#he used his strength against his little brothers when had SWORN he never would. never like that

[qoldenskies]

Something about how Raph would have the most to return to when it comes to being helpful—there’s only so much Donnie can eat, and there’s only so much Leo can physically heal before having to face the fact that most of the wounds are emotional. Raph can keep going though, the way he always has, he can keep going, he can be better this time, he can be the big brother he was supposed to be for all of them and this will never happen again never never never never

[space-blue]

SOTE rant (1)

One thing that I find very annoying, is the propensity for Lore video makers to completely jump on the DLC and analyse it in a void. Everyone is theory crafting like the base game doesn't exist anymore.

Everyone is taking Miquella's approach as the go to for divinity 101 and acting like only the people name dropped in the DLC matter, except for Radagon, who is very important, despite NEVER being named, ANYWHERE in the SOTE game files.

Oh no, excuse me, he's named ONCE in a delete dialogue (unless he speaks during battle but I was under the impression that he never does?) from Radahn:

Yet everyone is out there saying Marika used the gate to make herself a god and created Radagon in the process. And that he was created that way as her lord, and then immediately fathered Messmer and Melina.

But I... kind of don't see it? Why would SHE need to use a special vessel ritual like everyone is theorizing?

She already has a sworn lord : Godfrey.

Why is everyone making these Marika centric lore videos and never dropping the names of key characters?

Godfrey. Serosh. Maliketh. Why is nobody asking themselves WHEN did Marika get granted her "brother" Maliketh by the three fingers? Why is nobody making speculation on whether she had a pact with Hoarah Loux before becoming a god.

He could very well be the vessel needed. He doesn't need to have his soul separated from a body or any such nonsense. That's what Miquella ended up doing because he had no choice if he wanted to use Radahn.

Here is what we know of Godfrey :

Godfrey was a ferocious warrior. When he vowed to become a lord, he took the Beast Regent Serosh upon on his back to suppress the ceaseless lust for battle that raged within. The first demigods were The Elden Lord Godfrey and his offspring, the golden lineage. Crown of Godfrey, the first Elden Lord. The age of the Erdtree began amongst conflict, when Godfrey was lord of the battlefield. He led the War against the Giants. Faced the Storm Lord, alone. And then, there came a moment. When his last worthy enemy fell. And it was then, as the story is told, that the hue of Lord Godfrey's eyes faded. Helm of the Crucible Knights who served Godfrey, the first Elden Lord. Weapon of Godfrey, Elden Lord. It was broken in a battle fought as leader of the Tarnished during the Long March. This weapon is symbolic of Godfrey's vow to conduct himself as a lord, later becoming an emblem of the golden lineage. In the days of the past, a crown was warranted with strength.

The first demigods were The Elden Lord Godfrey and his offspring, the golden lineage.

This line either means that the voice of the game is lying, wrong, or not knowledgeable enough. Or that Messmer is not a demigod, or that Messmer is the son of Godfrey.

And while he does have red hair, he is cursed with a red flame... And his little sister, Melina, doesn't have the distinctive red hair of Radagon's children. She's also not a demigod as far as we know.

Messmer and Melina are named M like Mohg and Morgott! We have plenty of hints that they could be Godfrey's children, first and foremost being the canon base game text asserting all demigods first descended from him. We simply don't know otherwise.

It's also asserting he was the first Elden Lord, and not second or a later addition.

There's also his vow to conduct himself as a Lord, which seems like something he might have done prior to Marika making him Lord.

The beast depicted is Serosh, aged counselor who guides the golden lineage. The black nails protruding from golden fur are said to represent Serosh, Lord of Beasts, who went to become King Godfrey's Regent.

Serosh is very mysterious, and we just know he's some sort of limiter. I've made plenty of posts arguing for Maliketh and Serosh being the same type of beasts from the same global origins.

Beasts are reverred by the Hornsent! Our first boss is their storm beast guys, and the head looks quite similar to Serosh. Who, BTW, is also a spirit form?? Who turns real on command?

All this to say, it doesn't sound impossible at all, to me, that Marika would have come to the gate of divinity already having a lord lined up -- Godfrey -- and counsellors giving advice on how to execute her plan : Serosh and Metyr mother of fingers.

I assume it would be in Metyr's power to grand Marika her (necessary?) Shadowbound beast.

Isn't it interesting that Maliketh is a Shadowbound Beast? In our Shadow Realm DLC? He's never mentioned in the files, sadly.

But all of these people are key to Marika's ascension. I wish people would think about them more when they do their lore videos and not just roll right into creating Radagon out of thin air.

What bothers me most about the secret rite here, is that it says "the secret rite of the divine gateway", like THE rite, not A rite. It could be THE other one is not secret...

But more importantly, the line "usher in a god's return" just really does not fit EITHER of Miquella OR Marika. Neither of them is returning!! Maybe the God of Placidussax would be returning, but both Marika and Miquella are/try to ascend for the first time.

Miquella is also the only one with anyLord shennanigans we know of for sure.

I think Miquella divests himself of everything in order to comply with this ritual. So he has something to "return to". He sheds everything, so that he can pass through the gateway. But he's returning to an Empyrean's birthright. To a demi-god.

But we don't know that this is something Marika would have needed. We don't know that she used this specific ritual. After all, circumstances are VERY different for her :

The Gate of Divinity is fresh and bloody, implying a recent mass sacrifice. And then she plucks Gold from a corpse or receptacle of some sort.

None of this is depicted in Miquella's return, and he's not trying to emulate his mother, because her way of doing things came with a curse loaded "original sin". So we even have reason to believe Miquella would not actually be replicating the same ritual.

[drabblesandimagines]

Tranquility

Joshua Rosfield x fem reader Minor spoilers, I guess? Fluffy fluff. Inspired by this request.

An exaggerated sigh comes from behind you, intent to draw your attention. You smile but continue to read, turning the page with minimal fuss.

You’ve been reading at the desk for a little while now, in the chambers the two of you have been assigned in the Hideaway. You’d be happy enough in the bunks, but Clive truly doted on his younger brother and he had organised a room formerly being used for storage to be repurposed – a bed, desk and chair quickly sourced and put in place.

