#hatred amongst believers

[quran-audio-multilingual]

Believers should be aware of the dangers of Satan and his attempts to lead them astray from Allah. Satan tries to deceive people by making the life of this world alluring and making them forget the existence of the hereafter. He also stirs up hatred amongst believers and encourages greed. Despite Satan's tactics, Allah has given believers the power to resist him and remain devoted to Him, and promises them abundance and forgiveness.

Believers should seek refuge in Allah if they feel an evil urge from Satan, as He will protect them from the punishment of the Searing Blaze.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Only His

Feyd-Rautha x Concubine!reader

Summary: A diplomat from Caladan wants to borrow you for the night. Feyd doesn't take that very well. Requested by @midnight-serendipity

Words: 2700

Notes: cursing, mentions of smut (a little), gore, blood, death, typos.

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Feyd breathed Hatred. 

He bled Hatred. 

When he killed, Hatred controlled his movements. Like a parasite in the brain, Hatred determined the thrust of his blade, how deep it sunk into an enemy’s gut, and the degree to which he twisted the weapon before pulling it from a soon-to-be lifeless body. 

He’d cultivated a bond with Hatred. There was a mutual understanding of one another, he thought. But as Feyd listens to the proposition from the man sitting his opposite, Hatred slowly becomes a stranger.

Turns out Hatred has a claiming side, a how-dare-you-look-at-what’s-mine side, and from that, Feyd realizes he never knew Hatred, not truly. Because this feeling—whatever it is—has revealed that Hatred is more potent than he initially believed.

“You want to what?” Feyd grits out through clenched teeth. 

“There’s no need to get upset,” the man chuckles; a diplomat from Caladan sent on behalf of Duke Atreides who came to Giedi Prime to reinforce treaties and trade agreements with the Baron. Others were sent from their respective planets, but he is by far much bolder than the rest when it comes to stepping out of bounds.

“I'd give you something in return,” Nolas—that’s his name. Feyd could barely care to remember—continues. “Whatever you like. I just want her for the night. Something to make the long trip here worthwhile and the trip back more bearable.”

“You think my concubine can be bought?”

“All concubines can be bought,” he says. “At the very least, borrowed.”

If so, then you are a concubine of untraditional nature. You are not shareable. You cannot be divvied up amongst the group so each may enjoy their slice; not as long as Feyd lives. And should he not live, for reasons foreseen or not, he long ago requested that your life be ended as well. That way you could be together. That way no man could ever have you. 

The thought of another’s hands on you sets fire to Feyd’s veins, threatening to burn his pale skin from the inside out. His heavy brow dips forward to darken the light hue of his irises. He stands and crosses the bridge between his seat and the one occupied by the older, pudgy man, looming over him to the point that Nolas must tilt his head back so their eyes can meet. 

“I will not be giving you mine,” Feyd growls. “Not for anything you could offer.”

Nolas huffs. “Now be reasonab–” 

Feyd fists his fingers into the collar of Nolas’s jacket, twisting tightly and yanking upward until Nolas chokes from the constricting fabric pressing into his windpipe. 

“Let me be perfectly clear,” Feyd spits, leaning forward. He opens his mouth to continue, but just as his next words are ready to leap from his tongue, something odd takes root in Nolas’s vile eyes. Odd, because it is not fear.

The bulk of Feyd’s skills lies in his ability to incite fear, whether through words, or battle, or presence, and with the exception of his uncle, fear has successfully struck the core of any soul who has crossed his path. Civilians, servants, his brother, his mother, even you have not been spared, but the man in his grasp is not cowering. He is not trembling. He is not soaking in the vulnerability of the position he is in where Feyd could snap his neck in a half-second. Instead, he holds the spearing gaze of the youngest Harkonnen. Matches it, even.

Feyd sinks his teeth into his boiling rage and forces it to overpower the shock that has slipped in. “You will not get within fifty feet of her. You talk to her, you surrender your tongue. You touch her, you lose a finger. You look at her, I’ll take an eye and it can sit alongside the rest of my trophies.”

A smirk touches Nolas’s face, practically undetectable before it is gone, and suddenly Feyd feels it. That loss of control. He feels Nolas penetrate his skull and weave spindly tendrils through his brain, poking and prodding for Feyd’s secrets. And then there’s a moment; a moment when Feyd nearly stumbles—the moment Nolas latches on to the one thing Feyd can not afford to have known by anyone other than himself. 

The smirk returns. “Of course, na-Baron,” oozes off of Nolas’s slimy tongue. “I wouldn’t dare lay a hand on the woman you love.”

With another half-twist, the collar tightens, blocking the blood from leaving Nolas’s face. He’s cherry red—or at least what Feyd imagines is cherry red based on your description—and he thinks with a few more turns of his fist, he could get Nolas’s head to pop right off his shoulders and tumble onto the floor. 

“What are you doing!” Rabban snaps, stomping toward the duo. He rams his hand against Feyd’s chest, but despite being forced back a step, he does not release the diplomat. He does not blink, fingers transmuting to steel as Rabban works to pry them open. “Uncle wants him alive for tonight!”

Feyd doesn’t care about tonight. He doesn’t care for some party announcing his uncle’s plans for the future. He does not care that this man, this worm, is considered a vital messenger. Send a fucking letter. 

Rabban whips out a small blade and slashes downward, nicking Feyd’s knuckles. It stings but livens the rush of his blood. His heart pounds harder, teeth gritting and cracking. 

“Feyd!”

Nolas’s eyes begin to redden, threadlike veins almost glowing. No air exits his nostrils and just as he finally wraps his hands around Feyd’s wrist, yanking and jerking to free himself, the tension in the fabric snaps. 

Nolas gasps for air, falling forward and revealing the clean slice down the back of his jacket collar. Feyd’s head turns to Rabban’s disgusted glare. 

His brother sheathes his knife. “You’d defy our uncle’s orders?”

Feyd glances back at Nolas, who has yet to recover, before spinning on his heel and leaving.

—

“Are you embarrassed of me?” you ask, your attention focused on the precise wrapping of bandage tape around Feyd’s knuckles as you sit beside him on the bed. “Is that why you don’t want me to go tonight?”

“Yes,” Feyd grumbles. No, his mind snaps back at him, and he huffs. 

Your arrival on Giedi Prime birthed a conscience within him—a conscience that exists solely for your sake—and because he often fucks up when it comes to you and your feelings, it never shuts up. You’re hurting her. Look at her. Do you not see that devastation? He does, and little pinpricks nip at the organ in his chest. 

You lightly nod as you mutter a pathetic, “Oh.”

With a hefty sigh, Feyd says, “It’s for your protection.” There! Better!

Fingers pause their work and your head shoots up to meet his eyes, a small smile curving your lips. 

“Oh,” you repeat. There’s a hint of excitement in your tone, a glint in your bright irises that causes Feyd’s cheeks to warm. 

You rip the used tape from the rest of the roll and set it aside, and then that smile disappears. “Wait, protection from what?”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re safe if you’re not there tonight.”

You hum, and from that hum alone, Feyd knows exactly what’s running through your mind. 

“And my safety is very important to you, is it?” you ask, lifting the skirts of your dress so it doesn’t catch under your knees as you move to straddle his hips. 

Feyd rolls his eyes. His hands settle on your waist. “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he mildly scolds. 

You lean into his body until he falls back onto the mattress, your chest pressed to his chest, your face hovering above his. 

“I don’t know,” you tease as your fingertip skims over his bottom lip. “I’m starting to think you might like me more than you let on.”

“Think what you want,” he says, turning his head to the side and severing the taut band connecting your gazes. 

You chuckle and grip his chin, demanding he look at you again. “Fine, I will,” you whisper before inching your lips closer until they ghost over his. “I think you like me.”

You give him another feather-dusting of a kiss but it’s not enough. Never enough. Feyd growls, burying his hand into the strands of your hair to hold your head still so he can claim your lips in the devouring manner he desires. 

When you moan, he wraps his arm snuggly around your waist. When you suck on his tongue, his cock flinches in his pants and he involuntarily thrusts upward between your spread legs. 

Your responsive yelp is a drug. Addicting. So different from the yelps he expected to receive from you after he’d chosen you as his concubine. He’d gone into the situation wanting any noise your delicate throat could make to be a product of the pain he intended to inflict upon you, but when he’d taken you that first night, that yelp was of pleasure. He’d hit a particularly sweet spot inside of you and was instantly overcome with a desperate need to hear it again and again and again. 

You pull your lips apart from his. Your gentle pants fan his face. He brushes your loose locks behind your ear. 

“Promise me you’ll stay in the room,” he says. 

“I promise.”

—

He’s gone. Feyd took his eyes off the bastard for one second, and now he’s gone. It’s not as if Nolas will be capable of finding you—he’s not familiar with the fortress’s layout enough to know which room you’re in and you swore you wouldn’t so much as peek through a crack in the door—but still, a sense of dread stiffens Feyd’s limbs. Nolas has no reason to be outside of this room. He has no reason to be doing anything but drinking his fill and mingling with the others of his station. And yet…

“Did you hear me, brother?” Rabban’s voice intrudes upon Feyd’s third scan of the room. He’s not here. He’s not fucking here. 

“Brother–”

“No,” Feyd snaps before descending the short staircase. 

He snakes through the crowd toward the main doors of the vast room. They’re wide, tall, loud when opened and closed, and it’s impossible Nolas could’ve snuck out without Feyd’s notice. 

“Where’s the Caladanian?” Feyd demands of the guards posted on either side of the door. 

“No one has attempted to leave, my Lord,” one says. 

Feyd’s brow pinches. The only remaining exit is a side door specifically designed to blend with the wall. The fortress is speckled with similar doors, all of which connect to an inner walkway that servants and guards use to get around the massive structure quickly when needed. 

“Come with me,” Feyd instructs, receiving a curt nod in return. 

Feyd’s body traces the wall until he reaches the door. He pushes it open and slips inside, the guard on his heels. The noise of the room fades with every step down the corridor and at each new unexpected sound, his head cocks, his ear reaching for the source. 

Then he hears it. 

“Your na-Baron offered you to me,” travels through the wall separating him from the paralleling hallway.

And then your sweet voice. “Offered? N-No, Feyd wouldn’t.”

You’re right there, right on the other side of the thin barrier, but he can’t reach you. You’re trying to remain calm but you’re scared, Feyd knows it, and as he starts to rush to the next closest door, he begs that you keep the bastard at bay just a little longer. 

Once he shoves through the door into the hall, your voice comes in much clearer, but all sight of you is blocked by Nolas’s breadth and height. 

“He wouldn’t give me away,” you say. 

Nolas chuckles. “He hasn’t, sweetheart. I’m simply borrowing you for a little.”

“That’s not—hey, don’t touch me!”

Feyd bursts into the embodiment of fury. Everything goes red. He feels red; he sees red; he tastes and smells and hears red. His vision pulses to his heartbeat’s rhythm. He craves the death of his enemy. To have blood coat his tastebuds. To absorb the scent of freshly drawn iron. 

Feyd’s ears pound with pressure and he worries it will muffle the beautiful screams of his victim, but to his great pleasure, as his blade is stuffed into a meaty back, the screams come in loud and clear in perfectly pitched notes that echo down the hall.

The body collapses, knees slamming into stone flooring.

“Feyd,” you whimper. 

“I told you to stay in our room,” he says lowly, not sparing you a glance as his knife momentarily leaves the body to reenter at the spot where neck meets shoulder. Blood sputters from lips, adorning your dress with a sprinkling of rubies.

“One of the servants said you needed me and I–”

“Take her back,” Feyd orders his guard. “Now.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Feyd!” you cry, tripping over your skirt as you struggle to keep pace with the guard dragging you around the corner. 

It’s better this way. If you’re gone, he can give his undivided attention to the paling body and the scarlet puddle spreading beneath it. 

“You don’t listen,” Feyd says, coming to the front of his victim who is impressively still sitting upright. 

There’s a whimper, another lovely song before Feyd pries open the mouth, digs between a row of teeth, and pinches the tongue with two fingers. He pulls it as far as it can be pulled and then lops it clean off with his knife. It lands on the floor with a wet slap. The fingers follow—all ten—amputated from now lifeless hands. And then the eyes, plucked free from the skull with ease. One of them rolls a fair distance after being tossed aside. The other he keeps.

Feyd steps back to stare upon death at its purest; a flawless display of cause and effect, of crime and punishment. 

“I told you what would happen,” he says. 

He doesn’t get a response. 

—

It’s late when Feyd returns to you. He spent the last few hours explaining his role in the ending of a diplomat’s life. He was careful with his words. He had to be. If his uncle knew he killed in defense of his concubine, it would introduce a plethora of complications. No one can know just how far he would go for his woman lest he put you further at risk and open himself up to manipulation. And he can’t have that. 

Feyd expels a relieved sigh at finding you tucked under the sheets. You’re on your side, a palm between your cheek and the pillow. 

He moves to take a seat on the edge of the mattress. As he runs his hand over your hair, your eyes open. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, and you nod. 

“A servant came to the room, said you needed me,” you tell him. “I was led to that man instead of you. I wasn’t trying to go against what you asked of me.”

“I know,” Feyd says. “The servant was paid. Someone witnessed the exchange.” He watches a flash of shock and pain travel across your irises. “He’s dead now. They both are.”

You swallow, biting into your lip as your eyes and mind briefly drift elsewhere. Feyd waits for you to come back, and once you do, you look up at him and nod in acceptance. 

“Will you come to bed now?” you ask. “Please? I can't sleep without you.”

“You were asleep when I came in.” Your head shakes. 

In all fairness, you haven't spent a single night apart since he got you, and he doesn’t view it as clinginess—it’s more his decision than yours—but rather an expression of how much you want him near. And he likes being wanted. It’s different. Foreign. Nice. The both of you need it. Tonight, perhaps, more than ever.

Feyd stands and peels off his layers of clothes, then goes to the other side of the bed to slide under the covers. You flip over, nestling yourself against him and resting your head on his bicep.

“I thought you didn't want me anymore,” you whisper. “I thought–”

---

“Don't think,” he says. “You're mine; you know that.” He presses a kiss to your hairline. “I don't share you.”

And may fate have mercy on anyone who suggests otherwise.

Tag List (if you wanna join)

[syxilla]

Ken sato x !reporter reader

oh, how he wishes you saw him as a man and not a boy.

cw for everything below: age difference (its used for the plot), suggestive (depending on who you ask)

thinking about kenji trying to impress reader in his games. the reader who is older, more mature and composed than him. who always comments on his arrogance in their articles or interviews. honestly, you were his harshest critic! it was your nickname amongst your co-workers as well. everyone knew you held hatred for him, and so did he. you frequently commented on his age and how it isn't smart to put so much faith into such a young and ignorant man and call him a living legend. "he isn't mature enough!" you always stated.

he hated that. his age doesn't make him better or worse than anyone else; he was just better because he was ken sato. but that didn't stop him from trying to act older, at least around you. because it was for you.

he's still so desperate to impress you. he'd do cooler moves in games, smile at the camera more in interviews, and, even though it seemed impossible, he became more prideful. but he couldn't help it! feeling your intense gaze on him as he walked onto the field or got into a stance, it was invigorating.

he especially got a rise out of seeing you roll your eyes, slumping back in your seat, crossing one leg over the other once you realized there was nothing for you to comment on his performance. it was perfect. so perfect that it would (sometimes, if he was lucky) get a small, ever so slight, smile from your lips. even better if he saw you nod your head in approval. so after one of (arguably) his best perfomances yet, one he spent weeks practicing just for his pretty little critic, he walks up to you, ready to soak in all the praise he believed he deserved.

"so... how was that y/n?" he teased, slamming himself into your personal space. it's his favorite place! if you thought it belonged to you, it was also his. "leave me alone, sato." you grumble, not wanting to admit your defeat to him. "it was good, wasn't it? right? righttt?" you push him away and begin walking away, eyes looking straight forward to avoid his gaze.

