they don't want to waste their summer vacation working the night shift,” she concluded. Honestly, they didn't do much of anything while they were there to begin with, but someone had to mind the store.

“Yeah, I've noticed it's mostly teenagers. I guess they probably make for the best customers, too,” he continued, adjusting his weight so it fell against his crossed arms on the recently wiped-down surface. “How old are you, anyway? I mean, if it's okay to ask,” he questioned suddenly, and she finally looked back up at him again, surprised.

“Um...thirty one,” she answered, brows furrowing as she watched him curiously.

Cooper's face displayed a look of surprise, as he pushed off, raising back to his full, towering height. “Really? I wouldn't have guess that.”

“What would you have guessed?” Delilah asked, her arms crossing in subconscious defense.

“I don't know. Maybe...twenty six? Twenty seven?” His answer was honest, and her demeanor seemed to visibly soften. “How's that possible?”

“I, uh...well, I don't drink, or smoke, or use drugs, or...spend much time in the sun,” she explained, waving a hand in the direction of the hall way, and the enormous overhead skylights that naturally brightened the walkways during the day.

“I imagine you must burn pretty easy,” he mentioned, his body maneuvering around the corner of the register table, reaching out to fondle a few strands of her auburn hair that fell past her shoulders, his vision trained on her, even as passersby glanced in to perceive the two of them.

“Yeah, I, uh...I try not to put myself in that position, anymore,” she mumbled, her gaze focused on his large hand as it abandoned her as quickly as it had reached out. “I don't wanna get burned.”

Cooper nodded but remained silent for several seconds, watching the confusion and anxiousness present itself on her features. Eventually, when it seemed she might excuse herself, he finally spoke up again. “So, how old do I look?”

“I...it must be a really slow night for you, too,” she commented, glancing briefly to the corridor for possible customers, the mall mostly dead, typical for a weeknight.

“Come on,” he encouraged, dark eyes ever watchful, clocking the mild discomfort across her features and ignoring it. “You're not gonna hurt my feelings.”

“Um...” she paused in her tiny steps backward, Cooper standing quite still, and finally took the opportunity to really look him over, something she'd done many times, but never so closely and obviously. “I'm really bad at this,” she mumbled, but he shook his head, a non-deranged smile in place. “Maybe...forty...four?” she hedged, and his expression told her that she at least had not insulted him.

“Forty six,” he corrected, and Delilah nodded, and shrugged. She wasn't quite sure why he cared about either of their ages, figured he must be desperate to run down the clock before his next round of surveillance was scheduled. “Pretty close. Maybe I need to start taking better care of my skin,” he thought aloud, rubbing absently at the short whiskers that cast a dark shadow over his chin. “Not so long ago, I was getting mistaken for...thirties,” he threw out the words in a casual tone, but the look Delilah immediately gave him – brows quirked, and a strange smile that seemed to silently say 'Yeah, right!' - gave him a tiny moment of pause, followed by a simple, “Ouch!”

“Sorry! I just...I mean, I don't know why you would want to confused for thirties,” she shrugged, suddenly a bit more at ease from the renewed levity of his company. “Like, have you met men in their thirties? They're barely men. They act like they're in their twenties, and guys in their twenties act like they're still in high school...”

“So...you're saying that forties is better?” Cooper prodded, and before he could take a step closer, the chatter of mall patrons suddenly reached their ears, and said patrons' feet led them into the bookstore before Cooper could take their conversation any further.

“Don't you have something to secure,” Delilah mumbled, a grin she couldn't defy pulling at her lips as Cooper maneuvered behind her.

“I'm just gonna go do some 'older guy' stuff,” he whispered in return, his large hand passing over the small of her back as he slipped by.

“Go secure something,” she called back as he disappeared out the door, her face flushed, smile still firmly in place. He'd never exactly struck her as insecure in their correspondence so far. As far as she was concerned, it didn't matter how old he actually was when he looked like that.

🔪

“So...movie theater...other movie theater...call center, office job...bookseller at a dying mall?” Cooper rattled off the jobs she'd detailed, counting them on his fingers, watching her nod along as she dusted the countless shelves of books. “How does that happen?”

“Well,” she began, pulling out an incorrectly placed book and sliding it toward the direction of its proper location. “The theaters paid awful wages, but I still lived with my mother, so I didn't need much. Quit the first one, got fired from the second one.”

“How do-”

“Nepotism. I pointed out some nepotism to the wrong co-worker, and it turned out they had a bigger mouth than I thought. And after that...a year at a call center that made me never want to talk on the phone again...and nine soul-sucking years at the office.”

“And then you ended up here,” Cooper concluded aloud, and she nodded, moving on to the next set of shelves. “Was it worth it?” he asked, and she shifted to look back over to the security guard whose body leaned against the sturdy register desk. “I mean, I can't imagine the pay is any better than where you were at.”

“It's not,” she admitted, her voice a little softer. She didn't like being reminded of her financial problems, wondering about the choices she'd made in her life to lead her here. “It's less money, for sure, but...a different company bought us out, and our jobs got more difficult, and our work loads doubled...and the raises turned into a joke. I hated it. I made enough to live on my own, but only barely, and...” Delilah's words dropped away, her fingers stilling over the spines of the books she had been correcting the placement of. Cooper simply stood in silence, taking in every ounce of information she spilled. “And what about you?” she suddenly questioned, an attempt to deflect some attention.

“Me?” Cooper asked, his brows raising. “Well, there's not much to tell,” he answered. It wasn't wise to give away too much, even his own trained lies. His resume had been full of falsehoods, but the hiring manager had been so desperate to bring someone on with the sudden disappearance of the guard Cooper had annihilated, that he hadn't even checked up on his references. A clean background check and some forged documents of training had been enough to secure the position Cooper now found himself in. “I've mostly worked...I guess you'd call them positions of authority.” Hadn't that been what the FBI profile had said? Surely, that was vague enough.

“And you never, um...” Cooper observed as the bookseller tapped her empty ring finger on her left hand.

“I, uh...I'm divorced,” he lied, though in fairness, he was certain Rachel would have divorced him, had the authorities actually managed to keep him in custody beyond the Prisoner Transport vehicle. “I don't really like talking about that part of my life.”

“You don't really like talking about yourself at all,” she observed, and Cooper couldn't exactly argue. Obviously, there was very little of his life he could safely share, as his interactions with the FBI and Philadelphia police had been far too close for comfort.

“Maybe I just find you fascinating,” he hedged, and received a sigh and an eye roll, but she ceased her questions, all the same.

🔪

It was another late night, later than usual for Cooper to find Delilah's dented-up car in the mall parking lot, so late that he cut his outside patrol short to re-enter the enormous structure. Ever since their first meeting, when he had acted so harshly toward her, before he had selected her as the subject of his strange experiment, she had actually made efforts to be out of the mall before midnight. Though there were nights that she didn't quite make their agreed-upon curfew, he had never witnessed her in the building so late that it almost classified as early. By the time he'd completed the trek to the metal gates outside of Page Turners' store front, it was just after 3am.