Joshua is on strict bedrest under Tarja’s and Jote’s instructions. You hadn’t escaped orders either, been given a stern warning to leave Joshua in solitude– as if you’d want to delay him regaining his strength. You’d easily preoccupied yourself, having arrived at the Hideaway a few days prior with Jote and helping with various jobs. You were midway through bringing supplies in off the skiff when Clive had called your name on the pier, asking you to please go and keep Joshua company. It turns out Ifrit had found the Phoenix bent over on the staircase, coughing, a weary hand on the wall, determined to seek you out after being separated for so long.

It had been nerve-wracking to meet Clive in Tabor, Joshua’s sworn First Shield, especially with the unique courtship you and Joshua had. You weren’t betrothed or wed for that matter, but you lived as if you were, and you were sure the brothers would have so much to catch up on that Joshua might not have even had time to mention you. You’d heard so many tales of Clive over the years, knew how special the brothers were to one another and so desperately hoped to make his approval.

You shouldn’t have worried. As soon as Joshua stepped foot in the building, he’d strode directly over to you, pulling you into a deep, brief kiss, before taking you by the hand over to Clive and Jill.

Though a little surprised, Clive had been nothing but kind, considerate and welcoming in the time you’d spent with him after their return from Kanver and bout with Odin – the reason as to why Joshua was confined to his bed. 

“Darling, come here.” Joshua demands, softly. “Please.”

“You, my love, are meant to be sleeping.” You chide, eyes not leaving the page.

“Resting.” He corrects. “Which I would do far better at if you were by my side. Nay, in my arms, actually.”

You look over your shoulder to roll your eyes – he’s propped himself up against the pillows, his black shirt unlaced, hair a little mussed and looking so beautiful. You realize as soon as you meet his soft blue eyes that engaging with him had been a mistake. You can never resist that face. He could tell you to walk straight into the mouth of a Morbol in his loving cadence and, by Founder, you’d do it.

No.

You must steel your resolve. He needs to rest. The colour’s only started to return to his complexion in the last day or so and you do not wish to hamper any semblance of recovery.

You try and regain your composure. “I do not wish to be at the wrong end of Tarja or Jote’s wrath when-”

“My sweet one, I beg you.”

Mothers, you can’t resist that – even if you’d downed many a tonic. You pick up your book and get to your feet, before toeing off your boots, and make the short walk over to the bed to climb in besides him. He instantly takes your free hand, pressing his lips softly against the back of it.

“Thank you.”

“Mm-hm.” You hold your tongue, not wishing to encourage him further, though you know when it comes to Joshua and his affections he needs no influence to shower you in loving words and sweet gestures. You go to return to your book, assuming he’ll rest now as you read besides him. That, however, turns out not to be his intention as he plucks the tome out of your hand with nimble fingers and places it down alongside him, just out of reach.

“Joshua…”

“It has been so long since we could just enjoy each other’s company, although I know that was at my behest. And now we are here… Well, I admire and respect Jote greatly, but to be truly alone in your company has become all too rare an occurrence.”

The Phoenix’s attendant was nothing but loyal, but sometimes her presence grew a little… suffocating, through no fault of her own. She was tasked with Joshua’s protection – his healer, his blade, his warden – and you were nowhere near skilled as her in those areas of expertise. You greatly admire her for her patience with him too – it was certainly hard to rein Joshua in at times.

“No, you are right. It has been a while.”

It felt like you’d been trekking across the continent non-stop the past while, poking around Fallen ruins, researching where you could, before he’d, reluctantly, sent you to Tabor to reside under Cyril’s watchful eye as set out to infiltrate Prince Dion’s camp to seek his aid. Your reunion in Tabor had been all too brief – he’d then sent you to the Hideaway alongside Jote to offer assistance there whilst his new party set forth to Kanver.

And Odin.

You don’t like to dwell on that – that Barnabas had split the sea with a swipe of his sword.

How easily could he have split Joshua in two?

“We should savour these moments.” He says, softly.

He draws shapes on your palm – it’s a nervous habit, you’d noted. He used to dance flames between his fingertips before he discovered this settled him just as well.

“You are thinking too much.”

“Impossible.”

Often, you would catch him standing or sitting in place, an arm across his chest, his other arm balanced upon it whilst he cups his chin, deep in contemplation. Sometimes so deep in thought, you’d resorted to peppering his face in kisses to get him to return to you.

You’re too used to this particular look, the responsibilities of the Phoenix resting too heavily on his shoulders.

“I disagree.” You place a tentative hand on his chest, hovering over that burden encased within. “Are you in pain?”

“No.” You stare at him for a moment, gauging whether it was a white lie across his tongue. His eyes seem sincere as he meets yours – he could never truly lie to you.

You scoot forward and swivel, carefully placing yourself across his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck loosely and in returns he brings you in closer.

After all this time, his cheeks still flush a little to have you pressed against him.

“And to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“You need to rest and, to do so, you must take a respite from thinking of Ultima.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but you press your forehead against his before he can utter a word, and you move a hand to caress his cheek.

“And rather than exhaust yourself further chasing answers you cannot currently seek, mayhaps for now you can think of my touch and of how much I love you.” You whisper, tenderly.  

“Sweet one, that thought has never once strayed from my mind - this is all because I love you. I want you to have the world.”

“I already do. You are it.” You tilt his chin up, pressing a soft, tender kiss to his lips. There’s a phantom taste of iron – too many times had you kissed your Phoenix’s bloody mouth in relief. “So, please, rest.”

He buries his head into your neck then, pressing a kiss or two to your throat, making your heartbeat quicken. “Can we stay like this?”

“Of course, love. Just close your eyes, mm?”

He nods, nuzzling in softly, the tip of his nose tickling your skin. You smile, closing your eyes, being close to him, being held like this is always so relaxing, your worries evaporating. It isn’t long before your breathing synchronizes and the two of you are slowly lulled to sleep, feeling content, safe and loved.