"oh c'mon, am i really that bad you can't even compliment me?" he pouted playfully, poking your oh so soft cheek, giving it a slight pinch. "fine, sato! you're a good player. you impressed me today, enough for me to even say im... proud of you." if you were to sneeze each time kenji's heart began to race, it'd look like you're having a seizure because of how fast it was.

"then why dont you show me how proud you are of me," this made you halt, snapping your head towards him. "how?" you asked, eyes focused on his lips that quirked up into a grin. "take me out to dinner. tommorow night. let me pick, and i'll consider the debt you owe me paid off." he smiled, taking a step back, allowing you to breathe again. when did you stop? "i'm not indebted to you anyway?" you retort, pushing him back even more to feel like you had the upper hand here. "yes, you are! all the times you've doubted my abilities! am i not worthy of getting an apology? a gift?" he said dramatically, placing his hand on his chest.

you sputter nothing in disbelief, until something clocks inside of your little brain. "are you asking me on a date, sato?" you asked, crossing your arms over your chest, a shit eating grin on your face. he leans down to your level, which is when you register how much taller he was than you, and tilts his head to the side. "and if i am?" kenji's voice goes quieter. "you're not my type." you mock, mimicking his tone. "i like them older." to this, he laughs. "you like grandpa's y/n? you like them near their deathbed?" he joked, trying (and failing) to hide his laughter. "yeah, atleast they're gentlemen, unlike you."

"i may not be the most gentlemanly person on earth, but i am a gentle man in everything else."

oh! oh. now you were entering dangerous territory. not for him, for you. it was so clear what he was setting up as a trap, and yet, despite all the warning signs there was, opened your plump little lips and asked with the purest face ever (even though your thoughts were the complete opposite) "how can i know if youre lying or not?"

and kenji, oh the annoying ken sato who you would never admit admired, not even on your deathbed, stepped closer to you, leaned down near your ear, and said in the loudest voice, loud enough so that you cant mishear him, and quiet enough that no one else can, says

"why dont i show you?"

if your composure was a ship, it would be near the ocean floor, the reason for sinkage; ken sato. right when your last functioning braincell is able to deliver a quip before total failure, someone calls kenji over. "you have a interview remember?" it yelled. "coming!" he smiled sweetly, kissing your cheek ever so softly.

the immature baseball player might not be as immature as you thought...

(thanks for the support on the last one, so i thought i'd write another one because im desperate for this man, like he's desperate for the reader, lowk. also i didnt fully proofread itmso sorry if skme names r missing colors and whatnot)

[matramancer]

Hoshina Soshiro with a Shinobu like! reader🦋

🦋Synopsis: Amongst the 3rd Division Officers lies one of the JAKDF's most unique fighter's--a swordswoman who fights kaiju with poison.

mitsuri! reader

🦋Tags: shinobu! reader, kny crossover, friends to pining, hoshina soshiro x reader, mostly fluff with slight angst in beginning and end, fem! reader, no beta we die like kanae

“If my combat level was just a bit higher, could I have killed that kaiju?”

That was the thought that rang through your head for years, from the moment you held your dying sister in your hands, to the times where you found yourself alone in your research lab, craning a vial of poison between your fingers.

The world’s first anti-kaiju poison.

You really didn’t know how exactly you qualified enough for the Defense Force. When you enrolled with your sister, you figured that she’d be the only one eligible to enter. Your body was smaller, and your combat power was low. You could barely wield a gun properly.

But throughout your weaknesses lies your hidden strength. You were exceptionally intelligent, using your ingenuity to focus your energy on other aspects of yourself you were keen on.

Despite your blatant hatred of them, you studied kaiju immensely, and turned to insects amongst other creatures as a base of study. Many, many kaiju shared similarities with a common animal counterpart. Science never lied, and if there was one way you could make up for your lack of manpower, it was your understanding. There were things you could do.

Your captain started to notice how intuitive you were–eventually landing you a spot in the research team. 

You were content on not being dispatched or not being in the front lines as much, taking the opportunity you had gratefully nonetheless. You were still part of the action, and you got to observe specimens more closely. You even made friends with another officer, Hoshina Soshiro.

Hoshina and you had a unique bond, one riddled with understanding and mutual respect. Hell, the two of you go back a long way–you were actually batchmates. He was there when you got frustrated over your low combat scores after your shooting assessment, your older sister sporting a much kinder smile in contrast to your fuming face. 

(He’s a bit reminded of himself and his brother)

He understands that feeling of being underestimated, of being swept under the rug. He knows most about how your small size can get under your skin. He shares that frustration of not being enough, not with a gun. Not with what the Defense Force expects of the two of you. 

The two of you became fast comrades in arms, as you came to understand Hoshina’s own battles throughout his entire life. You encouraged each other to move forward, even vouching for his swordsmanship.

Similarly, if it weren’t for Hoshina noticing how nimble and swift you were, you probably wouldn’t have believed in your abilities a lot sooner. Although your combat level for shooting was low, you were definitely exceptional in terms of maneuvers. 

Though Hoshina pushed himself to further be recognized for his talents and exceptional skill, something you actively encouraged, you initially stood in the backlines with your much smaller role. You were content with being behind your sister and everyone else, even as you secretly envied them. Feeling so much envy over how much bigger and stronger everyone’s backs were as they moved forward, that it made your chest hurt sometimes. 

But when you lost your sister, everything changed.

Hoshina saw how it broke you. You were always quite temperamental–brash to him, even. Always so hot headed in contrast to your sister. But now, your anger has gone cold. Your hatred for kaiju turned into prickling ice, and on the times Hoshina caught you slipping off your facade, your immense hatred was so strong that the veins in your face seemed close to popping.

your resolve changed. You were to fight, to put your life on the line in any way you could. You threw yourself in your research, and for a certain period of time, only Hoshina was able to get through to you.

Then, one day, you emerged from your lab with something that could change the world..

You held in your hands the world’s first lethal anti kaiju poison. And you had every intention to test it out yourself. You had thrown yourself into the field, implementing an entirely new outlet of kaiju extermination all by yourself. For that, you were admirable.

And as kaiju poison was still a very new and experimental invention—your invention—you were the only front liner allowed to wield it.

You spent a great deal of time honing your skills with Hoshina–if you were to fight on the frontlines with this poison as your main weapon, then you were going to do it right. With half the physical strength your fellow officers had, you’d train four times as hard to make up for it. And if there was no stopping you, then Hoshina swore that he’d be there every step of the way, just as you did for him.

Your style of fighting was unique amongst the Defense Force, your high agility and field expertise a key cornerstone in your combat style. Where your combat level in gunmanship was low, similar to Hoshina, you held potential with swordsmanship. 

Although you were aggrieved over your physique yet again being a hindrance (you just couldn’t compare your swinging strength to Hoshina’s), you were particularly adept in delivering forward thrusts and piercing motions. Perfect for injecting poison.

It fits you, Hoshina notes. You were never one for brute force.

The man always had a kick seeing the flabbergasted faces of the new recruits during their first time seeing you on the field. It’s something he looks forward to with a certain pride.

Afterall, you‘ve been with each other since the very beginning. When the Defense Force told you both to just quit. When the both of you just kept biting back, fighting for a spot to prove your existence. When you looked at him with so much pride in your eyes, congratulating him for securing his spot as vice captain. When he attached himself to your hip even in your lab, up until being the person standing right next to you when you received honors as well as your promotion.

Though you and Hoshina fought valiantly for your own battles, the other was always there to push the other forward when things felt too stifling.

So he couldn’t help but burst out the biggest smiles whenever he hears that you’re joining the frontlines on a mission with him again—this time, it would be your first mission with the newbies.

It was a silent night before a swarm of spider-like yoju invaded a part of the city, opting for an immediate dispatch of the 3rd Division. Whilst Captain Ashiro was to deal with the Honju, the many, many hordes of yoju required quite a bit of manpower in the frontlines due to its sheer numbers.

That was how Reno and Iharu found themselves cornered, the spider yoju proving to be a much trickier threat than expected. The darkness proved to be another hurdle—it made the dark colored yoju harder to spot. If they didn’t act fast, the swarm would overtake them…

“Iharu! I’ll fire rounds and give you cover! You hurry and call backup!” Reno keeps his shots steady, keeping the horde at bay.

Iharu immediately quips back, firing his own gun. “Hah?! No way am I leaving you—ugh!” He winces, narrowly dodging an attack. Things weren’t looking good, the swarm was imminent.

“HURRY, IHARU! WE’LL BOTH HAVE A BETTER CHANCE WITH REINFORCEMENTS!”

“—Oh my, so you’re the one who’s been firing freeze rounds.”

The two boys froze, goosebumps forming on Reno's skin in particular as the boy felt a sudden presence already by his side. Who— when did you—?!

With as little as a blink of an eye passing, the two boys watched with wide eyes as you nimbly dodged a group of spiders heading your way, as if you fluttered through the air.

Flabbergasted, Reno and Iharu watched as you made it through the infested street in record time, not letting a single yoju touch you. “So fast!”

“Heads up boys,” Hoshina chuckles, speaking into the comms. You had made it to Ichikawa’s position. “Watch your superior closely.”

You stayed so calm and collected, even when the situation seemed dire. Your presence on the battlefield was admirable. “Yoju behavior confirmed. Despite resembling arachnids, every cluster consists of a head yoju similar to the behavior of social insects.” You calmly spoke into your comms, withdrawing your sword. “Prioritize on taking out the mother.”

Reno couldn’t help but marvel at your sword—it was in a shape that he’d never seen before. Were you like the vice captain? But there was no way you could slash through anything with that…

Iharu’s eyes widened as a stray spider tried to sneak up behind you, promptly yelling at you. “WATCH OUT!”

Mid sentence, Iharu realizes that you had already lept to the air once again, and in the blink of an eye with unfathomable speed, you shifted through the yoju, leaving stinging pierces through the hoard. 

“Butterfly Dance: Caprice.”

The two boys watched on in awe. It all happened so fast—but wait, none of the kaiju’s bodies or limbs seem severed?

It was silent, Reno and Iharu still catching their breaths as they scanned the vicinity. The kaiju were intact, but they weren’t moving. “Eliminating a kaiju doesn’t necessarily mean shooting or slashing it down.”

Your voice dropped to a sudden chill. “…Because there are swordswomen like me who use poison.”

As you finished your sentence, the two boys watched in awe as all of the yoju you hit crumbled to the ground, writhing in pain as their bodies shriveled. Then, they all dropped dead. The danger zone had been cleared.

Reno and Iharu watched as you spun your sword in circles, cleaning off the blood from the yoju before moving to face them. “Defense Force Division 3 Head of Research—(L/N) (Y/N),” you smiled, finally introducing yourself. “It’s nice to meet you, new recruits.”

You earned a place for yourself right alongside Hoshina as another remarkable swordsman in the 3rd Division. Your contributions to kaiju warfare were not only quickly making waves, but beckoning your presence in the field of bioweapons. 

To be frank, it was a bit daunting, but if it gave you any chance to get closer to vanquishing the kaiju, you’d keep working hard.

Nowadays, only Hoshina knows of your prior disposition before your jovial, more easygoing front today. How you had morphed a new smile and attitude, akin to your sister’s. According to Hoshina, although your face was tranquil and soft, your eyes held full bloodlust, a desire of vengeance. A show of your actual temperament.

The only person you’ve really let your guard down around since losing your sister was him and him alone. He’s your closest confidant. 

In addition to being the head of research, you oversaw the medical bay of the 3rd Division sometimes. After all, you did also carry medical expertise.

Perhaps the motivation behind that was from your sense of responsibility, as well as this small tug in your head that tells you to take good care of the division Hoshina was entrusted with.

Despite your kindhearted demeanor however, everyone knows not to trifle with you, especially when it comes to medical manners. No one under the 3rd Division has ever “forced themselves” to train before being fully healed ever since you started overseeing them.

Mina Ashiro herself testified to it. “Never again,” she states, not after experiencing your temper.

Well, whatever keeps the division healthy!

Hoshina enjoys crashing into your lab from time to time. He’s your most frequent visitor, to the point where you have a mug and some throw pillows on the couch reserved for him. He was like a cat going in and out.

“(Y/N)~” “Everywhere I go, I hear his voice.” “Oi, I’m right here.”

"..." When he feels your aura darken, he immediately shuts up and sits politely.

“(Y/N)~~ let’s go outside and train.” “It’s raining.” “Then let’s train inside.” 

No matter how naggy and clingy he became however, you always keep him close. Because that’s how he shows how he cares. 

“I know you’re there–” You don’t turn around from your seat, before a cold sensation on your cheek elicits a gasp out your mouth and forces you to turn back. You’re met with a bag filled with some warm takeout, and two cans of coffee.

Balancing everything on his hands was Hoshina Soshiro, grinning all the while. Your expression softens. “--Soshiro.”

“Missed you at lunch,” he starts. “Pity. All the new recruits were asking about you. guess I have you all to myself right now though.” You don’t know if he’s joking or not, but his tone shifted a bit into territory that felt more intimate.

These were really small efforts from Hoshina that you knew all too well, making sure you didn’t hole yourself up in your lab. And you always appreciate him and all he's done. 

Now, let’s talk about the elephant in the room. You meeting Kafka as Kaiju No. 8 did NOT go smoothly.

Your strong hatred for kaiju ran deep, and Hoshina knew that. Your entire life’s work revolved around that. So when the entire debacle with Kafka happened while you were off base during the attack, Hoshina mentally prepared himself for the havoc that was to come.

The definition of “Don’t freak out when I tell you, but……”

Spoiler, of course you found out. And quick. You were the 3rd Division’s head of research who specialized in kaijus–of course you would know. In fact, On your rush to the 3rd Division’s base, you were immediately ushered to study him in captivity. 

Like that was a good impression you’d give to someone who developed the world’s first and most lethal kaiju poison!

“(Y/N),” Hoshina calls out to you, throwing formalities aside. His eyes shifted to your hands, seeing your knuckles grow white, veins visible. “I know what you’re thinking.”

Calm down. “--Soshiro.” You replied, coldly. Hoshina holds a breath at that. He knew you would let your logic and rational thought prevail, but the hatred in you ran so deep, you could slip into a near constant state of anger if you let it get to you.

A new sensation enters your hand. It’s Soshiro’s, you realize, tugging on your own as if to ground you. He hopes it helps bring you back to reality. “I’m here–the 3rd Division is. We all wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t on our side. He saved us, (Y/N).” His gaze and yours meet. “He saved me.”

Luckily (and very thankfully, Hoshina would add on), you grew to become more understanding of Kafka’s disposition, and set aside your antagonistic views as you slowly opened your heart. You even properly thanked him for protecting the 3rd Division.

In fact, you’re quite compassionate with the man now. You check up on Kafka as often as you could, even providing him the fastest updates of any developments you had on his case. He’s also a great talker, you note, and the two of you even start doing catch up sessions over whatever recent developments have happened over tea whenever it was time for his check ups. 

Hoshina feels a bit jealous that he’s no longer the only token visitor of your lab, not that he’ll ever admit it.

With the stakes of no. 9 rising, you knew that the situation would only get more and more dire. You’ve been getting busier days both in and out of the lab, studying samples of the recent high magnitude specimens and observing any abnormalities in kaiju behavior. 

The hypothesis and predictions you’ve marked up however, don’t sound an ounce reassuring. A high class disaster seemed imminent, and when the time comes, you fear that your poison might not be enough.

Not with your sword alone, at least.

On one particular late night in your lab, you glance towards Hoshina. For once, the two of you were silent. You had finished for the night, whilst Hoshina probably popped in to check on you after a midnight session of image training. No kaiju attacks, no sirens, just the night sky ever present through your large windows. “Soshiro,” your voice immediately catches his attention, his full focus now on you.  “Could you promise me something?” 

“Should there be a kaiju–a strong one, and we aren’t able to defeat it,” his eyes widened, the grin on his face gone. “Could you finish the job?”

You let your words stay in the air, your eyes long downturned to the research papers on your desk. You escaped his distraught gaze, attempting to focus on the reports strewn about before they fly out of your vision, Soshiro’s entire being clouding your senses in their place.

