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soubi122 · 1 year ago

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Funeral

This is a oneshot that was collecting dust in my drafts and I finally managed to finish it - ft kakucho.

Warnings: Domestic violence, smut, pregnancy, cheating, mentions of death, slight dark content, alcohol, language, slight angst and fluff.

MDNR - MINORS, respectfully, GO AWAY.

You never thought about being this happy at a funeral. Past funerals attended were full of grief and sorrow. The person who left the earth would be someone whom you'd dearly loved or were close with, someone who you felt was taken too soon. But this was different, the funeral taking place today was for none other than your husband. What you thought would be the best thing in your life turned out to be a nightmare.

At the funeral many people flooded the marble floors, paying their respects to the dearly departed. His large portrait was on a stand surrounded by white and yellow chrysanthemums. The sight of these flowers was too pure for the vile being that was being honored today. Strangers were coming up to you and bowing - giving their condolences for your loss. They placed small envelopes in a box, a red and gold box that you wanted to burn. He deserved none of the generosity offered today.

The black veil that covered your face felt like a mask, obscuring your features to avoid people gauging your reactions or grief, it also hid the ugly bruises and swollen eyes. For hours you've been sitting in that cushion and in pain. Your ribs were aching, the throbbing in your head wouldn't stop, the taste of metal on your tongue was driving you mad. As the funeral was winding down, the director approached you with a warm smile, years of practice and empathy made this process easy for them. “Mrs. (L/N)? We're at the last 10 minutes - we will begin escorting the guests out.” You nodded and were about to get up and leave but a tall figure approached you. Oh god, please… no more 'sorry for loss', 'your husband was a great man' lines. You think to yourself as you look up and notice the male's features. Raven hair, a scar that ran across the right side of his face to the left eye - despite his threatening appearance, the look in his eyes was sincere.

Remembering him as a recent acquaintance of your husband, you knew they were coming to ask about his will. Business is business after all, it will keep going even when you are laying on a metal slab or are 6ft underground. “(Y/N), I'm very sorry for your loss.” His stern but gentle tone caught you off guard. As you were beginning to bow, he spoke again - “We will need to speak regarding your husband's affairs and assets.” Here we go…the ever looming threat of his wealth was barreling towards you already and his ashes have yet to be scattered into the wind. The vultures were ready. “His attorney will be reading the will tomorrow - I'm sure he outlined what is to be done with his assets.” The raven haired man said nothing more and bowed, taking his leave. Finally, this act was over.

You made your way to the penthouse that you were forced to call home but now that he was gone, you welcomed the emptiness that awaited you. Kicking off your heels, you exhaled a sigh of relief and slid down to the floor - barely noticing the figure that emerged from the dark corner of your kitchen. Only when you heard the sound of a click did you notice the shadow. You began to put your hands up and stare into the dark corner, waiting for the figure to emerge. “Sorry to do this during your time of grief, but this is urgent.” The same scarred man approached you, he had a gun in hand, loaded and pointed in your direction.

Soon more figures emerged from the dark corners of your home. How the hell did they get past security? A knot began to form in your throat as the man tilted his head, pointing towards the kitchen island and telling you to take a seat without words. You got on your feet and made your way towards the island, silently taking a seat with your hands still up. The final figure that emerged was that of a shorter male with silver hair and eyes that looked like they haven't had a good night's rest in months. The dark circles became even more prominent by the dimmed overhead lights in your kitchen. “You can put your hands down, dollface.” One of the many men spoke, his tone was that of a psychopath - to avoid invoking anyone's wrath, you put your hands down on the counter. “Your husband's assets belong to us - at tomorrow's reading, you will relinquish them without any opposition.” A third voice said and his figure stepped into the dim light. He too had silver hair but his was long and he had eyes like a feral cat. A light chuckle escapes your lips as you reach for your coat pocket. In an instant your head was pinned against the counter, making you grunt and a gun was pressed against the back of your skull. “Don't even try, gorgeous…” Long slender fingers reached for the hand that held the metal object, prying it from your hold. “It's a cigarette box…” You say quietly without moving or resisting.

With a nod, the shorter man gave permission for them to remove the gun, allowing you to lift your head from the counter. “We will have someone accompany you to tomorrow's reading…as a safety precaution - wouldn't want you to make a break for it.” Your silence spoke volumes to them. “We can also just make you hand everything over without the attorney present.” Another voice said from behind you, his tone was much softer than the one who pinned you down. Just what the hell did your husband get into? How did they know where you lived? The only thing you could do is nod. “Kakucho, you and these three will stay with her until tomorrow's reading. Takeomi and Mochizuki will bring you some spare clothing in the morning.” The man who you assumed was Kakucho nodded. Were they really planning to spend the night here? Or did they have other plans in mind? Did they want to break you more than your husband already did? You looked at the man with the short silver hair, his eyes were empty, bare and cold. Though the veil covered your face and hid your expression, he saw right through it - the submission and fear. “They won't touch you unless you give them a reason to…” His words of reassurance did just the opposite.

Once the rest of the men left your penthouse, the others that remained began to make themselves at home and turned on the lights. Turning to face them, you noticed that they were all dressed in suits, had wildly colored hair and two of them had neck tattoos. The more ‘normal’ looking one was the raven haired man, with the exception of his facial scar. “So, dollface…you're probably wondering what your dear ol' husband did in order for us to be here…” The male with the psychopathic tone spoke, the two diamond shaped scars on the corners of his mouth curved as he smiled wickedly at you. Never have you seen such beautiful crystal eyes on such a sinister looking man. “You're scaring her Sanzu, she'll be sleeping with an eye open now thanks to you.” The coy and playful tone of the tallest male made you look in his direction. He had clean cut short purple tresses, the neck tattoo robbed your attention from his lavender eyes and handsome smirk. If you were to stand in front of him, you were sure to get top shelf vertigo. “Mikey said not to touch her.” The third male spoke, he had almost a matching hair color to the taller man but in mullet form, he too bore a neck tattoo - wait…that hanafuda design…it can't be! Alarm bells started going off in your head, you've seen the news, heard the rumors and seen first hand at what Bonten is capable of. That life of peace that you thought you were going to have? Well it just went up in smoke. These men were probably going to torture you, rape you or throw you in a brothel to pay off whatever your husband owed them.

It felt like your chest was about to burst, the anxiety was ravaging your nerves and mind. The shortness of breath and trembling started, when the raven haired man noticed, you were on the verge of passing out. He caught you right before the back of your head met the floor. “Hey! What's wrong?” He asked as you began to have a panic attack. A sharp pain in your chest was making it difficult to breathe or even speak. “Get her some water!” He ordered one of the others as he sat across from you on the floor. The others began bickering, yelling at each other over who scared you. There was too much noise. “I'm going to slowly remove your veil, ok? I'm not gonna hurt you.” His hands gently reached out to you and you screwed your eyes shut. Don't look at me, please…! The voice inside your head screamed, your body was too in shock to move away from him. When he removed the veil, they all went silent. “…fuck, we didn't know.” You could hear one of them say.

All four men flinched for a split second, recalling when they slammed your head against the counter. The purple and faded yellow bruises on your face and busted lip were staring at them dead in the face. The veil wasn't so that people wouldn't see your puffy crying eyes, it was to hide the pain and evidence of domestic violence.

The silence was overwhelming, making you panic even more - your breathing struggled again, snapping them out of their daze. You felt a pair of hands intertwining themselves with yours. Despite being inside, your hands felt like ice - the warmth of his hands made you feel alive. “I need you to try and take a deep breath. Focus on my voice, squeeze my hand if you understand.” Kakucho's soft and honeyed tone traveled through your ear canal and went straight to your chest. There was a soothing bass in his voice that made you follow his directions.

Slow and steady you began to take deep breaths, one light squeeze signaled your understanding. A second voice was now in your ear, gently he titled your head in his direction. “Slowly open your eyes and focus on me…what color are my eyes?” When you opened your eyes, you were met with a pair of lavender orbs and a tender gaze. “T-They're…beautiful.” You managed to stutter out, his eyes matched the taller male - were they siblings? Your comment made him smirk softly, usually when people stare into his eyes they see death. “Rindou, I think she likes you…” The taller male whispered as he noticed the slight blush on your face. Finally, you were beginning to relax and breathe normally. Who would have known that the world's most dangerous men could soothe your soul? “Here, take small sips at a time.” The man with the diamond shaped scars said to you and handed you a small glass of water. Little by little, you were able to think straight without panic or anxiety. “So you can call us by our names and trust us - my name is Ran, this is my brother Rindou.” The tall male said. “The knucklehead you see over there with the pink hair is Sanzu and finally, in front of you, you have Kakucho.” Their introduction was not needed but worthy of making you feel a little at ease.

Kakucho released your hand and helped you get on your feet. “Please, get some rest - we need to be on time for tomorrow’s reading.” That's right, these men stated that everything your husband owned was theirs. The question slipped your tongue when you opened your mouth, “Will I be set free or sold tomorrow?” Ran stepped closer and cupped your bruised cheek, there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “That's not for us to decide.” Depending on what Bonten's king says, he will ultimately determine your fate - even after his death, your husband is still finding ways to break you.

With your head hung low you made your way to your room. “Keep the door open, dollface.” Sanzu said as he sat on the Burrow couches and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. It made your eye twitch, your husband would have made you sit on the floor if that were you. Despite being at home, you had to be perfect, primed and ready for anything. To have such freedom and fearless nature, you envied it.

It was useless to try and protest keeping the door open. Walking into your bedroom, you began to lay out clean clothing - the day was long, you needed the comfort of warm water to relieve the ache in your ribs, the aches on your legs and arms. Once you had everything ready, you picked up your bathrobe and went to the bathroom - quietly closing the bathroom door. You took a long hard look at yourself in the mirror, analyzing the bruises on your face, the marks across your neck and the redness in your eyes, it was over. Your life was over before it even began. That freedom you were hoping to have was now dependent on someone else.

After filling the tub you began to slowly shed the clothing that clung to your figure. You had hairline fractures that were making it impossible to stay still during the funeral. The bruises extended down to your hips and thighs. Something no else would see. After showering you settle in the bathtub, gently laid back and stare at the ceiling and wonder if you should even continue to walk this earth…

Several minutes of staring into space, the door to your bathroom opens and in walks Kakucho. His calm demeanor was rather comforting - you were used to seeing your husband walk through that door with a scowl on his face or worse, a liquor bottle in his hands. “I’m not trying to drown myself if that’s what you’re thinking.” You say while slowly sitting up. You were surprised that they gave you this much privacy knowing that you could have called the cops or signal for help. Unfortunately, you didn’t trust the cops. That dearly beloved husband that departed this earth always had his way anytime you or someone else would call the cops. They would ask questions but your husband would pull them to the side and slip a small stack of bills in their pockets to keep them quiet. As soon as they would leave, he’d continue where he’d left off. Days would go by where you couldn’t even walk or let alone stand due to the pain.

“Please be ready by 8:00 tomorrow, the reading is at 10:00...” He says and hands you a towel. Guessing by how they are looming over you like this, they wanted to make sure you’d be able to attend tomorrow’s reading. He was about to walk away but you pulled his sleeve and stopped him. “I need help.” You spoke meekly and avoided his eyes, as much as you didn't want to ask - you needed his help. “Oh…I won't look.” He said, closing his eyes and turned the other way as he extended his arms for you to reach out and grab. Sucking in a deep breath you braced yourself for the next painful seconds of your life. Kakucho could hear you struggle and grunt as you were struggling to get up. It was exciting to him, but he refused to indulge. With his eyes still closed, he spoke - “Your face isn't the only thing bruised, is it?” Usually they don't pry into other people's affairs but this was different. Gathering information was his specialty, but your docile nature drew him in.

Kakucho felt compelled to at least leave you with something to take care of yourself with. Despite Bonten's reputation and crude nature there was still some sort of kindness in their subconscious. “My late husband would beat me almost everyday if something wasn't up to his standard.” You said while wrapping yourself in a bathrobe. Maybe, just maybe they'd have a little mercy on you if you tell them the truth. “Yet he wanted me to conceive a child…and he fucked me nonstop until I couldn't walk… “ Kakucho felt his hand twitch for a second, raising your hand at a woman - it made his blood boil. Even though Bonten was involved with prostitution, their merchandise would still be protected.

Your mother-in-law's declining health led to her asking you to bear her only son's child. It was a request made out of love. She loved you and adored you like her own daughter, yet she was completely blind to her son's true nature. Manipulative, cunning, aggressive and silver tongued - that's what he was. He tried to knock you up but had no luck. With a visit to the doctor, you'd come to find out about your infertility. This caused a maelstrom of emotions, you were glad yet heartbroken. Cursed to suffer alongside him and unable to conceive. After his mother's death the beatings worsened, the cheating began and so did the drinking.

“Did you miscarry?” Kakucho's question made you chuckle, making him open his eyes to face you. The sight in front of him was that of beauty and horror. The thin bathrobe left little to the imagination, the outline of your perky breasts made him blush. Your figure was gorgeous, your frame was perfect and your eyes almost had an ethereal glow to them. Yet the bruises on your body made him sick. How could someone do that to you? Was your love and devotion not enough for that sadistic son of a bitch? “Apparently I'm hollow…” Your hands caressed your belly as you spoke. Confusion was written all over his face. “I can't have children.” For someone who knows very little about you, he was ready to kill your husband but alas he was already dead. Someone beat him to it.

There was little to no emotion in your voice. You accepted your infertility and begged to be divorced but he refused to let you go. He refused to see you happy, let alone happy with another man. “I know it doesn't mean much now but I'm very sorry.” Kakucho says and breaks you out of the misery spiral. For the first time in your life since your mother-in-law's death - someone actually said something sincere to you. “Thank you. Who knew strangers could provide such comfort?” You say and head to your bedroom to get dressed. Something about you made him curious. What else were you forced to endure?

From the doorway you could see the other three males laying on the couches and nodding off to sleep. Looking back at Kakucho, you noticed his eyes never left you. There was warmth building up inside you, but the reality of it all loomed over you like a rain cloud. Yet, the urge to feel that warmth overpowered you. “Mind if I close the door?” There was a tinge of playfulness in your tone. You knew he would keep his eyes on you. He nodded and gently closed the door himself, he didn’t want to catch the attention of the others.

Shedding the bathrobe and letting it drop to the floor, you kept eye contact with him. You could hear him swallow thickly as his eyes began to wander around your naked figure. Kakucho just about groaned as your body was on full display. The bruises, scars and cuts drew him in like a moth to a flame. He began to walk towards you and closed the distance. Seeing how you could barely lift your arms or bend over, he helped you get dressed. There was tension but as much as he wanted to act on it, he couldn’t. You were too fragile to even touch.

Finally after helping you to bed, he stepped out of the room and left the door ajar. “I know that look…” The sound of Ran’s voice broke through the silence. Turning around, Kakucho saw that Rindou and Sanzu were asleep on the couch. Ran was sitting by the island and smirking at him. “We might need a little help tomorrow.” Kakucho says and makes a phone call. The remainder of the night was quiet, you slept peacefully for the first time in 3 years.

*the next morning*

You felt a warm hand on your shoulder, it was gently tugging at you and waking you up. Mumbling, you turned to face Kakucho. He was standing next to your bed. “It’s time.” He says softly. Slowly sitting up you notice he was the only one with you. The others had left already, maybe they were making their way to the lawyers office…wait, what time was it? Grabbing your phone, you see that it’s 8:30 a.m.- you were late. Sensing your panic, Kakucho explained that they let you sleep in as the reading wasn’t until 10:00 a.m.

During the car ride, you stared out the window and wondered if you would live to see the next sunrise. “Did you tell your boss about that?” You asked him and broke the silence. Apparently there was more than just a simple helping hand last night. You laid your soul bare and told him some additional information that Bonten needed to be aware of. “It’s been taken care of.” He says and keeps his eyes on the road.

When you arrived, you made your way to the office and upon entering you saw it. Well to be exact, her. Your husband’s mistress and the wicked smirk she had on her face. She was clad in a skin tight black dress that accentuated her bust and belly, a large ‘fur’ coat, stilettos and was wearing bright red lipstick. It was a stark contrast compared to you. You were appropriately dressed like a widow, wearing black dress pants and a black blazer - it was to cover your bruises and also be comfortable during this shitty reading. You had neutral makeup on, just enough to hide the bruises and dark circles. “Well well…you showed up knowing that you ain’t getting shit. How bold of you (Y/N).” The mistress said while eyeing you up and down. Kakucho glared at her, after what you told him last night - he wanted nothing more than to wipe that smirk off her face.

In walked the lawyer about 2 minutes later, he was a very short man with gray hair and thick glasses. He carried a serious look on his face and by the creases in his face, you can tell his scowl was permanent. Clearing his throat, the lawyer sat down and confirmed that the required party was present to begin. Before he could begin with the reading, the mistress interrupted him by saying something that made you ball up your fists. “Sorry, I need to run to the ladies room. Being pregnant and all, you just can’t hold your bladder.” Her faux apologetic tone was a jab at you and your infertility. Of course she knew, your husband made it known to every prostitute he slept with. How she managed to stick him, you weren’t sure but you no longer cared enough to harbor any jealousy towards their affair. The only thing that managed to hurt you or cause you anger was the fact that she always threw your infertility in your face. It was worse when she found out she was pregnant with his child. Constant bullying and teasing by them both ensued. She was currently 4 months pregnant.