--

Clive doesn’t knock, forgetting himself, forgetting he’d sent you to sit with Joshua earlier too, and opens the door in a hurry. He has a vial of freshly brewed medicine from Tarja to deliver, but the scene before him stops him before he can voice his intentions.

Joshua is asleep, for one. He hadn’t even stirred at the sound of door opening. The Phoenix is propped up against the pillows and you are still wrapped in his arms, one hand spread flat over his heart. Joshua’s head is against the crook of your neck whilst yours lays upon his, both deep in slumber. The two of you look so peaceful.

“It’s rude to stare.” Jill jokes softly, wrapping an arm around Clive’s waist. He smiles down at her lovingly before he presses a kiss to the side of her head. How sweet it was that he and his brother had been blessed with you and Jill.

“Yes. I forgot they’d be together – I was tasked with delivering Joshua’s medicine, but…” He trails off, it goes without saying he does not wish to disturb such a tranquil scene.

“It can wait.” Jill smiles at the two of you. “Joshua has all the medicine he needs.”

--

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[too-antigonish]

They come at you through what you love...Pt. 2

Last Thursday Thursday I wrote about how “They come at you through what you love,” and the three times that phrase is used in Endeavour—starting back in S1...

*long post*

I talked a little bit about Morse and @astridcontramundam, @thewatcher98, and @fanficrocks had some great insights about about how Morse never seems to see himself as included within anyone's circle of love.

I don’t think though, that I was very clear about the last point I tried to make. I said:

“every once and a while it strikes me again that so much of this show is about a very simple premise: It explores the idea that love and connection are what make you most vulnerable to the evils of this world. At the same time, they are also the things that make life worth living and that give us strength.  So how do you live that terrible paradox—with both of these things being true at the same time?  And how do you respond when your love is used against you?”

The person I was actually thinking about most there was not Morse, but Thursday.

This is a man who at his core is a guardian. His primary mission in life is to take care of the people he’s supposed to take care of. He wants to love and protect. Especially these people...

But from the very beginning, his love is weaponized against him. His relationship with Mickey Carter and his desire to protect his family are used initially to drive him out of London.

Oxford is hardly more safe. Everyone seems to realize that threatening Thursday himself is pointless. You have to get at him through what he loves. And so they threaten his family and they threaten Morse.

And then they secure further leverage via his loan to Charlie which places both his job and his marriage--the very foundations of his identity--at risk.

What makes it all the more difficult for him is that he is constantly navigating between worlds--often opposing worlds.

He grew up as an East End barrow boy with an alcoholic father. He was raised to watch out for his own.  Now he’s a fairly well-off suburban father in academic Oxford with a job that in some sense makes him responsible for the entire community.

He was raised with violence, and by all accounts was involved in brutal campaigns and resistance work in WWII.  Fists were an accepted part of the game when he started policing. It’s not his first resort, but it’s a tool he uses.

Now Morse is trying to pull him away from that. Morse says he’s better than that--but he’s genuinely torn. What happens if the bad guy gets away with it because they didn’t have the nerve to “do what had to be done?”

One of the most poignant examples to me is when Charlie asks for the loan. While Win and Fred’s marriage looks dated to contemporary eyes, it’s notable for the time to see them making decisions mutually as a couple and to see them being fairly open in talking to one another.

But when Charlie asks for the money, there’s a sense that Fred’s immediately back in the world where he grew up—a world where consulting your wife about anything is akin to asking her “permission.”  It's also a world where saying no and refusing generosity to your brother would make you seem less of a man.

So which rules does he follow? The ones he and Win currently live with or the ones he and Charlie grew up with? Well, unfortunately, we know the answer.

S9 is I think the hardest example. So much of it is centered around the question of who Thursday is supposed to be taking care of—the victims of crime and the people of Oxford that he’s sworn to protect as a policeman? His immediate family—Win, Sam, Joan—and now Jim? His extended family—Charlie and the rest? His...whatever Morse is?

The bad guys are using everything he cares about to manipulate him and the cruelest twist of all is that he must seemingly choose one of his worlds to save and sacrifice the others. Which will he put first?

And then suddenly, he's not given anymore time to decide...

[doingitforbokuto]

The White Knight - Chapter Five

-> KNIGHT!KITA SHINSUKE X PRINCESS!READER

-> Previous Chapter

-> Series Masterlist

Summary: Kita had sworn that he would protect you at whatever cost, even if it meant giving his own life in exchange for yours. He was prepared to do whatever it took to keep you safe. But what if there was nothing he could do?

Words: 3,839

Warnings: injury, blood, lots and lots of angst! (w/ happy ending), mentions of death (slightly detailed), talks of forced/arranged marriage, very minor allusion to/mention of rape (1 sentence)

Your Point Of View 

“Don't make a sound, alright sweetheart?” Garret whispered as he stalked towards you from the door he had just locked. Despite the seemingly nice nickname he gave you, you saw his one hand slowly come to a rest on the handle of his dagger, which he had strapped to his belt. 

Still in shock, you simply nodded as you grasped onto the table behind you, desperate for any sort of support. What was your brother's sword fighting instructor doing here? In your room? Did your brother send him to you? Was he going to hurt you? No. No, he wouldn't. He wouldn't hurt you. Right? 

Garret came to a stop right in front of you. The distance between your faces was so small, you could almost feel his breath on your face as he whispered to you. “Is your knight still busy with the maid?” 

So he heard the conversation you two had just had. Nodding again, you glanced down to his belt where his fingers were still brushing against the leather-bound handle of his dagger. 

“Don't worry,” he smiled at you. “If everything goes well and you don't cause a ruckus, I won't have to use that. Alright?” He waited for you to nod once more before he continued speaking. “I need you to do something for me.” 

Swallowing hard, you finally willed yourself to speak. “What is it?” 