Cooper called out her name, called again louder, but received no answer. He didn't even hear the typical wave of soft music that usually emanated from the store when she stuck around after-hours. Giving the metal barrier a loud shake and still hearing nothing beyond it that indicated life, he reached to his large ring of keys and let himself inside.

He wasn't sure what it was that drove him. It felt like something almost comparable to concern, but he was certain that wasn't it. She was just an experiment, a little toy to manipulate and eventually play with. Replaceable. So why was he relieved when he found her at the back of the store that he trudged through, not ignoring him at all, not consciously anyway?

“Delilah,” Cooper spoke just above a whisper after he carefully tugged the headphones she wore away from her ears, watching her stir, barely aware of his presence. He received a tiny 'Hmm?' in response, but nothing else, her eyes still closed. Crouching down next to the well-worn bean bag chair she snoozed in, he pushed some stray strands of hair away from her ear, and leaned in closer, his voice a bit louder as he spoke her name again.

“It's too early,” she mumbled, closed eyes scrunching tight with annoyance as she shifted in the nearly-shapeless seat.

“Or too late,” Cooper answered, and finally recognizing his voice, Delilah managed to open her eyes long enough to look over her shoulder, toward him.

“Cooper?” she asked, her tone and the expression on her face full of confusion. “What are you...what time is it?”

“Way past midnight,” he answered, dragging out his phone when she failed to locate her own, showing her the time, watching her eyes widen with realization.

“Oh my g-...shit!” she exclaimed, scrambling out of the so-called chair and unsteadily to her feet. “I am so sorry. I can't believe I actually fell asleep,” she continued, searching for her belongings to gather in her messenger bag.

“I can,” Cooper responded, and she gave him a confused look before returning her attention to her bag to make sure she had everything. “I can believe that you fell asleep, I mean,” he clarified. “Delilah...is there a reason you don't want to go home?”

“What?” she asked, finally standing up to full height again, grasping her purse, and the bag big enough to hold her laptop.

“That's why you stay so late, isn't it? You stay at the store for hours after it closes, after you've clocked out. You volunteer to work these late shifts, when most people are off work, and at home. No one likes the night shift that much,” Cooper concluded, his dark eyes focused on the young woman before him, who had noticeably stopped fidgeting. “Boyfriend?”

That single word prompted a look akin to the one she'd given him the night he'd suggested he could pass for a man in his thirties. “Do you really think I'd spend so much time around you if I...no, there's no boyfriend. It's, uh...it's my roommate...and her boyfriend, usually.”

Cooper registered all of her words, but chose not to comment on the first half. He'd tuck that away for later. “Continue,” he invited, simply, not too firmly.

“She just...I kinda hate her,” Delilah admitted, letting out a sigh of defeat. She did her best to not mix her time around Cooper in with her home life, but he was frustratingly perceptive. She watched as the security guard lowered himself to the vacuumed floor and reached his hand out in her direction, encouraging her to join him. She plopped down far less gracefully. “We didn't even really know each other when I moved in. She was looking for a roommate to split the bills with, and I was month-to-month at my apartment, and running out of what passed for my savings from my old job, and...it seemed like a good match at the time.”

“So, what changed?” he questioned, hesitating for a few moments, before reaching out his hand again and taking hers carefully in his grasp. She stared at it for a noticeable length of time before her words resumed.

“Well...she ended up getting this boyfriend, and at first it was nice, because they were almost always at his place. Then, they started fighting, like...all the time. And when they weren't fighting, they were fucking so loud, the neighbors would bang on the walls, and...”

“And that's when you started staying here so late?” he offered, and she shrugged.

“Yeah...I started looking for freelance stuff online to make more money so I could move out on my own again, but...everything just keeps getting so much more expensive. I just...I feel so stuck. And up here,” her words paused for a moment, and she indicated with her free hand her general surroundings, “it's about the only peace I get that doesn't involve earplugs.” She gave a faint smile that didn't reach her eyes, focused on an invisible spot on the floor. When silence overtook the room, it became harder to ignore his large hand that still encompassed hers, and she finally took in a deep breath, letting it out in a slightly dramatic sigh. “So...now that you know my sob story...any words of wisdom?”

Her gaze finally lifted to Cooper's umber eyes that had not left her own green ones since she'd began to speak, but she found his expression unreadable. “Well?” she asked again.

“I'm not sure I have much wisdom to impart,” Cooper admitted, “and it's probably selfish, but...I kind of like having you up here, alone...all to myself.”

🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪

CHAPTER 2 CAN BE FOUND HERE!

🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪

tagging as requested : @one-of-thewalkingdead , @gissellec1 , @rainingrabbits89-blog , @pinkflowerwombat , @sashimeep , @strangererotica @the-butchers-baby

If I forgot anyone, I apologize, and please let me know if you want to be tagged in the next one

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS AND TAGS ARE DEEPLY APPRECIATED. I KNOW THIS IS A BIT DIFFERENT THAN MOST OF THE OTHER COOPER STORIES BEING WRITTEN, BUT I HOPE IT APPEALS TO SOMEONE BESIDES MYSELF 💙

90 notes · View notes

shadowmaat · 2 months ago

Text

Shatterpoint Shuffle, pt. 2

Here's more of the Padawan Mace & Initiate Kenobi AU. Part 1 can be read here. Credit for the original idea once again goes to @bitter-chocolate-stars and @krazykupidspoems.

Padawan Mace Windu did not stomp down the corridors; he had far too much control for that. It wasn't that he was mad about his test score, no matter what others might say. His issue was with the fact that Master Radorm refused to accept two of the sources on his paper the Last Battle of Ruusan even though the Master of the Archives herself had found and approved them.

A small, muffled sob broke his concentration. He stopped, head canted as he listened. There were several sniffles, the quality giving the impression of a small, enclosed space.

"I don't care! I don't wanna see him!"

The voice was high-pitched but came out in a hiss, as if the speaker didn't want to be heard.

Expecting to see a pair of younger Padawans, perhaps, Mace stepped around the corner and regarded the empty hallway. There was an access panel of some kind near the floor, looking slightly off-kilter.

"Hello?" He took a step closer. "Does someone need help?"

Silence, broken by the sound of hitched breathing and smothered snuffles. Could two younglings even fit in that vent, or had one of them abandoned the other?

He considered his options, but really, what choice was there? Someone- and they had to be small, judging by the side of the panel- was hurting. Misery, shame, anger, and resentment hung thick in the air.

He'd be late to his next class, but that was fine. He sat, leaning back against the wall next to the panel.

"Perhaps I'll just stop here to meditate," he announced.

He closed his eyes, centering himself before stretching his senses in the Force. It twisted around him, spinning him in circles.

He clapped a hand over his mouth and reached into his pouch for one of the anti-nausea pills he always kept with him.