When she returned, you kept your eyes focused on the lawyer and asked him to proceed. You couldn’t stand being in the same room as her. “Very well…we are gathered here today to read the final will and testament of (Husband’s Name). ‘To my wife, (Y/N), I leave to you only one thing, my mother’s wedding ring.’ To- ” The lawyer was interrupted by the loud cackle of the other woman, she was laughing and holding her sides. Ugh, you wanted nothing more than to rip her tongue out. Kakucho placed a hand on your shoulder and snapped you out of your thoughts. “I’m sorry, oh that was too funny! Please go on.” She says and wipes tears from her eyes and calms herself.

The lawyer subtly rolls his eyes and proceeds. “As I was saying, ‘To (Mistress’s name), I leave to you all my assets and fortune as you carry our child and my bloodline.’...” Of course she was elated and smiling from ear to ear. Kakucho could see that she was only looking forward to the money and didn’t care that the man in quest had passed away. She was giggling and making a whole scene about how lucky she was and how the god’s blessed her. The lawyer kept reading the will and then the room went silent when the lawyer read the last line of your husband’s will. “In order for (Mistress) to claim any assets and fortunes, a paternity test will be required to prove that the child is the biological child of (husband’s name) no later than 1 month of the child’s birth. In the event that the child is not his, all assets and fortunes will go to his spouse, (Y/N).” As she is a floozy, you knew there was a 3% chance that it wasn’t his child. All eyes turned to look at her and her face was red. She was pissed. “How dare he question his own child?! I will prove it as soon as I am able to get the paternity test!” She yelled and huffed. To be honest, you just wanted to go home, you didn’t care who ended up with anything - Bonten was going to take it anyway.

Just then Kakucho’s cell phone rings, he lightly taps your shoulder and gives you a warm smile before he steps out of the room. The mistress caught it all. Her fires simmered when she noticed the look of what she assumed was worry on your face. “Moving on so soon (Y/N)?” She says and it looked as if she was baring her fangs at you. Maybe she could try and take Kakucho from you too. You ignored her question and asked the lawyer what needed to be done in the meanwhile as the mistress was in her 2nd trimester. He explained that you will manage all assets and issue a monthly allowance until the child is born.

After 10 minutes, Kakucho walked back into the room and asked you not to contest the will. You figured that Bonten instructed him on how you needed to proceed. They will obtain the assets through the mistress, knowing them - it will be easier than dealing with you. You knew the ins and outs of the legal world so you may be able to contest in some sort of way. It was a little upsetting that you were being tossed aside but at the same time you were grateful that you didn’t have to continue suffering for your husbands fuck ups.

The lawyer presents you and the mistress a document, it was to confirm that you were present at the hearing and will not contest the will. You read over the information to make sure it was all accurate, once confirmed - you signed it and returned the documents to the lawyer. The mistress was so giddy and had a shit eating smirk on her face that it made the lawyer roll his eyes again. The poor man was not having it. Once everything was signed, his assistant came to collect the documents and was personally dropping off the documents to the courthouse for filing. Everything was to be expedited and they did not want to waste any time. “(Y/N), I guess I will come by before the end of the month and drop off my things. Since I will be moving into the house and all.” She says smugly and leaves the office. You wanted to punch her in the face but had to resist the urge to upset her as she is pregnant. It’s not the baby’s fault that their mother is a fucking bitch.

Standing up, you thanked the lawyer and headed out, leaving Kakucho behind. You were so overwhelmed with emotions that you forgot about him and just wanted to go home to pack up your things. You didn’t want to leave anything personal behind for that woman to enjoy. Once you were out of sight, Kakucho placed a document on the lawyer’s desk. He didn’t say a word and let the lawyer read it to himself first. The lawyer gasped and chuckled. “I expect you will arrange a meeting within the next 2 weeks, yes?” Kakucho said and the lawyer nodded. He exited the office and headed back to headquarters.

The next few days were a blur, you were trying to figure out what to do with your personal belongings and searching for a new place to live. Even if your husband would have left you the penthouse - you didn’t want it. There were too many bitter memories in this hellhole. Lucky for you that you set aside money for yourself and weren’t fully dependent on your husband, you were able to afford living comfortably by yourself. With some of your injuries healed or at least not as bothersome, you were able to move around a little better. It allowed you to pack and put things in storage. Luckily, Kakucho came by everyday to help you. He was extremely kind and believe it or not a great cook. In the midst of all the chaos in your life, he was slowly becoming your rock.

There were innocent gestures that made your heart skip a beat. As much as you tried not to get attached to another man, it was hard when the man in question was treating you like an actual human and not a punching bag.

By the end of week 2, you received a call from your husband’s lawyer - he stated that you and the mistress needed to come back down to his office for a final reading and to confirm that the paperwork was accurately filed. You asked if this was something that could be confirmed over the phone but he said no. “It is in your best interest to attend, you also need to sign an additional statement.” Great… You didn't want to see the mistress and her smug face. It was rather short notice, you had to attend tomorrow evening. Ending the call you prepared to let Kakucho know. Either way Bonten was bound to know about this right? Regardless, it was no longer your concern as the mistress would be taking hold of all your husband’s assets.

A hard knock on your front door spooked you and you thought it was going to be none other than her as she promised to stop by. Huffing in annoyance you walk over and open the door but were caught off guard by the gentleman that stood in there. “(Y/N).” Kakucho was standing in the doorway and made a chill run down your spine. The timing was too perfect. Were they wire tapping your home? You wouldn’t be surprised. “You’re still packing?” His calm demeanor was rather soothing and welcome. Opening the door wider you let him in. “I have to.” You smile softly.

He noticed that you were packing other things that were rather questionable and gave you an odd look. You chuckle. Kakucho was taken aback at how sweet your laugh was. He realized how much you changed, it was like night and day. On day one, you were broken and quiet - almost frail and had given up on life. Today, you are warm and vibrant. Was this the same woman?

Throughout the day you were drinking wine and offered him some, at first he refused as he was technically on the job but you somehow got him to accept. Now you were down to the third wine bottle. Getting to know your executioner was rather endearing. Aside from Bonten being what it is, their members weren’t as bad as they seemed - well for now anyways. With the previous visit leaving a bit of tension behind, the wine was giving you the edge you needed to get closer. Who knows, this might be the last time you could sleep with someone of your choosing. Bonten might end up selling you or leaving you penniless.

“So, why do you do this?” You ask and lean your head back on the couch. You both were sitting on the floor and leaning back against the couch. There were multiple boxes, papers, momentos and wine bottles scattered about. Kakucho picked up a photo and looked at it, exhaling as he pointed at your husband in the photograph- “To keep people like him in check.” There were various things that came to light after you asked Kakucho to elaborate. Backroom deals, gambling, fraud, prostitution and of course murder - they were all dealt with by Boten. Your husband ended up joining them as a partner after trying to move into their territory. Some things were a little familiar to you but there were other unsavory things that hit you like a truck. It made you sick. Your husband owed them money amongst other things.

All this wealth was obtained by walking on other people’s corpses. Your husband not only destroyed you but he also destroyed others. It was naive of you to think that you were the only one who was taking in his wrath. Sensing your disquiet, Kakucho opted to change the subject. “You will be set free, (Y/N).” He says softly. Turning to look at him, you noticed his eyes were glossed over - oh that innocent look on his face… It made you want to devour him. “You know you shouldn’t promise things like that.” You say coyly. You were just teasing but at the same time you meant what you said.

Taking a chance and letting the liquid courage take over, you leaned over and pressed your forehead against his. The unsteady breathing and sweet scent of alcohol only drew you in. “What are we doing?” He whispers and almost pouts when you bite your lip. “I want you to make me feel like a woman again.” You almost whimper your reply and place your hand on his chest. Oh you just made Bonten’s number 3 head spin. In the blink of an eye, his lips were on yours - hungrily devouring every breath and whimper. For once, you were enjoying getting kissed, you were enjoying the taste of alcohol on someone else’s lips and you were sinking into bliss.

You felt your heart racing, it was racing out of excitement rather than fear. His hands began to travel along your body and touched places that you never thought would make your heart skip a beat. The more heated the kiss got, the more you wanted him to lay you down already - you were desperate.

Feeling bolder, you moved your hands south and felt the bulge that was throbbing. You breath almost caught in your throat - he felt bigger than anything you’ve ever had before, larger than your now dead husband. Wasting no time, you made haste and unbuckled his belt, you were leading. Throbbing in your hands was Kakucho’s member, oh the gods gifted him with more than just a menacing look. Leaning back away from him you took in the sight in front of you. Heavy panting, chest heaving, glossy eyes and parted lips - he was beyond handsome. You paused a little too long before you were snapped out of your daydream.

“You’re not gonna leave me like this are you?” He pants and moves your hand in a stroking motion, sending a jolt of electricity down his shaft. Oh how he was making your brain turn into mush. Continuing your motions, you felt your core aching and in desperate need of attention. Running your thumb over his leaking slit, you felt his hips jerk and he let out the sweetest moan. “Kakucho…” You say coyly and put a little more pressure around his length. He moans a response and gazes at you. His mind was also melting and on the verge of turning into mush. “Can I…taste you?” You ask while leaning in and give his tip a kitten lick that makes his eyes roll back. He chuckles and gives you permission to devour him.

Taking him in your mouth, you taste his sweet essence and bob your head slowly up and down. Focusing on his tip, your tongue swirls around the head and he feels his vision getting hazy. He was a lot to take in, with the tip hitting the back of your throat, you had a feeling he was going to tear you apart later. To him it felt like sweet torture, you were giving him affection - something that he hasn’t felt in a long time and yet you were going so slow with your movements that he wanted nothing more than to thrust his hips up to make you gag. Hearing those husky moans and his breath hitch made your folds begin to stick to the fabric of your panties. Pleasing him like this only made butterflies run rampant in your stomach.

Releasing his member from your mouth, you took a long lick from the base of his cock up to his flushed tip. You continued to take his length further into your mouth but not too deep, you wanted to keep him on edge and make him whine a little longer. Your jaw was getting sore but you wanted to keep going.

Kakucho placed his hand on the back of your head and pushed you down further. It made you gag a little but you welcomed his actions. They were gentle, unlike your husband - he would force your head down until you couldn’t breathe properly or until you threw up. He would leave your throat and jaw sore for days and wouldn’t care if you could barely eat the next day. Moving your hand to his length, you start to pump his cock while sucking and it sends him into overdrive. “Ngh…(Y/N), wait! Shit, you’re gonna make me cum…” He moans and tries to pull you off but fails. You were determined to swallow his seed.

The vibrations of your moans travel down his cock and into his core. Kakucho was getting lost in heaven. The very woman who Bonten was going to take everything from was on her knees and pleasing him. Your pace began to quicken as you felt his length twitch and the vein along his shaft pulsed. His coil was so tightly wound that the moment he felt it snap, his eyes rolled back into his skull and that numbing sensation made his toes curl. Hearing him come undone was bliss, to know that you could make a man like him melt and make him whimper - it did wonders to your ego. Your husband would always say that you were good for nothing, that you would never be able to satisfy a man and yet here you are with one of the country’s most dangerous men. You were giving him the blowjob of a lifetime.

Swallowing his thick seed, you made sure to not waste a single drop and continued to suck his sensitive tip even after he emptied himself inside your mouth. “Stop…oh fuck!” Kakucho whines and pulls your hair. Releasing his member with a pop, you smile and slowly stroke him - making his hips twitch and his whimpers louder. Nothing in the world could compare to this feeling. You felt validated and worthy of satisfying another man, you felt like a woman for the first time in years. Your husband only ever made you feel like a toy, almost as if your sole purpose in life was for him to break you. He would treat you less like a woman and even less as a human being.

Catching his breath, Kakucho remained seated on the floor - dazed and determined on what to do to you. “Get up…” He pants and pulls you up. That tone of voice was quite authoritative. You obey and get on your feet. He takes your hand and leads you to your bedroom. “Strip…” His low tone made a chill run down your spine and you removed your clothing. He too started to remove all his clothing. When he saw that you left your undergarments on, he paused. “Everything, (Y/N).” He demanded and layed down on your bed. Feeling the cool air hit your skin, you shivered and he noticed. “Come here.” He says warmly, he was trying to reassure you.

Seeing him in all his glory…oh how your cunt clenched instinctively. His defined muscles, the veins on his arms - it made you almost drool. Even the scar on his chest that appeared to be a bullet hole had your slick dripping. Climbing on the bed, you take place next to him and run your hands along his body. The slow and gentle touches made his member twitch. Even in its flaccid state, it still twitched and looked big. He rolled you on top of him and slid his arms underneath your thighs. The confused look on your face made him chuckle. He lifts you by your thighs and slides you up towards his face. The movement was so sudden that it made you squeak in surprise. Looking down at him, his pupils were blown as he had your pretty cunt in his face.

“Wait…I-ngh!” You moaned out loud as he pushed your hips down and buried his face in your honeypot. He was sucking on your bundle of nerves and wasted no time in making you scream his name. Your hands quickly found solace by holding on to the headboard and your forehead was leaning against the wall. Whoever was lucky enough to be on the other side of that wall could hear you moan like a whore in heat. Kakucho snaked his hand between your thighs and slid two thick digits inside your tight walls. Pumping them in and out while sucking on your clit had your eyes rolling back and your hips grinding into his face. Hearing him slightly struggle underneath you only made your coil tighten.

Such lewd and wet sounds echoed in the room along with your wanton moans. “Ahn…Ahn…Kakucho! It feels s’good!” You mewl and run your hands along your chest, pinching and teasing your nipples. The electricity coursing through your veins had you in a daze. Not even your husband ever bothered to eat you out before - Kakucho’s gift to you was more than anything your husband could have offered you. He curled his fingers to find your trigger, when he found it your legs were beginning to shake and your hips were stuttering. Your pitch got higher and higher as you neared total bliss.

That unmistakable tingle that ran down your spine made you throw your head back and total ecstasy as your orgasm was ripped out of you. Kakucho didn’t stop, he kept going - he wasn’t satisfied with just one. “Ngh, s’too much!” You whine and try lifting your hips away from his face. However, the iron grip that he had on your waist made it impossible for you to escape. “Mhn…one more, just one more…” He pants from between your legs. The sound of your sweet voice kept him spellbound. He wanted to keep hearing you cry out for him.

Your overly sensitive bundle of nerves was throbbing from the continuous stimulation. He moved lower and shoved his tongue inside your tight cavern. Kakucho wanted to taste everything, his warm and wet muscle felt like heaven. With your walls fluttering you thought you were going to lose it again. “Stop! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum!” You whine pathetically, begging him to stop knowing full well that you didn’t want him to. The final push was him tracing circles on your clit with enough pressure to make your vision go white.

Kakucho made you gush and he took it all. The obscene sounds of him slurping up your honey echoed in the room. Your whole body was shaking from the intense orgasm that you felt almost light headed. Slowly, he slid your body down and made you collapse into his chest. The energy was drained from you, barely being able to move or respond when he asked if you were ok. Only a small hum could be heard from you. Wrapping his arms around you, he placed a kiss on your head and whispered. “We’re not done yet. You wanted to feel like a woman? I’ll keep showing you…” His low tone made you smile softly and bury your face into his chest.

The rest of the night became a blur. By the time morning came you were left disheveled, sore and satisfied. Kakucho meant what he said. All night he made you moan, scream, cum and cry out in pure bliss. He stuffed you full of his cum to the point where the sheets were beyond saving. His aftercare was even better, got you water and some light snacks for you to nibble on - even medicine for your throat. To think that this was one of the most feared men in all of Japan, last night he was more than that to you. Rolling over, you see Kakucho sleeping next to you. He looked so peaceful and innocent despite the prominent scar on his face. Seeing his chest rise and fall softly, you take a better look at the tattoo on his chest - it looks like all the higher ups have this. You recalled the man with the feline like eyes and the placement of his tattoo on his temple. The two Haitani brothers and their neck tattoos. Also, their leader - the man with the empty eyes and white hair, he had his on the nape. It would be a tattoo that you’d need to familiarize yourself with.

Kakucho stirred in his sleep and woke up with you kissing his cheek. “Good morning…” You say softly and ask him if he’s hungry. You both opted to get up and shower…together, it ended up in another round of sex that led to skipping breakfast and diving straight into lunch. Offering him a change of clothes, he accepted - besides, the clothes were brand new and never worn. No need to worry about the mistress recognizing it and accusing you of theft of ‘her things’.