Your voice sounded strained and a little out of tune, but at least you had managed to get a hold of yourself. You needed to be strong now, no matter what was about to happen. And it probably wasn't as bad as it seemed right now. Maybe he was just here to talk to you on your brother's behalf? Surely a man you've known for years and years didn't have any bad intentions with you. There was no reason to be scared, you told yourself. Though he was about 15 or 20 years older than you, the age difference did not stop him from being close with your brother. Ever since they had met during a battle, your brother had admired Garret for his skill and strength, prompting him to invite him to the castle to help him refine his own sword fighting skills. For the past five years that he had spent here, he had been a good friend to the whole family. He was someone you could trust. Only that you never had. Right from the start, something made you feel uneasy around him. But that was just your wild imagination. It had to be. 

“You know,” he started, "I was actually relieved when your father told me that he was taking a break from finding you a possible suitor. I thought that might give him an opportunity to look at the chances that he has right in front of him.” His smile dropped. “But sadly, that didn't happen. Has he never considered me to become your husband?” 

The anger in his eyes was ice cold, freezing the blood in your veins. This was why he was here? Because he couldn't marry you, so he wanted to.. take you for himself? 

His hand shot up and grabbed your jaw with a force you did not expect. “Answer me!” Though he made sure to be quiet enough to not be heard outside, his hiss cut through the air like a knife. 

“I don't know,” you answered truthfully. “I don't know who he considers to be a good match for me.”

He let go of your chin and stepped back into the middle of the room, pacing around like a man running out of time trying to think of a solution to a pressing issue. One of your hands carefully came up to your chin, softly prodding the spots that felt like they were going to bruise from his harsh touch. 

Garret stopped dead in his tracks and turned back to you. “I thought maybe your little friend could help me. I mean, two people befriending the king's children to try better their life by marrying well? What better allies than us two!” What? He had spoken to Alysane about this? Was she a part of this? Was there a plot against you in motion?! 

“But it turns out this idiot actually just wants to be your friend. Can you imagine?! This.. spoiled little brat didn't even want to talk to you for me!” With a whiz, his dagger flew out of its sheath, flying through the air as he started gesticulating with it in his hand, his voice was slowly rising to a dangerous level. If he kept going like that, he might be heard outside. You prayed that he would. “She just told me that I should leave her alone! That she would never betray you! As if helping you to a good husband would be betrayal!” As slowly as possible, you tried to back away from him as slowly, not wanting to anger him any more. Without leaving him out of your sight, you moved along the side of the table to put some space between the two of you.

“So you can see why I had to come here and talk to you myself, right? Someone had to come and knock some sense into you!” 

Garret's eyes were trained on you again, pinning you into place. Not even daring to breathe, you stared back at him. His feet brought him back to you, dagger now raised as if it was just waiting, hoping for a taste of blood - your blood. 

“You're going to talk to your father, alright?” The metal of the blade curved along your throat. “You're going to tell him that you love me or whatever else is going to get him to agree to our marriage, got it? Tell him you're carrying my child if that convinces him, I don’t care, just convince him!” 

You could feel the blade cutting just the tiniest bit into your skin and the panic you had been keeping at bay was now starting to creep up your spine. It shot up into your head, your chest and neck like white, hot lava rolling over you. Breathing became hard, like there was a cage around your chest, not letting you get enough air into your lungs. You were starting to breathe harder and harder, making the blade cut even deeper into you. Unintentionally, you started to lean back, a futile attempt at getting away from him, at moving away from the weapon you were now face to face with. Without stopping his rant, he grabbed the back of your head and forced you back towards him, the dagger now pressing into your throat anew. Just a bit more and he would truly cut you, split open your throat and - 

With a shriek, you grabbed his arm and pathetically tried to keep him at bay. You didn't want to die! Not like this! 

“Princess?” Kita's voice was like a gift sent from heaven. If it sounded comforting before, it sounded angel-like now, like it was the one thing keeping you alive. That probably wasn't so far-fetched. 

The door handle dipped down. Any other day, Kita would open the door just the slightest bit so he could hear you better. Never would he just walk into your room without permission, but sometimes yelling through the door got a bit exhausting. This was a system you were both comfortable with: Him on one side, the door open just a small crack, not giving him any chance to look inside your room but helping him hear you better, help you better. That was what usually happened. Only that today, the door would not open for him. “Is.. everything alright?” 

Garret’s eyes bore into yours. Without letting go of you, he nodded, signaling you to tell Kita that everything was fine. Then, he started to move you two around so that he was now standing behind you, facing the door. What now? How could you let Kita know that something was wrong without getting your throat sliced open? 

“Y-Yes. Yes, Shin.. I'm alright.. just tripped over something.” 

Please, you prayed, begged. Please get the hint. And he did. 

Not even two seconds later, the door flew open, Kita’s key to your room still stuck in the lock. It took him just a split second to realize what was happening and the same moment that he did, he was like a changed man. His eyes were wild and angry, the morning light making it almost seem like the gold in his eyes was turning red from anger and fury. You could see the anger radiating off of him as his eyes zeroed in on Garret. You knew in that moment that Garret had just made the biggest mistake of his life. No matter how this would end, with you dead or alive, Garret would forever regret coming into your room. Kita would make sure that he would never be able to hurt you, he would execute whatever revenge you would command him to. He wanted to kill him, now, but he couldn't. But he was trying to figure out a way to it. The man behind you needed only a fraction of a moment  to understand what was happening. Already, you tried to push the arm holding the dagger away from you and run away, towards your safe place named Kita Shinsuke. But you couldn't. Not when Garret’s claws were digging into your arm and pulled you back into his body. His breath was hot on your neck, uncomfortable and wet as you felt the cold metal of his dagger back on your throat. Tears were starting to stream down your face. You were trapped, unable to do anything but look at Kita and hope that he would magically find a way to save you from this monster. You didn't want to have to die like this.

“One step closer and I'll slit her throat!” 

“You'll never make it out of here alive if you do.” Your knight's eyes were darting from you to your captor, to the blade at your neck, back to you. The fury in his eyes had dimmed itself a bit. He looked sad, almost pained. As if he was the one feeling a knife dig into his flesh, not you. Perhaps it was pain from not being able to pull you out of Garret's grip. From not being able to fulfill his duty. From being kept away from you while you were suffering. Or perhaps it was just the pain of knowing that he would be punished for not saving you. You hoped that he would at least be spared from that. He didn't deserve this, he did nothing wrong. If only your father knew how much he meant to you. If God was willing to grant you just one dying wish, he would let Kita live.