As it dissolved under his tongue, he took deep breaths, waiting for his stomach to settle. At least now he knew the likely identity of the person hiding in the vents.

He'd crossed paths with the human Initiate Obi-Wan Kenobi several times over the past few years. Part of that, he was sure, was due to his Master's machinations, but sometimes, like now, it happened more… organically.

Obi-Wan was still an absolute mess of shatterpoints, but he'd come to terms with the fact that it wasn't the boy's fault, it was simply how he was. As unsettling as he could be to look at directly (and even worse in the Force), he still shone with a clear warmth to Mace's senses. A warmth that had dimmed since their last encounter.

"It's strange that this hall isn't as bright as it should be," he said. "Almost as if there was someone very sad nearby."

The vent huffed.

"If only I had some way of finding who it was, I might be able to help. It is, after all, one of the duties of a Jedi to help those in need."

Another huff.

"I know what you're doing," Obi-Wan said.

The vent cover rattled and Mace helped set it aside and extracted a dusty, disheveled Obi-Wan Kenobi.

His eyes were red and tear tracks cut through the dirt on his face.

"I don't need your help," he continued with a sniff. He wiped his nose on the sleeve of his Initiate tunic, smearing more dirt. "I'm sorry to have interrupted your day, Gen- Padawan Windu."

Prickly. Very prickly.

"It's a welcome interruption, if I'm honest," Mace said. "What about you? What brings you to this conveniently broken vent at this time of day?"

"It was already like that!" Obi-Wan snapped. His glare turned to one side and he rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I just needed to get away from people for a while."

He shifted, turning his back on whatever was in the hall that Mace couldn't see.

"I understand," he said. "People can be overwhelming even at the best of times, and when the Force has blessed you with a particular gift it can be even harder."

Obi-Wan gave him a narrow-eyed look. "A gift?"

"Sometimes gifts can feel like a burden," Mace said, rubbing his thumb against the base of his wrist. "Like psychometry. Or shatterpoints. Or whatever ability it is that you are developing."

Obi-Wan scoffed. "Or maybe I'm just crazy, like Bruck 'n them keep saying."

Shock, followed by an all-consuming rage that threatened to swallow him. Mace closed his eyes and breathed deep, acknowledging the anger while recognizing that it wasn't helpful in his current situation. Calmness replaced the rage, but it was the calm of purpose. Banking the fire, as his Master called it.

"No," he said, looking Obi-Wan in the eye. "You are not crazy. The Masters may not have found a reference for your ability yet, but it's clear the Force has gifted you with an important tool. You may not have learned how to use it yet, but-"

"Gossip seems like a stupid tool," Obi-Wan said, glaring at a point past Mace's shoulder.

"Gossip?" He resisted the urge to glance back. "Gossip can provide a lot of unexpected information. Spies in particular covet it."

"Whatever." Obi-Wan shrugged and began trying to straighten his hair and clothes. "Not like I'll ever get to use it anyway. Everyone says I'm too angry to be a real Jedi."

Mace's eyebrows shot up. "Everyone?"

Obi-Wan stood, shaking out the wrinkles in his tunic. "Master Tlah, my teachers, the training Masters, Bruck."

Mace joined him in standing, banking another wave of anger.

"If anger disqualified you from becoming a Jedi, I wouldn't be here right now," he said.

"What?" Obi-Wan stared at him, wide-eyed. "You? But you're perfect!"

It startled a laugh out of him.

"Please be sure to tell my Master that. She'll be very surprised." Waving off Obi-Wan's attempted defense of him, he continued. "No, but I'm serious. There's nothing wrong with having negative emotions, it's even healthy to experience them."

He checked over the Initiate, smoothing down a tuft of hair and unkinking the hood of his robe. The shatterpoints seem to have stilled. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"What's important is how you handle those emotions. Has anyone shown you how to channel your anger into something more productive?"

Obi-Wan shook his head, and Mace began to mentally compose a letter to the Master of the Crèches for their lack of oversight into the management and teaching of the Clans.

"Well, then. How would you feel about some private lessons from a lowly Padawan Learner about how to use your anger for good rather than letting it control you?"

"What, really?"

"Really."

The Force didn't express emotions, but if it did, he was sure it would be laughing at him. Cyslin would definitely laugh when he told her about it later. She could tease him as much as she liked, but this was less about picking a future Padawan and more about giving a struggling child the tools he should have already been given to help him.

"Yes! Thank you, Padawan Windu!"

Mace watched, distracted, as some of the shatterpoints around Obi-Wan actually healed. He'd never seen that before.

Then Obi-Wan grabbed his fingers to walk with him, and for half a heartbeat he thought he saw figures in the hallway with him, gone before he could fully register their presence. A possible future, an echo of a different present, or just a sign he needed more sleep? Whatever, as Obi-Wan liked to say. Best to focus on the now and leave the rest to be Future Mace's problem. He gave the boy's hand a companionable squeeze and set off for their first lesson.

#jedimindfic #shatterpoints AU #yeah the timeline is fucked up but it's fun

78 notes · View notes

sepublic · 13 days ago

Text

In further hindsight I can see the parallels in Belos agonizing over how he mistreated Caleb and Lilith agonizing over how she mistreated Eda, and both trying to make up for that. But both crucially missing the actual emotional crux of the issue, that being the people they disregarded and hurt, the people close to that sibling and their real family for accepting them.

Because even if Lilith got to explain how the curse was an accident to Eda during Agony of a Witch, so what? That wasn’t why Eda was there. That wasn’t why she was so royally pissed. It was for kidnapping Luz, which would still remain unaddressed. Not to mention how unlike the curse, Lilith knowingly refused to listen to Eda about her lifestyle and choices, she still supported the coven over her sister, she still belittled Eda over the curse and was making another decision for her.

So even if Lilith did cure Eda, if Belos could actually undo the work of an Archivist and chose to? Eda would still hate Lilith and everything she stood for. She stands down from attacking Lilith in the season finale not because Lilith didn’t mean the curse, but because King clarifies she’s actually changing her general behavior by helping him and Luz. Even if Belos could bring back Caleb, his insistence on making his clones into witch hunters, ignoring Caleb’s defense of the isles, choosing to support Gravesfield’s bigotry over a brother who’d been for him much longer and actually loved him unconditionally… Insisting on ‘saving’ a perfectly happy sibling? That will always be a problem.

Maybe Philip made an exception for Caleb, at first; He knew at least of Caleb’s first meeting with Evelyn. So even if the rest were secret due to Evelyn being targeted by the community, Philip still didn’t rat on his brother for exploring the Demon Realm. Part of it may have been the insistence that Caleb could be ‘saved’, but he did the bare minimum of not getting his brother killed for one trip.