Arriving at the lawyers office, you see that the mistress was already there. She was smiling smugly from ear to ear. When she noticed you with Kakucho, her smile faded ever so slightly - jealous that he was still with you. “So quick to move on…what a shame (Y/N). Looks like you truly don’t deserve any of (H/N)’s fortune.” You paid her no mind, you just had the best night and morning of your life. “I feel bad for you when you give birth, that baby’s gonna have a big ass head just like the mother and father…you might just tear (M/N). You might never be able to please a man again.” You say without thinking. The sudden fire in you made Kakucho almost burst out laughing. Quite the insult to a pregnant woman, she of course gasped and huffed defending her unborn baby’s head size. The poised woman was gone, you no longer had to keep appearances nor bite your tongue.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made the room fall silent. He took a seat at this desk and went over the original will one last time before making you and the mistress review the already signed and filed documents. Both parties agreed that everything was in place. The mistress couldn’t help but keep chuckling to herself as she repeated words loud enough for you to hear. “...to my wife, I leave nothing.” It was annoying but you didn’t let her get to you - you wanted to come back home and have dinner with Kakucho.

“Now that both parties confirmed, please note that there is a new document that was received after the filing that affects this arrangement and cannot be disputed.” He says and narrows his eyes. For a moment you felt your stomach flip - what the hell was he talking about? Did the wench take an early paternity test? It’s not like it mattered, you knew you were going to vacate the home and keep your mother-in-law’s ring. That much was certain. Acknowledging the lawyer's words, you asked him to elaborate and explain what the real reason was for you both to be here. He nodded and began to read out loud the document in his hands:

“From the University of Tokyo Hospital, below is the information requested by (Husband’s full name) on (11 Nov YYYY) and (12 Dec YYYY). The original tests and new tests administered resulted in the following:

Spermatozoa count - below 2 million per mil.

Sperm motility - below 20%

Sperm viscosity - high

Sperm morphology - abnormal

Unfortunately, both labs have confirmed that the patient is infertile. With the severe lack of sperm motility and spermatozoa count - treatment is not possible.”

Everything in the room went dead silent. You felt faint and nauseous, was this actually true? The sudden screech of the mistress startled you and she came charging at the lawyer’s desk to snatch the paper out of his hands. She was beet red and almost foaming at the mouth. Reading the document in hand she crushed the edges that she was holding and her hands were shaking. “This…this can’t be! It has to be fake!” She screams and looks at Kakucho who was biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling. “You probably faked this document to get in on your whore’s money!” She spits and rips the paper to shreds. The lawyer simply sighs and asks you to sign the document confirming that you were present at this hearing. Apparently your late husband amended his will one month prior to his death. When he received the first results in November he contacted his lawyer to insert a new clause. Originally he wasn’t going to leave you anything, however, due to him sleeping around not getting anyone pregnant - he grew suspicious.

With the mistress screaming like a banshee and almost attacking the lawyer, security was called to have her escorted out. The lawyer was quick to have you and Kakucho sign as a witness to all this. “Ms. (L/N), congratulations - you have all your husband’s assets and fortune. Please rest assured that the mistress will not be able to contest.” He said softly and smiled. His smile was warm, it’s as if he knew this was going to happen. How long was this information in his hands? Wait, is this why Kakucho said for you not to contest the will?

The lawyer excused himself and left the office for you to have a moment to yourself. The room was spinning and thought you were going to die. It wasn’t just the shock from the hospital results but the fact that your husband abused you and beat you non stop for being infertile when in reality he was the one shooting blanks the entire time. You began to laugh to yourself, slowly building up to a cry that made you drop to your knees. It was painful. Recalling all the times he called you hollow or less of a woman when your pregnancy tests would come out negative - it broke your heart. You were both the problem, the blame shouldn’t have been just placed on you.

“(Y/N), there is something else I need to tell you. We did some digging and whoever was in charge of getting your fertility results a few years back royally fucked up which rendered your tests inconclusive and marked as infertile by mistake. You can have children.” Kakucho says softly and helps you stand back up. A second wave of emotions hit you and panic soon followed. You were fucking him raw yesterday and this morning like a rabbit in heat. “Kakucho…how long have you known for?!” You ask him and shove him. There was a slight pained expression on his face, he should have told you sooner. “That medicine I gave you this morning was a morning after pill. (Y/N), I’m sorry, I let myself get carried away.” At least he was honest. Last night he snuck out of your apartment to purchase the pill and would pass it off as ibuprofen or something since you were saying your throat was sore. Though he wasn’t expecting to sleep with you again in the morning he explained that he would take responsibility if the contraceptive fails. Whatever your decision would be, he will respect it and will do what he can. He made sure to explain this to you and managed to pull you in. Crying in his arms, he embraced you and did his best to calm you down.

“You didn’t sleep with me just for my husband’s assets, did you?” You ask a little broken hearted. The night you spent with him meant more to you than just sex. It was you liberating yourself once and for all from your husband. You didn’t expect to feel something more for Kakucho. Maybe it was the fact that he made you feel validated and praised you like a goddess, but it felt real. “The assets have nothing to do with what we did last night or this morning.” He assured you.

*4 months later*

You signed off on all documents that allowed you to transfer or ‘donate’ your husband’s assets to Bonten. The head of the organization, Sano Manjiro, handed over a legal sized envelope with your name on it to you. He said nothing and walked away. “W-wait, what is this?” You ask him and he waves you off without responding. Opening the envelope you read over the information and gasp. Though you handed over everything to Bonten, they gave you something in return. Manjiro was kind enough to leave you something that the three of you could enjoy. Kakucho leaned over and placed a peck on your head. “You know, he is kind of excited to be an uncle...”

END.

TAGS: @anxious-chick

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black-dhalias · 6 months ago

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My Brother's Wife

Mary Stuart X F!Valois!Reader Warnings: mild violence, mentions of death/dying, murder, marital affairs

SMUT includes sexual depictions, nudity.

You duck out of the way of the wine glass that was thrown in your direction, as your brother reacts to your quip regarding his endeavors. Your laugh soars through the room, as he desperately tries to gather his clothes from the bedroom floor—the girl's eyes widen with shock at your exploits. If he wasn't smiling, she might have actually thought he was upset at you.

"Francis! We're supposed to be in the courtyard, greeting Queen Mary!" You toss the girl her dress, which she readily grasps and begins dressing quickly as your eyes turn back to Francis. He may be your twin, the perfect heir, but he seemed to be actively working against this marriage.

"What if I don't want to get married, Y/N?" You shrug, dumping the leftover wine from the second glass and pouring yourself a glass. You look up, downing the glass in one fell swoop—rolling your eyes in the process.

"Well, let's see—you get to marry a Queen. You get her nation. Her armies. Her resources" You count off on your fingers. "I'm sure she's beautiful." You pause, looking at your last finger, tutting a little. "Oh, and get this, you get a say in who you marry." Your mouth forms into a 'o', before you continue in your fun and pour yourself another glass. Francis sighs, pulling on the vest that goes over the white undershirt as finally smiles at the sister.

He holds out his arms, and your smile drops for a second before you take a final sip and set the wine glass onto the table and walk into his embrace. He holds you tight, kissing the top of your head.

"I surprisingly missed this." You pull away, straightening his collar so that it's not nearly as lopsided. "I missed you, Y/N."

"Trust me, I'm sure you're the only one." You tut a little, popping your lips and you head towards the door. Then look back, your smile is not as goofy as before, more sincere. "I missed you too."

Your father had sent you away to 'woo' Russia, hoping to close the deal with the great tsar's, but there was some tiny plot holes in that endeavor. Russia was in a state of terror, the tsar had instituted complete military control over the nobles and suddenly leaving was the only option. It was stupid of Henry to send you there, Catherine nearly had his head when she found out—but your mission almost succeeded. Had potential.

Leaving Francis's chambers, you head in the direction of the courtyard—a sense of bewilderment at how different everything seems now, it just doesn't seem like home anymore. You missed your family, well correction—you missed Francis and mother—you missed Bash and Claude, although you hadn't seen either since your return.

In fact, as your steps echo off the stone floors, you think about how Henry will probably send you off to another palace soon enough. He wants you married, desperate to capture control across Europe—if England's perverse Henry the Eighth was still alive, your so called father would probably sell you off as one of his many wives.

Henry wanted power and his many daughters would supply that to him through marriages, royal marriages that built alliances across the continent. You coming back was an unfortunate and unplanned detriment to his need for power. You spot mother moving in the direction of the courtyard—“mother!” You shout, her smile brightening as she spots you moving towards her. She embraces you warmly which contrasts her usually cold exterior, but you’re her daughter—in all your faults, you were still good like Francis.

Catherine’s hands rest on either side of your face, “I missed you sweet girl.” You are her dearest, her sweet Y/N. Not arrogant like Lisa, or reckless like Claude—her perfect angel. You smile brightly, cheeks squished between her hands before she lets you go.

You almost wished that you were here the entire time, instead of a world away—in an unfamiliar country, with unfamiliar people. However, in many ways, you respect yourself for managing so well in Russia. You were spoken of highly there, respected for the rooms you commanded and the time you spent with high ranked nobles. Not just anyone could do that, and you pride yourself on that ability—to command attention, it made for interesting fun.

Catherine's expression falls as she hears the bells, the sound of the arrival— "Now we must go greet the Queen of Scots." Her tone is exactly as you imagined it, distaste—in all honesty, mother never was good about hiding her feelings. She seemed easy to read to those who know her, and maybe that's where you get it from—your mother. Like you, she commanded rooms and respect.

"If we must..." You see the beam of pride as she turns, heading out of the main door where Henry is already there. At his side, his mistress Diane—you tighten your shoulders at the image of his whore, god you can hardly believe she's kept his attention after all these years. And while you love Bash, you absolutely hate his wretched mother.

However, as you watch the Queen of Scots leave the carriage, you are not greeted with the same girl as before. She is much taller, and older, and more beautiful than you would expect of a Scot.

You watch Mary from the other side of the grand room, your eyes following every movement as she catches your eye briefly. Your heartbeat picks up as you realize she is stunning in that black dress—absolutely the most beautiful thing in this room. Everytime she spins, her eyes would meet your intent gaze and the world would spin out of focus for her. And for a second, she would forget how to breathe.

Yet the poor fool stumbles through the steps and you smirk a little, and unexpectedly watch as the Queen excuses herself. Yet the smirk wears off the moment she turns her attention towards you, and your stomach does a little flip.

The world could disappear for all you care, no amount of suitors could compare to the woman walking towards you. There is urgency as she brushes past you, eye contact not breaking until you get a flash of her raven hair.

Gods I'm done for, you think to yourself as you turn on your heel and follow after her—watching as the skirt of her dress ripples. You speed up, closing the distance—feeling every breath you inhale. Palms sweating as you see her turn the corner.

You barely reach out your hand, and what were you supposed to do? What was supposed to happen then?

You were always going to grab her wrist, pulling her into your arms before pinning her to the wall. Your lips on hers, urgency in her touch as she grabs the base of your corset to pull you close.

Her lips taste of raspberries and vanilla, the sweet taste becoming an addiction as you pour all your affections into your touch. One hand resting on the base of her neck, thumb running along the lower part of her jaw. The skin is just as soft as you imagined, absolutely flawless. While your other hand is firmly holding onto her hip.

You half expected her to push you away, but for her, your lips are just as addictive—they taste of wine, and the way your eyes closed. She had your face memorized, every curve and feature. Your eyelashes, how they brush the top of your cheeks... Mary can feel your hand reaching for the handle, to push it in and let you into one of the unused chambers. You separate yourself for a second, shutting the door, which gives you a second to examine Mary's expression.

Her big round brown eyes, the way she seems to be reaching out to you as you approach—her hands melding into your own as you turn her, so that her back is pressing into your chest. One arm encircling her waist, while your other hand brushes the hair away from her shoulder to kiss the flesh there right where shoulder turns into the neck.

The urgency returns as her arm reaches behind to tangle in your hair, but also pull you much closer than before. She deepens the sensation, tilting her head to expose more skin—the little sounds she makes, every inhale and exhale. You bite down, not hard, and the gasp she makes is like music to your ears—a smile dances your lips; may candle light be the only way you ever see Mary.

Your fingers work the laces of her corset, cheek resting against her hair—lips resting just above her ear, as you whisper. "Tell me how much you want this?" Was she expecting you to turn the other cheek when she tried to kiss your cheek earlier today, but instead kissed the corner of your lip? Did she think you would not notice the way she seemed to always try to catch your eye?

Did she think you would not notice the way Francis looked at her, but she, in all her jealousy, could only ever look at you?

Your fingers drag the strings, taking your time—enjoying the sensation of her corset loosening and her body falling into you. The ribbons loop around your fingers as you feel the hunger returning, apexing just as the corset drops—completely forgotten. Unneeded.

When you drop her onto the mattress, you stand completely upright and recall one truth. A single, and perfect thought—Mary is the most radiant woman you ever seen, and as she beacons you close.

“I’ve never wanted anyone like this.” Her words do not echo, they are a breathless whisper shared and it sends a wave of pleasure to your core.

Her beauty is proof that angels must exist, and as you kiss the supple curve of her breast—her body becomes your place of worship. Fingers dragging along her arms and then torso, as your lips find a home pressing kisses to her thighs. Bathing in her warmth, body curving beneath, but it only draws you closer.

Should you have stopped it there? Ended this runaway affair long before anyone caught on—probably, but you were never good at cards. You always raised the stakes, and dared yourself closer to the sun.

No one caught onto the glances, or the rendezvous—because who would think twice of the princess and her brothers wife? It was easy to imagine a much more kosher meeting, than to think it was even a thought.

Even as tensions rose between Catholics and Protestants, as the world of French Court became ever more complicated—you never hesitated to be at her side. The doting sister in law, mother hated it.

“Y/N?” You perk at mother’s tone, hmming as you shut the book in front of you. Your morning routine of breakfast had become tedious, but she insisted you come today. “You need to end your affair with Mary.”

“Affair?”

“Don’t bother denying. I’ve known of your preferences since you were six, but others are beginning to question your marriage prospects.” You take a bite, rolling your eyes at that matter—you had hoped with fathers untimely death, that your marriage requirement died with him.

“I’d wager everyone is none the wiser. That you simply hate that it’s Mary.”

“So you won’t even deny it?”

“You said yourself, don’t bother denying—so I’m not.”

“Mary is dangerous.”

“Mother, they say the same for you.”

“She will be the death of your brother and the undoing of France?!” You push away your plate roughly, “I will not let her have you too!”

“It is much too early to be dealing with your mood swings.” You give a smile, pushing away from the table and beginning to walk towards the door. “I tolerate your outbursts, but blind accusations, I refuse to acknowledge them any more.”

“I have no intention of marrying a daughter, let alone the twin sister to the King of France—to a Bourbon prince.”

This had once been a quiet conversation shared between yourself and Mary in the dark of a corridor, although your thoughts lingered on her warmth rather than words. It was a good thought, a lot of pretty words that could help the country.

“It’s more of a prospect, one that could bring Catholics and Protestants closer than before.” Mary asserted, you see your mother’s eyes shift around the room, guaranteeing that no one else could hear.

“It’s a way to keep your urges at bay.”

“Mother—it was my idea. A good prospect and a good match for France.” She glares at you, and for the first time, you truly feel she might mean it.

“Oh sweet girl, if only you understood… All Mary wants is for you to be whisked away.” And in the same breath, you mean it too—glaring at her.

“Actually it would keep me close as Conde plans to remain in French Court.” Every time you glanced at Mary, you’d note the way the necklace compliments her neck—then you’d note the frown your mother wore. The crease in her brow.

“Would it make a difference if I said I loved him?” Her hands embrace your face, running her fingers along your cheeks—her lips seemed to smile but you saw through it. Could hear it as she began to speak.

“My dear—if I believed you capable of loving him, let alone a man—” She leans forward to whisper in your ear. Her tone biting. “I’d have married you off the minute you chose to bed her.”

#reign imagine #reign tv show #reign cw #reign #queen mary x reader #imagines #imagine #requests are open #fandom request #imagine requests #x reader #mary stuart x reader #reign x reader #Spotify

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wanyouzi · 7 months ago

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For the new saga, I have some of my own ideas, well, I hope many people will accept them, but unfortunately, in my country, many fans don't listen to what I say and just want to hear what they want to hear(My English level is not very good, the following are machine translatisee):

What I'm saying is that everyone has assumed Jay's goofy animations (which I would consider goofy enough) as the official established plot (note that plot and storyline are different, the storyline serves the plot). But in reality, Jay's first album did not have the long animations found in his new album, at most there were some short clips to help understand the storyline. The animators at the time drew their animations based on their own interpretations of the lyrics and their own imagination, creating excellent works one by one. Later albums saw Jay adding more and more long animations, it is likely that he did so because he saw more and more animations and wanted to try it himself (or at the request of his fans) to create his own animations. Jay has also said that he is not good at visual design, so he may have known that the animations he designed would not be good. (It seems that they were used to help understand the storyline, telling us that we're going to drown here, or that we're about to fight here.)

So, I think that what Jay thought of can be considered just one of the countless works, and if you don't like it, you don't have to watch his works.

In summary, the plot was something that Jay had thought out in advance, but the storyline was not. His animation was simply his own idea of the storyline, so if you don't like it, you don't have to watch it. (I think there will definitely be an animation where Ody has an epic battle with Poseidon, both of them getting badly hurt in the process, and Ody just barely wins in the end. Even if there isn't one, we can create our own, again, to reiterate, the plot is predetermined, but the storyline is free.)