“Want to risk it?” You could feel Garret flexing his fingers. He was getting nervous. Was Kita really going to attack him? 

Looking back at Kita, you noticed something. For just a split second, his eyes flickered towards the table, then back to Garret. The man probably didn't notice it, but you did. What did he see that you didn’t? Careful not to move your head, you glanced down. And there it was, the thing that had caught his attention: The knife you had used to eat your breakfast with. 

In your blinding panic, you hadn't noticed or thought of it until now. But if you could just manage to grab it without Garret noticing it, it might just save your life. It wasn't the sharpest knife, but it was sharp enough. With its pointed tip and the regular sharpening it underwent, it might just be able to do the trick.

Luckily, your arm that was facing towards the table was not the one that Garret was grabbing. Carefully, you moved your fingertips to the edge of the table. Then, when no reaction came,, you placed your palm on the table. The two men were still arguing but none of their words made it through to you through the sound of blood rushing through your veins and the struggle to stay unsuspected by Garret. Everything was a blur then, from the moment you grabbed the knife, to the one you rammed it into Garret's thigh to the moment he let go of you and you ran away, not looking where you were stumbling to. 

For just a moment, you were completely caught up in the relief of finally getting away from this man who just tried to use and abuse you that it took you a bit to realize what was really happening right now: You had stumbled towards the door, Garret was clutching his stabbed leg with one hand, dagger still firmly in the other hand. Kita darted forward, disarming him within just a moment while he was still distracted by the wound you had given him. Kita was lucky that Garret didn't carry his sword with him, or he might have given him a hard time. He probably thought he wouldn't need it to intimidate a fragile little princess into doing whatever he wanted. 

Just that second, as Kita's arm wormed itself around Garret’ 's neck to keep him in a headlock and stop him from causing more harm, you tried taking a deep breath and finally felt it: The burn of an open wound and the blood dripping down from your neck.

Kita's Point Of View 

Finally, finally did he get his hands on the man who had you in his clutches just seconds ago. The image of you, scared and possibly hurt, with a dagger pressed to your delicate throat would forever be etched into his mind. Just like the death of a different Lady haunted him in his nightmares, this day would pay him many visits at night, he could already tell. But this was not the time to think about that. This was the time for him to focus and protect you, just like he promised he would, like he needed to make up for his past mistakes.

Garret’s dagger landed on the ground with a clatter while he sunk down on his knees in pain and defeat. With his free arm, Kita immediately wrapped him into a headlock, squeezing tight to make sure he couldn't move. He would soon make Garret regret laying a hand on you. Kita squeezed his arm a bit tighter around his neck.

“Do you want me to kill this man for you, princess?” he asked through gritted teeth. His voice sounded strange, fueled by a fury he had never felt before. It was like his hands were itching to rip this man's throat out but were unable to do so without your command. As much as he wanted to make Garret feel the same pain he had inflicted on you, the same pain he had put Kita through by threatening the most precious person in his life, he could not do it. The death of your previous knights still haunted you, so he would only kill Garret in front of you if that was what you wanted, if it made you feel better. Kita would do anything to make you feel better. To show you that you were safe, that Garret could no longer hurt you, that no one could hurt you in Kita's presence. He would keep you safe. He was your shield. Your knight. While he was still waiting for you to tell him what to do, instead of a command, a pained gasp escaped your lips. 

Within a split second, Kita's eyes landed on your form, on your knees, bent over and curled in on yourself. Your mouth was wide open, like there was a silent scream making its way out of you, but no sound was to be heard. One of your arms was wrapped around your stomach, like you were trying to hold your own body together, the other one reached up to your neck, hand pressed desperately against it. And under your fingers.. there was blood. Blood was dripping down from where your hand was down onto your chest. 

There was a beat of silence, none of you made any sound for what seemed like eternity. Kita's head was empty. There were no thoughts inside his head. It felt like he was in a dream, his worst nightmare playing out right in front of him in slow motion without him being able to do anything about it. His hands were too heavy to lift, his legs too tired to hoist him up. His mouth was too dry to get any words out, his whole being consumed by dread and panic at the sight in front of him. 

Garret seemed to realize the situation sooner than Kita did. Utilizing every chance and opportunity he got to get himself out of this mess, he jumped to his feet, nimble even with his wounded leg and ran out of the room. It didn't matter if you died or not. He knew that if he was going to get captured and brought before the king, he was going to die anyway. 

Still, your protector couldn't move. He should move. He should get up, he should try and help you, and if there was nothing else to be done, he should hold you and comfort you while you took your last breaths. If he couldn't stop you from dying, he should at least make sure that your death wasn't as lonely as the last few days of your life had been. But he couldn't. All he could do was kneel in your room, surrounded by your things, your clothes, your needlework, your books, and stare. Stare at your hand, stare at your neck, stare at the dribbles of blood flowing over your soft skin. This was a situation Kita was almost never confronted with: Not knowing what to do. Feeling his emotions get a hold of him, chaining him like a dog to a kennel, unable to move and run towards the hand that had always fed him. Unable to help you.

This never should have happened. Not to you. Not on his watch. How could he live with himself if you died on his watch? He couldn't. Perhaps the king would at least show him mercy and execute him alongside the monster that had done this to you. Having his own life taken from him would hurt less than watching you lose yours. The brink of madness was right in front of him as he saw your eyes turn to him, pain, confusion, desperation apparent in them, alongside a silent plea: Help me.

That was all that he needed. He didn't know how or when he did, but he gathered all his strength, all his willpower to move his legs. With a surge of power, he hoisted himself up and over to your fragile form, wasting no more time. Your breaths were ragged and too fast, but they were breaths nonetheless. Your ribcage was moving, air was flowing into your lungs. More than once had Kita seen a man die from having his throat slit open and it did not sound like this. Maybe this wasn't as bad as he first thought. Maybe there was still hope. 