(But then Caleb ‘went too far’ and committed miscegenation, made Philip related to a witch; A conservative shame so deep he refuses to address it when discussing a vague ‘betrayal’. Like real life families, Philip rewrote Caleb as a Black Sheep to not be discussed, for ‘tarnishing’ the bloodline; A scandal replaced, eventually lost to time with nobody left to truly mourn the person they were. Maybe there doesn’t need to be, not anymore; His wife and child remembered and maybe they didn’t mention he was a human because to Caleb, that no longer mattered and he renounced that background like many queer folk, to embrace an identity shared with others who did care. So they remembered Caleb the witch.)

Likewise, Lilith also looked the other way for Eda, ignored multiple opportunities to arrest Eda, removed wanted posters. But there was still the expectation that their ‘grace’ would be reciprocated, that eventually it would pay off in that loved one coming over. Or at least that’s what Lilith hoped, but it was definitely what Philip expected of Caleb; Because Lilith only took Luz hostage because Philip threatened to execute her otherwise. Eda’s health WAS at risk from the curse.

Philip killed a Caleb who was happy and safe when he’d been at least five years away from Gravesfield, in a world they couldn’t follow and wouldn’t be much of a threat in anyway, if at all; He did it because Caleb did not live up to that expectation. With Lilith, we know it was an accident and she did make legitimate amends to undo the curse, unlike Belos who kept killing Caleb again and again, with the Collector suggesting he’s using the Grimwalkers as a punching bag and no longer cares about saving them either.

Lilith never cared much for the (wild) witch hunting aspect of the position; She just wanted to be loved but she didn’t want people to be torn down for it. She was a teacher, a bad one but still. Even if she had yet to care about others outside of Eda and how her ideology was wrong for its harm, she at least used her love for Eda as a stepping stone; When her sister was almost executed as a wild witch, Lilith declared an intention to prevent any more petrifications, after preciously being shown looking the other way with them.

Despite her justified fears of Belos, Lilith wanted to do something because having it happen to a loved one made her finally empathize. Lilith used that love to listen to Eda and reconsider her own biases, for Eda at least. And she ended up caring for and loving Eda’s kids and friends and everything she stood for, too; She ended up doing things for them, too. Lilith cared about doing it for her sister, which is why she listened to and accepted her, instead of caring for the sake of creating an Eda that wasn’t Eda; Lilith got over her pride, that’s the difference in the end.

#The Owl House #Lilith Clawthorne #Emperor Belos #Philip Wittebane #Parallels

64 notes · View notes

eatmeandbirthmeagain · 4 months ago

Note

Request idea! Baldwin falling in love with a reader who sings in the chorus during mass and secretly meeting with her to court her. Tooth-rotting romance, please! Thank you <3

♡ Heaven In Your Voice - King Baldwin x Reader ♡

♡ Fluff ♡

A/N: Hello Anon! Thank you for this beautiful request, I hope it's what you had in mind! As always this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

TW: Leprosy

It was a peaceful Sunday morning in Jerusalem when the royal officials filed into the church for mass.

Baldwin took his seat, waiting for the service to begin as usual when he heard a few people behind him speaking.

“Have you seen that young lady in the chorus?” one said.

“Ah yes. She is the new singer, I hear she is one of the best singers in the kingdom! Shame she is only in the chorus”

Baldwin paid no mind to this, continuing to stare ahead of him to pass the time.

Finally, the service began.

The crowd rose as the choir began their hymns. But there was something different. A voice, a new voice that the king had not heard before.

He looked up to scan the choir, and that's when he saw her. The most gorgeous woman he had ever seen in his life.

Dressed in white robes, she looked like an angel with a voice to match. He could tell her voice appart easily from the rest of the singers. It was softer, sweeter, and far more beautiful.

His eyes widened and a soft breath escaped his masked lips at the sight of her. Just when he believed the moment could not get any more perfect, she looked at him.

She must have felt his intense gaze, he thought.

Their eyes met, sending a wave of nervous excitement through the young king's body.

The lady smiled as she continued singing and turned her eyes forward once again, leaving Baldwin frozen and bashful.

Like a teenage boy.

For the rest of the service, his eyes did not leave her once. He simply could not look away.

She had him encapsulated at first glance and he didn't even know her name. Baldwin assumed that she was the new choir member that the men behind him spoken of, but he wasn't quite sure.

He simply had to know.

------------------

As the service proceeded, Baldwin came to the conclusion that he needed to see the young lady privately.

He desperately wanted to know who she was. She had him completly, and she didn't even know it.

As for y/n, meeting the young king's gaze was most definitely a pleasent surprise. She had been welcomed to the choir after years of practice and this would be her first time singing the chorus in church.

She was as excited as she was nervous, especially since she would be singing in front of royalty for the first time. When y/n noticed Baldwin looking directly at her, a surge of excitement washed over her.

But also confusion.

Why was he looking at her of all people? Y/n knew that she was a beautiful woman, she had been made aware of it by many men desperately attempting to court her to ask for her hand in marriage and she had refused each and every one.

But so beautiful that she would attract the eyes of a king? She did not think so.

So why would he be looking at her? It was a mystery. But then again, he was too. The iron mask concealed his identity entirely, leaving his expression unknown as well as his appearance.

During the brief moments when Baldwin was not looking at her, y/n would look at him.

She tried very hard to not allow a smile creep onto her face. She couldn't help herself but find him attractive.

Even with the mask, he was.. cute. Yes, that was it.

He was handsome, yes, but the innocent blue eyes that peered out from underneath his mask were very cute. Beautiful even.

She longed to speak with him, hear his voice, know his thoughts. But that would be impossible. He was the king! That would not be permitted by any means.

------------------

As the service concluded and everybody left the church, Baldwin was left wondering about the young woman.

He wondered if she lived in the kingdom or somewhere else. Perhaps outside of the city.

Either way, he had to see her. He simply couldn't go another minute without knowing her name at the very least.

But he had a plan.

He would send a letter, instructing her to meet him in a specific place at the dead of night.

Baldwin hoped that she would accept more than he had ever wanted anything. He desired so desperately to meet her properly. Perhaps even court her soon if things worked out.

The moment he was back in the royal chambers, Baldwin sat down at his desk and began to write.

To the beautiful young woman who has stolen my heart,

I do not even know your name and yet you have entranced me. Your beauty is mesmerizing and your voice is that of an angel. I long to meet you.

If you are willing to accept my offer, please meet me outside of the castle gates at midnight and make sure you are alone.

Allow me this one chance to see you if anything at all.

With love, King Baldwin IV.

Sealing the letter, Baldwin sat back in his chair. He stared at the piece of paper on his desk and sighed.

Perhaps she would decline his offer? Perhaps this was a bad idea?

He shook his head and picked up the letter, telling himself to stop overthinking it. He handed the letter to a servant and told him to take it to the newest female member of the church choir.

Baldwin then decided to take a short nap. If he was going to be awake until midnight, he didn't want to be tired.

As he laid down on the large bed, Baldwin’s thoughts never once drifted from the young woman. He removed his iron mask and placed it on the bedside table.

All he could see when he closed his eyes was her beautiful face. The image of her eyes looking back at him was the last thing Baldwin saw before he drifted into a light sleep.