Regarding the plot where a mortal defeats a god, and in the end, Poseidon is injured and says "Please," if you simply cannot stand this scene, then you can stop reading here and leave (thank you for your cooperation).

Epic, in essence, is a large-scale, adaptation and re-creation of the original work, rather than being completely based on the original classic. Why could Ody defeat Poseidon? It's not about who is stronger or weaker, it's about skill counter! Skill counter! Didn't Jay post his setting for the gods earlier? In his setting, even Hermes can fight Poseidon. Then, it makes sense for Ody to wear a windbag like Hermes and use speed to fight Poseidon. If Poseidon were as powerful as in myth, the fight between Hermes and Poseidon would be a joke, let alone Ody. (Of course, the jetpack is a little bit unrealistic.)

There's also the fact that Ody is fighting with Poseidon directly, which is just not realistic. Does Ody have to be the same wise and cunning as in the original? I think a human, no matter how powerful, is still just a human. After going through so much pain and suffering, he would break down, lose his mind completely, and give up. Let's not talk about the original here. In Epic, Ody is already a completely different person from the beginning. Epic's Ody would feel guilty for killing a baby, would he? He would, right? He would just pat himself on the back and walk away without any burden. Epic's Ody is suffering from the goddess's harassment on Calypso's island, would he? He would, right? He even had a child with the goddess.

For me, I would rather accept the epic version of the Odysey. If the epic version of the Odysey, which has endured all the sufferings over the past 20 years, can go home immediately, but then be stopped again, and still be able to play mind games with Poseidon as before, then I suggest abandoning the epic version and going back to the original work. The original version of the Odysey is more in line with everyone's mental standards.

Finally, I ask loyal readers not to curse me 🧎🏻‍♂️. If my opinion has made you uncomfortable, you can simply exit. Please don't curse me, I really fear it. Thank you for your cooperation 🙏🏻.(However, I welcome friendly discussions.)

#epic the vengeance saga #epic the musical #epic odysseus

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aldisobey · 3 months ago

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Foolproof

chapter 2 - Professor

Emmrich x Rook - Canon Divergent AU

The unlikely pair make their way to destinations

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AO3 Link - or read below - word count: ~3k

————

“Can’t just pinch a man…” Rook grumbled as he dug at his nails with a dull dagger. Shifted his legs where he crouched on the floor. More squat than sit. Careful to keep legs awake but well at ease. Kept an eye on the classroom’s two exits, picked his spot near the one he’d been thrown from. Looked down at a finger to pick with blade again.

Quiet here, still. And things were light, even if they were Maker knew how far down - the flickering veilfire illuminated where any need tread. He wondered if they might make it a different color someday. Must be a different magic from the signs in Minrathous. Certainly looked different…felt...he abandoned the thought as other classes started filing out. He stowed the dagger away to watch the procession.

The students were older, no children here, and many gilded to ridiculous extremes. Most ignored him. The others grimaced, perhaps snickered. And there was a bustle of guards flanking. Seemed more guard than student exiting some rooms.

Comparing gold on bodies with bodies following for protection…was the professor that petulant over one? The nobles, these rich, paraded around in force. Rook pursed his lips, this Emmrich did manage to teach Dorian. At least one spell he’d seen. It made sense he would think protection unnecessary, he itched at a scar, plenty mages thought the same.

It was then he noticed a gathering of new faces waiting near. All peering at the same door he’d been watching. Did they have a room somewhere? He was beginning to think he missed an important orientation. Damn that mist. What had they said?

ALONG THE SMALL BREATH A RIGHT HEEL TURNS

Right. That had been the last. Of some dozen lines. Turns out the ‘right’ heel could be the left given some context in their speech patterns or some shit. Some Watcher tried to explain it before leaving him with Vorgoth again. Rook groaned.

And as every class let out, he noted every class let out guards. It appeared that Volkarin alone had kept the sanctity of his classroom. Kept it free of…oh. Well. Maybe that beget the pinch. He wouldn’t ask for an apology today. Chewing on that thought the door he waited on moved. Voices came clear as sound passed unobstructed threshold. Professor Volkarin was dismissing the lot. Thankfully the necromancer didn’t end class with a showy trapdoor exit he couldn’t follow.

Then took a moment to stretch his arms and neck where he sat. Focused his sight past books, bags, and bodies to locate the professor packing up. Stood with a hop and smacked his legs awake. Leaned and held, just so, this way and that to pull the muscles for work. The walk to get here had been long. Very long. He’d managed to get quite lost, quite far away, quite a long time before making it back, he dammed the mist again, still felt stiff.

By the time he warmed up the mage he needed had latched his bag shut. The students filtered out to their keepers, Rook filtered in behind the last and made his way to the front. The professor seemed ready to leave, reached for his staff, Rook began a word. But Emmrich’s hand closed tight on rod with a rolling click of rings, and a pointed stare snapped the rogue’s mouth shut.

“You may follow.” The necromancer held the stare a moment, staff in one hand, fine bag in the other, then broke it as he headed towards the exit. Kept speaking in an even tone, “But you must keep quiet and out of the way. I am short enough on time and can spare none of it caring for you. Is that clear?”

He opened the door, held it there and looked back at Rook. Finally regarded him with an air that might allow a reply as he motioned for him to step to.

Rook blinked. Mind whirled. Held his tongue but put boots in motion. He edged sideways through the door. Tested a shy grin up as he moved past the towering figure, but the professor didn’t turn his way. Pointedly kept his eyes elsewhere and closed the door behind them. Headed off in the opposite direction Rook had started. Rook swung his head about, turned round, and sped to catch up.

“Questions allowed?” He asked once he pulled even.

“Perhaps. If they are pertinent.” Emmrich kept his usual glide, didn’t spare a look for the man taking a step and a half to his one.

Rook didn’t seem to mind. Almost started a leisurely jogging pace before finding a rhythm that matched well enough to the professor’s gait. “Can I cough?”

“Naturally all..” the barest hitch in pace, a click of staff and heel, a small sniff, “...may. It’s may.” The walking rhythm continued with the voiced cadence. A lecture now carrying over from the classroom, “You would say, ‘may I cough?’, when asking for permission. ‘Can I cough?’, begs to question if you have the ability to do so.”

A beat of silence.

“Huh.” From Rook. And for the length of two lecture halls nothing was heard. Nothing but their footsteps, Emmrich’s staff, Emmrich’s bangles, the soft flip of an overlong coat, a clink of rope on waist, and then a loud reverberating, “Neat.” A smirk in the tone. As if the man had figured something out. A piece in place for a picture forming.

The smirk kept on his lips as Rook ended up ahead from his lively jaunt. He paused, hands on hips, a finger tapping. Looked three ways at a crossroads.

Emmrich came shoulder to shoulder. Then turned wordlessly down their required path. Heard the question come from behind, “May I cough?”

“Should the need arise I daresay I won’t begrudge you your bodily needs.” The answer immediate. Precise. The professor never faltered. Rook froze in place. The walls of the Necropolis itself seemed to groan a moment, settle perhaps, and a small sound. Echoed once.

“Heh.” Said Rook.

Then he nearly clicked heel, and dashed to catch up with the long legged Nevarran already meters ahead. Smiled soft, friendly, kept a quicker pace to pull his own lead and walked backwards, finally caught a moment of that eye, “Look, Emmrich…”

“Professor Volkarin.” The words were curt and the gaze flicked sharp away. “If you would.”

Rook stopped. Surprisingly, so did the professor. They faced each other in the hallway. Distantly they could hear the bustle of the Necropolis.

“So, Professor may…” He tried again, a hand flicking in friendly gesture. But the hand and spirits fell as his words were cut by a stern.

“Volkarin.” And that gaze returned with emphasis. Rook nearly bit through his tongue to swallow a quick cursed retort. Drew in a breath instead and shoved his hands into his pockets, let them clench to fists there, his mood gone. Silent. His thoughts in.

Until one shone and the spark returned as he stepped to the side and bowed, swept one hand from pocket as he did his very best impression of the man he knew to flatter best.

“Of course, Professor Volkarin. Silly of me to speak to the magister, ah wait, Mourn Watcher. At your order then.” Bowed a little lower.

A hissed breath, and white-knuckled grips answered first, but a firm set jaw kept any first sharp words far away. Rook could hear the mage settling, but the defensive retort stung despite it heralding ‘victory’ of a kind. Emmrich’s tone had gone tight, still precise, but short. “I only wish to keep this professional.”

Rook snapped to with a half smile, hands at side, cupped with fingertips at the seam, a loose attention punctuated with click of heels drawn together. Kept his head straight at the opposite wall, but moved his eyes, a twinkled smirk to the frustration meeting him. “Right you are, Professor Volkarin, sir. Familiarity with the service, bad idea.” He nodded at the end.

Some noise between sigh and groan escaped the Necromancer, he drowned it with a tut before it could carry, “That is quite enough. You must understand, I don’t want you…” And at that moment Rook’s empty stomach roared, silenced further word until its rumbling completed.

Rook kept statuesque. Flicked his eyes away from Emmrich to keep a firm stare at the wall. “Apologies Professor Volkarin.” He dipped in lightest bow again, “A couple missed meals is no excuse for such offense.” Straightened, quirked a brow, a question held.

Emmrich’s shoulders rose high with the intake, he might have pressed fingers to forehead had they been free, but settled for the heavy up breath, and the full out down to ease the tension with an almost stretched shoulder movement. Rook thought he heard a crack in the back.

To Rook’s surprise the professor rested his staff on his lean form, cradled it with his shoulder, and brought his bag to front. Reached within at the release of a clasp. Must have known exactly where to go, there was no search, only a retrieval as he pulled a bundled handkerchief from some pocket. He offered it towards Rook, who put an open palm below, and placed it there.

“Let us proceed.” Emmrich clicked the bag shut, hefted staff once more, and started walking. Stride shorter by half. “The time will be close to my next appointment, but Manfred should have tea waiting.”

Rook swung into place at the mage’s side, matched the gait with ease as he loosened the knot at the top of the cloth. His eyes went wide in delight at the sight of almonds.

Rook picked one up and flicked it into the air with his thumb, caught it open mouthed at the bottom of the arc. Crunched loud.

“Why thank you Professor!”

There was a twitch of lip, perhaps a bitten word. But Emmrich stayed silent.

A sigh wouldn’t have been out of place then, but exhaustion kept it private, though not secret, Rook felt something off. And grinning through another crunch extended the almond-full hand towards the mage. Looked up, a wordless question in the eyes as Volkarin looked back at him.

And for the first time that day Rook felt his gaze truly met. Maybe an instant of warmth there, and then away with a gentle shake of head.

“Ah, thank you, but no. Help yourself.”

After the almonds and their crunch ran out they carried on in silence. A short polite word here or there, but quiet. The rest of the journey to Emmrich’s quarters wasn’t long, but it was winding.

Rook was beginning to think the labyrinthian structure of the place made it a death trap for the uninitiated. And why were there pools all about? Aesthetically… questionable, really, and ethically he had an issue. Had to halt in surprise at finding one in his path several times. And they said Kirkwall was a health hazard.

At one point the graceful professor took stepping stones over one such watery pit.

Rook ran round instead. And soon enough they came to the recessed entry of a rather expansive and ostentatious looking apartment.

————

There was a small foyer upon entry to the professor’s apartment. An almost liminal space with a closet at right to hide away coats, shoes, stow away bags, purses. Emmrich spent some time in ritual there. Rook waited, head swiveling to take in the home.

To the left and in, an open sitting room. A soft welcoming space with a fine rug and paintings, a few towering bookcases kept neat, a couple oddities on stands. A long wide couch and comfortable, expensive looking chairs opposite each other with a low table between that took center room. And there, in the middle of it all, a stunningly full bouquet.

Emmrich had finally shed the last of his ‘outside’ accoutrements. Stored them away to the right, and looked to Rook with a hand outstretched…no he wouldn’t have need. Retracted the hand, almost a flinch. Thankful that Rook had been nearly turned left staring at the flowers and missed the congenial muscle memory. Slipped into a comfortable yet proper pair of house shoes as he made sure his pin and vest and the rest were set straight before also noting the flowers in the side room and sighing.

He did hope Manfred hadn’t taken the bouquet from a grave. It had happened. Once. And he thought the matter settled, well understood, but this new arrangement looked professional. He knew the skeleton hadn’t developed the eye to make the sort yet.

“Manfred?” He called out gentle, but loud enough to be heard and questioning enough to be answered.

He moved into the adjoining room, checked for dust, the straight edge of mounted decorations, the positioning of a chair, and finally, to a petal. It was a lovely display, excellent in timing as well, he hadn’t the chance this morning to see to the matter himself, but where…

“Manfred a skeleton?”

Rook’s voice broke the reverie. Emmrich blinked, had almost forgotten the man. Answered naturally before a thought to question such an ask entered his mind, “In a manner of speaking, yes, he’s…”

The clatter announced him first, a certain amble to the sound that seemed to perfectly flow into the excited hiss that sounded on his entry.

“…right here.” Emmrich beamed at the sight of him, hands pressed together in front, an air of pride as he watched Manfred with the steaming tray of tea. “Why did you ask?”

The thoughts caught up. How had he known? His brow arched down, centered on Rook, hands still together and moving up a moment, mouth quirked at corner.

But Emmrich had ceased to exist for Rook and Manfred.

Because the ‘bodyguard’s’ countenance widened in shocked delight. And he was pointing just as enthusiastically at the skeleton as the skeleton was hissing excitedly at him.

“It is you!!” The man’s face lit near to the same beaming fondness found in the necromancer’s smile for the creature. Manfred bobbed in place, the tray kept even, and he went quick as he might to the low table to place it down.

Emmrich looked between them. Befuddled. “I take it this means you met…and…befriended…Manfred?” But there was an easier air about him, the crook of a smile remaining. The lingering confused brow drifted to some other thoughtful emotion.

Rook grinned freer than he had all day, the feeling of it something like vindication as he stood once more with hands on hips, “He saved me! Led me out.”

Manfred finished arranging the tray and swayed back over to where the rogue stood before the door. They greeted each other with a two-step handshake, “It’s great to meet you properly! Manfred! Fine name! I’d still be in those gardens without you.”

Emmrich’s eyes went wide, they had only recently found those again, and they weren’t close. One would need to take a lift, traverse… “Were you truly all the way in the Memorial Gardens?”

Rook didn’t answer. Attention turned to Manfred instead. The skeleton was answering the rogue’s greeting with a series of clatters and hisses, Rook nodded along. Found some meaning in one of the clacks and laughed.

Emmrich blinked, swayed slight towards the sound, felt some something quicken in chest. Noticed none of that. And pondered fond thoughts in the warmth instead.

Manfred had only just started going there on his own. It was likely he went further in the Necropolis than Emmrich knew, likely he knew it better than any of them did on account of his nature. Perhaps it was simple curiosity’s distractions that kept him from destination at times, those mishaps still kept Emmrich hesitant for full wandering.

Either way it seemed Manfred had assisted Rook today. Astounding, really, perhaps he should have let him venture further sooner, but no, there was still the nightmare fog. He would have to see him educated around and about that first.

He came back to present to find the two were at games of rock, paper, scissors, Emmrich’s question lost to them. Minds plotting moves couldn’t process such thoughts, didn’t care too.

The mage took that time to investigate the bouquet once more. The flowers fit what grew in the Memorial Gardens, the times and stories aligned. So Rook missed that meeting, had arrived halfway through…had he mistaken Vorgoth’s directions? They were usually so clear.

A grumbled hiss signaled the end of a round and Emmrich tilted his head their way, put hands folded behind him and walked closer to the pair. At the movement Rook turned to him with a full grin, and Emmrich felt the swallow before words go tight, “You missed the meeting because you were making a bouquet in the Memorial Gardens?”

The grin remained, perhaps brightened, “Yeah! Would’ve missed class too if it hadn’t been for Fred. Consider the flowers a gift from the two of us.” A delighted hiss with that. “You did half the work!” Rook spoke directly to the skeleton, even dipped a nod of thanks.

Well that solved one problem. Two even. With them getting on so well, and Manfred proving to be quite the guide. Emmrich’s softer smile went smirk as he nodded at the idea. Strode to them in surprisingly few steps, and without a word captured their attention.

“Well, Manfred.” A quick hiss of recognition, Emmrich could see Rook biting back his own… sound, did he truly want to join in? What manner of…the pause was a bit too long. Emmrich moved his hands once more, “Would you see your new friend to his dorm’s dining facilities?”

The skeleton clapped and hissed, pointed to Rook, and then himself, was already tilting his head goodbye to Emmrich. The necromancer was moving for the door. Rook looked almost hurt, “Tea’s not for me?”

Emmrich opened the door, Manfred dashed out, Rook lingered. For a moment the mage felt an urge to nudge the man over the threshold, but such an intrusive thought couldn’t override the revulsion at it. He spoke instead and held the door wide with a gesture, “No. I’m expecting guests. Please take your time.”

Rook stared over his shoulder as he made his way out. First at Emmrich, then at the tea, finally at the flowers, locked back on Emmrich, “You got a date Profes…”

And the door shut before the questioning lilt could be heard.