With pleading eyes, you looked up at him. Not once did your eyes leave his. It felt like you were clinging onto his presence to hold you together just like he was clinging onto you and the glimmer of hope that your wound was not fatal. Taking a deep breath, he braced himself for whatever may expect him beneath your palm. Whatever it may be, he needed to be strong, calm. For you. So he would be. 

He carefully grasped your wrist and pulled it away from your neck. The skin underneath was red and puffy, blood smeared all over it. The blood was still dripping from the wound, but the sight still made his heart jump: The wound was not actually on your neck, but mostly on your collarbone. Extending a bit upward, the cut reached the bottom of your throat, but the upper part of the cut was shallow, not deep enough to cause any damage to your airways. 

Kita could finally let out the breath he had been holding the whole time, his hand clutching yours tighter. Without even thinking about it or controlling it, his other hand moved to brush over your forehead, like a parent would do to a distressed child.. “It's alright,” he croaked out. “It's alright. It's not your neck. It's alright. It's alright.” 

Your face was overcome with disbelief for a second before tears of relief escaped your eyes. And maybe it was just his imagination or his confused mind, but for just a moment he could feel a wetness roll from his eye to his chin, almost like a tear of his own. He started pressing down on the wound to stop the bleeding. You whimpered under his touch and his heart squeezed in his chest while you held onto his arms to steady yourself. 

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, princess.” He almost felt the need to kiss your temple, to help you smooth out the wrinkles that came along with screwing your eyes shut in pain. “It'll get better soon,” he promised. 

Careful not to hurt you, he wrapped an arm around you and heaved you up. Your whole body was pulled flush against his to keep you from toppling over. The puffs of air escaping your lips warmed his neck, your nose was bumping into his jaw, your hands were still clinging to his arms while his one hand, that was still pushing down onto your wound, was sandwiched between your bodies. Quickly and smoothly, Kita maneuvered you onto your bed where he hoped you'd find some comfort. Without thinking, he kneeled down in front of you and grabbed the handkerchief lying folded up on your nightstand and pressed it onto the wound to soak up the blood and stop the bleeding. At first, he didn't recognize it but after a few seconds, he realized what it was: The handkerchief he had given you in the garden. It felt like that day was an eternity away, like it happened a lifetime ago. Yet here you were, still holding onto it. 

You clasped your hand over his. “You're shaking,” you whispered.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered back. 

“It's alright.” You squeezed his hand. Another tear made its way down over your cheek. “Don't leave me alone again.” The scared look returned to your eyes. 

“Never,” he promised. And as he was kneeling in front of you, he finally allowed the tears to flow freely. There was nothing else he could do. “I'm yours, princess. Forever. I will never leave your side. I belong to you. My whole life belongs to you,” he said. I love you, he thought. 

-> Next Chapter

[f1-disaster-bi]

superhero au no context....lando is in the hospital and it's looking bad, and max is at his bedside spiraling, just think of how unfair it is that he himself has never actually had to go to a hospital because he's always had lando. all he can think of is the countless times that he got saved by lando, he got healed by lando, he got made better by lando - how ever since lando, he's never had to suffer for long. he's never been scared of pain because it was just fleeting, because lando. and now....how unfair it is that he can't do the same for lando. how all he wants is for lando to know the same comfort and security that he's always given max. because that's his little brother and the most important person in his whole world and max should be his protector but now, when he needs protecting and saving the most, max is just....useless.

I've set this after the last chapter of Superhero au....

"I'm so mad at you"

The words are whispered, but the anger in them is cutting. It cuts through the noise of the machine that was currently helping Lando breathe because he couldn't do that on his own right now.

Lando had saved Max's life, and almost ended his own, and Max was angry.

He was angry at Lando for doing that, for pushing himself to the point that Max was seeing the inside of the compound 'hospital' for the first time that he could remember. He was angry that their Father had done this to them, that he had stabbed Max and done this to Lando. That he had made Lando Max's personal nurse at the cost of his baby brothers life.

He was mad at Jon for not helping them sooner.

Max was just mad.

Really, he was scared. He was scared that Lando wouldn't wake up this time, that his baby brother that he had sworn to protect at five years old was gone because of him. He'd never forgive himself. Not for this. He could never forgive this.

"Just open your eyes, please", Max whispered, clinging to Lando's limp hand as he watched him.

He looked so small in that bed. Lando had always been small. When they had met, he was just a tiny thing with big eyes and the cutest lisp, and Max had known then that this was his brother. His to love, protect and comfort, yet all he ever did was scare him and hurt him.

Never with his own actions, but everyone used Max to hurt Lando because they knee Lando had the biggest heart of them all and would do anything for his big brother.

And now that love had ended up with him here.

"I'm sorry, Snoes", Max felt the tears burning his eyes and nose, his lips wobbling, and he felt like that four year old who had watched his mother die all over again as he sat here, "Please, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I can't help you. I'm sorry I'm useless at this, I don't have your gift. Just please, please don't go. Don't go"

The heart monitor was beeping steadily but like everything in his fifteen years of life, Max didn't trust it not to be lying. His fingers scrambled for Lando's pulse point, pressing hard enough to bruise with his super strength. Another pain cause by him, but he needed to feel it. He needed to know Lando was actually still here.

He didn't know how long he lay there with his head pressed against the bed just feeling Lando's pulse under his fingers. His emotions raw and bitter and brutal as he struggled between the anger and hatred and the feelings of his powers being utterly useless right now when Lando needed him.

It could of been hours or minutes when he felt a twitch and something brush the side of his face before he realised it was a hand settling in his hair.

Max almost didn't want to turn his head out of fear, but when he did, Lando was looking at him through confused, pained eyes but he had a little smile on his face that had Max sobbing as he looked at his brother.

"Hi Maxy", Lando choked out behind the mask, his fingers leaving Maxs hair to reach for the mask but Max stopped him.