------------------

A few hours later, the young king was awoken by a knock at the door. Baldwin sat up and rubbed his bleary eyes as the room came into view.

“Come in” he called out as he reached for his mask, slipping it back onto his mottled face.

“Good afternoon my lord” the servant he had sent earlier said softly, stepping into the room with a low bow. “I have a letter from the young woman you sent me to this morning”.

Baldwin's heart leapt at the servant's words, any drowsiness leaving him immediately as he climbed off the bed to take the letter.

He thanked the servant who scurried out of the room, closing the door behind him. Baldwin sat down at his desk, the feeling of nervous excitement returning to his body as he held the letter in his shaking hands.

He peeled it open slowly, not willing to rush the moment but also craving the knowledge of her response.

My dearest King,

I thank you deeply for your touching letter and would be honored to meet with you tonight.

As per your request, I will be outside the palace gates at midnight this evening. I can not wait to see you.

With much love, y/n.

Baldwin's heart leapt and a wide grin spread across his face. He simply could not believe what he was reading.

The young king hugged the letter to his chest and he closed his eyes, relishing in the feeling of pure joy.

He could not wait for the hour to arrive.

-----------------

When it did, he was beyond ready.

Dressed in the warmest robes he owned, Baldwin clutched the candle holder in his bandaged hand as he slipped out of the royal chambers, careful not to make a sound as he went.

As he exited the castle, cool night air hit him instantly, causing him to shiver.

Y/n herself waited with anxious anticipation at the castle gates. Much like Baldwin, she was as nervous as she was excited.

She held a candle in her gloved hands as she waited with her back pressed against the wall beside the gate.

“Hello?” a kind voice called out softly causing her to jump a little.

When y/n turned around to the gate, her eyes met the same gorgeous blue eyes from the church.

“My lord” she whispered underneath her breath, the reality of the situation suddenly hitting her.

“I can't believe you came!” Baldwin said happily, attempting to keep his voice lowered despite the excitement in his tone.

A large grin spread across y/n’s face as she got closer to the gate until they were face to face, merely inches apart.

“Of course I did. How could I refuse such an offer from such a beautiful young man” y/n replied, the grin not once leaving her face.

Baldwin was grateful for the mask concealing his face as blush rose to his cheeks.

“You're too kind, my lady,” he said softly.

Y/n’s heart melted at his reaction.

They spoke for what felt like hours underneath the gentle glow of the moonlight. The two agreed to meet again the following night and said their goodnight's before returning to their respective living spaces.

Neither could stop grinning for the rest of their waking hours that night.

The overjoyed and bashful emotions consumed both of them, each in great anticipation of the following night that was to come.

88 notes · View notes

eunoia-writes · 9 months ago

Text

Damsel • Felix Catton x Reader

Summary - y/n wasn’t the type to settle down, until she met Felix that is. So when her parents meet him they’re in love her sister however is sceptical

Warnings - implied smut

“Mate I can’t get that girl out of my head.” Felix said taking a sip of his beer while he sat across from Farleigh waiting for the rest of there friends to appear

“Which one? The one you took home?” Farleigh asked lighting a cigarette before handing the box to Felix who sighed while taking a cig for himself and lighting it up

“No no the one friends with Indi.” Felix said taking a drag while Farleigh laughed

“Oh y/n, yeah she’s a sight for sore eyes if I do say so myself.” Farleigh began before laughing “shame she’s so self righteous. Indi says she’s the most opinionated person she knows.”

Almost like it was on cue the girl came walking in with indi and the rest of there friends following behind. Her eyes almost instantly locked with Felix’s and he swore he could have passed out in the spot while she’s claim the butterflies she felt were purely coincidental.

“Hi guys, you remember y/n from last night she’s finally decided to sack off the books not that she needs them the clever cloggs.” Indi said making her friend chuckle as she rolled her eye’s playfully

“Hi y/n.” Felix said with a warm smile while Farleigh took it upon himself to offer her his seat next to Felix “Y/n, you take a seat me and Indi will go get drinks.”

“It’s Felix’s right?” Y/n asked pretending as if she hadn’t memorised this name the second he told her that previous night

“Yeah it’s Felix, how are you? How’s the head?” He asked hinting as to how hard she was going yesterday evening. Y/n laughed as she got comfortable in her seat

“The head is fine however the smell of vodka might make me vomit so I beg of indi not to bring them over.” Y/n said Felix’s eyes had not left her he’d barely even acknowledged the rest of his friends as of yet.

“I’ve never seen someone drink that many vodka sodas.” Felix joked while y/n sarcastically gasped showing fake hurt

“What are you trying to say, Felix?” She joked while the same smile played on his lips

“Oh nothing at all, y/n.” Felix said and with a playful grin, offered her a sip of his beer. Y/n hesitated, Felix gently held the glass to her lips, titling it carefully as she took a mouthful. However, as the bitter taste registered, her expression shifted from curiosity to a grimace. Felix chuckled, realizing her distaste, and quickly pulled the glass away.

“Not a beer girl?” He hummed and she shook her head “hmmm I thought as much.” Y/n faked her offence once again before indi and Farleigh came waltzing back over

“Vodka soda, your favourite.” Indi said handing her the glass as y/n groaned while the two turned to the rest of the group

“Don’t worry darling, I’ll hold your hair back when you start vomming.” Felix joked his arm falling on the back of her chair casually, in reality his heart was racing at a million mile at the anticipation of her pushing it off.

“You’re on thin ice, Felix.” She joked

The rest of the night was spent laughing and joking with the group every now and then the pair breaking off for the own conversations

“No no it’s not romantic in the slightest.” She argued the group had somehow gotten on to the topic of Romeo and Juliet which y/n always had a very opposing idea to the majority. Felix had no care of the topic he just wanted to hear her talk

“How is it not?” Indi asked her friend

“It’s a mockery of young love They both had a severe lack of self identity because of there limits of freedom their family’s put on them Juliet views Romeo as her only freedom because she’s getting forced to marry Paris she sees herself choosing romeo as being free. That being said Juliet was never Romeos first choice he was just depressed that Rosaline didn’t love him back. Juliet was a rebound not a true love.” Y/n explained while Felix started at her In complete awe

“God you’re incredible.” He whispered to himself but she heard and he knew she did from the way her cheeks turned crimson. She quickly excused herself to the bathroom with indi following close behind

“What did I say? Incredibly opinionated.” Farleigh said to his cousin who simply shook his head

“She’s something else.” Felix whispered

Meanwhile In that bathroom, indi sat on the sink while y/n was in the bathroom stall “you know I’ve never seen him like this, or you like this even.” Indi said just before y/n came out of the stall

“What do you mean?” Y/n asked as she began to wash her hands

“Felix is never interested in what anyone has to say but he can’t seem to stop looking at you listening to every word you say and you you’ve never blushed at someone calling you incredible before especially a boy, what happened to my old I don’t need a man y/n?” Indi explained and y/n shrugged while she dried her hands

“You’re thinking too much into this indi, he’s just a sweet guy I’m still same old me.” She said as they left the bathroom.