The sight of his deep maroon irises caught your breath, and you quickly realized that Soshiro is being completely serious with you right now. He let out a silent plea, with both his eyes and his soul. “Please. Please don’t say that with that face.”

That night, as he held you close, you’re both reminded of the bond that ran tight between the two of you, a bond so strong after everything that you’ve been through together. Something that was forged through pain and joy alike. An innate force that was proof of how the two of you had become so important to each other. It spoke of the same thing,

“I can’t afford to lose you/I can’t afford to lose you too.”

--

A/N: Whew... thank you to those who enjoyed my mitsuri post !!!! mitsuri and shinobu are my absolute favs in kny, and it was rlly fun to write them into kaiju no. 8--i'd love to do more in the future.

[yanderecookierunkingdom]

Hello! so I have an idea, what if mc was one of the heroes but they didn't like being worshipped and seen as a god of some sort so they fake their death and hide amongst the citizens of beast-yeast with a false identity (one that resembles the faerie). Once their "body" was found by the other heroes it made them reach their breaking point as they believe the lesser cookies have managed to kill them. //If you want you can add on to this idea or change things <33

While your friends seem to revel in the praise and love given by the common Cookies, enjoying the way they were looked up to.. you disliked it, no you hated it.

You wanted to be seen as someone common. You didn't like that just because you were one of the first Cookies baked you needed to be treated like a god!

So with your powers, you created a fake body. One that seemed like you had passed away peacefully, curled in the lovely fuana of the flower fields you loved so dearly.

You took up the appearance of a new kind of Cookie, Faeire Cookie. The first of your kind, you claimed.

You hadn't realized how this would break your friends. You didn't realize their corruption had started, yet your presence kept them from falling.

Your 'death' broke that final barrier of resistance. Arrogance grew alongside pure hatred, and their reigns of terror began. You could only watch, horrified as the Witches were forced to imprison them. And having not recognized you in this disguised form, you were called upon to guard the Silver Tree.

You did so mournfully. Elder Faeire Cookie would often stand in for you during adresses to the kingdom, you often too caught in your grief to ever think of facing them.

You forbade anyone other than Silver Knights, yourself, and Eldar Faeire Cookie from ever going near the Silver Tree. You would merely sit there, head pressed against the bark, whispering soft, grief-filled apologies.

[dixons-sunshine]

Hi!! So I saw your post about dad!Daryl.. Since I learned the story of his grandfather I can't stop thinking about what it would be like for him to have a son. I know that Daryl with a daughter is super cute but I feel like a son would be so healing for him. It would be like finally breaking the Dixon cycle of sh*tty fathers. I feel like there would be so many moments where he would see himself in his son, so many times where he would realize that he's not like his father. Simply seeing his son run into his arms whenever he comes home, reach for his hand whenever he is afraid, etc. Without realizing it, each moment will slowly heal his inner child..

A/N: I’m so sorry I couldn’t incorporate this into a full fic for you! I will soon, I promise. I have a really excruciating headache right now but wanted to get my thoughts on this out, so this isn’t my best work. I hope this is still somewhat okay, though!

Imagine Daryl Dixon with a son.

The moment the community doctor had announced you had given birth to a boy, Daryl’s world had flipped irreversibly. He could not believe that he was a dad to a little boy, his son, and when he got to hold him for the first time, feel his baby boy’s grip around his forefinger, his heart swelled with a love like no other. He was happy, amazed, thrilled, but amongst all of those positive emotions, one was more prominent than the others—fear. He was afraid. He was afraid of messing up. He was afraid he wouldn’t be cut out to raise a boy.

He was afraid he would be like his father.

As the months/years passed, and his son slowly grew up, Daryl could see so much of himself in his boy. He saw so much of his rambunctious, mischievous, hyper qualities in his son, qualities his own father had punished him for. But Daryl? Daryl loved those qualities in his son. He loved being dragged to go see a rock his son found cool. He loved picking his mud-covered boy up on his shoulders to ensure that he did not track mud on your clean floors. He loved collecting bugs with him. He loved teaching him how to shoot a crossbow, and he loved the excited hugs he would get whenever his son managed to hit the target.

Having a son made Daryl realize that he was not hard to love. It made him realize that he had not been in the wrong as a child. It made him realize the full extent of how messed up his childhood was. Daryl could never hate his son for simply breaking a plate on accident, but Daryl’s own father would. That made him realize just how deep his hatred for his father ran.

Having his own son showed him just how easy it was to be a decent father. Parenthood was not easy, but Daryl never felt the urge to hit his son, not even when his son would give him attitude. His son helped him realize that he was not unlovable as a child, and he was not unlovable as a fully grown adult, either. This tiny human loved Daryl, despite all of his flaws, and Daryl would move heaven and earth to keep his son safe.

Having a son of his own could be hard at times, but whenever he smiled at Daryl, or excitedly hugged Daryl after he came back from a hunt, or whispered those three important words to Daryl after being tucked into bed, made it all worth it in the end. Having a son helped Daryl heal, and Daryl loved his son with his whole heart.

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

MONEY, MONEY, MONEY, MUST BE FUNNY IN A RICH MAN'S WORLD. ( HOTD X READER )

AUTHOR NOTE! Thanks for all the love. <3 pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Stagehand! Reader prompt : Aegon falls in love with the stagehand of a jazz club. word count: 1, 000+ words

Aegon had a silver spoon up his ass from birth. He got the best cars, the best drugs, the best clothing, the best food. He didn't understand that not everyone had trust funds or billions in their bank account. He never knew struggle, nor would be thanks to his family name. He was a Targaryen, a god amongst the 'common folk'. But, in the small jazz club on the edge of Flea Bottom, he was just another man.

The bartender's didn't care about him, forcing him to pay full price for drinks. The dancers, more than once, backhanded slapped him for trying to catch a feel. All because of you, the stagehand, and brains behind the club. You preferred the shadows, keeping things smooth behind the scenes, saving you from embarrassment should you fail in public. You keep your co-worker's safe, and they did the same for you.

It was honorable. He could not fault you for ordering them to stand up for themselves. Even in the more sinful way of life, they still deserved basic respect. It also didn't help that you looked stunning when cursing him out. The way your eyes hardened. The way you would rip him apart with words. The color insults.

'The cumshot his Mother should have swallowed..'

'The inbred brat..'

'The depressing little wet rat..'

'The guy named Egg'

There was something about you. He didn't know what exactly. It could been the way you cussed him out. Or it could have been the way your eyes light up when you controlled the jazz club. But, there was a part of you that made him want to kick his feet up and twirl his hair like a giddy school girl.

Letting out a tipsy giggle as you snatch the glass of whiskey out of his hand, he leans against the bar table, a dopey grin on his face. He was not even close to being drunk, he’d barely even taken a sip of his whiskey. But, the look on your face was enough to make him feel drunk. You were so pretty. Your eyebrows furrowed, nose softly scrunched up, teeth gritted together, cheeks a flushed pink from anger.  Resting his chin on the palm of his hand, you were so pretty like this, all red faced and eyes full of hatred. He’d twirl his hair if it was long enough. Leaning a little closer on the bar table, he was practically standing on his tippy toes, eager to be close to you. 

“You come into my club, drunk, and think you can demand more to drink? There is no way that I am going to allow you to put my club at risk.” You snap back, shoving a water bottle into his hand. 

“You’re really pretty. Did you know that?” He giggles, “You’d even be prettier if you were to wear something designer, like some Chanel or some Vivienne Westwood. You should let me buy you some, sometime.”

“You're drunk.”  You scoff, shaking your head. 

“Pff! I am not drunk, well, drunk enough to not recognize that you're pretty when you're cursing me out. You’re, like, really pretty when you do it. But, I do think you’d be prettier if you did in something vintage.” He rambles on, the dopey grin on his face growing. 

“You’re drunk.” You state bluntly, rolling your eyes. 

"Again, with assuming that I am drunk."

Sitting back in his seat, he watches you pour out his whiskey into the sink, filling the cup with water. Unable to resist, he rolls his eyes hard a the sight of your routine. This happened almost every time, like clock work. He'd make a ass of himself, you'd assume he was drunk, pour out his drink and serve him water. It was oddly comforting. You cared, or at least it felt like you had cared for him. Even though a tiny part of him knew that you only cared for your club and the lawsuit that could happen. Still, he choose to believe that you cared for him.

"Let me..Let me take you out, just one date? We don't even need to kiss or hold hands." He attempts to negotiate, "I'll take you to the movies we can watch a nice film and just talk."

"I do not think that this is in your vocabulary." You scoff, placing the glass in front of him.

"And you know my vocabulary, now?" He scoffs back, mimicking your face playfully.

"I know people like you, your not that special or hard to read." You argues, "You pretend to be perfect just to get me to let you in my bed."

"One movie, that's it. No funny business."

"I do not like movies." You shake your head, making him scowl.

"Then we can go to the park and talk, there's a farmer's market." He tries again, "Get something to eat."

Watching you shake your head with a bitter chuckle, he cracks a smile, fingers drumming against the bar top. You may have been mocking him. Or maybe he was just high off the smell of cigarettes and cheap cologne that was thick in the club. But, just for a moment it all felt real. Like you cared, like you would consider it and accept.

"You're not giving up, are you?" You ask, lifting your gaze up to him.

"I will, if you ask me too."

"And..And if I want you to take me on a million dollar shopping spree?" You ask, the curiosity in your voice clear.

"I'd take you on a ten million one." He states without hesitation.

Watching you chew on your bottom lip, he waits, not daring to say another thing. He'd fear that if he say anything else it would made you rethink everything. That you'd call for security. Drumming his fingers on the bar top, you roll your eyes hard, making his heart sink. Cowering in his seat, he loose his confidence, his shoulders shagging. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he tries to shrug it off, scoffing. He didn't care? Why would he? It wasn't that big of a deal.

"I get off in an hour, stay and wait or don't." You mumble walking away, "I don't care."

---

[lightlycareless]

Hiii, can i request a scenario on how naoya (when he has reached a point where he loves wife!reader from an arranged marriage) would react to one day not being greeted at all when he comes home? It is completely silent, no response as he calls for her and is getting a bit worried as he starts searching the rooms. But then he sees her laying on the couch, shivering and sweating from a cold that’s so intense she’s barely lucid and can’t even tell he’s there and talking to her

Heya!!

So... I took some liberties when writing this, kind of went a completely different route (the sick part, alongside worried Naoya still remains though), it just occurred to me when reading your ask, but I hope it's still of your liking 🥺!!!

anyways, here are the warnings: mentions of death, miscarriage, a very concerned and overprotective Naoya, a bit of fluff, and everyone wants to spoil you rotten lol.

And without further ado, happy reading!

“Y/N, I’m home!”

Home.

A word he never really cared for, always considering it sappy, alongside the fondness that was usually assigned to it, which Naoya couldn’t think of as nothing but ridiculous, if not hilariously overrated.

For many years, Naoya thought that a home was simply the place that one was raised in and that’s about it. Nothing of the sentimentality others liked to apply to it, brag about it…

Until, of course, he finally came to understand what the word meant; why it was so special, and why it was important to have one.

A home wasn’t made by the people he knew as family, blood related, found in the place he was forced to be in since he was born, and probably die in—no; it’s the one that was made by the people of his choice, people he met through his course of life, connected with, and now, cherished.

Amongst them, you.

He considered himself lucky to have found the love of his life, a concept he considered so… foreign, impossible for someone like him, if not a stupidity of delusional people desiring more from life.

So was Naoya destined to think for the rest of his existence, condemned by his same family to live a life of loneliness, hatred, and die the same way.

But you’d come to show him otherwise, shockingly, and unexpectedly, and in such a way he couldn’t even put up a fight, completely surrendering to you and the wonderful feelings that being in love with you provided.

Now that he’s experienced them, he couldn’t find the reason as to why his family would ever reproach such beautiful thing as harshly as they did—or that he believed them in the first place…

Well, that’s not something that bothers him anymore; the Zen’in clan could continue on in their hard stuck ways for all he cared; he, on the other hand, plans to spend the rest of his days alongside the woman of his dreams, starting by today, finally back in your arms after days of being pulled into pointless missions after pointless missions, which he would not hear of for a few weeks—having earned a well-deserved break for his consistently good performance.

Naoya even prepared accordingly for the occasion, having bought gifts from all the places he’d been to, as well as ideated ways to distract you from the boring estate and his nagging relatives he knows you don’t enjoy being around with, only tolerating them because they were, well, your in-laws, his family—with exceptions of those you do get along, and for them, he’s grateful that they do.

Ah, he couldn’t wait to see you, your face, and the adorable way it brightens up whenever receiving him.

To tell you of his day while resting his head on your lap, with you passing your fingers through his hair, gently soothing his stresses away as you reassure him that he’s the best sorcerer out there, he’s just… unlucky to bump into lesser talented ones.

Get something to eat too, he’d like his favorite for a start, miso soup—and perhaps have you feed it to him? God, it’s been a while since both have done that, and it’s not because he doesn’t like doing it, or you for that matter, but rather, he doesn’t want to risk being seen by others, it has to be in the utmost privacy, after all! He isn’t to be vulnerable in front of his family!!

Oh, he needs wishes to see you—right now. And he’s absolutely sure you’re feeling the same way…

If so… why hadn’t you responded? Why hadn’t you come to receive him in the same manner you’ve always done?

Naoya knows that his schedule can be a bit… unpredictable, making it difficult for you to know exactly when he’ll come back home—but even then, it didn’t take you that long to meet him after announcing his return.

You’d always come to the entrance, no matter if it happened right that moment, or a bit later; you just… did.

But today… it seems that you opted to break the routine by taking far longer than you usually do.

He’d remain attentive to his surroundings, hoping to either hear your approaching footsteps or voice softly calling for him at a distance, yet as time went on, he was received with neither…. And Naoya only begins to grow more worried.

Your husband tries to not jump to the worst conclusion just yet, opting to think that you were perhaps simply caught up tending to the house, maybe even partaking in an unwanted conversation with one of his relatives and having trouble brushing them off—for no matter the times you’d reminded them that your husband was back, and you needed to be there to receive him, still acted as if it wasn’t that important.

Things that implied that even when running late, you were still ok.

Yet…

“Y/N!” Naoya calls once again, hoping for a change…

…

…

…

Silence.

It’s by this time that he decides it’s better to search for you than to stand around and wait for you to magically appear.

Naoya begins by going into the main wing, eyes scanning through the gardens, your usual place of leisure when not busy, where you’d calmly enjoy the diligently tended for flowers (the ones he had changed to your favorite as soon as he found out which ones they were) while snacking on something, or in the company of your loyal staff—if that were the case of your absence, he understood why you didn’t answer.

But he wouldn’t find you near any of the gardens, or anywhere in fact! A statement that weighed even heavier upon finding out that the staff was in the same predicament as him, for when he asked a nearby servant of your whereabouts, he was received with the following answer:

“We haven’t seen her” Naoya’s heart sinks.

“What do you mean you haven’t seen her?” he breathes. “Where could my wife—did she—did she leave the estate?”

No. You… didn’t. Because that’s not what you told him you’d be doing a few hours ago, after letting you know he was on his way back home; if anything, you replied with how excited you were to see him again and that you’d be eagerly waiting for him!

So obviously, their words didn’t make sense. But if so… where were you?

Naoya now frantically searched for you through every wing, room, space, chamber, closet, just— anywhere, literally anywhere you could be while repeatedly calling out your name in hopes of getting a response, or even a glimpse of you; he doesn’t care what at that point, he’s happy with either!

Yet, the longer he went on without an answer, the bigger his sorrow became, to the point where his mind was machinating nothing but the worst-case scenarios, slowly losing his inhibitions as he repeatedly wondered Where were you? How come no one has seen you? Did he have to escalate this situation?

Just—Where are you, Y/N?!

Thankfully, there would be no need to pursue bigger solutions for he’d get his answer soon enough after entering the east wing, passing through the living quarters, and arriving to the laundry room, one of the last places he’d thought you’d be—rightfully guessing so, for you were there, apparently washing whatever garments you had pending, which you hadn’t been able to wash due to a variety of unknown reasons…

But far from feeling elated to have found you, Naoya felt as if whatever he had left of his heart was effectively broken, which felt short compared to the way he found you.