"It's okay, it's okay Snoes, leave it be. Rest more", Max begged through his tears as he crawled into the bed at Lando reaching out for him, wrapping himself around his brotherly tightly, "I've got you. I promise. I've got you"

[senatushq]

NAME. Maddox AGE & BIRTH DATE. 2500+ & Unknown GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/Him SPECIES. Demigod ( Tiefling ) ABILITIES. Possession & Syphon OCCUPATION. Black Market Trader FACE CLAIM. Jai Courtney

biography

( tw death ) A bane, a monstrosity, a traitor; the names had been plentiful within the days of his youth, that had followed him through the years that would lead him to his adulthood. Born the son of an abomination that had possessed a king, it had been title and land given to him solely based upon the blood that ran through his veins. A blood that had been unlike many others that had ruled within those lands, and it was a blood that not many found themselves trusting. Father and son had garnered a particular sense of aversion, a quiet fear that seemed to be felt throughout the land. It mattered little, however, when the knowledge of who he was, and more importantly, what he could become nestled itself upon every thought within his head.

Uncle is what he had spoken so often, placed upon the tip of his tongue when he traveled to a land that was so much more vast than the one his father ruled over. A land that would someday be his own, when he had stripped it from his uncle’s hands after his blade had pierced his heart. Yet completing such a task required knowledge, and so, with a bitter taste in his mouth, he swore fidelity to his uncle. And allowed himself to be placed among his knights, even if it were at a ranking so beneath him. For his objective was not to become the knight at the top of the ranking. No, his ambition went beyond that, to the place that his uncle had claimed for his own.

It was within his court that the Tiefling learned of his strengths, in the halls of his kingdom and on the battlefield. He learned of his follies, of the weaknesses of his heart, and precisely how those disadvantages could be used against him. All it would take was a bit of careful planning, a tip of the scales and the result would be gratifying. His uncle would be destroyed, and the Weary would stand in his place, with the full command of his lands and his armies. If only he had been wise enough to caution against the cruelty that was harbored deep within his uncle. 

The scenario had played upon itself over and over again in his head, how Mordred’s blade would pierce his uncle’s heart. How he would ascend upon the throne, wear the crown upon his head and be unlike any king that had come before him. Another’s death had not been a part of this plan. For the Tiefling had not intended for his father to have burned through his host, to be sent into the depths of a place the son had never gone to. The Inferno had been known since his birth, for his mother had once noted it time and time again, before she had left without sparing another glance to her son. He had mourned her loss, but more so what she had perhaps taken with her. The knowledge and power that could have been at his fingertips, that he could have used to prevent his brother from being butchered while he governed over the land that had been left to him.

That would be the price of victory, however, and the motivation that would send him to war. To a battle on the fields of a kingdom that would soon be his. Yet cruelty would need to be met with cruelty, and blood would need to be shed before nephew and uncle met at last. It was with his blade that he struck down those that had sworn fidelity to his uncle, who had promised the King their sword and shield. For many of them, the Tiefling was no match, with a strength that rivaled each of theirs and sent them to their early graves. Friends and allies were massacred, and left upon the lands that would be stripped from its King.

It had been his singular want for the path that nestled before him, that is… until something unlike anything the Tiefling had known before was placed within his way. A man that screamed power so vastly different than what he had dealt with before, yet echoed with an unmatched vexation for him. Though their time together had been short, it had been fueled by an unforeseen hate. An anger that seemed to push them closer together, rather than tear them apart. For any moment that the pair were not together, seemed to cause him to grieve what memory they could have created. Until separation was all they were given. For the other’s duties took him far away, while a battle on a hill required all of the Tiefling’s focus.

For at long last, after countless amounts of bloodshed and betrayal, nephew and uncle once more met. Sword against sword, they battled for greed and power. Strengths and weaknesses were tested, neither man willing to give the other so much as an inch, no matter the cost that would be collected. Until finally, it was a sword pierced into the space between armor, tender flesh penetrated. Blood soaked the battlefield from a mortal wound, but it would not stop the Tiefling from dealing out his own. He had pushed forward, impaled himself further upon the sword, until he had been able to deal his own mortal blow to his uncle.

It was on that hill that the Tiefling died, but it was not into the Inferno that his soul traveled. Awakened power kept his soul from straying into the levels of the Inferno, as it wandered the lands in search of another, of a host that would allow him to live on. Uncertain of the power at his hands, he spent too long wandering, until finally he understood what could be his. A host, a new body that he could claim as his own. Unbridled power at his fingertips, he continued to take and take to fill the hole of the greed that had been left within him. For if he could not have the kingdom that should have rightfully been his, then he would take what was equal to that.

The years continued to pass by in a blur, a new body acquired every few centuries when the last became unfit. Power, wealth, status had been easy enough to acquire once he understood precisely what his abilities could mean for him. For why did he need to worry about pressing the wrong button, or stepping on the wrong toes when he did not need to fear a mortal death. When another body was easily acquired, plucked from the crowds as if he only needed to shop around. Which is precisely why he had been able to make a name for himself within the shadows of a world many faint of heart did not step into. Items could be acquired with ease, for the simple notion of knowing who had the right information to get him into where he needed to. Even supernatural beings had been no match for him, for energy could be drained with the gentlest of touches. Tooth and claw parted with, blood given to the right bidder, and even live beasts when the request had intrigued him enough. Nothing had been off limits for Maddox, even when the request had taken him to the streets of Rome, which seemed to crawl with unbridled potential for money earned. 

personality

+ Charismatic, resourceful, adaptable – Deceitful, insatiable, treacherous

played by c. cst. she/her.

[minniethemoocherda]

Five times Cody did not tell Obi-Wan what he was thinking plus one time that he did. (Chapter 1)

Summery: Snapshots of Cody and Obi-Wan growing up together over the years.

Ao3

Logically, Cody knew that high school was going to be different. That unlike in middle school, he wouldn't be guaranteed to have most of his classes with his brothers.