“It’s getting pretty late we’re thinking off heading off.” One of the other girls said before everyone agreed that it was time to head home.

“Y/n, could I walk you home?” Felix asked she nodded grabbing her things while the rest of the group sorted themselves out they pair didn’t bother to say there goodbyes just leaving the pub and walking back towards campus.

They talked about nothing and everything all at once as they walked almost too close to one another neither one wanting to take things too far. When they got to her door she stood looking up at him after unlocking the door. If this was any other girl they’d of already invited him in but y/n wasn’t like that

“So when can I see you again?” Felix asked and y/n smiled looking at her feet before looking back up at him

“Whenever you’d like.” She said in almost a whisper

“I don’t know if indi has invited you but we’re heading out for drinks tomorrow you should join us.” He suggested and she nodded the pair were dangerously close to one another both still too nervous to make a move.

“I’d love to.”

“I’ll pick you up at 7?” Felix more told than asked and she just nodded before leaning up on her toes

“Goodnight Felix.” She whispered planting a soft kiss on his cheek before disappearing Inside her room.

From that day on the pair were inseparable it didn’t take long for Felix to start calling her his girlfriend much to everyone’s surprise. Wherever she was, he was and vice versa. The pair were joint at the hip.

“There’s my girl.” He said holding his arms open as y/n and Farleigh walked into the library books in hand. Y/n rushed over to him planting a kiss on his lips as he pulled her onto his lap.

“Hi Fi.” She said kissing him once more mumbling how she missed him.

“Hey baby girl.” Her stomach flipped at the nickname, something about that way it rolled off his tounge made her feel like she was the only person in the world that mattered to him. If you asked him, she was.

“So I was thinking…” y/n began her fingers dancing up his arm as he pulled her close

“What we’re you thinking pretty?” He asked his hand dangerously high on her thigh

“All of class I just couldn’t stop thinking about you, your hands, your mouth…” she continued and it didn’t take much more for him to be helping her off his lap

“We’re gonna go.” Was all he said patting y/n’s arse as he grabbed her hand dragging her to her dorm room as quickly as he could.

Flexi had practically moved into her dorm room at this point and tonight was like no other the pair laying in her bed facing each other while his hand rested on her cheek.

“I don’t know I guess everything that happened with Daniel made it hard for me to trust people until you came along.” She said as he listened to every word she said just as he always did

“What happened with Daniel?” Felix asked there has never been anything off limits in there relationship but she’d never spoken about her ex until now.

“He made me do things I didn’t want to do and wasn’t ready for even if I said I didn’t want to. He told me that if I loved him I’d do whatever he asked of me.” She told him and Felix didn’t need to be told what she meant he knew from the look in her eyes

“I’m so sorry that happened to you baby girl.” He said leaning in and kissing her softly she smiled into the kiss, oh how she adored that pet name.

“It’s okay, I have you now.”

“That’s right baby, and I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.” He said as she kissed him again mumbling against his lips

“You’re the sweetest.”

“I’m serious baby, if anyone hurts you, I’ll be going to prison for life.” He said in the most serious tone he could and she knew he meant it. Y/n couldn’t help but smile at his words laughing slightly before adding

“I’ll send you love letters while you’re in there.” Felix connected there lips once again moving to hovering above her one hand holding him up the other toying with her waistband

“Yeah? With Polaroids of you looking all pretty for me?” He asked and she nodded her breathe catching in her throat has his hand slipped under her shorts

“I’ll even where that dress you like so much.”

“God you’re just perfect.”

Y/n groaned half asleep at the knocking on her door “Indi go away.” She mumbled but when the door still swung open revealing her parents and sister she knew she was done for

“Hi darling -Oh!” Her mum said noticing Felix beside her daughter y/n shook Felix awake pulling the duvet over them

“What baby.” He mumbled and she just continued to shake him

“What are you guys doing here?” She asked panicking slightly

“We just thought we’d come for the day and take you to lunch we know how busy your schedule is.” Her sister said not even caring that there was a boy wrapped around her. By now Felix had sat up but was at a lots for words

“Mum, dad, Amelia… this is Felix my boyfriend.” Y/n said nervously

“It’s ah… nice to meet you.” Felix said the air was thick

“We’ll we’re thinking of going for lunch in an hour or so why don’t the two of you get ready and meet us at that little cafe, you know the one we went to last time at 2?” Her mum said trying to bypass the awkwardness of walking in on her daughter in bed with a man she’d never seen before

“Yeah sounds good we’ll see you there.” Y/n said practically shooing them out while her sister lingered back for a few seconds

“It reeks of sex in here.” Amelia added before following her parents out

“God that is not how I thought this morning was going to go!” Felix joked as she groaned burying her face in his chest

“That was so embarrassing.” Y/n mumbled while Felix just laughed dragging her up along with himself in order for them to get ready.

“Are you sure I look okay?” She asked as they stood outside the cafe Felix nodded leaning down to kiss her gently

“You look beautiful baby girl, love it when you wear my clothes.” He said referring to his yellow button up she’d thrown over her dress it practically was the same length as the dress but he still loved it regardless.

“We should head in.” She said grabbing his hand as she opened the door and they headed in. When they got to her table Felix pulled her chair out for her which had her mothers heart swelling with joy

“Hi lovely and this must be the wonderful Felix.” Laurel, her mum said with that warm smile all mothers seem to have.

“It’s nice to meet you, properly.” Felix joked referring to earlier that morning, Felixs took y/n’s hand that rested in the table giving it a small squeeze to help ease her nerves.

“Y/n told us she was seeing someone but I didn’t know it was serious.” Laurel added taking a sip of her coffee that has just arrived. Y/n admired the way nothing had changed her mum would always be the same woman who could barely sit down in a restaurant without having a coffee minutes later

“It kinda just happened mum.” Y/n said her eyes flickering from Felix to her parents

“Well Im glad we get to meet the boy that’s changed our darling girl stance on love.” Her dad, David, said trying to keep his cold front on but he was the biggest softy at heart

“Oh if anything she’s changed mine, she’s really special your daughter.” Felix said looking over at y/n was was looking up at him with nothing but love in her eyes.

“Are you all ready to order?” The waitress asked as she came over to the table

“Yes thank you I’ll have the chicken ceases salad and a Latte please.” Y/n said before everyone else made their orders before her parents started with the usually questions about her academics along with questioning Felix about his.

“Oh Christ.” Y/n mumbled a few minutes later while her parents and sister discussed if it was a red or orange dress there cousin wore to someone’s wedding

“What’s wrong Darling?” Felix asked concerned looking over at her as she chewed on the inside of her cheek

“I forgot to ask for no tomatos.” She said and Felix couldn’t help but smile as she pouted slightly

“Oh! Don’t worry I’ve got you.” Felix flags down the waitress that took down there order previously

“I don’t want to be a pain.” She whispered

“I’m sure they won’t mind.” Felix squeezed her hand softly as the waitress approached the table, Felix gave the girl a warm smile; “I’m awfully sorry but my girlfriend here was being her usual thinking of a million and one things at a time and forgot to ask is there any chance we could get no dressing on that salad.”