#emmrich volkarin #dragon age the veilguard #emmrook #rook worne #emmrich x rook #dragon age #rook x emmrich #emmrook fanfic #chapter three may take a little longer just because it’s. it’s a lot. it’s gonna be a great time. I think I’m winding up #we’ll see if I get a strike or throw a ball but either way I’m having a ball

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starlightrows · 1 year ago

Text

Better Late Than Never

Chapter 4

Masterlist

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Pairing: Alpha!Boba x Omega!reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: self consciousness, insecurity, self doubt, mention of pregnancy, concern about fertility, platonic scenting, scenting, heat symptoms, first heat, processing heat-shaming related trauma, delayed heat instincts, nesting, thigh riding, p in v sex, knotting, breeding, aftercare

AN: Happy Star Wars Day!

The days following the midsummer bonfire and your mating ritual with Boba were amazing. You got to wake up in his arms every morning and fall asleep in them at night. With each passing day you felt more comfortable with him during sex and were enjoying the experience of learning new ways to give and receive pleasure.

Ginny, Samara and Addam all kissed your cheeks and hugged you when you moved you few possessions out of the community omega tent. Obviously you would still be seeing them, they weren’t leaving Boba’s pack. But it was just like when Ahni moved out, it’s not the same when you don’t live together.

Ahni was over the moon excited for you. She told you she had suspected this all along, but you’re not sure if you believe that or not. Either way she’s been giving you more advice about being a bonded omega now and what things you can expect.

“He’ll have you pregnant in no time” she assured you one morning as you washed clothes together by the pond. The pack had not left the clearing where the midsummer bonfire was held. The pack leaders had business to contend over the next several days.

“You really think so?” You asked

“Well look at me” she laughed. Her belly was beginning to show a slight swell. “And Litus is a beta. Alphas are ten times more virile and their seed is far more potent”

“I just hope I’m…. doing everything right so that it happens” you blush a little embarrassed

“There’s really nothing you can do that’s wrong in that regard” she shakes her head “And from what I hear, Boba knows exactly what he’s doing”

Her tone strikes you as odd, but you can’t place why “What do you mean?”

“Oh I just mean that he’s had partners before” she shrugs nonchalantly

“Other mates?” You ask, suddenly feeling a beat of dread in your heart

“No no no, of course not! You are his mate. The one and only. I meant he’s had sex with many others perviously” she explains quickly “Which is relatively normal, at least in the packs we ally ourselves with”

The reassurance that you are his only mate does make you feel better, but the thought of how many people he’s had sex with preys on your mind. You’ve had sex with no one else. Not even with other omegas to get through your heat.

Boba had said that it just meant your body would only know his. That it was a beautiful thing. At the time it sounded so romantic and reassuring. But now you felt some shame surrounding it.

“Hey?” Ahni lightly touches your arm, getting your attention again after you had gone quiet. You turn your head back towards her and give her a weak smile and shake your head a little

“Sorry” you say sheepishly “What did you say?”

“I said, don’t let yourself get hung up on the past. His or yours. He chose you. Out of everyone in all nine packs in the alliance. And he does not make any decision without knowing for sure it’s the right call” Her smile is kind and open. The same one that welcomed you to the pack when you were rescued.

You lean over and wrap your arms around her in a hug “Thank you” She hugs you back and scents you gently. Showing her affection and friendship.

Later in the afternoon Boba finds you during the evening meal and sits with you.

“You have a different sort of scent today omega” he says “I smell a sadness in you. Is something wrong?”

“I’m not sad” you shrug “Just have some things on my mind”

“Come” he beckons you, extending a hand to help you stand so you can follow him back to the tent. He guides you inside, and pulls you into his arms when the flaps close behind him. He presses his forehead to yours and releases calming pheromones to soothe your body. “Tell me little one. What troubles you?”

He knows something is wrong. You didn’t even see him today and he felt that something was troubling you through your scent. You don’t want to lie to him but you also don’t have the confidence to talk about this subject with him yet. “I don’t think I should say”

“And why not?”

“Because I don’t know that discussing it would make me feel better”

“Have I done something? Hurt you in anyway? If I have, you must tell me”

“No no, nothing like that. I just… I worry that my ignorance and naivety will embarrass you”

He chuckles, a deep rumble of a laugh “Oh little one. Release these fears, you have not embarrassed me. And I doubt that you ever will. Where are these anxieties coming from?”

“Ahni was talking to me about pups and being pregnant. And that I will soon be pregnant. But I worry that there is some step or task or piece of me that I am lacking that will not allow that to come true. And then she was trying to reassure me that you knew what you were doing and I should trust in you that you have enough experience. And that just had me feeling bad that I have no experience to offer you and I —“

He places a finger on your lips, silencing your ramble and pausing the physical sensation of something rising up your throat.

“Your lack of experience is no fault of your own. But despite it, you seem to have no issue with submitting to me. Or taking my knot. Your scent still intoxicates me with every breath. I see nothing here that is lacking in anyway” he strokes your cheek with a thumb.

“However, your friend is correct about one thing. I have had many sexual partners in the past. I do not want to hide the truth from you, so I will answer any questions you may have regarding them”

You nod in his hand. Right now you don’t want to know about all of the other faceless omegas or betas from his past that have had the pleasure of taking his alpha cock, tasting his seed, kissing and touching and whatever else their relationships entailed. And you tell him as much. That you’re not ready to know those things. He respects that and appreciates your honesty, but leaves the offer open should you ever change your mind.

That evening Boba spends hours pleasuring you with his mouth, his fingers, his knot. He breeds you at least three times before you can’t keep your eyes open any longer. And it’s enough for you for now. He is honest and reassuring. He’s loyal to you and that’s all that matters.

A week later the allied packs disperse and head off their own ways again. Your nomadic lifestyle resumes and you once again get to experience new sites and sounds and foods with the lands you pass through. The only difference is now you get to ride near the head of the pack with Boba, and you get to have sex every night.

The pack has been slowly making their way north towards the mountains, Ginny told you this was the Maktarek mountain range. It’s where Alpha grew up and his father still lives there with a pack of elders. You make a mental note to ask Boba about his father, and if the pack was indeed heading that way.

About a month after the pack left the Ashlin forest Boba had confirmed that the pack was making the long journey to visit his fathers pack. Despite having already been on the move for a month, it would take at least two more to reach the village. The days were getting a little shorter and the nights a little colder, it didn’t really bother you though. On days you walked the movement in your body kept you warm and engaged with your surroundings. On days you road with Boba the heat of the bantha between your legs and the alpha pressed against your chest kept you warm.

One morning you woke up in the tent feeling a dull ache in your stomach. You felt overwhelmingly hot despite the chill of the morning air. Your head hurt and your mouth felt dry. A wave of panic rushed through you. You know this feeling. The sickening symptoms of your heat.

Normally you would take a small parcel of food and a bedroll and travel to the soaking pools at this point. You would have just enough strength to make it from your tent into the pool. The freezing cold water always burned your skin. Made your chest hurt to breathe. But it would also dowse the fire inside you. The one that you’ve now been taught to stoke and keep alight.

You remember what Samara and Addam and Ginny had told you when Ahni went into heat. You remember their lessons on what you’re supposed to do. Build a nest to make yourself a comfortable and safe space. Drink tons of water to prevent worsening your symptoms. Dehydration is extremely common because of how much you sweat and how much slick your body produces. Find an Alpha to knot you if you can, find a trusted beta or omega to get you off if you can’t. And if all else fails, masturbate to curb the craving and pray the heat doesn’t last long.

All of it is so overwhelming for you. Ahni, and several healers, have told you that because of the cold soaks you were raised to do instead of traditional omega coping skills during heat…. You technically have not experienced a full heat. You were warned that your first heat without the cold soaking would be like coming off suppressants for the first time in years. Very intense. Very painful.

You try not to panic.

“Nest” you mumble to yourself “Nest… nest…” You go to open a trunk to find more furs or blankets or pillows but instead find some of Boba’s possessions. Prized hunting weapons and armor pieces. You shut the trunk quickly, feeling terrible for invading that space.

You look around the tent and realize something. Everything is his. With the exception of the clothes you’re wearing and a small bundle of clothes like your heavy winter dress and cloak. You have no idea what you’re allowed to touch and what he would prefer you leave alone.

You’ve only been living in his tent for a month and a half. And you’ve spent most of that time traveling with the pack since the pack was just camped for almost two weeks. The panic begins to creep back in again. You don’t really know how to build a nest but you were hoping your deeply repressed instinct for it would just kick in. But with no materials you’re back to square one.

You pace around the tent and try to formulate a plan. You can’t go through all of his things to find nesting materials. So making a nest in here won’t work. That might not be a bad thing anyway, Boba does take meetings in here from time to time, it would be inappropriate for you to be nested here while he’s trying to lead and work. Maybe you could pitch a smaller tent to make your nest. But that requires finding nesting materials and a tent. Maybe nesting is just out of the question.

Move on to step two, water. That is something you can do. Boba always keeps fresh water in the tent at night. Usually he helps you drink after he fucks you and uses a damp cloth to clean you a little. It’s always tender and appreciated, it makes you feel like he genuinely cares for you. You drop down on your knees by the fresh water jug and lift the entire thing to your lips, gulping down as much as you can. There, now you don’t feel like a total failure.

Step three. Well there’s another problem. Boba had declared that this camp site would be home for a few days so the hunting party could go out on a more substantial hunt. He did not go with them this time, but he’s not here in the tent right now, because he’s busy attending his other ditues. You can’t just stop him in the middle of his day and ask him to continuously fuck you until your heat ends…. You’ve never had sex with anyone other than him and you’re bonded now so even if you did feel comfortable asking a beta or and another omega to help get you off, you’re not sure you would do it. That leaves masterbating. Yet another thing on the seemingly endless list of things you’ve never done.

Maybe there’s a pond somewhere close by, even if it’s not freezing cold. Maybe you could have Boba fuck you in the pond to help you transition…. No, that's stupid. Stupid girl. Stupid omega. The panic has risen back up into your throat again and your hands have begun to shake.

The dimly lit tent is suddenly illuminated and the haze of panic dissipates with the welcome scent of mahogany and blackberries.

“Omega?” His voice is commanding but his scent is concerned.

“Alpha?” You back away from the light, finding its sudden intrusion into this dim space threatening. He closes the flap behind him. And approaches you carefully.

“Omega. I can smell you. From halfway across camp. Your scent is stronger than it’s ever been” he advances towards you “You’re in heat, aren’t you little one”

“Yes” you nod your head “I’m sorry… I don’t… I don’t know why…”

He stops a few feet away from you and looks back throughout the tent. “Where is your nest omega?”

Tears are streaming down your cheeks. “I don’t know how to make one” you hang your head in shame “I… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before… I don’t know how”

His hands are rough and warm against your tear stained cheeks, lifting your gaze back up to meet his. His face is full of worry and concern, but also openness and understanding. “You’ve never been allowed to build a nest” he says “I can not build one for you. But I can provide you with everything you need to practice and do it yourself”

“I don’t have do it here” you say quickly “I can pitch another tent to be out of your way. I can pond soak until it goes away”

“No” he growls a little more sharply than he intends to “You will never be deprived like that again”

The growl is a little scary, he’s never growled like that at you before. But instead of terrifying you, it makes you throb with need. The cravings are getting stronger.

He lets you go and moves about the room, pulling blankets and furs and cloaks and pillows he has inside the tent. He leaves them on the floor, exactly where they are. He wants you to know where they all came from, so that you know where to find them again if you need them. And he wants you to feel as independent as possible when you make your first nest.

“I am going to get more clean water for you and more furs” he tells you “Do not fight this. Surrender to it and I will guide you through the rest” he kisses you and slips out of the tent.

You pick up a gorgeous gray fur by your foot, running the soft pelt between your fingers. You become acutely aware of the sensation of textile running over your skin. It’s bewildering in this altered state of mind, and addicting. You collect all of the furs and blankets and pillows into a big pile. Not exactly a nest, but you just need to start something. And you just need to keep touching all of these textures.

The thicker, coarser furs are heavy and sturdy. They have more variety in their texture. The softer remind you of the dyed blankets and feather soft pillows that keep your bed comfortable in the summer months when warmth isn’t as important.

For over an hour you sort through the furs. Arranging them around you. Grouping by feel and smell. Running your fingers over them, and your forearms and your cheeks. You don’t even notice that Boba had only left on the pretense of fetching you water, which most certainly does not take over an hour.

It occurs to you after a while that he hasn’t come back yet and it forces your mind to refocus, Your pile of furs you’ve been sorting and distracting yourself with has risen up around you and become your very first nest.

It’s remarkably comfortable, you almost forget about the throbbing pain in your belly and back and breasts and pussy. It wasn’t so painful when you were constructing your nest. But now it’s all you can think about.

You lay on your side surrounded by your pillows and soft furs, squeezing your thighs together and trying not to think about how desperately you want to feel Boba’s knot stretch you open. Just once. Surely you could make it through the rest of this heat in a non intrusive way if you just got to cum once on his knot. You normally had sex every night, you could survive until the evening.

“Oh look at you, omega” his voice pulls you from your rationalizing “What a beautiful nest”

You recoil at the intrusion and look at him with wide eyes. In your heart you know it’s Boba, your Alpha, your mate. But your altered state of mind perceives him as just an alpha and a potential threat in your vulnerable state.

Boba clocks this reaction immediately and does not make any movement to approach you or your nest. Instead he releases a soothing scent he knows you’ve responded well to in the past and speaks to you in a calm and quiet voice.

“You did it, omega” he encourages you “You built your first nest”

You nod your head but can’t find your voice to answer. He’s brought the water and another thick fur. But that’s not why you can’t tear your eyes from him. You’ve looked at him every day since your mating ceremony, armored, clothed, naked, there is no way you have not seen him at this point. But you have never wanted him more than right now.

“How do you feel, omega?” He prompts you, not moving from his spot.

“I’m too hot” you manage to get out “but I’m freezing cold too”

“Mmm… perhaps another fur to keep you warm against the chill” he says, carefully taking a few steps towards your nest and kneeling down to present you with the fur. Your heartbeat quickens seeing him approach but also makes you flinch.

He does not touch the nest. He does not put down the fur. He does not cross over into your space. He waits for you to come to him.

You crawl over to him, and feel a painful stab of arousal and need in your back that shoots all the way down to your pussy. It forces you to stop moving towards him and moan in pain and need.

Boba can feel himself getting a bit hot and bothered watching you. Stars you’re so beautiful, needy and moaning and simply begging to be fucked by him… but not until you invite him in. This must be done right.

When you finally reach him and take the fur he’s offered you, you can almost feel a hum in the air between you. You want him to touch your face. Kiss your lips. Push you down and rip off your clothes. You want him to put it in and knot you.

He can feel it through the bond. This desire in your body and the swirling emotions of desperation and guilt. He has every intention of giving you what you need.

“May I enter your nest omega?” He asks

“Yes” your acceptance sounds more like a plea

Boba takes off his boots and crosses the threshold into your nest of furs and pillows. He reaches for you and brings you into his lap. He can feel how hot your skin is, the light sheen of sweat that covers you head to toe. And he can feel the wet spot between your legs where slick has been pooling.

“Are you in pain, little one?” He asks in a lowered tone “Is the craving too much?”

“Yes” you whimper, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your face into him. Your hips slide forward over his thigh, getting the barest hint of friction on your pussy.

“Mmm… my poor little thing” he squeezes your hips and gently encouraging the motion you initiated, grinding your hips forward and back “Don’t worry little one”

You whimper into his neck as you rub yourself on his thigh. It doesn’t even feel good. Not compared to the things you know his tongue can do. But you’re so horny and as much as you want to resist being this desperate, you can’t help it.

Boba on the other hand is pleased with the increasing speed of your sloppy thrusts and the neediness in your moans.

“That’s it. Good girl omega” he growls in your ear “That’s right, take what you need”

You rut yourself against him, moaning and whining until finally you get some semblance of relief. A short lived orgasm that moves through you quickly and leaves you wanting more almost instantly.

Boba wastes no time. He pushes down his pants, freeing his cock that’s been straining against the fabric since he caught your scent this morning. You move just as quickly, shimmying out of all your clothes, unable to stand the sensation of them touching your skin. Boba doesn’t even need to speak, you climb back into his lap and position him exactly where you want him to be, and sink down on his length.

You clutch his shoulders for leverage and bounce yourself up and down on his cock. You’ve never felt this way before, so desperate to get relief from this intense heat that consumes your body. The freezing cold soaking ponds staved off this heat in the past. How could you feel hot or horny when every nerve in your body was frozen and numb?

Boba watches in awe. This has been on his mind lately, worrying about how your first heat together would go. He knew your upbringing had scarred you in many ways, prevented you from being able to experience life as an omega, kept you naive. He worried you might suffer through this heat, too skittish and afraid of his scent to let him help you. But instead you are blossoming. You look divine in his eyes. Head tossed back, jaw wide open, your entirely body glistening with sweat, your pussy stretched around his cock. You’re cumming all on your own, getting the release you need, that you deserve.