“Y/N!”

The sight that received him is one that will remain imprinted in the back of mind: you were laying on the floor, on your side, tightly clutching to your stomach as you breathed heavily, eyes tightly shut while groaning in what Naoya could only interpret as pain.

As if his worries weren’t through the roof at that point, this last conclusion is what urged Naoya to hastily make way to your side, swiftly kneeling to your level as he calls out for you once more.

“Y/N—Y/N” He’d breathe, firmly yet carefully placing his hands over you with intentions of picking you up, but his hold falters when his fingers briefly graze your skin, making him gasp in return. “Y/N you’re—you’re burning!”

This would be the only time you’d respond to him, barely able to move your head onto his direction, slightly opening your eyes to see him, a gaze that shows how much pain you were going through, barely able to understand what was going on, except for gently breathing the word that makes his heart squeeze out in pain.

“Na—Naoya…”

Any hesitation is effectively thrown out the window by that point, picking you up and rushing you towards their shared bedroom, all while barking orders to the nearby staff, demanding them to call for a doctor, as quickly as possible, unless they wanted to be jobless by the end of the day!

The staff reacts accordingly, and a few minutes later, the family doctor arrives to the estate, guided to your room and seeing that you were already being tended to, or at least that’s the idea he gets from the dampened towel on your forehead, undoubtedly in efforts of lowering your fever—which unfortunately, had been for nothing.

Well, he was there now, and he didn’t waste time either to get to work, quickly assessing your condition by the apparent symptoms, starting by your temperature, the color of your skin, and even the way you reacted to him while doing so, completely uncooperative—apparently, whatever put you in this state had evoked great instability from you, thus the doctor found it necessary to put you under sedatives.

But even when he was able to quickly gain control of the situation, the doctor still couldn’t arrive at a proper conclusion, less when the people around you had an even smaller idea of what struck you.

“I—I don’t know.” Naoya would respond, angrily, frustrated—and rightfully so. How come none of the servants had noticed your absence? Or worse, hadn’t seen anything that could hint as to what your sickness was about?! “Can’t you just—help her?!”

“That’s what I’m trying—I can’t help her if I don’t know what I’m dealing with.” The doctor responded as calmly as he could, but even he had to admit that everyone’s seeming ignorance annoyed him as well. “But I can still say that this seems much more than just a simple… sickness.”

“What do you mean?” Naoya frowns, the doctor looks at the nearby servants, tasked to be on stand-by if needed.

“I’d like to discuss this in private.” He tells them.

The servants don’t wait for Naoya to repeat the order before they’re already out the room and away from their earshot; a request that while didn’t raise any concerns from Naoya —if anything, he was glad their pesky, useless presence, was finally away from you— the doctor’s face was quick to convince your husband that something far worse than what met the eye.

And this made Naoya’s nerves reach a new limit.

“I told you; I don’t know what happened—” Your husband is quick to defend, believing the doctor was to interrogate him once more, only to be interrupted.

“You don’t need to tell me for me to know what happened.” He interjects, Naoya’s eyes widen.

“I’m lost.” Naoya scowls. “Stop talking cryptically and get on with it!”

“I’ve seen these symptoms before, Naoya. And as I said, these are not from a simple sickness, an allergy or any of the matter” He takes a deep breath. “I heavily suspect she was intoxicated—and not accidentally, but rather, intentionally.”

“Excuse me?” Naoya frowns.  “I told you to stop talking in riddles, say what you—”

“Poisoned, Naoya. I believe your wife was poisoned.”

Naoya’s world comes to a screeching halt.

You…

You were poisoned.

According to the doctor, you—You were attacked, besieged, with malicious intents.

Taken advantage of in the one place you’d never be on edge, your home, the same one he had repeatedly reassured your father that you’d be safe in—the Zen’in estate, home to the prestigious Zen’in clan! There was no safer place in the whole world! There couldn’t!

No one— no one wouldn’t dare do such a thing here—they knew better! Naoya would force them to now better…

Yet, someone dared to commit this transgression against you.

And to make it all worse….

Almost got away with it.

Who would even think of doing such transgression against you?! You?!

You had no quarrels with anyone, and even when you did, you handled things in such an amicable way just so you’d live peacefully, free of nonsensical arguments—you had no space for them in your life!

And yet, this still happened, and right underneath his nose….

There’s no doubt that he’ll put an investigation into order to find the bastard responsible for your suffering, and once he does, he’ll make him regret his existence, to the point he’ll have him begging for mercy—and even then, it wouldn’t be enough for Naoya.

However, that is something that will have to wait until he knows you’re safe, healthier, which the doctor had slowly began to help you with by giving you something that will immediately trap the poison from being further absorbed by your blood—activated charcoal, so he remembers— as well as some other prescriptions for side effects he wishes to prevent.

“Your wife was very lucky to survive, have you waited a second more—”

“I wasn’t waiting.” Your husband immediately responds, offended by his wording. “I wasn’t aware of this until I returned.”

The doctor presses his lips together, taking notice that throughout his whole visit, Naoya has never left your side, nor freed your hands from his.

“And I’m not surprised.” He silently admits.

Naoya hates the notion the doctor was implying, that this was an inside job. But considering the odd behavior of the staff, their seeming ignorance of your location and your status… it all pointed to that same conclusion.

The boiling fury inside him grows bigger.

“How could this be?” Naoya seethes.

How could someone get this far, this close to you, and no one suspecting a thing?

Your husband might’ve reproached the way the doctor expressed himself, but there was an undeniable truth behind them; he truly was lucky to have gotten back home just when he did, for had he taken a second longer, just one, you could’ve die—

Outside of that, the second most important question regarding this whole situation was…where was your staff? Why, of all days, were they absent?

Naoya is confident that if Mariya, your closest confidant, had been around, this would’ve never happened in the first place; the moment she saw anything out of the ordinary, she would’ve pulled all the stops and acted accordingly.

Yet, she was nowhere to be seen, and this makes Naoya both highly suspicious, and furious.

Where was she?  Where are the rest? Why would they leave you in your most needed time? Did they plan this? Plot against you?! Where the hell could they possibly—

“They’re going to be away for the weekend to visit their families.”

He suddenly remembers; you told him so earlier that week through a text.

“Will you be ok?” Naoya also remembers asking; he didn’t feel happy knowing you’d be alone without your most trusted staff.

“It’s just a few days, Naoya. Besides, they deserve a break! I don’t want them to get tired of me, you know?”  you laugh. “But you better come back quickly, ok? Just because they’re not around doesn’t mean I like being alone…”

“I won’t take long. I promise.”

If only he’d kept his word…

Well, if that was to be the answer to their absence, then it wasn’t fair to hold any level of animosity towards them, a weight being lifted from his burdened shoulders upon realizing your staff could strill be trusted in.  

Now all that was left to worry about is finding the culprit… and the status of that too.

“Is she ok?” Naoya would ask.

“She is, I managed to—”

“No, I mean… that.” Naoya’s voice hints to a silent agreement between the two. “Is… that ok?”

The doctor quickly catches what he means, affirming so by a nod. His reassurance lifts an immeasurable weight from his heart, even greater than the alleged betrayal of Mariya and the rest. One less thing to worry about.

“What now, then?”

“Since the damage was limited, to say the least, it won’t be necessary to move her to a hospital, however—”

She’s still in danger. Naoya concludes. More so if the attack came from someone inside… And what makes him think that just because he’s back they’ll stop trying?

If anything, seeing how close they got, they could try once again!

The mere thought is enough to push him into taking what is perhaps the most radical decision he could’ve taken in this situation, something that might come to torment him in the future, but until then, he won’t care, not even a bit; not when he had your safety to worry about:

That is… Naoya fired everyone, effective immediately.

He took no heed if any of them had been serving the family for years, if they were close friends of his father, or if their livelihood would be affected— Naoya just wanted them out of his sight, the estate, and as soon as possible, less they wanted to receive more of his anger, before continuing with the rest of his plan.

Due to the gravity of said situation, Naoya knew he had to contact your family; he also knew that you would’ve refuted the idea as soon as he mentioned it to you, not wanting to worry them if you’ve truly been attacked, but he couldn’t do this to your father; not when he was amongst the few people in the world he knew had your wellbeing as utmost priority— as well as holding a great amount of respect and appreciation for him, specifically for the way he welcomed him into your family.

Eiichi, your father, had to admit that getting a call from the Zen’in estate that didn’t come from you surely surprised him beyond any comprehension, and yet, that would be nothing compared to the shock he’d get upon knowing the motive behind said call; Naoya swore he almost heard your father passing out, or at least, in the process of.

“Poisoned?!”  Eiichi gasped, tightly clutching onto the phone—he might’ve as well passed out and dived into a nightmare! “Is she ok?! Where is she right now?”

“At the estate, with me—the doctor didn’t think it necessary for her to be hospitalized since he was able to stop the poison from spreading any further, but she still needs rest.”

“And the baby?”  the referenced secret between Naoya and the doctor; your pregnancy.

“Fine.” He breathes, swallowing. “The doctor didn’t tell me of any damage done to the baby…  but I’m—I’m still taking her to the doctor, just—just to be sure.”

“How could this happen?” Eiichi laments, heart breaking not only for you, but for Naoya as well. Your father knew all too well what it was to lose the love of his life, a pain that he would never desire on anyone, not even his own enemies…

One that he could slowly begin to hear in Naoya’s voice; oh, he could only imagine the pain he was going through, or what waited for him if he had lost not only you, but his child too.

But, well, the worst is over… at least for now.

“Someone from the staff did it.” Naoya declares, Eiichi’s heart sinks even further. “But I’ve taken care of it, I’ve fired everyone.”

And your father, contrary to Naoya’s relatives, did not question him. If anything, he seconded his decision, because had he been in your husband’s shoes, he would’ve done the same thing.

“Was her staff involved?” Your father asks, feeling a slight… anger with the idea that the ones you greatly cherished could’ve plotted against you.

“No, they were not; in fact, they were out of the estate when all this went down.” Naoya responds. “But I know that if they had been here, this would’ve never happened in the first place.”

“Bring her here, with me.” Eiichi immediately suggested, Naoya blinks, startled by the idea, if not against it.

“Father—"

“We can take care of her while she’s recuperating, take her to the doctor too. I’ll make sure that she has everything she needs. And not to misjudge your staff, or lack of, but the people here would never hurt her—they’ve known her since she was a child! There won’t be another safer place for her to be than here, Naoya. At least…  until she’s better.”

Previously, Naoya would’ve questioned the veracity of his words, done all he could to prove you were much better with him, but after this occurrence… he had to agree.

As much as it hurt him to know you’d be away from him, especially when you were pregnant… he knew this was the right decision to make. He couldn’t expose you to another similar situation—not even if he got a completely new staff… or if you didn’t want to leave.

So, Naoya accepts Eiichi’s suggestion, alongside buying him a ticket for the earliest available flight to Kyoto; a few hours later, your father would arrive to the estate, rushing to your side, keeping you company while tending to your every need as Naoya prepared everything for your departure.

When you eventually regained consciousness, you were (although a bit surprised) overwhelmingly elated to see your father visiting you, for it had been so long since you’d seen him, probably around the time you announced your pregnancy!

However, that excitement would soon diminish when Naoya told you why he was there… alongside the cryptic explanation of your “sickness.”

“It was an allergy.” Naoya would say, not wanting to stress you by the fact that you were intentionally poisoned, although that excuse did little to stop you from doing so. “Rare, but it can happen, especially with pregnant women.”

“An allergy…? But I didn’t…” you frown.

“It happened to your mother, once.” Eiichi followed Naoya’s lead. He hated lying to you, but… he concurred that keeping you safe, both mentally and physically, was worth doing so. “It’s nothing but hormonal changes, so don’t worry much about it.”

“I guess…” you frown, pressing your lips. “But that still doesn’t explain why I have to leave.”

“We need to check what caused your allergy” Naoya responds. “It might be something about the food, the flowers, or even the wood; I rather you be safe than to go through that scare again.”

“But is… all this really necessary?” Naoya gives you a tight smile and a nod. “Naoya, I—"

“It’s not all bad, Y/N.” Naoya says.

“Besides, don’t you want to spend time with your papa? It’s been so long since I’ve spent time with my adorable pumpkin!” Eiichi laments.

“Dad!” you gasp, flustered by his words. “Don’t—don’t say that in front of Naoya…”

“What? It’s true! And that’s all I’ve ever wanted to do since I learned I’m going to be a grandfather!”

“Stop it!” your face becomes redder. “You’re embarrassing me!”

Naoya chuckles; it’s not like he’s seen you in… worse situations. Or better?

“But… I guess a visit is overdue.” You eventually concede, Naoya and your father sigh out of relief. “Though what about Mariya, Haruko, and Hitomi?”

“They’ll go with you, if you want.” Naoya says; he doubts they’ll say no, especially after knowing of the whole fiasco that occurred when away, might even offer themselves before he suggests the idea.

“If I didn’t know any better, sounds like you want me gone.” You jest, Naoya frowns. “It’s a joke, of course…”

“There’s nothing more I would like than you staying here, but until we figure out what caused that reaction from you, I’d rather not risk it.”

“It’s only temporary, Y/N. Besides, look—I brought you gifts!” Eiichi says, taking out the bag he brought from home seemingly out of nowhere, filled with things he knew you’d love, such as sweets, your favorite mochi’s of course, alongside some plushies that would always brighten your day when you were a child. “And there’s much more back home…”

Naoya can’t help but feel relieved you had your father for support, but at the same time, a bit jealous and, well, threatened. Not for bad reasons, of course, it was simply because how the hell did he not think of bringing you gifts first?!

“Dad… you’re embarrassing me in front of Naoya.”

“Ah, that’s a parent’s bane, isn’t it? To always embarrass their children—you’ll see what I mean when you both have your baby.”

Perhaps the main reason why you ended up agreeing to leave was because your pregnancy did not seem affected by your supposed allergy; had it been you would’ve refused to leave your husband’s side!

… Well, you still would’ve refused either way, but perhaps a bit more. You hate the idea of being away from the father of your child for too long, after all.

“I don’t think so—Naoya and I are going to be the cool parents, you’ll see.”

“That’s what your mom and I thought, and look at me now, can’t even say anything without you telling me I’m embarrassing you!” Eiichi says, you chuckle.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, mom was cool! You were always the funny one!”

Naoya smiles.

Now he knows for sure that there’s no safer place for you to be in than with your family, even if that were to be on the other side of the country…

After Naoya prepared everything for your departure, the three eventually made way to the exit, where you and your father would bid their last goodbyes.

“Won’t you accompany me?” you ask, a slight pout on your face, he smiles in hopes to cheer you up, but really, he felt miserable.

“I want to, but I can’t.” He explains. “I have to deal with this as fast as possible if you’re to come back quickly.”

“… Will you visit me over there, at least?” you frown.

“Yes. As soon as I have a chance, I’ll go see you.” Naoya promises.

It had all been too soon, just a few hours ago he arrived at the estate, and now, you’re leaving. Naoya laments that he couldn’t spend a day with you before your departure… but he guesses this to be a rightful sacrifice for your well-being.

“I wouldn’t dream of keeping away from my wife and baby for too long.”

At those words, Eiichi couldn’t help but frown out of sorrow.

It wasn’t fair that neither of you had been able to enjoy this wonderful occasion as you should.

He still remembers the excitement in your voice, the glint in your eye, and the beaming smile on your lips when announcing your pregnancy—alongside the nerves that came with it, of course, which Eiichi eased by reminding you and Naoya that their enthusiasm was nothing but indicative they were already on their way of becoming the loving and supportive parents their baby needed.

But as excited as both were, Eiichi had to cruelly put a stop to their celebrations, especially after Naobito was made aware of this, who wished to proceed by announcing the news to the whole community.

“I have to disagree, Naobito.” Eiichi would be the first to reject the idea, much to everyone’s surprise—yours, specifically.

“And why is that?” He’d ask back, not understanding why the father of the expecting mother, of all people, would be the one to reject so.