“It’s really no problem if not, it’s my fault honestly.” Y/n interjected not wanting to be a pain

“That’s not a problem at all I’ll go tell the kitchen now.” The waitress said with a smile before rushing off towards the kitchen

“See pretty, told you they wouldn’t mind.” Felix said pressing a kiss to y/n’s temple as she smiled

“What would I do without you hey?” She half joked leaning her head on his shoulder for a few seconds

“Perish, I believe.” Everyone but her sister laughed at his joke while Amelia shoot y/n a strange look, one that she couldn’t quit read. Felix pressed a kiss to the back of her hand before politely excusing himself to the bathroom.

“Oh he’s just lovely, y/n.” Laurel said just as he was out of earshot

“I’m glad you like him.” Y/n smiled, she’d never been this nervous to introduce someone to her family but Felix was charming as ever she didn’t need to worry at all

“It’s nice to see someone treating my girl that way she deserves.” Her dad added

“I’m so happy for you, I know it’s been difficult after Daniel but oh Felix is just perfect for you.” Laurel said reaching over to sqeeze her daughters hand

“It really means a lot that you think that, I was really nervous for you to meet him especially after this morning.” Y/n admitted taking a sip of her water

“Oh don’t be silly, that’s nonsense we should have called first.”

“Do you like him melia?” Y/n asked looking at her sister who had been awfully quiet Amelia shrugged

“He seems alright.” Y/n frowned slightly disappointed her sister wasn’t more enthusiastic about her relationship

“Just alright?” Y/n asked and once again her sister shrugged

“I don’t know him so I can’t give an option.”

The rest of the lunch went swimmingly her parents telling Felix how much they adored him and how perfect he was for their daughter. Y/n getting all shy when Felix and her dad make a joke about him making sure to give them a call when he decides to ask for her hand in which he responded oh don’t worry I plan on it

Y/n had convinced her sister to stay with her and Felix for the evening insisting she gets a taste of Oxford for when she starts In Autumn. They had decided to get the group together and head to the local pub they always went to.

Y/n sensing the need for a breath of fresh air, leads her sister into the Pubs smoking area, a sanctuary of sorts in the midst of all the madness. The cold breeze nips at their faces as they find a secluded corner. Surrounded by the soft hum of distant traffic, Amelia breaks the silence.

“Y/n, do you really like Felix I mean come on this is nothing like you.” She asks watching as her sister takes a drag of her cigarette looking at Amelia confused

“What do you mean?” Y/n asked watching the way Amelia sighed as she sat on the wall letting y/n join her

“All of it you know, him calling you Darling, acting as if you’re codependent what happened to feminist iconic y/f/n.” Amelia asked and y/n let out a soft chuckle knowing exactly what Amelia was getting at

“First of all, i am a feminist obviously and you know as well as I do that I'm fine without a man but But don’t know I think I would his protection.” Y/n half joked but Amelia was dead serious about the topic

“But you’re not some damsel in distress though y/n.”

“That not the point though Amelia, I like that he wants to protect me I like that he wants to Wrap his arm around me, And tell me that he’ll keep me safe and before you say it I know I can protect myself But when he does it for me, it's hot as hell.” Y/n explained smiling as she thought about her boyfriend and how he’d just do anything for her without her even having to ask that of him.

“I just don’t want him to dim your light because yes he seems wonderful and I’m sure he’s lovely but you are everything. he is just a boy.” Amelia said. She had always admired her sister more than she cared to admit and it would kill her to see her lose the glimmer in her eyes over some boy.

“You know me better than I know myself that would never happen and he knows that.” Y/n put her cigarette out just as Felix came wondering outside his face lighting up when his eyes fell on the pair

“There you two are I’ve been searching all over.” He said as y/n stood up from her spot letting Felix wrap his arm around her waist and press a kiss to her temple as she melted into the embrace

“Hi darling.” She said looking up at him with nothing but adoration behind her eyes

“How’s my sweet girl, what we chatting about?” He asked looking too her sister and back to y/n

“I’m good and we were just talking about Amelia coming to Oxford next year.” Y/n shot her sister a wink as Amelia then stoop up

“Oh you’d love it here plus you’d fit right in everyone loves your sister they’re bound to love you.” Felix told Amelia who smiled looking at her sister

“It’s impossible not to love Her.”

“Oh don’t I know it, your sister here is one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met she has this way of making you feel like you’re the most important person in the room without ever making herself smaller she’s incredible, darling you’re incredible.” He rambled gushing about his girlfriend who couldn’t help but blush

“You’re just the sweetest aren’t you.” She said leaning up to plant a kiss on his cheek

“I’ll give it to you y/n, he’s far better than all the others.” Amelia said making Felix smile

“I’m going to take that compliment.”

#felix catton #felix catton fanfic #felix catton fluff #felix catton imagine #felix catton saltburn #felix catton x reader #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #felix catton blurb #saltburn

357 notes · View notes

purplespacekitty · 6 months ago

Text

Ramblings on Tora Ziyal

I think it’s well beyond a shame that they killed off Ziyal because I really would have liked to see her Cardassian-Bajoran identity more fleshed out and have her navigate the world beyond her father’s influence. She was starting to do that a bit with Kira and Garak (though I strongly feel that Garak should have been more of a mentor figure than a love interest) and it would have been really cool to see her get to hang out with Jake and Nog and just be a kid for once. It feels way too weird the way they began her character as this traumatized little girl who knew nothing but the brief time of her life she spent with her mother on Bajor and the horrors of the Breen mines and then magically turned her into this saccharine sweet, mostly well-adjusted young woman who loves her tyrant father despite his crimes (and in many ways, is seemingly unaware of them???????). Where was the therapy? Where was the rehabilitation? Where was the jaded child we saw in “Indiscretion”? What if Ziyal had been allowed to channel her anger and pain into learning about Bajor and Cardassia, into healing herself? Her dad basically plucked her out of the Breen mines after years of giving less than a Cardassian vole's asshole about her and then it turns out he originally planned to kill her when he found her? After she prayed for years that he'd come and save her? I'd be pissed.

But also, I wish they'd explored more of why she didn't appear to be all that pissed. We have almost no other context for Ziyal's childhood, certainly not any of what it was like before Dukat sent her and Naprem away. Was it simply exhaustion and desperation that led her to the conclusion that she'd rather die than not be with him once he'd found her? Was there a guise Dukat put up to portray himself as a kind father and mask the tyrant underneath before he sent Naprem and Ziyal away? Or did she even get to see Dukat at all in her early childhood? Did she simply assume he would be a loving father? Is that the image Ziyal clung to for comfort for all those years? Did she cling so tightly she could do little else but believe it?