After your second orgasm from riding him, Boba is still hard as a rail inside you. He’s been too focused on watching you pleasure yourself to give himself a second thought. But now you’re laying against his chest, breathing heavily as the first wave seems to have passed. Boba strokes your hair and perfumes you in his scent.

“How are you feeling now, omega?” He asks, keeping his voice low

“Selfish” you mutter against his shoulder

“Selfish?” He echos

“I thought it would go away after the first orgasm. But it did nothing, it just made me want more and more and more” you feel another throb of arousal inside you, driving you to fuck yourself on him again but your limbs feel like lead. You don’t even have the strength to grind yourself against him.

“That’s normal little one” he assures you. He presses his hand into your lower back. Sliding you as far forward onto his lap as he can. He changes positions, lowering you down into the furs while keeping himself fully sheathed inside you.

He leans forward over you and groans at the feeling of sinking just a little deeper inside. He kisses the spot just under your ear “I know what you need. I know you still need more. I know you need a knot. Why don’t I take over, hm?” His breath is hot against your skin. The desperation has returned, the buzzing sensation under your skin and involuntary pulsing in your pussy. You whimper, the need is pure agony “Do you need my knot? Need to be bred omega? Is that what you need, my pretty girl?”

Your desperate cry and pleas of “Yes!” “Please” “Please alpha” are music to his ears. He enjoys teasing you this way but never holds out on you for long. He starts his pace strong and firm, you’re wet enough to take it. He cages your head with his forearms, kissing your fervently as he fucks you. He can feel his knot beginning to swell, he won’t last much longer.

“Aggghh fuck…. are you ready omega? For my knot” he pants

“Please” whine in his ear

He gets in three more good thrusts before he can’t pull out, his knot catching inside you as he empties himself with a groan of satisfaction. Your entire body seizes up around him, making you shake with an orgasm that leaves you witless.

Boba recovers his senses quicker than you and begins scenting you again. “Good girl omega. You’re doing so well” he whispers to you through your haze. He can’t move much with his knot locking you together, but he does what he can to comfort you.

After a few minutes, your head has cleared somewhat and your eyes are focused on him. “Being in heat isn’t what I expected” you admit.

“Mmm, and what did you expect? What were you told?” He asks

“I didn’t realize how powerful it would be. Ahni and the others said it was like feelings you can’t ignore. Like when you’re starving or parched. But that’s not what it felt like. It felt like…. like…” you trail off losing your train of thought as his knot deflated and slipped out of you.

“Like what?” He grins and kisses your cheek, having a idea of what just stole your focus

“Like being possessed… controlled by something beyond my will” you shake your head a little and snuggle in closer to him.

“In a little while I’ll bring you water and food. You’ll need it to keep up your strength. This is far from over” he wants to be honest with you and he wants to show you that he is here to take care of you

“I did that part right. I drank lots of water” you pipe up

“Did you? Very good omega” he praises “You built this wonderful nest as well”

“I don’t know if it’s good or not. I didn’t get to practice before all this happened” you’ve never actually seen an omegas nest with your own eyes. Only been given descriptions and instructions from your friends

“What makes a nest good is how it makes you feel” Boba tells you “It should soothe your anxiety. Comfort you. You should feel safe inside it. Does that sound familiar?”

“Yes… it felt really good when I was done sorting all the furs you left for me. Like I accomplished something” you smile to yourself

“Good. Alphas feel that way when they can provide for their omegas. Like giving you the furs earlier”

You hum in acknowledgment, and understand his meaning.“I’m sorry you have to explain so many things to me and can’t just provide the furs and continue working”

“You misunderstand me, sweet girl. Providing for you includes more than just gifting you the furs for your nest. It’s giving you a safe place to build a nest. Feeding you. Fucking you. Taking care of you comes before any other duties in this pack”

“You like taking care of me?” You ask with warmth flooding your cheeks

“I love taking care of you” he corrects you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You smile and enjoy his warm lips on your skin. “When you rut I will return the favor. I will serve you as you served me” you promise him

“Ruts are very different from heat cycles omega. Ruts can be very dangerous. You must understand, I am not quite myself during those times. I have gone through many unassisted in the last several years. I do not want you to feel obligated to around me during that time”

“But I want to. I want to be a good mate” you rest your forehead against his, sharing his breath and his heart “I… I love you”

His hand comes up to cup your cheek and tilt your head so he can kiss your lips “And I love you omega”

#Boba Fett #Alpha!Boba Fett #Better Late Than Never #A/B/O #omega!reader #omegaverse

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that-within · 2 years ago

Text

That’s not how Jane Austen works…

There’s something deeply amusing to me about how fundamentally wrong Aziraphale is regarding the function of balls in Jane Austen’s novels:

“People would gather and do some formal dancing and then realize they had misunderstood each other and were actually deeply in love.”

No ball in any Austen novel works like this. Not one. You know how they actually work? They build tension (dramatic, romantic, sexual, and/or other). But in all of her six novels, there is not a single ball where everything suddenly clicks between two characters, all misunderstandings are cleared up with just a glance and a touch of a gloved hand, and everyone lives happily ever after.

Since Pride and Prejudice is the novel repeatedly cited in the show, let’s analyze the functions of its two main balls:

The first ball is where our protagonists meet. They lock eyes, they get introduced—and almost immediately he calls her a 5/10 and she runs off to drag him with her gal pals. Rough start. We haven’t even gotten to the plot’s true misunderstandings yet (“I meant you were tolerable in a nice way!”), but this ball is the crucial setup for how those misunderstandings will develop throughout their relationship. Tension established.

So far we’re 0/3 for dancing, clearing up misunderstandings, and deep love realizations. Bummer.

The second ball is The Big One. So how do our protagonists come together to reconcile in the candlelight? Spoiler: they don't. Instead, Darcy musters up all his introverted mettle to grind out a dance proposal and Lizzy only says yes because she can't think of a polite way to say “I’d rather eat glass.”

And not only does the dance itself not clear up their misunderstandings, it actually cements those misunderstandings through a series of progressively passive aggressive barbs. It’s wonderfully charged, but in a HIGH-VOLTAGE FENCE: DO NOT TOUCH kind of way.

(For those keeping score, we’re 1/6 because they did actually manage to dance this time. Woot)

And that’s it. No, literally. There are no more balls in the whole novel (at least attended by our protagonists). So how doth our heroes fall in love without the eldritch horrors making them do it delicate pluck of a fiddle in a crowded room?

Well, first there’s the catastrophic marriage proposal where Darcy basically negs Lizzy for a solid minute before Lizzy spends a solid five minutes telling him where to stick it. Divine.

Crucially though, this is where the “realize they had misunderstood each other” stuff actually begins. It’s only when one of them is pouring their heart out to the other that the giant gaps in information, misinterpreted actions, and fundamental differences in worldviews start to make themselves known (anything here ringing a cathedral-sized bell?).

And of course, this still doesn’t magically make everything better. They both go off to lick their respective wounds for a while, but, slowly, they begin to process this paradigm shift and change their thoughts and actions accordingly.

There are many reasons why Pride and Prejudice has lasted the test of time, and a big one is that it never pulled a “ball” deus ex machina. Lizzy and Darcy both put in actual work to improve themselves and to reconcile their differences. It’s slow, it’s imperfect, it’s messy. And, very importantly, it takes them being brutally honest with themselves and each other.

It's only after all of this that they finally get to the "were actually deeply in love" part.

Aziraphale must know this. He’s read Austen. Hell, he probably read Pride and Prejudice the year it was published. So where is he getting this bizarre idea about balls being a magical cure-all for everything?

Maybe it's as simple as an angel who's spent 6000 years teetering on the edge of something with a demon devising a cunning plan to teeter them just a little bit closer.

Maybe it’s as complicated as an angel who can convince himself that if a human relationship might be “fixed” by a ball, maybe a cosmic relationship might be “fixed” by undoing a fall.

And, to quote Crowley, “now, that’s unbelievable."

#good omens #good omens season two #aziraphale #crowley #ineffible husbands #this is not an aziraphale bash post so get thee behind me with that shit #bleh I hate that the last paragraph rhymes but I’m too lazy to change it

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beatriceeagle · 11 months ago

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i wanted to send the part where bren tried to seduce beau and her reaction but it’s a bit longer than 500 words. so instead i’ll ask some questions (though feel free to talk about other aspects!!)

how did you come up with bren thinking that they were romantically involved?

what was beau thinking while they were dancing?

what do you imagine bren’s training was regarding charming and seducing people?

I have a million things to say about this section, so I'm gonna go ahead and give you the full essay, and make sure I answer those questions along the way. Heads up that there is non-graphic discussion of sexual abuse below the cut.

This was a scene that I actually went back and forth on a lot. I wasn't sure I wanted to include it, for a number of reasons: it's very sudden, and doesn't obviously play into the broader plot; it alludes to a very thorny aspect of Caleb's backstory that I knew I wasn't going to have space to fully unpack; and probably most of all, I kind of thought (and still think) that Beau would probably actually be aware of that aspect, so I was kind of suspending my own disbelief by having her go into it blind.

(I could probably have made the scene work even with Beau being aware, but it would have significantly changed the tenor of it. Also, a fun fact about me is that if I really like a joke and think it's in-character, I will fudge other aspects of canon to preserve it, and “If you’re secretly attracted to me, you have to tell me. It’s the bro code, I think," may be my favorite joke in this fic.)

I ultimately kept the scene because it's pulling weight in a lot of different ways. It puts the idea of sexual abuse very vividly in Beau's mind, which helps to prime her for the letter she discovers in the next chapter. It lays groundwork for the Essek plot line. And most importantly, it creates a foundation of trust between Bren and Beau, because Beau establishes a firm boundary in an area that Bren has been taught that his boundaries do not matter, and begins the process of establishing that her friendship and support are not transactional.

The answers to your specific questions, in order:

1. One of the fun parts of the very early chapters for me was digging into Bren's basic (extremely wrong) assumptions about the world. Among other things, it gave me the opportunity to imagine how Beau and Caleb's relationship would look to him, and the idea that he would mistake their relationship for romantic was the first thing I thought of. Their incredible closeness and affection is visibly obvious, and Bren believes them to be partners in capture and interrogation—and he is, after all, in love with both of his capture and interrogation partners.

2. As I said, I think in actual canon Beau would definitely be hearing alarm bells when Bren asked to dance. In this fic, however, she doesn't know about the seduction element of his training, and to her, dancing with Caleb is in no way romantically or sexually charged. It's something they've done many times before (as I allude to in the party at the Lavish Chateau). So Bren asking her to dance probably strikes her as, at worst, an avoidance strategy to deal with his feelings about having seen how different the dance hall looks. Which it is. Just not in the way she thinks.

3. Okay, this is basically all the stuff I didn't have space to unpack in the fic itself. I imagine that Ikithon's training covered, broadly, four subjects: magic (self-explanatory), history (propaganda), interrogation (torture), and spycraft. They all would have overlapped, but those would've been the four big areas. And what Bren thinks of as "spycraft" training was really an exercise in the systematic breaking down of his personal boundaries and sense of self.

Yes, they were taught all the things that Bren mentions when he talks to Beau about spycraft: ingratiate yourself with the subject, find commonalities and leverage, figure out what they want and present it to them. I'm sure they learned a lot about rhetoric and body language and tools of persuasion. But the actual key takeaway of those lessons wasn't any of that: it was that in order to do those things, they should be willing to go to any length, make any sacrifice, and cross any line. Their feelings shouldn't matter; their safety shouldn't matter; certainly the feelings and safety of their targets shouldn't matter. Only the mission should matter.

So I think that the lessons probably involved sexual abuse, not necessarily in the form of sexual contact, but in the form of overt and intentional boundary-pushing on topics of sex and romance. In fact, I think that there was probably overt boundary-pushing on a lot of topics. (I've thought a decent amount about how Eadwulf's religion could be transgressed in similar ways, for instance.) Because ultimately, the primary goal isn't an education on any particular topic; it's the systematic erosion of the concept of boundaries themselves.

#ask #ask game #the heart external

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bigsoftmarshmallow · 11 months ago

Note

This is more or less just a curiosity-based question than anything to see if you noticed this too.

I guess that I was just wondering if you realized that, had the Gerudo gone off to live in Hyrule Field on OoT, then by TotK's past, their skin would've likely lightened to such an extent that they’d basically just look like really tall, athletic Irish women?

Now, wait a minute! I have a point!

See, the shade of their skin indicates that they've been living in an area of high-uv (desert, jungle) for at least 10,000 years & melanin specifically helps them to better survive the sun's rays. I believe as a result of epieugenics. However if they were to have begun living exclusively in Hyrule Fields, instead of, say Faron, then even with the TotK feature of their kids being predominantly Gerudo regardless of their fathers, their skin would begin to lighten with each generation due to the fact that those with darker skin have a more difficult time producing their own Vitamin D & their children would become subject to diseases such as rickets.

Now, in modern times, this is easily prevented with Vitamin D supplements, but that's because we have access to modern medicine. The Gerudo don't really have that benefit. So, even if they didn't have the issue of needing to interbreed with Hylians, they'd still basically end up only being really differentiated from them by their red hair, possibly their greater size, fitness, & round ears.

Like, I guess that I just wonder why no one seems to think about that. I mean, I get that it's a fantasy game world, but still.

So secret time: The darkest thing about me is my left arm, since I drive all the time with my arm out the window (I look like I have a Frankenstein's arm attached to me the difference between arms is STARTLING LOL) So I never really thought about how the darker skin of the Gerudo could actually cause some issues with them moving away from the desert, especially with the varying levels of Vitamin D. That is interesting to think about! The various implications of moving an entire culture to another land, no matter the reason, would have consequences, both good and bad. The health consequences? MMMMMMMMM IM ALL ABOUT THE HUMAN BODY. MEDICAL SHIT IS ALWAYS FUN TO FIGURE OUT AND DIVE INTO. (I watch too many medical dramas, I blame my ma for giving me this fixation) Makes me wonder what other medical things (Diseases, both sudden and chronic, mental, etc) happen in Hyrule...

*********************************************************************

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf

Reactions: Ocarina of Time Ganondorf would listen carefully to Equal Lady's observations. He would be intrigued by her understanding of the biological and environmental factors that influence the Gerudo people's physical traits.

Thoughts and Feelings: Ganondorf would feel a mixture of curiosity and defensiveness. While he values the strength and resilience of the Gerudo, the idea that their distinctive traits could change over time due to environmental factors would be unsettling.

Response: Ganondorf might argue initially, emphasizing the cultural and historical significance of the Gerudo's appearance. However, he would eventually acknowledge the logic behind her observations. This new understanding might not change his immediate plans but would certainly give him something to ponder regarding the long-term future of his people.

Twilight Princess Ganondorf

Reactions: Twilight Princess Ganondorf would be more open to considering Equal Lady's observations. He has a more strategic mind and would see the value in understanding the potential long-term impacts of their environment on the Gerudo people.

Thoughts and Feelings: He would feel a sense of respect for her knowledge and insight. The practical implications of her observations would resonate with him, especially given his focus on ensuring the survival and prosperity of his people.

Response: Ganondorf would likely accept her thought process and might even begin to consider ways to mitigate these changes while ensuring the health and well-being of the Gerudo. This could involve seeking out new lands with similar UV exposure or exploring other ways to preserve their unique traits.

Wind Waker Ganondorf

Reactions: Wind Waker Ganondorf would be fascinated by Equal Lady's insights. Given his contemplative nature and reflective attitude in the game, he would take her observations seriously.

Thoughts and Feelings: He would feel a deep sense of appreciation for her understanding and the implications of her thoughts. The potential changes in the Gerudo's appearance due to environmental factors would be a significant consideration for him.

Response: Ganondorf would accept her observations and might even begin to think about how to preserve the Gerudo's unique identity while adapting to new environments. This could include integrating knowledge of environmental adaptations into their cultural practices.

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf

Reactions: Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf would be intrigued by Equal Lady's observations but might initially see them as secondary to his immediate goals of conquest and power.

Thoughts and Feelings: He would feel a mixture of interest and indifference. While he values the strength and resilience of the Gerudo, the idea of their physical traits changing over time might not be a primary concern for him.

Response: Ganondorf might acknowledge her observations but wouldn't let them influence his immediate plans. However, he would keep her insights in mind for future considerations, especially if they align with his strategic goals.

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf

Reactions: Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf would listen intently to Equal Lady's observations. Given his respect for Sheikah culture and knowledge, he would be more open to considering her insights.

Thoughts and Feelings: He would feel a sense of curiosity and respect for her understanding. The implications of environmental factors on the Gerudo people's appearance would be a significant consideration for him.

Response: Ganondorf would accept her observations and might begin to think about ways to balance the preservation of the Gerudo's unique traits with the need to adapt to new environments. This could involve seeking out lands with similar environmental conditions or exploring other ways to ensure their health and well-being.

Demise

Reactions: Demise would be less concerned with the specifics of environmental adaptation and more focused on power and dominance. However, he would still listen to Equal Lady's observations out of curiosity.

Thoughts and Feelings: He would feel a mixture of indifference and mild interest. While he values strength and resilience, the idea of physical traits changing due to environmental factors would be less relevant to his primary goals.