“It’s best if Y/N keeps her pregnancy a secret, at least… until it’s undeniably noticeable.”

“But… why, dad?” you asked. This was a moment of absolute joy, to be treated as such! So why did he intend to keep it a secret? Was he… disappointed?

No. Never. He was nothing but happy to see you happy and become a grandfather himself for the first time in his life!

But as a man of his years, he’s learned to be cautious of how said blessings are to be celebrated, as well as seen his fair share of happiness turn sour… things that Eiichi would rather take upon him than allow them to ever befall you.

“Because there’s people out there that might try to hurt you—or the baby.”  He’d explain. “Naobito cannot not deny this, but if anyone hears that you’re pregnant with the Zen’in heir’s baby, those that want to hurt the Zen’in clan, or our family, will see this as the perfect opportunity to do so.”

“I’d never allow such thing, rest assured, there’s no safer place than—” Naoya quickly interjects, wanting to reassure your father, but Eiichi was set on his warnings.

“I wouldn’t have said this if I didn’t see it myself.” Eiichi reminds him, Naoya swallows. “We live in a highly competitive world due to the nature of our families; I’ve lost my wife because of this! And I’d be damned to allow it to happen again to my daughter.”

He hated to remind you of the harsh truth; hated to see how your face would sadden, the excitement for your first child, his first grandchild, quickly disappearing…

“Why would someone do that?” you murmur, frowning.

“They wouldn’t dare—I’ll make sure of it.” Naoya hisses.

Eiichi remained silent, sad for you and your husband. Because even if you’ve experienced first-hand what it is to lose someone through these matters, both have yet to fully understand the extremes those supposedly loyal to them can go to if properly incited. Especially for someone who had so much to lose, just as the elite members of prestigious Zen’in clan.

Even then, your father would not allow such pain to reach you, not the same way it almost did to him and your mother, so, he insisted you keep these news secret from the world—and if you must, only if you must, reveal it to your most faithful ones; the rest could learn when your stomach was too big to deny.

If you do so, keep your baby hidden from the world, safe from those that harbor nothing but pain and sorrow… all will be fine. Eiichi promises so.

…

Or so, that’s what everyone hoped would’ve happened, because if there’s one thing to be learned from this incident, is that no matter how cautious you were, word of your pregnancy still managed to land in the wrong ears, and now, were actively against it.

The question no longer pertained as to how, but rather, who; who was the author of this terrible act?

The notion that someone of Naoya’s relatives, indirectly informed through Naobito’s… drunken rambles, soon crosses the minds of your father and husband. If so, it would make sense as to why they’d use an innocent staff member to do the deed, keep their hands clean of the whole situation, instead of going to bigger extremes.

It’s the most probable of the theories, but they could not annul the following: jealousy from the servants.

Naoya considered that statement to be the most delusional one your father could’ve gathered, but he’d be wise to remember how others perceive him—or more like what he represented. It wouldn’t be too far-fetched that others would desire what he had, or him, in some cases. And naturally, you’re an obstacle to that goal, your baby even more so…

It wasn’t fair, but it was your reality.

Nonetheless, Eiichi and Naoya will still do whatever it takes to keep you safe.

“It’s just for a few days, pumpkin.” Your father would say upon seeing the sadness in your face, which remained even when reassured that Naoya would be with you as soon as possible. “Besides, you’re going to see your brother and sister too—they’ve missed you very much, you know? They’ve been wanting to spoil you and their future niece, or nephew!”

You smile, it’s good that even when in the storm, your family is still able to exude happiness. You could only imagine how enthusiastic they’d be when the baby was finally here.

“I know… I missed them too.” You admit, before looking over to Naoya one last time. “Well… I hope that whatever is keeping you here is quickly dealt with.”

“You won’t even notice I’m gone.” Naoya promises, placing a kiss on your forehead. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about anything—before you know it, you’ll be back at the estate, with me.”

That’s a promise he unfortunately, doesn’t know if will become true inside the promised timeline, but will do anything in his power so it does.

Either way, it’s safe to say that Naoya did manage to keep one part of his promise—and that would be the one where he reassured you wouldn’t even notice his absence, done through sending you endless amounts of gifts, every day, effectively filling your room to the brim with all things he’d knew you’d like, and some for baby too: from clothes for you, to cute onesies he’d like his baby to wear when she was finally here.

“You still think the baby is going to be a girl?” you’d ask through one of the many videocalls he’d make—one daily, at the very least. “Wait a minute… you better not have spoiled me!”

“I just know” He reiterates with shrug; you roll your eyes. “If not, then I’ll have lots of things to return.”

“Well, if it’s worth anything, I also feel like our baby is going to be a girl.” You smile, warming up Naoya’s heart. “I can’t wait to meet her—I just know she’s going to have your eyes!”

“Or yours, I hope.” He longs, you blush. “Have you been eating well, my love?”

“Yes; and no allergies yet.” You explain, Naoya feels relieved—at least the problem didn’t follow you there. “Maybe I was just unlucky that day, Naoya… Are you sure I can’t return to the estate yet?”

“Not until I’m sure you’re going to be safe here.” Naoya responds, and while his words are meant to be comforting, you can’t shake off the sense that something worse happened; that something far bigger than a simple allergy had struck you, specially with the way your staff and family would act around you, going as far as denying you of any information pertaining to the Zen’in.

But… if your husband had a reason to not say anything now, then the best you could do is trust him. The truth will come out eventually, you suppose. So instead you could focus on other pressing matters.

“Well, at least don’t send me too many gifts.” You continued. “While I appreciate them, between you and my father, I don’t think my house has enough room to store all the things you’ve both given me.”

“Who’s given you more things? Me or your dad?” Naoya nonchalantly asks, you gasp.

“Naoya! That’s not the—take it seriously! Control yourself with the gifts, ok?” you say, he chuckles, but ends up agreeing; at least until the topic has quieted down, because there’s no way in hell he’s going to let your father win the upper hand like that one day ever again. “Or at least save them to when I’m back at the estate… which I hope is soon.”

“Almost there.” Naoya says. “Just a few more things, and we’ll be together once again.”

… even if the answer was to be the same, you still needed to ask.

“Is… everything ok?”

Not precisely, not when he has yet to find out the one responsible for all this…

But he’s gotten a lead, an idea of where to start, of who to hunt—which he knows he’ll find in record time thanks to the fury he harbors, further motivating him to do this as quickly and precisely as possible just so he’d have you back home, with him.

“Nothing you should worry about.” He reiterates. “Just keep focusing on your health, the baby, and not doing anything strenuous.”

“I’m just pregnant, Naoya… nothing extraordinary. I still want to help around., you know?”

“I know, and you’ll be able to do that and more in due time, but for now, keep safe, for me, ok? And our little mochi.”

“When will I see you again?” you ask again, hoping that perhaps this time around, the answer will be different.

“Soon.” He promises. “Soon, my love.”

Once he deals with the bastard that hurt you.

Naoya will give them nothing but a glimpse of the sorrow and pain they’d put you through, his fury—make their life a living hell, make them regret the foolish idea that they could ever get away from it; and still, he doesn’t think he’ll be satisfied with his revenge.

He’d want more, he’d want everyone to know that his family are not ones to mess around with.

He’d burn the whole world to set the message across if necessary—and that would only be the bare minimum for you, the love of his life, and now, his baby…

His home.

[yandere-wishes]

⋆𐙚⋆ Imagine being Darth Vader/ Anakin's presious little darling. You're the only thing that keeps him living, keeps him from tearing his chest open and clawing out his black dysfunctional heart. You're the only good thing in his life.

⋆𐙚⋆ That's why he keeps you locked up on Mustafar, in a dark, somber castle surrounded by lava. It's how he can insure your safety. Make sure you're always waiting for him alone and scared. It's easy to believe that your sweet smile is because of him, much easier than believing you're despreatly starved for company.

⋆𐙚⋆ Anakin's fairytale ends when Obi Wan learns of your existence. Learns that Anakin has taken an unwilling bride and locked her away on a planet of eternal night. Old habits die hard, and despite all his failures, Obi Wan is still a Jedi. He knows he has to rescue you.

⋆𐙚⋆ Imagine running through Mustafar. Fingers laced with a Jedi master who smells of sweet desert fruits and dying suns. Running through forests and jumping over lava streams. You can hear Anakin behind you. His rage ripples through the air, thick and menacing. You smell the burn of bark as his saber slashes through the trees. His screams of rage burn your ears. But you see the starship. You taste freedom in the back of your mouth. You're so so close.

⋆𐙚⋆ You only let go of Obi Wan's hand when you're inside the starship, and the hatch is sealed shut behind you. Only let out a breath when the engine roars and the ship lifts into the air. Obi Wan sits at the pilot seat, rotten nostalgia coursing through his veins. He offers you his smiles his golden smile, trying to reassure you that you're finally finally safe. And you believe him...at least for a moment.

⋆𐙚⋆ The starship rattles, shaking you and him from your seats. The engines scream the metal frame creaks and bends. You dare a glance outside a shattering window only to see him. Vader's arm is raised, fingers stretching, power radiates through him, pulling the thousend ton ship from the air. It's funny to think that one man holds so much power. You cower on the floor knees to your chest. Doe eyes overflowing with tears, you knew freedom was too good to be true. Obi Wan tries to wrangle the ship from Vader, but there is no hope left...

⋆𐙚⋆ All too soon, the ship crashes back onto igneous land. The metalic doors and walls are peeled off harshly as Vader uses the force to rummage through the wreckage. Your bruised and battered body is pulled towards him. His furious grasp snakes around your neck. "YOU LEFT ME, YOU ABANDONED ME." it's hard to miss the sprinkles of pain upon the rage-filled timber of his voice. "Ani, I'm sor-" you try to choke out, despreat for a mercy you know will not be granted. "LIAR".

⋆𐙚⋆ He doesn't kill you. He can't. He may be rage born and hatred raised. But you... you are truly something special, something that deserves punishment, not death. Anakin drags you back to his fortress. Leaving Obi Wan bleeding amongst the wreckage...

[pacifierbby]

* ੈ✩‧₊ THE CEOS ASSISTANT

* ੈ✩‧₊ Landos' dad has taken ill rather quickly, and everyone in the Norris enterprise knows about it. Some are upset that they won't get a perfect boss like he was, but some are more sceptical about who the Norris Enterprises are taking on to be the boss of this place. Everyone asked Lilly, the CEO's assistant, but like she told everyone, she didn't know. It wasn't until Monday came around, everyone at their desk doing their work, when a man came in very nicely dressed in a black suit with a Rolex on the left wrist. Lilly had seen this man before, but where? It was when he only got closer that she knew it was Mr. Norris, son. Will there be hatred during her time working with lando or will there be something more between them?

୨ৎ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 LN4 x female

୨ৎ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 swearing, slight toxicity , rude lando, kissing , sexual innuendos.

୨ৎ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 1,268

(ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ)

CHAPTER ONE: ̗̀➛ work has been nothing but busy since you found out that Mr Norris has taken ill going out of your payroll to do jobs that Mr Norris did including your own cancelling all his upcoming meetings and clients you have been his assistant for two years. Still, Mr Norris took you under his wing immediately making you feel respected in the job always making sure that nothing was too stressful explaining stuff to you if you didn't understand it.

when you found out he was rushed into hospital you instantly went to visit him thanking him for everything you did "Sweetie you brought everything I needed and so much more you are like a daughter to me" the words that you never thought would come out of his mouth because to others he was abrupt but that's what he needs to do when he's got a business to keep going for his family. so when you found out he was going to give the business to one of his sons yes you were hesitant wondering what the new boss was going to be like but Mr Norris promised you that you would be just fine. giving you the slight confidence you needed. telling him to take care and enjoy his early retirement

When the word got around to Norris Enterprises everyone went up to you some asking if he was okay some just being extra nosey wanting to know who the new boss was going to be which you told them you really didn't know some believed you and carried on with their day some tried to get more out of you.

Mr. Norris gives you rules on what to do while you wait for the new boss, which you obviously wrote down going through every bullet point when you arrived at work the following day to ensure you didn't miss anything. You did wish he hurried up and joined, but you knew that one of his sons was really busy at the moment.

Walking into work, all the colleagues surrounding the foyer talking amongst themselves, walking towards Stephanie at the main desk, "What's happening?" You asked, "The new boss is in today, so everyone wants a first glance. " Nodding "they're like horny vultures want to know who he is. I have seen a photo of Mr. Norris's son, but it may not be him. " Stephanie laughed a little nodding her head, agreeing with your statement. ''Ladies and gents, please return to your workplace. Nothing to see here!" Your voice boomed, echoing around the foye, people scattered to their offices. Turning around, picking up your papers for the day, winking at Stephanie, See you later", heading towards your office.

Placing everything on your desk and quickly turning on your PC the lavender defuser instantly hits your nose giving you some slight comfort for today. going through your paperwork and the calendar for today writing down all the information that you need to bring to Mr Norris when he comes in hearing soft whispers through your office door ignoring it thinking it was your colleagues when the voices began getting louder. getting up from the comfort of your chair walking towards your office door softly opening it seeing your colleagues all standing in front of their desks confused peering around your door to see a nicely dressed man in a black suit on his left wrist a Rolex watch hugging it stepping outside noticing she has seen this man before but where? racking her small little brain remembering a small little photo frame placed in front of Mr Norris computer a small little chill taking over her body remembering it was Mr Norris younger son. standing up straighter her hands instantly going in front of her trying to give a better impression of herself Mr Norris standing in front of her "This is your assistant Miss Tomlinson" Stephanie softly spoke introducing the both of you your hand reaching out him looking at it ignoring it "meet me in my office in 30 mins please" straightening his jacket walking past you how rude you thought huffing Stephanie turning around with a quick sorry look showing the dickhead to his office turning around walking back into your office preparing your day with that dickhead.

walking towards Mr Norris's office door checking yourself in the glass pulling your skirt down a little softly knocking on his door "Come in" a voice shouted opening the door his blazer hanging behind his chair his sleeves higher just below his elbows. leaning back on his chair "Sir I have your schedules for today and new contracts for you to look over" placed them on his desk nodding towards the chair that was in front of him "Sit down" he softly spoke surprised from the counter that he did earlier briefly looking at the contracts "what's my agenda for today" looking down at the notes "well you have a meeting with Mr Riley at 10 talking about one of the contracts then you have another meeting at two for a hotel that is being built" you said softly "i thought ill only give you two for today make it easy" you said scared of the outcome "well uh thank you that really does help" nodding standing up "ill see you at 10" walking towards his door "um sorry Lilly I just want to say thank you for looking after my father while I was out of town" shocked from his sudden confession "it's okay" smiling softly walking out of his office maybe he isn't a dick after all.

walking towards the meeting room Mr Norris stood outside "Shall we start?" you softly spoke your papers hugging your chest and opening the door seeing the contractors already sitting and waiting. walking towards the front of the table Sitting next to Mr Norris connecting your laptop to the projector. begging the meeting you knew these people were hard to deal with Mr Norris's father was having trouble with them last year you could tell he was having trouble with winning this deal removing your eyes from your notes to around the room your eyes instantly falling on Mr Norris face seeing his eyebrows knotted together a frown upon his face. looking at his small little features you can say he was pretty fit but you can't think that he is your boss after all "Isn't that right Miss Tomlinson" your thoughts instantly getting interrupted "Yes yes" you quickly spoke not too sure what you agreed on Mr Norris looking at you weirdly" Mr Riley smiling at you both " well we will be coming tomorrow with our contracts" standing up shaking his hand and the other man that you really didn't get the name off when you sorted this meeting on the phone yesterday

walking out of the meeting room making sure you had everything "Miss Tomlinson" looked up to see Mr Norris standing with his hands in his pockets giving you some slight effect "You did well in there but are you okay? You looked slightly flustered" was it that noticeable? you thought "I'm okay thank you, Mr Norris, thank you" Looking at your shoes something more interesting at the moment "Well take the rest of the day off we have a big day tomorrow and call me Lando, not Mr Norris that was my father" laughing a little thinking about the confusion looking up from your shoes nodding your head quickly walking back to your office getting out of that situation you can't fall for the boss Lilly don't be stupid he's your old boss son!. telling yourself grabbing your belongings wanting to stay away from Lando for a few hours.