It feels icky to kind of reduce her existence to Dukat Drama™ the way the show ultimately did with her death. Why didn’t we get to see her experiencing disillusionment about Dukat, who never actually changed for the better when she was still alive and trying to get him to stop being so horrible? Why didn’t we get any Rugal-level anger from her, the hushed-up child of a Bajoran comfort woman and the genocidal former Prefect of Bajor? Because, obviously, Dukat never actually took his fatherhood to her seriously. She tried to imagine him as someone he was not and he predictably chose to inflate his own ego by encouraging her. She wasn't much more to him than a device to garner some twisted idea of sympathy for himself. Ziyal needed more of a chance to break away from relying on Dukat for unconditional love. Because his love, as we know, was not unconditional. In fact, I hesitate to even call it love at all, given how ready he was to manipulate Ziyal, how ready he was to get rid of her. She had unconditional love from Kira, who immediately went to bat for her before she’d even met her when she found out what Dukat planned to do to his own daughter. And I totally believe Garak’s love for Ziyal could have grown into something unconditional, but they ruined it with some weird, out-of-nowhere romance with an uncomfortable age gap and then had her killed off like some tragic, helpless maiden.

DS9 was sort of the only place Ziyal could experience any sort of semblance of real safety in her life, especially considering both Bajoran and Cardassian attitudes towards biracial children. It would have been interesting to explore an arc with her making DS9 her home as a place that is conducive to the cohabitation of many different species and cultures while also wrestling with isolation and ostracization from those who share in the two most pervasively impactful facets of her identity. Maybe the writers wanted to focus on portraying her girlhood and favored it over exploring the complexities of her Cardassian-Bajoran heritage. But honestly, they failed at both. She never got to have a girlhood and she ultimately became more of a plot device than a fully-fledged character. This franchise started off with its most interesting and beloved main character being both Vulcan and human. I know Ziyal is someone else entirely, but they totally could have done more with her than they did.

I would love, love, LOVE to see her engage with different aspects of both Bajoran and Cardassian culture. I wonder if she would develop any kind of spirituality regarding the Prophets. Since Bajorans are widely a spiritual people, it's possible Naprem shared some of her spiritual practices with her daughter. If she did, does Ziyal observe those practices to feel closer to her mother? Does she seek Kira's help in learning more about Bajoran spirituality? Do they connect over the struggles their faith has gotten them through? Would delving deeper into Bajoran spirituality open a gateway to acceptance from other Bajorans? Or would it make them turn their backs on her even more? How does her Cardassian-Bajoran heritage impact the way she interacts with her own spirituality and beliefs? As far as Cardassian culture goes, Garak certainly has an eye for art and I could see her connecting with Professor Natima Lang, Hogue and Rekelen and learning about Cardassia's resistance movements.

Also, multiple Bajoran and Cardassian drinks, confections and meals are shown throughout the series and especially with respect to its main character, DS9 frequently places food in an important cultural, community-building role. As someone whose strongest connection to their own heritage comes from food, I would have loved to see Ziyal engage with both Bajoran and Cardassian culture through food.

Obviously, we were robbed of heaps and heaps of space station shenanigans:

Nog sharing what he learns from Starfleet Academy with Ziyal, Ziyal trying tube grubs and actually liking them.

Ziyal illustrating Jake’s stories into comic books or murals and the two of them creating stuff together and maybe some nerdy pop culture history discussions on the side. I feel like Jake, Nog and Ziyal would totally have weekly movie nights.

Odo looking out for her, giving her advice about handling bullies, the two of them bonding over being generally considered the odd ones out and Ziyal making paintings to add to his quarters.

Kira giving her lots of hugs, teaching her to fight, protecting her from bigots and helping her embrace her Bajoran background, teaching her Bajoran culture. Ziyal stealing clothes from Kira's closet occasionally ("You hardly ever wear anything other than your uniform, anyway! And they fit, see?"). Ziyal sneakily tagging along on Kira and Dax's trips to the holosuites, eventually convincing them to just invite her to them regularly, anyway. She knows how to use her cuteness as a force for good, but more importantly, she knows how to use it as a force for capers and hijinks.

Garak making her clothes, teaching her the art of cunning deceit and helping her embrace her Cardassian background, teaching her Cardassian culture. More hangouts in the holosuites basking on steaming rocks. And the two of them giggling in tasteful mirth at Bashir because he finds Cardassian literature boring.

Gossiping with Bashir and Jadzia, learning to treat wounds and carry a bat’leth, never growing tired of Dax’s many tales of woe, romance and adventure.

Sisko teaching her how to cook and inviting her to play baseball with him and Jake.

Quark occasionally letting her have a drink on the house because she can be more devious than him if she wants to be (“Listen, kid, if you’ll get rid of all this root beer for me, you can have as many free glasses as you want”).

Leeta and Rom being the cool aunt and uncle who buy her all the jumja sticks she wants.

Babysitting Molly and Kirayoshi and learning about plants, science and Earth history from Keiko. I wish Keiko had gotten more screen time - in general, but also of her in her element, studying plants and playing music. It's criminal that we never see Keiko play her clarinet in DS9, so I definitely would love to see the two of them playing music together if Ziyal felt so inclined.

Leaving O’Brien in the dust at darts for reasons he simply cannot fathom.

Listening to Klingon opera with Worf over glasses of prune juice.

Becoming an accidental stowaway on Kasidy’s freighter one day and Kasidy taking her with on missions to Bajor. Kasidy, Keiko and Ziyal hanging out together is a trio dynamic that never happened and definitely should have.

Talking stuff out with Ezri, the two of them commiserating over their respective identity crises.

Dressing up for nights at Vic’s.

Learning about Klingon music from that Klingon chef (I believe his name is Kaga) on the Promenade.

Punching each successive version of Weyoun in the fucking face (maybe even Weyoun 6, accidentally or intentionally, doesn't matter, it would just be funny).

Rebel strategies with Damar (I think he’d come around if he didn’t have it out for her and got over Cardassian bureaucracy), Kira and Garak.

Helping around the house whenever she and Garak visit Mila, long talks with Mila about her Obsidian Order days.

Weekly dinners with everybody.

I want to see her making friends and being supported by all the loving, caring people around her who love her (collectively and individually) more than her actual-piece-of-shit dad. I want her to grapple with the fact that certain people hate the mere existence of her enough to want her dead but also decide to go “hell with it” and fucking live for herself. She deserves to be more than the tragedy that made Dukat finally snap and descend into pure insanity. She deserves to laugh and cry and stomp her feet and dance and shout and sing and love and play and paint to her heart’s content. She deserves to be angry. She deserves to have a childhood, an adolescence, an adulthood and an elderhood. She deserves to live. And maybe to be the perpetrator of a few political assassinations as a treat.

So………....................suffice to say, I have a LOT of thoughts about Ziyal. I love her and I wish the show runners had loved her more, too.

113 notes · View notes