Response: Demise might acknowledge her observations but wouldn't let them influence his immediate plans. His focus would remain on his quest for ultimate power, and her insights would be considered only if they align with his overarching objectives.

General Themes and Reactions

Curiosity and Respect: Each character feels a sense of curiosity and respect for Equal Lady's knowledge and insights. Her understanding of environmental adaptation impresses them and gives them something to consider.

Strategic Considerations: Characters like Twilight Princess Ganondorf and Wind Waker Ganondorf are more likely to integrate her observations into their strategic thinking. They see the value in understanding the long-term impacts of environmental factors on their people.

Balance of Preservation and Adaptation: The idea of balancing the preservation of the Gerudo's unique traits with the need to adapt to new environments is a common theme. This consideration highlights the characters' desire to ensure the survival and prosperity of their people while maintaining their cultural identity.

#mallowresponse #legend of zelda #ganondorf #ganon #demise #ocarina of time #hyrule warriors #twilight princess #wind waker #tears of the kingdom #skyward sword #ai use #use of chatgpt #Medical Drama

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allthelittlecreepycrawlies · 1 year ago

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For the SangYao week - War

After a particularly long torture session Meng Yao tries to recall some nice memories to stop thinking about what happened, what he did and what will happen if he is found out, his mind wandering to Qinghe, beginning to lull him in - until the face in his mind and the face of the badly disguised kitchen boy suddenly overlaps.

cw for torture descriptions. they don't get super graphic, but still enough to be gross. it didn't quite line up with your request either, sorry? i couldn't resist the idea of them crossing paths and neither realizing it.

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

His whole life has been a process of separating his external senses from his stomach little by little, but it still disturbs him the first time he doesn't get even a little bit nauseous at the smell of burning human flesh or the sight of skin and fat and muscle bubbling under acid.

In fact, it is that lack of instantaneous reaction that ends up making him feel ill, some still innocent part of his brain rebelling at how low he has sunk and twisting his stomach into knots as it screams at him for being a monster.

The screams mixing with those of the prisoner decidedly do not help in this regard, and he is immensely relieved when Wen Ruohan finally grows bored and puts the man out of his misery.

"A useful little tool," his sect leader says, admiring the brush with specially-enhanced bristles that let it withstand the acid long enough to sear intricate lines into a restrained body. "Pity his pain tolerance was too weak to give us any equally useful information before he was overwhelmed."

Meng Yao bows low, the motion smooth and perfect despite his discomfort. "I will test different blends of the ingredients," he says as he straightens back up, voice even despite the way the back of his throat has closed up.

Wen Ruohan smiles at him. "Diligent as ever. I always look forward to trying out the fruits of your progress, Yao-er."

And then his sect leader is gone, and soldiers arrive to remove the corpse.

And then they are gone, and he is alone, now free to pick up the brush without anyone to see his hands are trembling.

He had been living a very different life when he had originally thought of such a thing, and his inspiration had been nothing like what it had ended up being used for.

In his mind's eye, he watched Nie Huaisang carefully hold a hot needle in a leather-gloved hand and scorch lines into wood, biting his tongue in concentration the same way he frequently did while painting.

"I'm not nearly as good with this as I am with a brush," his former young master had said, wrinkling his nose at this or that mistake. "It would be a lot easier if I was. Do you think Da-ge will still like his gift?"

Shaking off the memory, he carefully cleans and wraps the brush, then goes to dispose of the acid that hadn't met with approval-

"Yao-ge, here! You have to try the way they roast duck at this stall!"

He shudders and hurries to finish, almost fleeing the room.

He barely stops at the desk in his workshop to leave the brush as a reminder to start working on new batches of the acid later, then goes and curls up on the bed he'd had put in for the times he was too busy to go back and forth to his regular quarters.

Even with almost everything in the Nightless City, and the "interrogation" area of the prison especially, being powered by fire, the room feels cold.

"Aa, you need more blankets," chides the back of his mind. "Let's go get you some!"

He squeezes his eyes shut, but sleep never comes, and after a long while of trying, he gives up and rolls to his feet with a huff of irritation.

"That's no good, you'll end up passing out on your paperwork if you don't get some rest."

"Hush," he mutters to no one, and is immediately glad that there was no one.

Last thing he needs is for anyone to hear him talking to himself. There are too many who are all too eager to get someone else in trouble if it might save themselves-

"Including you," growls a different voice in his head, one he wants even less to be hearing.

Fuck.

He doesn't want to eat, not with the smell of the acid burns still lingering in his nose, but he makes his way to the kitchen that feeds the prisoners and guards anyway. If nothing else, he can at least grab some juice or wine or water or something to use for a sleeping draught. He'll even use vinegar at this point.

Heading inside, he bumps into a servant coming out one of the side doors, who mumbles a quick apology before fleeing, never looking up from the tray they were carrying.

As he closes the door behind him, he hears them collide with a guard, followed by another apology and the sound of an annoyed grunt and a dismissive shove.

The cooking of the bland congee the prisoners get doesn't bother him, but the smell of the meat for the guards makes his stomach threaten to knot up again. He barely takes enough time to make sure the small jar he takes is something palatable, then returns to his room.

---

He wakes curled up on the bed in his workroom the next morning, groggy enough that it takes him awhile to actually get up, but glad to have spent a night blessedly free of everything but darkness and silence.

And since his sect leader wanted him to perfect the acid before using it on a prisoner again, and there is to be a war strategy meeting that afternoon that he'll have to take notes for, it means he has at least one day where he won't have to be assisting in the torture chambers.

Then, just as he has started the fires under the small pots he'll be putting the test batches in, a runner comes to tell him there's been an escape from the cells.

When he finds out which prisoner, the shock makes him start laughing.

"Yao-ge, I trust you, so I'll show you something cool. Watch this!"

#mdzs #sangyao #sangyao week #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #fanfic

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addcests · 2 years ago

Text

a family is you, and you, and :: ch1 - ao3 mirror

pairing the addcest is there if you believe

words 1214

rating [T]

summary "Hey, Dominator, where's Psyker?" It's an innocent question, at first. And then it rings, rings, rings through Dominator's mind constantly, like an incessant nagging that he doesn't want to quite acknowledge presently. Not yet. So he doesn't. "He's out." It's not a complete lie, anyway. --- If you'd ask each Add what family meant, they'd have similarly different answers. A contradiction in and of itself—a testament to the very conception of their existence. Yet, there lies one thing wholly similar; a conviction all three share: they'd fight for their family. And now they must.

note welcome to the found family Add fic that no one asked for :'D i feel like this fic is very different for me. in a lot of ways + this fic is very story/plot-driven in comparison to most of my other writing if that makes sense too! so... this has been a fic of great personal exploration for me... with many struggles! this fic has also been in the works for a year now and has about half its chapters done! i truly aim to finish this one 😭 anyway... even though it's a bit different, and even though i have lots of hopes and ideas i'm not sure i quite captured how i'd like, i hope you all can find something to still like about it and enjoy the fun i had writing this silly little thing... ! thanks so much for supporting my writing all these years! cheers o/ note pt. 2: will be uploading chapter 2 soon as well!

“Hey, Dominator, where’s Psyker?”

It’s an innocent question, at first. And then it rings, rings, rings through Dominator’s mind constantly, like an incessant nagging that he doesn’t want to quite acknowledge presently. Not yet. So he doesn’t.

“He’s out.”

It’s not a complete lie, anyway.

“Hmm,” comes Esper’s reply, unsatisfied certainly but Dominator isn’t here to satisfy the ever-curious time hopper’s curiosity.

Instead of the topic at hand, the scientist switches to something else revolving around the brawler since he seems so keen on talking about him. He clears his throat, nudging some of his holographic displays aside, and rolling back in his chair to at least make eye contact with Esper finally, then starts, “Speaking of him, if you hang around here too long. As you know, Psyker will be upset if you miss dinner. It’s about that time, isn’t it?” Dominator tries to put on a convincing smile. “He likes feeding you.” As it’s in his nature, the way his smile curves into a teasing smirk is something he does little to prevent. “He always did have a soft spot for you, you know.”

At that, Esper sports a slight warmth on his cheeks for a fraction of a second then just as quickly turns to regard Dominator fully too. Pauses. There is something more on his mind. They both know it. Esper, normally not one to hold back on his thoughts, does just that instead.

Dominator does not want to think about why. And fortunately for the unnerved scientist, Esper decides to spare him this time.

What he says instead is, “I’ll save you a slice of cheesecake for next time. I’m sure he won’t mind.” Esper flashes a full teeth smile towards Dominator as he opens up a portal.

“I don’t think he’d appreciate that." But despite disagreeing, Dominator’s voice is light and mirthful, chuckling at Esper’s own bemused shrug.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

And, just like that, in a blink of an eye, it’s almost as if Esper were never there to begin with.

Despite that, the now-gone Esper isn’t aware of how those words linger heavily, stunning the scientist into a silenced little stupor.

A few moments pass and Dominator turns away from the space he’d been occupying mere moments ago. He swivels back to his numerous displays of information and numbers and his mind wanders, numbly. It isn’t until some ding of a process that indicates it is now complete that draws him back to the present. His hands move with automaticity. He types along his holographic keypads, works a little more, and then he blinks and finally stands. He’s unsure if it’s minutes later or hours that drag on. Working in such a way tends to have that sort of effect on him. Makes him lose track of time. But he does not mind.

Standing, he grimaces when he feels his joints protest at the sudden movement. He rubs the palm of his hand to the new knots at his back that he knows he has now from sitting hunched over as he does. Despite overworking himself like this, it isn’t how he toils away for long, grueling hours but it’s the surprise visit that leaves him drained of any motivation to continue. With Esper, there are always more questions than answers—more questions that he can't even begin to fathom presently.

Thus, he feels he is due for a long, long nap.

Stepping into the corridor, the alarmingly loud echo of his shoes clacking against floor tiles is painfully sharp even to his ears. He’s long learned how to drown out that sound though. He finally slips into his bedroom, away from the lab, and starts to dress down, making himself comfortable. Discarding his scarf and reaching for his turtleneck next, fingers at the hem, he stops, however.

A photo in a surprisingly plain-looking wooden frame sitting upright catches his wandering gaze.

It’s a picture of them—Mastermind. Himself from before. And, the one Esper keeps asking after, Psyker. Esper is there too, in the middle. They’re smiling, Psyker has him tugged into a hug that he’s trying to push away from but it’s no use thanks to Esper. Psyker is flashing one of those thousand-watt smiles, grinning so brightly. Esper’s connecting them both, hand on Psyker’s shoulder, and his arm linked around Mastermind's waist, beaming happily. Meanwhile, he’s unable to hide his own bashful pout but there’s clearly an arm around Esper as well, tugging him close to his side.

He remembers this picture well.

Dominator flips the picture down on the nightstand, gets into bed, and tries his hardest not to remember.

===== → loading … :\\ destination found: 100% =====

“Hey, Psyker, where’s Esper?”

“Iunno, but I do know he’s late, that’s what he is. This isn’t gonna stay warm forever.”

“Oh, stop that.” Mastermind walks over to the pouting Psyker and nudges him, then takes a seat at their dining table, waving his hand. “You know he wouldn’t miss his favorite for the world. Especially if it’s made by you,” he adds, sneering at the brawler. Having said his piece, he nudges Apocalypse onto the surface, reduced down to his mini form, and looks over some data from earlier in the day that his companion cube relays to him.

“Oi, no work at the table.” Psyker stomps his way over to the scientist, patting along Apocalypse’s surface until it beeps off.

Mastermind exclaims loudly in surprise when his flow of numbers fade away and instead, through the transparency of blank screens, he’s met with Psyker’s annoyed glare. He scoffs and folds his arms, then just as quickly unfolds them and gestures to the now offline Apocalypse, “I was reading that!”

“No work at the table,” Psyker says again, enunciating each syllable clearly through gritted teeth, waving a threatening spatula his way.

“And I said—!”

It’s at that moment that a portal rips open, flinging out Esper at full force who just so happens to land in Mastermind’s arms. Ungracefully. Mastermind, not Esper.

Esper is too busy snuggling up to the poor scientist that’s currently too flabbergasted to realize what’s even happened in the span of a few seconds, struggling to even hold them both upright.

“Well, speak of the devil. I was gonna ask you to help but looks like your hands are… preoccupied,” Psyker snickers their way, not missing Esper’s equally shit-eating grin. “I’ll get everything set up then.”

“Psyker!” Comes Mastermind’s shrill voice, displeased. “Esper! Keep your hands above my shoulders!”

“But I missed you,” comes the time hopper’s childish reply, whining as he seats himself in Mastermind’s lap, attention flipping between the scientist and his unguarded cheesecake in the distance.

Another time.

“Well!” And Mastermind’s got no reply for that. So he settles for the next best thing: deflecting. He starts again, “Where were you, anyway? Stop leaving so much,” and he pauses, sneering at Psyker’s back turned to them, “or else this guy’s going to keep complaining and whine to me about it.”

“I do not whine!”

And almost like nothing’s changed since his little excursion, the two continue their bickering and Esper snuggles more into Mastermind, making himself comfortable as Psyker makes his way back over, their plates of food in hand.

It’s good to be home again.

#addcest #diabolic esper #mastermind (elsword)#lunatic psyker #but is it really lmao #my fanfiction #i forgot my tags lmao i'll find them later

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guhamun · 1 year ago

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multimuse combination meme; accepting || @nvrcmplt

⭐ I send with full love. Take all the time you need, Shi. I am at your mercy. ⭐

Jianyu and Beornræd: I love to imagine that they have a friendly rivalry with one another / have met many times in the past, especially since, though Jianyu's people ceased being full blown nomadic over time, they still have a process where some of the village leaves with the cattle to let the grass recover and then come back in another season. Them meeting several times during that and testing one another's skills. Tala....childhood...friends...-closes eyes-

Jianyu and Einri: SAME HAT AS BEOR. Except Jianyu probably disapproves of his sticky fingers and wishes Einri would find something else to do aside from 'accidentally' taking something from someone. He finds his skill with the bow to be impressive and sometimes likes having little competitions with him. Even though they probably would bump heads because Einri is...Einri...he would respect how overall skill.

Jianyu and Chenlong: Just from a glance, Jianyu would know that Chenlong is powerful, and that alone would make him want to learn more about the blade from him. I like to think that they exchanged blows in a friendly spar and then from there he was basically fascinated. Jianyu is constantly wanting to grow as a warrior and a swordmaster, so it would be interesting to explore something like this for sure!

Me rounding up all your mercenaries into my arms. I don't know a lot about them, but holding out brochures how would they like to work with the Band of Blades sometimes---

Damian and Vaclav: You already know probably how I feel about them but like Damian finds Vaclav to be so interesting (cool). First impressions for him were good stuff, so I imagine he would love to occasionally speak to Vaclav because he'd feel like they understand what it's like to be a creature shaped like a person, basically. They might be different species, but he would probably hold many things Vaclav told him in high regard due to said respect.

Damian and Aapeli: I imagine that Damian doesn't really like going to regular doctors much, and since Aapeli is a werebeast like himself, he'd feel ten times more comfortable talking to them due to their differences from humans. Probably does house calls occasionally if necessary.

Kyojuro and Junpei: With Junpei being an older slayer, though disgraced whose name is no longer uttered by anyone in the corp, I imagine that Kyojuro would defer to his wisdom in concerns to certain sword techniques and quickest way to deal with certain demons. The reason for the other's disgrace wouldn't really be within Kyojuro's scope to ask as he would still see them as one who had taken up the blade and still fought demons.

Kyojuro and any of the hakkenden guardians: I don't know why, but the thought of one of the hakkenden guardians choosing him to look after just has me -chef kiss- Kinda like in Okami when they were with others, but would return to that Satomi household the moment they were summoned by whoever held the ability to call them.

Kyojuro and Jiyuna: I like the thought of Jiyuna looking in on Kyojuro sometimes after he saved him from that cage. Then they just become close from there from constant meetings.

Nagayoshi and Olu: I feel in my very soul that Naga would like Olu. I don't know why but this calls to me. He has such a fiery temperament, but I also feel like Olu can pretty much reel him in whenever that happens.

Arash and Vuir (fantasy verse-ish perhaps!): Arash wandering into Vuir's territory when he's hunting for his village thinking that he heard the calls of a bird, but instead, he's met with a dragon. They hit it off pretty well, primarily because Arash is just so damn chill 99.99% of the time and doesn't flee upon being discovered, but talks to Vuir instead.

Arash and Tyler: They would get along so well fdsffsfsd. He and Tyler are the most chill people and I can see them hitting it off right from the beginning as a result of this. Probably occasionally goes to his shop because he really likes scented candles and likes putting them around his Master's home. 1000% knows that Tyler is a witch since he can feel it.

Tomoe and Yatagarsu: As one who guides others, I imagine her encountering them a great deal when she was alive, but when she's summoned, still sees them. She is very respectful to them...even though...they are sometimes embarrassing and are nothing like the stories she heard in concerns to their mannerisms.

Tomoe and Weisheng: Her coming to visit every now and then for blade upkeep -- wishes that he would stop drinking all the time. Probably also cleans up his residence when he passes out because she can't stand how messy things gets.