© pacifierbby works

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ✧˖*°࿐ @sltwins , @eloriis

[gdn7-dollopole]

Why I believe Arthur isn’t attracted to women and my not so deep analysis over it (this is my personal opinion, and a mess, so bear with me)

Hear me out.

Not only Arthur is a very constipated man over pretty much everything, doesn’t show or openly says what he feels, especially in the first two seasons, but he doesn’t even have friends, except those that he is supposed to have because he is a regent, and later a king. His father is even worse, thought him nothing if hatred and repression, so we can say he sucks at socialisation, and I may or may not be projecting here, but I know what it feels like to be out of your bubble and enter the world feeling completely out of yourself, which is why Arthur is attached to the hip with Merlin, and is he so enamoured, attracted, shocked with him during their first encounter.

Back to my point, he is socially awkward, but I don’t believe that is the reason behind why he acts the way he acts towards every single woman character in the TV show. (his own bloody wife included)

Arthur doesn’t like women, repertory A:

First kiss with Gwen. Lovely, I always smile when I see it, but why. Like, Arthur thought he was going through with his death, just received a token of affection that no one had ever dared give to him, felt appreciated, like a beaten kid who receives his first hug, and thought: “Okay, well, might kiss her too, isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?” , dipped for a peck, and FLED RIGHT AFTER. His face showed no emotion, he basically just gave a shrug when he realised he and Gwen couldn’t be together and went on with his day. And honestly, if it wasn’t for the amazing soundtrack, I would just stare at the screen with a flat face during their first kiss. You can feel the difference between this scene and the one where Lancelot saves Gwen and tells her to run, and they kiss before they part, and THERE you can feel the longing, understand why there had to be a parting kiss. Arthur almost feels relieved that Uther won’t let him stay with Gwen after he survives, but whatever.

Repertory B:

Arthur, even if enchanted, stills asks Merlin for advices on “feelings” and “girrlllss”. This doesn’t need explaining.

Repertory C:

Men can be shy, obviously, even with women, but, as I cited above, Arthur has no idea how to socialise. His friends, hell, even his relationship with Morgana, wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for Merlin. So explain to me why Arthur doesn’t even look at Gwen until he has to, and goes around NOT CARING about women, unless Uther is the one throwing them at him, and then caves when a pretty man appears on the screen. I also believe this is the directors’ fault, who tried so hard to make the relationship between Gwen and Arthur real, that they just made a gay show, but Arthur, when he had more worrisome things to think about, he didn’t care about women, or girls, or courtship, in the slightest, until Elena gets in the picture and he has to think about marriage and a future with his queen, again. I firmly believe Arthur chose Gwen not because he loved her romantically, but because to him, she was the best choice amongst everyone else.

Repertory D:

The Knights of the Round Table. Arthur, a prince that throughout all three seasons has an hard time even speaking openly to Merlin without making fun of him, or to Gwen, suddenly fights his father over Lancelot (because he admired him quickly, and couldn’t understand that because of his sexuality, he felt very comfortable around a thoughtful man like him), drools over Percival the first time he meets him, probably thinking of how nice it could be to jump the giant like a tree, and has a love hate relationship with Gwaine, because Gwaine is everything Arthur envies. Free, open, and in a close relationship with Merlin, (a man) that Arthur forbids himself to have. (also, nice hair)

Repertory E:

Mithian. Arthur doesn’t spare a glance at a single woman in the show. He does it with Gwen (poorly) because he feels he needs to, and once again avoids marriage, and acts like a complete panic around Mithian in the entirety of the episode where she is introduced. He can’t take her compliment when he meets her the first time; he doesn’t realise that standing outside a woman’s chamber for that long can mean something else; he is affronted of having burped in front of her, not because he likes her and she is a woman, but because Arthur’s ego is too huge; this man has no clue over: “how to act around women”, because to him, women are people he isn’t attracted to. As simple as that. He finds Morgause irritating and not beautiful, like many others, because to him, she is just another very good warrior who has beaten his ass.

Repertory F:

Arthur doesn’t have sex with Gwen (oh, hot take). We never see them languidly stare at each other (unlike the eye fucking that happens between Merlin and Arthur. That’s not sexual tension that can be cut with a knife, it’s a wall of homosexuality where Arthur often bangs his head on) Yes, this show was very chaste, but definitely not intended for kids (see innuendos), so how could someone who should be close to Gwen, in any way possible, doesn’t recognise that his wife is bloody enchanted and she is trying to kill him? No, you don’t need to have sex with someone to understand that they want you dead and that they drastically changed their personality, but my brother in christ, this just proves me that Arthur was attracted to the idea of a peaceful kingdom, ruled together with an intelligent, fierce, and good woman by his side, rather than attracted, attracted to Gwen per se. The rest of the time he just followed Merlin around like a puppy. He married for love? I believe he married his best friend Gwen so that he didn’t have to go through the process of having kids. The heir had never been the problem. If it was for Arthur, he would have married Merlin the instant he met him in the market during the first episode.

Repertory G:

Do we see Arthur openly complimenting the women in the show? No. Also, because it’s not the point of the show. The point of the show is the homosexual relationship Arthur has with his serv—(he does it with Gwen and probably Mithian, because she is objectively beautiful, but I can’t remember other instances)

Last but not least:

Merlin.

Separately, Arthur, and here I’m adding Gwen, too, are both complex and well thought characters, lacking many things and contradicting themselves during the show, always because of how they were badly written in a lot of episodes. The Arwen scenes are lovely, but they don’t bring out anything. They don’t make you hope, giggle, despair, cry, because to me, there is nothing there to be tragic over. They just needed to fill a gap so that the people who didn’t like the idea of Merlin and Arthur together romantically would have something else to watch. Which is also the main ship of the show and it makes everything more hilarious, because they fucked it up so bad, LMAO.

The more you try not to make something gay, you just make it even gayer that what you had originally planned.

I had so many other points, but my ADHD said no. So if you want to add something else, feel free to do it!

[sepublic]

I remember hearing that Dana was inspired by True Crime, amongst other things and people IRL, when writing Belos. And it seems that contrary to the notoriety of True Crime fans, she actually understood the assignment.

Because she opted to demystify the serial killer as this dark, unusual psychology that operates outside of societal borders and rules, disturbed by some secret reason, and instead literally pull off the mask to reveal he’s just some white manchild who hates women and minorities to a violent degree, because he feels threatened by them and their ability to say No in his entitlement. There’s nothing special or unique about his motives.

He’s no exception to the status quo, he is it unmasked of the veneer of civility, he’s the lynch mob and the cop (all of whom inherit the violence of white supremacy and colonialism) and fittingly a lot of serial killers were clocked by women and PoC as dangerous, but cops —largely white men— dismissed their claims because look at this dude, he seems like an upstanding citizen! And that’s really how he got away.

And because his victims were people the system was less likely to believe because they both operated on the same biases, you see why a lot of cops who commit brutality are drawn to an institution where they’re given violent power over brown and/or queer communities who are labeled as ‘suspicious’, because they enjoy easy targets they know the system doesn’t care about, and are enraged by body cams and accountability.

It doesn’t matter if they’re intentionally bigoted, their support of an inherently bigoted institution makes them the same; Internalized biases and “I don’t see race” and all that. You see how Philip wanted to be a witch hunter —the prototypical cop who is not exclusively violent towards women but still has a clear slant— or colonial savior so bad, because his violence could be legitimized by the authority of the state.

He leans into it hardcore when he feels threatened by the presence of an outside girl who challenges the Christian narrative of Gravesfield, to the point of violence; It’s a position that validates killing anyone who doesn’t agree with him in general, hence Caleb and the Grimwalkers, but of course his and society’s biases slant towards women and PoC. And while it ultimately doesn’t matter whether he’s intentionally racist/misogynistic, it’s worth addressing that he very much does have the intention due to his blatant Conservative backdrop.

And seeing how charming Philip is and the portrayal of him as a little kid playing games in his youth, a perception Caleb might’ve still had which led to his death, I can see the direct line to families who find out their sons are school shooters and are in disbelief because he was such a nice kid! While ignoring the obvious Red Flags because white men are allowed to express these without being immediately scrutinized by the community, by having it brushed off. On some level cops don’t suspect him because he’s the same type of guy as them.

Part of that denial comes from the fact that he’s not an “unfeeling sociopath” who’s wired differently. Philip can feel empathy and guilt like anyone else, but he’s still a hateful prick and these aren’t mutually exclusive; Not when people can be perfectly selective about who they extend these feelings towards, or even do things in spite of these feelings, because other ones —anger and pride and hatred— exist and they choose to prioritize those. There’s an assumption that empathy and guilt inherently make you a good person, but they don’t; That ultimately comes from what you do about it, not how you feel.

You could even say Dana and the other writers wrote him too well, because true to life, we have a similar issue but on a micro-scale via the abstraction of fiction regarding a very dedicated fan base who loves to romanticize him and his actions, attributing his issues to some secret trauma in childhood, a young man failed by society! While also scrubbing him of his racism and misogyny and reliance on the status quo, to make him ‘apolitical’ and you can see the same not just with fans but also in society.

Because society doesn’t want to acknowledge serial killers as just the truth behind their white sons and the system that absolved and encourages them, because that would require them to admit their guilt in how they’re structured. Rather, they’ll say these men reflect some dark truth inherent to humanity, and don’t exist within a certain sociopolitical framework.

And so he was a ‘loner’ whose problems can be pathologized via mental illness, his trauma can be traced back to a specific incident in his youth he just couldn’t get over. So you see how school shooters are made into victims, how serial killers are also made apolitical and even alien to distance them from the status quo.

And then you can lean into how unusual they are by writing characters like Dexter or Hannibal Lecter, you can not just defend the system but feed into it via the commodification of their violence as entertainment and consumption, and thus fuel the white supremacy train by letting their violence towards women and minorities be praised as something fascinating and interesting and conveniently clean of bigotry. This is the dichotomy of the hypothetical, romanticized Fantasy Serial Killer, and the banal IRL Serial Killer.

Thus we have the same cycle of white men’s violence being praised and validated by the system, and white men feeling entitled to this fame as a delusional fantasy. Because you’ve never heard of a black serial killer; Because black people are violent, that’s just the way they are, right? But if white men are violent, this is sensationalized as somehow unusual and fascinating and worth dedicating countless books and shows and movies towards. Obviously.

And even going back to witch hunters, sometimes I wonder about the constant consideration of, What if witches did exist? What if they were evil? Things like The VVitch or The Conjuring series, which have some framing of the Salem Witch Trials’ IRL violence towards women as legitimate in another universe, because of Satanism’s genuine predatory threat towards women, and how evil women sacrifice theirs or others’ God-given gift of a child, and now threaten another white Christian family.

And again there’s the the demystifying of the real life witch hunter too when we have a historical reenactment declare verbatim that IRL witch hunters were motivated by economics and other banal factors, not by any genuine belief in the dangers of demons; And even in a setting where the demons were real, they were not the predatory threat IRL witch hunters made them out to be, and so their very real biases and ulterior motives still apply in cumulative insincerity.

Hence, the Titan correcting Luz by explaining Belos as someone who only cares about being the hero in his own delusion; The fascist wet dream of a hidden invader here to corrupt even young white men, an outside monster to vanquish and whose destruction justifies the state, when in reality the monster IS the state, and before he was even presented as a witch (much less the human truth), his system’s destruction was called for.

Ultimately, a lot of True Crime and similar narratives are criticized for focusing more on this apparently inevitable mystique behind the perpetrators, who warrant far more attention than their victims. So when the villain is an example of True Crime, it’s worth noting how the show is so much more focused on the ‘weirdoes’ he targets, on women and/or PoC. The lives of Luz Noceda and her friends, them getting along and their psychologies, are just so much more important, and it really isn’t about that guy, who is informed as much as he needs to be.

But again, the True Crime fans dilemma; People genuinely salty at the show for not focusing on their favorite serial killer and his troubled backstory, his tragic motives and Puritan repression. The framing of his murders and motives isolated through the lens of his violence on undeserving white men, and not on the out-group he is specifically targeting and has committed much more violence on, esp if you look at the narrative’s actual framing of his impact on our protagonists, but also other victims who are witches or demons, and even his own self-professed motives; Hence, ‘Fratricide Georg’ as a joke depoliticized of his colonial violence, a violence that is not just adjacent to but fulfilling racism.

Because he hallucinated only those white men out of guilt, but that’s his biased perspective and priorities; And so you see how this is contrasted with a refusal to empathize with people like the Collector or Luz, who are put into the same situations as his white male victims via shared cinematography, yet are just as rejected. Luz is only put into this situation as convenient to Belos’ narrative, the closest replacement to a white male human he can get, but again if this girl of color says No, he tries to murder her and even does.

Yet again, people take genuine, personal insult at the creator for finding Belos to be her least favorite character to write, while ignoring that she still found him necessary to the story she was trying to tell; She just found the framing and focus should’ve been shifted to his actual victims’ deep and meaningful lives, how they matter. So people hate that S3 cares more about Luz Noceda’s relationship with her parents of color, as well as her female mentor and demonic brother, or her queer relationship with her girlfriend, etc.

And even when they get a bone of white boy Hunter, it’s still not enough; Fans inevitably gather themselves into an almost frenzied state of personal victimization, rallying into harassment of PoC who criticize their portrayal and discussion around their colonial serial killer fave, organizing dedicated trends and months to giving their white men the focus they ‘deserved’, because this is just White fandom in general.

Look at the entitlement campaigns regarding Ben Solo or Billy Hargroves deserving better, these young white men violent to women and minorities. It’s just the same thing but on a micro-scale, at least filtered via fictional characters. But Jesus you see how internalized biases bleed into everything. You’ve never heard of a black serial killer and fandom doesn’t fight for characters of color.

[anemonelovesfiction]

13~ First Time (Interspecies Sex)

Eetu x Fem! Human Reader

Warnings ⚠️: Eetu’s supposed hatred for humans, P! In V!, Knotting

Not Proofread

MDNI 🔞

Its been 13 days and I cant believe it 🫣 Thank you for sticking by me so far!!

Translation Station

Sevin’eve: Pretty girl

Tewng: Loincloth

Yawntu: Loved one

Nìwin: Fast; Quickly

Word Count: 1.4k

He couldn’t help but have a certain hatred aimed specifically at the humans after the death of his faithful companion: Zomey. But he had every right to be upset at the tiny demons that walked his land he even felt the nice ones, the one’s who were on their side, had no true right to be there- had none of them ever come to live in their home Zomey would be alive- even the Sarentu would walk amongst them. Yet he found himself starting to become intrigued by one of them and he hated himself for it.

_________

My lips traveled over her thighs as I planted kisses on the supple skin, my hands barely working to keep her spread, and every single one of her gasps were heard. I peer up past her mound of soft skin and see she’s taken her bottom lip between her teeth, her brows slightly furrowed, eyes coming to meet mine and I stopped the euphoric shiver threatening to tingle down my spine.

“Do you want me to stop sevin’eve?” I asked teasingly, starting to move my hands off her precious thighs, only to catch her quietly shake her head from side to side, lip still tucked under her teeth.

“I do not wish to stop either,” I mutter in Na’Vi, she was intelligent enough to understand it but never seemed to speak it herself, a small squeak leaving her lips as I attached my mouth toward her sopping cunt, groaning as soon as my tongue could taste her sweet nectar, eyes almost rolling to the back of my own head.

Had I known that humans- that this human- held a taste sweeter than the yovo fruit I would have gotten over my dislike for them and lain with her sooner, her sweet scent was infiltrating my senses and I felt dizzy in a good way.

“Oh God-“ My ears perk up at the strange words she spoke, eyes following in my ears path as I notice her tiny hands are kneading her own breasts, head thrown back onto the floor beneath us, hips starting to move on their own. I can feel my tail swishing excitedly and wrapping lightly around her ankle.