Atha and any of your undead people: ANY. ANY OF THEM. It's his duty to aid the dead in moving on, and equally his duty to deal with necromancy of any kind. Though at the same time, he would be interested in learning more about the 'why' of this undead army as he also attempts to help spirits pass on in the area like he believes they should.

#nvrcmplt #[-puts a whole box in front of you- JKFHSKFFDSFSS #these are the ones that came to me first even though I can name more but you know you can always #just throw any and everyone at any muse at any given time--]#;ooc jabber #;ask reply meme #OH AND NEUVI AND PERCIVAL AND----

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wanderer-on-the-steppe · 3 months ago

Text

Yes, I think I understand what you mean. It makes a huge difference if we regard characters as just fictional or if we look at them as we would at real people - or something in between. At one end of the spectrum, yes, it can be enough for them to be believable and interesting to enjoy reading/watching them as fictional characters (the way that many people like Bogusław though I’m sure none of them would trust him in real life - but as just a fictional character on the screen or the pages of a book he can’t harm us, so it’s possible to safely enjoy his hilarious mannerism), and on the other end we decide if we like a character according to the same criteria as we would decide in real life, and then, if their moral compass doesn’t align with our own, it’s impossible to ignore.

I think I’m usually somewhere in between with most characters myself, but your remarks have made it clear to me that I’m really quite inconsistent, subjective and, therefore, strictly speaking unjust with how generous I am towards characters. To certain characters there’s a connection, something in their life story and psychology speaks to me on a personal level, and then, even if they do something I could never call right, my feeling is: „For the sake of their misfortune, their sincerity, all they went through that drove them so far - may they be forgiven, and may they find happiness and peace.“ All while being aware that those who suffered from their deeds will not feel that way, and that they don’t have to, and that if I was in their place, I probably wouldn’t either. And then with other characters I don’t have that much nuance. Or I might even rationally understand why they did what they did as well, but I still can’t say I really like them, because on an emotional level, I do resent them for it. So your approach of either seeing them as only fictional or judging them completely according to which behaviour you could or couldn’t forgive in real life is honestly the more logical and consistent one.

The way you describe Kmicic's thought process is great - it's very vivid and really much more concise than you yourself felt it is. Yes, Kmicic "knows he hasn't got it all figured out". He has this arrogance of, as you called it: "I'm awesome and doing the right thing! :D“ in the beginning, but it’s still a more superficial belief about himself that comes from lack of introspection, and hasn’t solidified the way Kuklinowski’s arrogance has (which I really suspect to be the consequence of decades of systematically lying to himself and others at this point). Kmicic is still able to admit to himself that he feels lost, confused, ashamed of himself. Kuklinowski? If someone reacted to him the way Oleńka reacts to Kmicic, I'd bet he'd immediately convince himself that this was a completely worthless person, and I'd not be surprised if the situation could get seriously dangerous for them.

The same acceptance of influence, I think, becomes a core belief of "I need help, and I need guidance", as opposed to "I'm always right and if I'm not the worse for the facts“.

Yes, this! And I love how it becomes obvious that this acceptance of influence is a double-edged sword. It’s one of his greatest virtues, because embedded in it is the attitude that others are worth listening to and can have knowledge and experience greater than his own, but it’s also the weakness that threatens him most in his struggle to change, because his question becomes indeed: "whom to serve under" and not "what do I personally believe in". And of course you’re right that from a more modern, democratically-minded perspective, this is a disastrous foundation to build one’s morality on, but what I love is how much sense it makes from a psychological point of view that this is the question he asks himself. Because he has just made the experience that he cannot trust himself. He has lived a considerable time believing that everything was fine, that his behaviour was daring and impressive, that all the violence was normal - and suddenly he sees himself through the eyes of the person he loves and has to realize his normality is a horror. That his deeds cause suffering that he never even thought about or took serious. Of course his question at this point is not "what do I personally believe in"? Because that’s exactly the problem: that what he believed in wasn’t trustworthy. How can he just replace his old beliefs with a new product of his own thinking and trust that now? It makes sense for him at this point to believe that the only way he’ll ever get out of this mess is to defer to the judgement of someone he trusts and respects.

That doesn’t mean that it will work long-term or that it’s a good state of mind to be in. Simply replacing one’s conscience with loyalty to a person considered above oneself is as dangerous as the opposite approach of thinking no one knows anything worth learning from. So even if this staggering between different lords feels very natural for someone in Kmicic’s situation to me, that doesn't mean I consider him a role model for it. Maybe the problem is not so much that he does it, but that the plot and his character arc are considered complete when he happened to land on the right side. Without that difficult but necessary process of learning to find a middle way between "I don’t need to listen to anyone because I’m awesome already!" and "I’m so hopelessly wretched, my only chance of ever doing some good is by blindly following another." (Though just from a literary point of view, it feels right for me that the story ends where and how it ends. But "What makes for the best story?" and "What would be the most healthy development for a character?" are two different questions anyway.)

And oh, yes, this moment where Kuklinowski, not knowing yet that Kmicic has changed sides, admires him and is "his biggest fan"! I’ve not really given this attention before for the question whether Kmicic sees something of his own past/his own past potential in him. After Kuklinowski tortured him, Kmicic has such a clear and immediate motive for his revenge that I’m not sure how much of a role resenting what he sees in him still plays for him - but that quarrel they had before, when Kmicic accompanied him out of Częstochowa? Realizing that a person he despises admires him - and having to think about what that says about his past self - cannot have been pleasant for Kmicic. And I think it's quite plausible that this is why he reacts as he does.

This got really long now… and definitely ran away from me too. (And I still don't feel like I've put everything into words the way I wanted to...)

czemu ta scena jest taka silly

be who you are

#andrzej kmicic #kuklinowski #potop #trylogia

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mildkleptomaniac · 3 years ago

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maple syrup — rafe cameron x reader

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: not a request. based off the song maple syrup by the backseat lovers. one of my fav bands!! check em out.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.4k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: toxic relationship, presumed cheating, breaking up, physical harm, gas lighting, alcohol, drugs.....essentially angst. self sabotage on rafe’s end. hes the bad guy.

𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: this might be a heavy read regarding toxic relationships and how they downward spiral. the piece switches perspectives but mostly sticks to rafe’s pov.

I still have your picture on the wall I still have the nightmares Where I would have to call you to calm down

It’s been three months since Rafe and Y/N broke up, yet he still had a picture of her on his dresser. His muscular arms wrapped around her frame as she sat in between his legs on the Druthers. She had one of the sweetest smiles spread across her face, eyes squinted—he could almost hear her laughter from the photo. He wore sunglasses and had a charming smile, his typical self.

He could remember that day perfectly. It was the beginning of the end for the couple.

The day was spent lounging and soaking up the sun, sharing drinks with the Cameron’s, and watching Ward and Rafe fish while Sarah and Y/N would gossip.

After a long day out on the boat, Y/N gathered her and Rafe’s items before heading up to his room. She emptied her bag and heard his phone vibrating constantly—receiving all the texts that the lack of reception caused. Her eyes caught a glimpse of another girl’s name with a message saying she had fun with him last night.

Y/N swallowed her emotions fast as Rafe walked into his room, slipping his arms around her waist and kissing the nook of her neck. He noticed something was off when she didn’t melt into his touch like usual.

Maybe she was just tired, he thought.

The two took a quiet shower together, Y/N trying to process what she just witnessed. She had looked at Rafe differently since that moment. She couldn’t confirm anything, but he told Y/N last night he was with the guys.

He wasn’t.

“Babe, what’s the matter? You seem off ever since we got back from the boat. You seasick?” Rafe ran a hand through his wet hair before sitting on the edge of the bed.

She shrugged her shoulders, she felt sick for sure, but not for that reason. “I don’t know…” She mumbled. “Actually, were you out with the boys that night?” She turned to face him.

Rafe’s face dropped but quickly masked it. He lied straight through his teeth.

She believed him, but it didn’t change the panic that took residency in her chest. The anxiety quickly turned into trust issues—calling him to ask for validation about where he was and who he was with.

The sound of her voice cracking and the trepidation still haunts him to this day. He could imagine her biting her nails and pacing around her room while holding the phone between her shoulder and head.

No matter how many calls, he could never calm her down.

I still think about you all the time When I step out of the shower I'm reminded of the night When we slept in the back of your car And you left me with a pretty cool scar

Y/N still thought about Rafe all the time. A towel draped around her body, she stared at herself in the mirror. Every inch of her skin, he had touched and tainted. The tempestuous graze of his fingers, lips that brushed against the skin of her neck, and the warmth of his body against her’s. Y/N only ever focused on the good of their relationship, but she should’ve realized sooner it was nothing but good–healthy.

She wished she didn’t love him anymore, but no matter how much soap she lathered on—he was still there. Her finger traced over her arm, gently. She felt like a wound that would never heal after dating Rafe Cameron.

He left her with a scar.

Y/N remembered the night perfectly when Rafe gave her this scar. Y/N’s parents were mad at her for coming home past curfew, so they would lock her out of the house.

Y/N would sleep in the back of her car, filled with blankets and pillows. At least her car was relatively big so the trunk was quite comfortable. She was fine sleeping alone most of the time, but ever since seeing that text, she wanted the comfort of her boyfriend.

Chewing on her lip, she pulled the blankets closer to her chest.

“Hi, Rafe,”

“What, Y/N? I told you I’m out tonight with the boys again.”

“Um…sorry. My parents just locked me out and I just…wanted to sleep with you. It’s been a hot minute.” Something happened to Rafe and she wasn’t sure what it was, but it wasn’t her boyfriend of nine months.

Y/N heard shuffling in the background layered with banter and laughter—and the sound of a girl's voice begging for him not to leave.

Rafe sniffled, sucking air into his nose, “Yea-yea, I’ll do that.”

Once the two were face to face, everything went wrong. The boy climbed into her truck, his head spinning and she noticed he wasn’t himself.

“Are you on drugs, Rafe?”

“Wait? No! What the hell are you talking about?” He suddenly got defensive, furrowing his brows.

“You’re obviously on something to react to me that way.” Y/N had enough of the wishy-washy behavior from him. “And who was that girl you were with?”

“Oh my god, Y/N. Am I not allowed to have girlfriends? I think you would like her and maybe benefit from learning a thing or two from her. Like, she doesn’t talk to me like you do. You’re just making shit up to be mad at.”

She crossed her arms. “Rafe—are you cheating on me?”

“Why can’t you just listen? I work so hard to be the perfect boyfriend and all you can do is worry about her.”

“Do you hear yourself right now? You’re high and I just wanted some—“

“Some validation, I know! You ask that every time on the phone. Don’t you think I need some validation or some shit?”

Y/N fell silent, not wanting to interact with him right now. She turned her back to him, but within moments she got out of the trunk. She left the hatch open and pointed for him to get out.

“Leave, Rafe. I’m better off sleeping alone tonight than having to deal with everything you’re saying.”

Her boyfriend scoffed and turned to laughter. He rolled his eyes and got out of her trunk. “You really kicking me out? No. I left the party for you and I’m gonna stay. Or else I’ll get a call with you crying—“

“Rafe Cameron, leave. Now.” She spoke firmly.

He didn’t like the way she was speaking to him, causing him to push her against the car.

“Huh? Or what?” He inched towards her, leaving little to no room. She clenched her eyes shut.

Her best and first thought was to push him off of her, but he grabbed her wrist and pushed her back into the vehicle. Her arm was scraping against sharp metal that sliced her skin.

Your purple sweater's sitting in my room I tried to wear it, but I knew that it would smell like you I saw you dancing at the show tonight I stood in the back And I think that we both know why

In the corner of Rafe’s bedroom lay Y/N’s purple sweater. A thin piece she lent to Sarah one night after complimenting it so many times, but she never ended up wearing it. She claimed that it wasn’t her color after all.

The boy hadn’t seen his ex in three months, but he knew if he went to move it—it would smell just like her and he couldn’t afford that. Would it smell like the summer nights spent together on the dock? The smell of a waffle cone with her favorite ice cream melting down the sides? The salty, buttery popcorn they would get at the country club as they watched a movie on the projector? Maybe the smell of her fruity little drinks she’d mother in her hand the whole night at parties.

Rafe Cameron couldn’t think poorly of his ex, except when his judgment faded on a high.

At the Boneyard, he stood next to Topper and Kelce. They were eyeing all the people on the beach as they nursed their cold beers, the condensation coating their fingers.

“Dude, I can’t believe Sarah is here with some Pogue.” Topper shook his head, full of distaste at the sight of his ex with a Pogue. John B. Routledge. Rafe bit his tongue and made no comment, at least he would do all the work that Rafe no longer had to do. “What does she see in him anyway? He can’t…he can’t support her—right?” Topper was looking for some validation, but Rafe couldn’t give a shit about it at the moment.

“Yea, man, he’s just a Pogue.” That was all Rafe could muster.

He took one quick glance over at his sister and saw Y/N with them. She was dancing with another Pogue—JJ Maybank. Her body swayed to the music, a large smile plastered on her face as she moved. Maybank’s hands held onto her waist and he looked at Y/N in a way he didn’t like. Maybe it was the way he used to look at Y/N.

He had no reason to be mad, but emotions didn’t make sense with the influence of alcohol and drugs. His fingers clenched around the glass bottle, almost tight enough to break it.

Kelce patted Rafe’s shoulder, dragging him over to another group of friends. The girl that ruined it all (Rafe had yet to take the accountability he ruined it all) wrapped her arms around his neck, begging for a good time.

Y/N and Rafe avoided each other that night. They both knew why.

Did it hurt When I kicked you to the curb? Now I'm all alone I guess I'll never learn And I lied When I took you on a drive And I said I'd never speak to her I wish I would’ve kept my word

“Baby, c’mon, let me just take you on a drive and we can talk about it.” Rafe ran a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth in front of Y/N. She pursed her lips and held her arms crossed and close to her chest. After the other night outside her car, she wasn’t entirely sure of what to feel towards Rafe. At this point, was were they dating? Broken up?

“Fine,” She finally agreed, reluctantly. Her father warned her about Rafe and the kind of boy he was becoming. He said he would hate to see a boy ruin her confidence, to see all the hard work she built over the years be crumbled–especially by a Cameron.

She got into the car, her body leaning against the car door as she watched all the houses go by. Silence lingered in the air, other than the tapping of his fingers on the wheel.

“I didn’t cheat, Y/N. I need you to trust me and uh…believe me. If it makes you feel better, I’d never speak to her again. Ever.” His words felt like vomit. It spewed out of his mouth and he didn’t even look at her. She glanced at him, raising an eyebrow.

“If you didn’t cheat, why are you getting so worked up? It hurts more to lie to me, Rafe.” Y/N replied to his statement.

“Y/N, my god, see–this is why we aren’t working out. I offered a solution and you just—dismissed it!” He was getting worked up again. He couldn’t confess she was rolling around in the sheets of some other’s girl bed, off of an intense high. He didn’t want to admit that he was the one at fault.

“Take me home, Rafe,” Y/N demanded. He glanced at his girlfriend, at the road, back at her, before slamming his fist onto the wheel. He drove her home, pulling into the driveway. She unbuckled herself quickly and looked at Rafe.

“If you break this promise and don’t get your shit together, Rafe, we’re done.” And with that, Y/N slammed the door and hurried to her front door.

Later that night, Y/N found herself crying to Sarah about everything. She offered the girl an invite to hang out with the Pogues and she agreed. It was awkward at first, all of them knew her as Rafe’s girlfriend. They couldn’t figure out why a girl like her was with someone like him–especially hearing everything he did to her through the grapevine.

She found comfort in the friend group of The Pogues. She adored listening to the way Pope rambled and the way Kie would have a beneficial remark to add. John B and Sarah were smitten, almost spiking jealousy in Y/N that she no longer had that. JJ offered her a beer and sat beside each other. She watched them all act like buffoons and wanted to stay here for quite some time.

It didn’t take too long for Y/N to figure out Rafe was still spending time with that girl and making a mess out of himself. She wanted to help him, but she realized it wasn’t her job to fix a broken boy. She wasn’t going to mother him back–it wasn’t her job, especially as a girlfriend.

She went over to the Cameron’s, JJ dropping her off in front of the house. Her heartfelt heavy as she took every step to the front door. She loved him too much to do this, but he was dragging her down and she didn’t want that. She loved Rafe Cameron. Her first love. Everything was so good until it wasn’t–and when it was good between them, it was so good. So intoxicating to have his hands on her body.

Before she approached the door, Rafe stormed out of the house. Face red and full of fury.

“You fucking a Pogue? Huh? You wanna cheat on me with those lowlife-ers? Trying to get back at me for cheating on you? That’s so pathetic, Y/N. You need to get off this property now and get out of my fucking life.” Rafe yelled across the lawn, his hands flying left and right.

She didn’t need to say anything, everything was proven. She swallowed her feelings and went back to JJ in the car.

Rafe was the one to kick her to the curb, but he was left all alone. Rafe held too many internal battles—he’ll never learn. He picked up the picture before facing it downwards on the dresser. He wished he would’ve kept his word.

#rafe cameron #( rafe cameron )#rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #obx imagine #outer banks imagine

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