“I am your God now,” I respond quickly, mouth coming back to her mound, drinking of her nectar once more, the sweet sounds coming from her were like the songs sang to Eywa: Melodious, beautiful, and sweet.

“Eetu!” She gasps out loudly just as my tongue encircles a familiar nub- their anatomy seemed much like our own.

“Fuck-“ She mumbles as her hips mindlessly start bucking against my mouth.

I can’t help but smirk as her eyes open and her head lurches upward to make eye contact with me, a long drawn out moan coming from her lips, her tiny hands pinching her hardened nipples, my hand having a mind of it’s own as it rushes my pointer finger into her entrance.

Her squeal of surprise was adorable, her once tensed body relaxing as her head falls back onto the mossy floor beneath us, my cock growing hard after having released itself from inside me, leaking precome and staining my tewng. A second finger inserts itself in her and I can hear her groan at the slightest stretch it causes her.

“Feels so good,” she gripes as her thumbs begin to flick over her hardened buds, my patience wearing thin as my own hips subconsciously rut into the ground to feel some sort of pleasure to let me know I’m close to release, but I knew I wanted to come inside, fill her with my seed, knot her- I wanted to feel her walls massage my cock.

_________

He’d worked his way up to reaching me at the hilt with his cock and all I can say is how unbelievably stuffed I am, I’d had sex before but nothing could have compared to a Na’Vi’s size, he had a bulbous head and a lengthy shaft, all as beautiful a hue as the rest of his body, and the tip was surprisingly a mixture of dark blue leading up to a pink. But I couldn’t think of anything other than that with the intensity in eye contact he was holding with me right now.

“Your stomach, it shows me inside you,” He lets go of my waist with one hand, stroking my lower belly with one hand, bottom lip sliding back between his teeth, his canines prodding out the corner of his mouth briefly before his bottom lip slides back out.

“You are very tight,” He groans out for the fourth time, taking a second to slide out a little, the stinging sensation beginning again for me, but he slides back in and glides across a special spot inside making my walls contract around him.

“Your walls are so warm, yawntu.” He slips out almost entirely this time and slides back in almost as powerful as he did the first time and I couldn’t help but throw my head back followed by a long pleasurable moan leaving my lips.

“Eetu,” I draw out his name as I reach up for him, but it was hard to do anything when he was on his knee’s sitting upright, my hips being held at an angle just so he could fuck me properly, but I wanted to feel him, feel his warm skin dragging across my body.

His little smile lets me know he knows what I want, and graciously settles my hips down lower, the moss tickling my bottom as it leaves its little kisses on them, and he leans over, his body slightly curved due to how small I am, but I take the opportunity to reach put and place my hands around his neck, wrapping my legs around his thin waist and hear him choke on the air as his tail swishes around wildly behind him.

“I’m going to ruin you.” He growls in my ear before starting to thrust in and out at a set pace, I could tell he was holding back but I needed to feel more.

“Nìwin,” I suddenly had enough time for my brain to stop short circuiting to remember how to speak Na’Vi, even if it was just one word. But lost myself in the pleasure he was providing as he continued thrusting his hips to meet mine, one hand on my waist and the other beside my head.

Without speaking Eetu starts setting a quick pace, almost animalistic although I couldn’t bring myself to analyze if his movements were withheld or not as the snap of his hips was starting to bring an immeasurable amount of pleasure toward my core. All I can do is gasp, hold on toward his neck tighter than before, and pray to Eywa that nothing could stop this moment from continuing as wonderfully as it had been.

It wasn’t until I felt Eetu’s finger meddling with my clit that I realized I’d closed my eyes, a choked moan coming out from between my lips as I wriggle at the sensitivity I’d felt.

“You feel absolutely amazing yawntu, your velvety walls squeeze my cock very well, you are such a good girl,”

“Eetu I-“

“I feel it too,” He cuts me off and adjusts himself, my arms ripping away from his neck as he adjusts himself to sit on his knee’s, my hips returning to their previous elevated state as his hands graze my waist for a secure hold on my body before releasing an even faster pace than before, his cock burrowing into my walls and molding them into a shape only he could fill from not on.

My moans uncontrollable as he continues hitting a special spot inside me, my clit grazing on his groin as he continues to pound into me, head falling back into the moss and feeling my eyes rolling to the back of my head as my orgasm rakes through my body, a blinding white light coming through the back of my eyelids.

And suddenly I felt it.

As soon as Eetu shoved the last bits of his cock inside I could feel something bulbous shove itself inside, my uterus cramping as soon as the tip of his cock attempts to shove itself in and I groan lightly as my orgasm begins to ebb away.

“Eetu,” I pause as I attempt to feel whatever it was he had shoved inside me.

“What is that?” I asked in Na’Vi.

“That, my yawntu, is my knot.” His thumbs start to caress my waist gently, one of his hands abandoning its post on my hips as it comes up to pet my hair.

“It will go down in a few minutes, just try not to move, yes?” He stated so sweetly and all I could do was nod my head.

[internetskiff]

Breen's unfortunately pretty underrated amongst the Valve antagonists, which I suppose is understandable compared to the likes of GLaDOS or The Administrator, but just like those two I feel like there's plenty of things to talk about when it comes to him. He seems like a very conflicted character, especially if you take into account the BreenGrub account and Laidlaw's Epistle 3. First of all is, of course, the leadup to the Black Mesa incident, with the G-Man seemingly making an offer to Breen which seemingly involved overloading the Anti-Mass Spectrometer while processing an extremely pure sample of Xen Crystal - and yes, while it's pretty obvious that the order to overload the systems was very intentional and motivated by whatever deal they struck, I believe that when it comes to the aftermath he may have been sold on a lie. Considering his actions as Administrator of Earth being entirely in the interests of keeping Humanity from feeling the full force of the Combine, I don't think "Becoming the de facto leader of all of Earth" was on his agenda. Perhaps G-Man promised that whatever their deal would entail would bring about a prosperous future for humanity, perhaps all he promised was the possibility of establishing contact with another sentient species (which is something he technically did provide), or perhaps it was something else - there's simply way too much room for speculation there, I think.

A little detail from a HL:A newspaper implies that his position as Earth's administrator wasn't exactly handed to him on a silver platter, instead he had to go out of his way to reach out to the governments with information on how to communicate with the invaders, at which point, already beaten down by Combine forces, they simply gave him the all-clear to speak for all of mankind. This still begs the question of who, or what, gave him the knowledge of how to speak with them - however, it's safe to say if they didn't, Earth would've been left a smoldering pile of rocks and withered carcasses. Once again, he acts with Humanity's best interests in mind, having to choose between the lesser of two evils - it's either enslavement or extinction. He simply chose the option in which Humanity would survive, even if just for a little while longer.

And ever since, we're watching the aftermath. He's trying to talk the last generation of Humanity down, so they may either pass of old age or be absorbed into the Combine - at least if that happens, something gets preserved. Once again, the alternative? They'll just wipe the slate once they get the local teleportation technology they desire. Breen sees no other way than to go along with their demands. He's eventually proven wrong, of course, but he refuses to see the Rebellion as anything but a suicidal march towards the extinction of the human race, and he sticks to that belief up until he is killed by Gordon at the tip of the Citadel. Of course, this doesn't make him a good person. Not at all. This belief has lead him to seek out and destroy anyone who tries to resist. He shows no sympathy to them. He paints them as fools. He himself believes it so. This intense hatred for anyone who resists is seen perfectly in how he treats the Vance family. He views them as fools. As narrow-minded rabble in the streets, senselessly struggling against a tide beyond their comprehension. He's willing to send off a father and his daughter into a world far beyond simply to use them as a bargaining chip. Listening to the two comfort eachother as they're almost raised up to a fate surely worse than death, the only expression on his face is that of pure contempt and annoyance. He's a very fascinating character that I wish Valve would explore again if they ever do another Half Life set during a time period in which he was still alive. He's a coward that easily bends to the oppressor, yet in the end he only does it to make sure something survives. He's cruel to those who resist because he's completely convinced they're going to get everyone killed. He is the Combine's perfect puppet.

haha anyhoo so why was he straight up serving on the magazine covers in HL:A like what was up with all that

[soullessdianthus]

can i request ghost x reader, kind of like an enemies to lovers/hatefucking type situation 🫣 can be as kinky as you like. thank you <3

A/N: I'm living for this trope with Ghost! Because I believe he could be absolute douche sometimes, but at the end of the day, he would just drown you in sweet affection. (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )

Warnings: enemies to lovers (idiots in love), implied age gap, angst???, smut (p in v, slow and gentle sex, unprotected)

Word count: 4.2k oops

It felt like literal eternity serving within the British Army. But in reality it’s only been three years since you enrolled. Since the very beginning of your personal excursion along the nine circles of hell, the devil was looming above your head – Lieutenant Riley. 

God damn bastard. 

Around a year ago Captain John Price was selecting only a few privates to see if any of the “fresh blood” was fit to join his special forces. You happened to be one of the lucky soldiers. 

During this intense year of service you managed to get promoted to a sergeant, allowing you to be more independent during missions than a rookie or a private. To be honest, you were amongst the youngest sergeants out there in the army, along Soap MacTavish. 

You were good. That’s what Price told you at the end of the selections. You weren’t as strong as men larger and taller than you, but you catch up in the different fields. Swift yet seamless in the way you moved, quietly. A good aim and fast ability to evaluate the situation. 

Sometimes your biggest flaw was panicking during shootouts. Especially when your team was getting slaughtered, one by one and your cheeks were splashed with thick, warm blood. If not your slightly strayed aim and heavy breathing no one would even know. 

You were extremely young for such missions Captain (or Laswell) sent you on, so honestly, the way your body reacted was a basic human reaction to such stress and trauma. 

And there he was, a man soaked in crimson, his skull mask remaining untouched. Ghost walked right by you inside of the helo, when Soap tried to console you by nudging your arm. 

You felt his dark eyes looking at you with scorn, disappointment maybe. Ghost never praised you, not once, even if you saved their arses. All of them. 

━ Pull yourself together, sergeant. ━ Lieutenant snarled, before sitting down on the opposite bench. 

━ Ignore him, lass. He’s just a grumpy sad man.

Johnny was more than right about Simon Riley being a sad man having a sad life. Perhaps that’s why he got so used to crushing each bundle of joy in his life.

You thanked God in situations like this, that there was always Soap or Gaz to ease the tension between Lieutenant Riley and you. Because no matter how much you acted unbothered and tough or how much you tried to ignore his hatred towards you, Ghost’s attitude was painfully scratching your heart. 

Obviously you made some mistakes, all of them had. You were just humans at the end of the day. So whenever you tried to impress the others, looking out for friend’s approval, you were struck by his empty stare full of pity. 

You hated to admit it to yourself, you never wanted to, but you couldn’t just treat him indifferently. There was some fucked up part inside of you that didn’t want to let him go. And it only brought more pain.

There was no logical explanation why Ghost despited you so much. You were humble about your job or abilities and overall polite (well, most of the time, lately you began to talk back to the grumpy Englishman).

But what you didn’t know was that Ghost was actually jealous. 

He couldn’t stand how quick it was for someone as young and fragile as you to climb to the sergeant’s position. Ghost didn’t possess the features you had – the way you made friends so easily among the comrades, how you practically every time executed your job without a slip up or how you put a spell over Soap, Gaz and even Price. They were all fond of you.

Once, when you got hurt, Ghost couldn’t help but to trace the dripping blood from the cut on your cheekbone. The blood trickled down your soft skin over the curvature of your face, which he involuntarily found pretty for a woman. The crimson substance dripped down your chin and onto the cleavage of your shirt. 

Simon swore, he could see your round, full breasts through the tight shirt. Only then he snapped back to reality. Since then he hated himself even more for casually showing such fragility. Ghost couldn’t let you be his weakness. The ghost had none. 

But all you could see in this situation was that your lieutenant was disappointed with you. That you managed to get hurt on such an easy mission. “Such a failure in his eyes, am I?”, you thought to yourself.

The other time, when you followed him along the concrete wall, trying to flee the ambush, Ghost happened to be just too close to you. His broad shoulder touching you almost constantly. 

His presence didn’t bother you, until the lieutenant's tight grip over your upper arm barely cut the blood circulation in the limb. He yanked you backwards so hard, you nearly stumbled. 

━ Have you lost your fuckin’ mind? ━ Ghost growled in a raspy voice, making sure you weren’t shot. He brought you close to his own body, too close. You could feel the warmth of his body, almost welcoming you into embrace. Almost.

━ I got it covered! ━ His gloved hand snatched up to cover your mouth at once.  Both of you stilled upon hearing the enemy walking past your cover. Simon retraced his palm only when he was sure the danger was gone. ━ You’re insufferable, Lt.

━ Congratulations, the girl finally noticed. You want some cheers or a confetti thrown? 

━ Would like one actually ━ you agreed with a pathetic shell of a man, wasting all of the strength not to tell him to fuck off ━ but not from you. Let’s move.

Ouch, that had to hurt his fragile ego. But Ghost wondered why it actually made his blood boil. Why your little back talk got him riled up. 

For years he got used to hearing insults or miserable comments from other soldiers. So why did he feel truly insulted when it came to you and your filthy mouth? He felt similar to a parent who failed to put their child into their place. 

So he desired to torment you a little more. However, this decision ended differently than usual, when he toyed with you, mocking each aspect regarding your life.

This time you smacked him across his face, when you were back in the helo taking a few soldiers back to base. One too many malicious comments from the lieutenant and you snapped. 

Of course you regretted being so carried out by emotions, but slapping Ghost across his stupid mask gave you a sense of relief. Bastard deserved that.

You were surprised when one of the women in the barracks told you that Ghost is asking for your presence in his office. That it’s urgent.

It has been a couple of days since “the incident” and since then you hadn’t been forced to spend time with him, not in the training area nor in the cafeteria. 

You jumped out of your bed and pulled on the high trail shoes and stuffed the legs of your pants inside of them. There were many ideas coming to your mind, why he requested your presence. Perhaps, the little disagreement in the helo was too much. Maybe the Captain was there with him, ready to reprimand you for such disrespect towards the Lt?

Who knew, the only way to find out was to go and see for yourself. So you did. 

The base seemed more empty than ever before, most of the soldiers being sent away on missions. Or on a training grounds, far from the main building. 

So you walked with a steady pace down the hallway until your eyes managed to read the label “Lt Riley” on the doors. Before your hand reached for the handle, you acknowledged the state your body was in – wrist and slender fingers shaking, skin inflamed. Were you afraid of this confrontation? What was wrong with you?

A loud sigh left your mouth and your chest collapsed. You knocked twice and entered the office only when you heard his voice “come in”. 

━ You wanted to see me? 

━ Come, I might need your help ━ such foolishly selected words made your heart skip a beat. You closed the door behind and walked closer to where he was sitting. ━ Fill those just like the example here and then put them aside. 

Ghost pointed to the one singular sheet of paper already filled out and your eyes wandered on the massive pile of those you were supposed to complete. The similar stack was on the lieutenant’s right. 

━ And you can’t do it yourself? ━ You raised your brow, looking in a questionable way at him. Ghost sighed, rolling his eyes.

━ Can’t you just do what your told?

You grabbed the folding chair and set it next to the grumpy man. You carefully watched his reaction as you did so. 

━ Soap wasn’t available?

━ He’s on a deployment, somewhere in Urzikstan ━ the man wearing a balaclava with solid skull sewed to it explained briefly. ━ Besides, I needed a woman to help me out with this.

━ Oh wow, didn’t know you were a sexist. ━ A surprised huff slipped out of your mouth, when you got comfortable on the plastic chair next to him. He sneaked a peek at your wiggling hips and felt a sudden wave of heat.  

━ Fuckin’ hell ━ he cursed, passing you the pen. ━ You think Johnny or Gaz know how to sign their own name? At least you know how to write, yeah?

━ Look, you just said something nice for once. 

A not so fake, but forced smile twisted your face as you accepted the pen he given you. 

━ Don’t flatter yourself. 

━ Nothing coming from your mouth is flattering, Lt. 

Within the last spoken sentence you began filling the papers out just as he instructed. The task itself wasn’t difficult, just repetitive. 

Minutes passed as you sat next to Ghost in silence. Only the sound of paper sheets being moved around intervened with the quietness. You unknowingly started to chew on your lower lip, distracting the man sitting beside you. But how could you know this, he just hummed from time to time, God knew why. 

The tension between the two of you started to fade out as you felt more comfortable spending time with him. Work time of course, doing important things, but in a secluded room and all alone. 

Your somehow guilty mind didn’t want to leave the business unclear, there was a need rooted inside of you that needed its explanation. 

So you gathered enough bravery and finally spoke, breaking the silence. 

━ You’re in a mood for talking, sir? 

━ Not particularly ━ Ghost replied, eyes still glued to the documentation in front of him. ━ But since you addressed me properly… What do you want?

He was right. Maybe it was the first time you addressed him with “sir” since the beginning. 

━ I’m not looking for trouble, alright? But, what is your problem? Why… ━ you paused for a second, your own gaze drilling into the pen you were gripping so hard between your fingers ━ are you so harsh to me? 

━ What did you expect joining the military, eh? Would you like a special treatment? 

━ An equal treatment would be great ━ you emphasized on the words, sinking further into a plastic chair. ━ See, you don’t even understand. 

Why were you sitting there, listening to him taking out his bitterness on you? There was far more you deserve in life than this. You did nothing wrong to be treated as such. 

━ I tried getting along with you, Simon ━ you continued after a moment of silence. You were so focused on the confusing feeling in your guts, that you missed the part when he stopped working to look directly at you. And the sadness painted on that pretty face of yours. ━ I really did. But you're pushing everyone away and that’s not my problem. So don’t dare take this out on me. 

His short, but rough laugh echoed in your ears and blush of humiliations covered your cheeks. There was even a hint of you crying in a matter of seconds, but you kept your act together. That’s what he told you so often, right? 

━ Jesus fuckin’ Christ. ━ The lieutenant muttered, your face twisted in pure anger.

That’s it. That was the fine line. 

Suddenly you stood up, pushing the chair with the back of your thighs. It almost fell down with a thud, but you caught the backrest quickly, before it could actually happen. 

Did he just laugh at you? 

━ What the fuck is wrong with you?! ━ You let the emotions emerge to the surface, raising your voice at the masked man. But despite the wrong he did, what Ghost said to you, you couldn’t find a dash of hatred towards him. It made you feel sick. ━ Why do you hate me so much? I didn’t do anything wrong!

Ghost stood up from his own seat and out of the sudden his larger body caged you in between him and the solid desk. The Englishman placed his hands on both sides of you, over the countertop, taking away the possibility of you escaping. Slipping away through his fingers.

He pressed his chest and whole front of his body into your back. To your (and his) surprise, you didn’t even flinch. Ghost’s head was leaning next to your left ear. The significant skull mask staring directly at you. 

━ I can’t stand your presence, sergeant. It makes my blood boil, especially when you laugh. Because it… ━ he paused, inhaling sharply through his teeth ━ you make me feel things. Though, I’ve no hatred towards you, Y/N.

A confusion overwhelmed your body, when he didn’t snap back or when he didn’t bother to be mean towards you further than that. Your heart was hammering inside of your ribcage.

All these months, he kept pushing you away with his repulsive attitude, just because Ghost didn’t want to allow anyone closer. His heart was cold, so how come you managed to stir something in him? 

In a cold-blooded killer?

━ You’re better than me. All those atrocities we experienced, didn’t change you into a fuckin’ killin’ machine. A monster. Because you shouldn’t end up like me. 

His right hand, not wearing any glove, slowly raised in the air until it reached your face. With the outer side of his palm and knuckles, the more scarred one, he caressed your features. The outline of your cheek and jaw, the curvature of your lips. 

Your body instinctively leaned into his touch, into the tenderness it craved subconsciously. You would never imagine Ghost was capable of such intimate acts. 

━ You’re not a monster, Simon ━ your mind was eased, yet body was inflamed with something more. The skin craved more answers, more clarifications. An assurance. ━ Just an idiot. 

He chuckled softly, his chest tensing for a moment. You could feel it through the layers of clothes that separated you from each other. 

His hand left the side of your face. The lieutenant removed his balaclava along with the skull mask. You knew it, because he placed it on the desk nearby, just in your sight. He was exposing himself to you. He wasn’t fucking around this time. He was serious. 

━ Look at me. 

Ghost tone was firm, a bunch of words sounding like an order. And like a good soldier you followed this one. 

You slowly moved around, before leaning against the desk again, but this time you were facing him – Simon Riley himself. Not Ghost. Not a shell of a man. 

His face was covered with many scars and memories, it was true, but you would never say that it mutilated him anyhow. He was still handsome, especially with his messed up blonde hair sticking to his forehead. 

You didn’t even realize when the corners of your mouth twisted warmly at this sight. You couldn’t devour it for so long, because he grabbed both sides of your flustered face and pulled you into a passionate, deep kiss. 

Something he was restraining himself from for so long. It became agonizing. 

Your fingers shot up, surprised by the sudden grasp, filling the hollow depth between Simon’s knuckles. 

This shouldn’t feel good, this should have tasted like a sin. He was in a way your superior, he was older than you and he made you believe you were his demise. Which in a way you were. He was ready to throw aside his grumpy mask, if that would make you smile more often. 

Simon thought he would never expose himself like this, show his vulnerability to anyone. Until he met you. 

The breathing between each kiss became a heavy panting – lovers stealing the air from each other. He has clearly shown how much he craved your closeness, the smell of your skin and the taste of your tongue. Something that was so prohibited for a long time. 

━ I still can’t comprehend this, Simon. I really thought you hated me. You’re not playing with me now, are you?

You needed answers, you couldn’t just simply fall for his words. You were not a silly girl anymore. Maybe unintentionally, but during the last couple of months with such stupid behavior, he made you question a confession like this. 

He abused your trust.

There was a feeling in your starved heart that Simon didn’t mean to use you or to hurt in any way, shape or form. But perhaps, due to his own life experience, he couldn’t express his emotions or desires otherwise.  

Simon Riley was a strange, secluded man. 

━ ‘m not. I’m sorry. But the way you fell for my teasin’, priceless. 

Simon chuckled into your sensitive ear as he revealed the truth. When his warm breath tickled the skin over your neck, you tried to shield it from him, before Simon latched onto it like a bloodsucking leech. 

He stepped closer towards your figure trapped in front of him, but only when he bumped into you, he realized how excited and bothered he got. How his trousers became instantly tighter against his manhood. 

━ Fuck. ━ He murmured out, head hanging low in shame. 

━ Simon ━ your sweet voice snatched him back to reality from the depths of his worried mind. You clung to his chest, pressing against his toned body, hands sneaking over his frame. ━ Would you like some help? 

Fuck.

Simon barely managed to swallow his own saliva, when he nodded his head. He wanted to hold you, to have you. Entirely. To leave shady stamps over your skin, so the next morning you would remember this confession. You would remember him. 

━ Not so tough now, aren’t we? ━ You jokingly said, when the lieutenant managed to relax a little bit. When he quit being ashamed of his boner. 

━ You’ve put a spell on me, damn vixen. 

━ Keep telling yourself, Lt. 

The blonde man, still with the smudged black paint over his eyelids, squeezed your hip for a moment, before he reached for the thick blanket from the little, old couch. He unfolded it on the ground and you stepped closer.

Ghost grabbed your smaller hand and guided you to get down on your knees along with him. Your glossed eyes, shimmering with lust followed his handsome face. The face that he kept hidden for so long. 

It was a matter of seconds, before the two of you clung to each other, lips connected with desire. Sloppily, you took some clothing off of him and yourself – like heavy, dirty shoes, his warm jacket or your trousers. 

Your curious eyes noticed his tattoo. It wasn’t the first time you managed to sneak a peek, but it was a first look from this close. 

Simon laid you down onto the plaid blanket and sat on his knees between your legs. His broader shoulders leaned over you, casting a shadow beneath. You kept his face close, leaving a trail of kisses over his features. His short beard tickled you here and there.

━ You okay? ━ He asked, sounding a little concerned that the things progressed so fast. But your eager nodding dispersed the worries away. 

━ Still mad at you, it’s all. 

━ I’ll apologize then. 

Simon unzipped his pants, before he slid them slightly down the thighs. You noticed the bright, short hairs over his meaty legs, prior to him grabbing the sergeant and pulling closer to his groin.

He managed to maneuver your far more delicate form with no struggle, it amazed you how aware Simon was of his strength. 

He smudged the flush tip of his hardened length down your now exposed slit. You gasped at the sudden touch there, pressing eyes shut. The soldier kissed gently over your fluttering eyelid and continued pushing forward with his hips. 

When his stomach brushed in a swiping motion against your softer belly, you suppressed a mewl by biting onto your lip. Simon continued thrusting into your heat in a gentle way. In a way, you wouldn’t think that someone who hated you so much would do.

The blonde man propped against his right forearm, placed next to your head. You could clearly see how his bicep tensed with each movement. Simon’s other palm wandered over the side of your body, fingers counting the ribs under the skin. 

In fact, he was so delicate his touch almost tingled. 

Your thighs squished his sides, when the lieutenant speeded up the rhythm of the thrusts. You felt the crude way your bodies were connected and found pure, primitive pleasure with such an act. 

How Simon moved within you, how the sex itself was passionate yet not painful, the way he made you feel secure and protected between his arms. In his arms.

When you opened enough for him, a couple of cute moans slipped from your mouth just as he pressed his forehead against yours. 

━ Simon. ━ You whispered, the ecstasy of the moment becoming overwhelming. 

You leaned for a sloppy kiss. No, not one. You wanted more. He kept holding himself back, waiting for your initiations. 

So when you welcomed him inside your mouth, he clung to it tighter. The coiling pressure in your tummy grew stronger, making your fingers numb.

━ Si–Simon, I–

You didn’t have to finish the sentence, he already knew. The lieutenant could read you like a book. His favorite one. 

━ Fuck, me too. ━ He groaned through his teeth, feeling his cock twitch inside of you. 

Your hips bucked vividly into him, when you nuzzled your head into Simon’s neck – exactly where it meets with the shoulder. His scent was heavy in the air. The sound of his loud breaths filled your ears. 

━ Don’t stop, don’t stop. ━ You chanted whispering, slowly drifting yourself into upcoming orgasm. 

So when the coiling feeling of climax snapped inside of you, you let out a breathless moan. Your slender fingers squeezing around Simon’s arm and shoulder, lower half of the body spasming uncontrollably. 

The lieutenant nearly lost himself within the divine sensations your body provided him with. Simon’s shoulders tensed, thighs flexed and he continued to lead you through your pleasure, meanwhile chasing his own. 

And finally, when you started becoming limp on that plaid blanket beneath with a final, eager thrust, he climaxed too. His hips shuttered, mouth fallen agape while riding through his own peak. The Englishman muttered your name on repeat for a moment as his length throbbed.

Simon was so preoccupied with blinding delight that he hadn’t noticed when your hand cupped his jaw, another one sneaking onto his occiput, slowly rubbing circles. 

━ You’re gonna be the death of me, darlin’. ━ He declared amazed, carefully resting down his body over yours. 

You still, up to this moment, couldn’t believe what just had happened. The months of rage and scuffles ended in his office, on the floor. Nearly naked. 

His scent was stronger than ever before – a specific brand of aftershave or a cologne? Nonetheless, it smelled like burned wood, like a campfire on a summer night. Perhaps maybe because of that you felt safe in Ghost’s embrace. 

Since you laid down your head on his chest, he couldn’t stop touching your hair. The lieutenant played with the loose strands of it, flicking between his coarse fingers. 

He had already given you his warm jacket, which you gladly put on and snuggled against his side, like a big teddy bear. One of your shaking legs, hooked over his. Simon pushed you even closer with his arm wrapped around your back. 

━ So ━ Simon spoke softly, making sure you hadn’t fallen asleep prior to it ━ you still angry with me, eh?

━ Still debating about that, Lt. 

━ Quit teasin’, bonnie. 

You giggled like a foolish teenager again, your head adjusting on top of his chest. The lieutenant placed his palm over yours and you could observe how his ribcage was opening up and slowly falling down. 

God, this shouldn’t feel so good. 

━ Simon, shouldn’t we finish the reports? 

━ Yeah, in a minute. Let’s stay like that a lil’ longer.

[bitethedevil]

What will make Raphael cry? He’s half human I refuse to believe he doesn’t have a softer side like others human he probably feels some emotions too..? Maybe not as strong

Raphael’s Upbringing

The seeds that we water are the ones that grow. I think it’s the same for Raphael. Raphael is half human and half devil. Raphael has ‘watered’ the devil side. As with most people, we are a product of our upbringing and environment. I have a couple of different theories as to how that has been for Raphael. I’m going to give a long-winded answer, because I can’t resist (you can just skip to the conclusion for the actual answer).

Stranded in the Material Plane

Since it takes a human parent to create a cambion, it’s not unlikely that Raphael was born on the Material Plane. It’s not unusual for cambion babies to just be left there alone, since their mothers die in childbirth. If they are extremely lucky, someone will take care of them. If not, they often just die. Neither mortals nor devils like them. However, cambions age faster than mortal children and when they are fully aged up, they attain their immortality.

Raphael could have grown up on the Material Plane, but we know that at some point he ended up in the Hells. Mephistopheles did not take him in out of the goodness of his heart, that’s for sure, and we know that they do have some sort of connection since Raphael has a portal specifically to Cania. Mephisto might have seen him survive against all odds and thought he could use him.

If Raphael grew up on the Material Plane, he has most likely grown up with complete hatred around him (he would as well in the Hells). I’ve talked about how he is good at parading as human and that he has seemingly human interests (art and poetry for example). This could be because he grew up there and that’s why he understands mortals so well. It could also simply be because he has been in the soul business for so long.

Raphael likes the Material Plane because he gets to be a big fish there, where he is very much a small fish in the Hells. We see his Napolean complex constantly when he interacts with us (little mouse, pipsqueak, generally talking down to us). Nevertheless, the devil title is still super important to him (and pointing out he is not a mortal). This could make extra sense if he grew up amongst mortals for some years, and has to prove even more to daddy dearest and the other devils that he is not one of them. But who knows.

Growing up in the Hells

It could also be that Meph snatched him up and raised him entirely in the Hells, with the purpose of using him as a pawn. Cambions are valuable because they are some of the devils that can visit the Material Plane. Meph also has a daughter that he uses for his own gains.

If raised entirely in the Hells, then Raphael would have even less human qualities. He would grow up feeling like an outsider and constantly having to prove himself. That means growing some tough skin and shunning every human emotion, which I think he has done to some extent regardless. I also have a theory that he was cast out of Cania at some point and sent to Avernus to live as an outcast, which is also interesting.

Raphael dislikes his father, but at the same time he wants to one-up him and probably impress him too. He is a lot like his dear daddy. There is a complicated relationship to be sure. His father is ruthless and cunning, and Raphael wants to be like that too.

The Emotions Part (Conclusion)

If he has ‘human’ emotions, they are under lock and key. He shuns them and doesn’t identify with them. He has had millennia to tame them, so I’m not sure that there is a lot left. If he ever feels something, it’s largely for himself. I think sadness would turn into anger and that he is prone to the same terrifying outbursts of rage as his father. If he ever does cry, it pisses him off even more because he sees it as weakness. Underneath all that seeming narcissism is most likely a man that hates himself and how he is. He clings to the image of what he wants to be: the big scary strong devil.

He has had to fend for himself in one way or another due to his upbringing, so I think that emotions for others are a thing he doesn’t concern himself with. There has only been one constant and one person he can trust in his entire life: himself. Unless he gains something from it directly, why care about it?

Cambions are largely solitary and live solitary lives. It’s really no wonder that they do given their upbringing. They are also able to be good, but why would they be when the whole world hates them or look down on them? Maybe he could be soft, if he decided to ‘water’ that side of him, but after millennia, I think it would take something huge for him to change his ways. He has other priorities.

That is just my opinion at least!

(Thank you for the ask <3)