Still, he hadn't expected it to happen on the first day in his very first class. He glanced around as he entered the science lab. It wasn't that much different from the one in his old middle school with out of date posters hung up on the off-white walls and rows of two seated desks lining the room. There weren't many people he recognised from his old school and the few he did he could barely remember the names of. So he sat down at one of the empty pairs of desks, hoping that there aren't going to be many more people joining the class so that he could sit by himself. But of course, the universe was against him that day.

Students started piling into the room as the bells rung and Cody kept his gaze firmly on the desk to avoid catching eye contact with anyone.

"Hello there."

-

Cody startled at the nearby voice. He glanced up to meet the pale blue eyes of a boy with soft ginger hair and a sprinkle of freckles across his nose.

He was pretty, a voice at the back of Cody's mind supplied, which was odd because he had never thought of a boy as pretty before.

"Can I sit here?" The boy asked, a faint British accent to it, that only added to Cody's impending shock.

When Cody continued staring, the boy shifted nervously which was when Cody released that all the other seats in the class were taken.

"Sure." He nodded, trying to smile because Rex had always told him he had a resting bitch face and it probably would do him some good to make friends at this school outside of his brothers.

The boy smiled back, sliding in the chair next to him.

"I'm Obi-Wan Kenobi." He introudced himself, holding out a hand.

Cody took it, the pale skin almost glowing agaisnt his darker tone. With his soft features and prim tone, Cody was expecting his hands to as equally delicate. Instead, his palms were hard and his shake was firm with not so subtle strength. Its then that he relates that there is much more to this boy than meets the eye.

"Cody Fett-Ti." He replied.

"Fett-Ti?" The boy- no Obi-Wan asked with a raised brow. "I was going to ask if you have a twin because there's a guy in my homeroom who looks identical to you. Although I could've sworn his last name was Koon?"

"I do have a twin." Cody confessed. "But since he's in my homeroom, your probably thinking of one of my half brothers."

"Oh really? Sorry I didn't mean to pry or anything." Obi-Wan appologised.

Cody waved him off. 

"Don't worry about it. There's a lot more of us. Dad wasn't very good at keeping it in his pants." Cody winced. A voice at the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Rex, scolded him for being an oversharing idiot. But before he could panic too much, Obi-Wan burst out laughing. The other boys cheeks burnt red  and Cody was fascinated by how it completely blocked out his freckles.

"I have two siblings but they're not in high school yet." Obi-wan told him once he'd caught his breath, stiffly diverting the topic away from his father's love life which was probably for the best. Despite only being fourteen, it is something Cody already knows way to much about.

Obi-Wan unlocked his phone holding it out towards him. Cody looked at screen. On it is a picture of Obi-Wan with his arms around a scowling tween and a little girl with patches of vitiligo on her beaming face.

"They're adopted." Obi-wan told him, even thought it's pretty obvious with how they have no physical resemblance to eachother.

"Cool." Cody said because he of all people could relate to families being complicated. But before he can open his mouth to tell him as much, the classroom door slammed open.

The sharp clap of heels rung out agsint the slick floor as the teacher entered the room. She shut the door abruptly, bringing the chatter down to near silent within seconds. Her sharp blue eyes contrasted with the dark of her skin, piercing each of them with a stare. She came to a sudden stop behind the desk, surveying the class with intent. She came to a sudden stop behind the desk.

"My name is Ms Gallia. This is Freshman biology. If you are in the wrong room leave now."

Nobody dared to move.

"Good." She stated, tucking a stray braid behind her ear and Cody was suorised to catch a steak of purple underneath it. "Now, the person at your desk will be your lab partner for the rest of the semester. No exceptions. I want one person from every pair to get out a bunson burner from the cupboards. And no pushing!"

Obi-wan turned to him, the corners of his lips turned up in a half smile, half smirk. 

"I guess we're partners then."

For some reason Cody liked the way the word sounded on Obi-Wan’s lips. He told himself we was glad to have been able to make a new friend. And he was. He had actually enjoyed talking with Obi-Wan.  Plus this might have been the first time in a while that he had been able to hold a semi-normal conversation with someone who wasn't one of his brothers. Rex would be proud.

Cody didn't say any of that to Obi-Wan though. Instead he shrugged in agreement.

"Looks like it.' He said before getting out of his chair to go find whatever a bunion burner was. Not knowing until years later, what that conversation would lead too.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt 1) NMJ is the son of the concubine, NHS is the son of the legal wife, who had difficulty conceiving because of an old night hunting injury, and picked out a concubine for her husband who was big and strong and healthy as on ox - the strength got passed on, her more even temperament didn't. The legal wife conceived later, with much difficulty and they weren't entirely sure NHS would live at first

ao3

“Are you well?” Nie Mingjue asked Jin Guangyao, his voice stiff, and Jin Guangyao looked at him sidelong, surprised by the question, as well as the fact that Nie Mingjue was talking to him at all.

Normally, he would assume that Nie Mingjue was doing it because Lan Xichen was encouraging him to get along with Jin Guangyao again, but Lan Xichen was in the Cloud Recesses, had been in the Cloud Recesses for quite some time. Officially, he was helping oversee the rebuilding; unofficially he was caring for his brother, who had officially entered seclusion and unofficially was healing from a punishment so grievously terrible that Jin Guangyao was reminded all over again why one could not trust the righteous facades of the wealthy and powerful Great Sects.

Not that he needed much reminding, here in Jinlin Tower…

At any rate, Lan Xichen couldn’t be the reason Nie Mingjue was asking Jin Guangyao about his well-being, and that meant that his stern, grim-faced oldest sworn brother was doing it on his own, for reasons of his own.

Naturally, Jin Guangyao mistrusted that even more.

“Of course, da-ge,” he said with a practiced smile. “Is there a problem?”

“No,” Nie Mingjue said, somehow, impossibly, even stiffer than before. “No, I just – I meant – with Jin Zixuan’s death. It must have made it – hard. Here. For you.”

That was a staggeringly perceptive insight, and the fact that it came from Nie Mingjue, who thought ignoring rumors until they went away was a valid strategy, was something of an uncomfortable surprise. Even Lan Xichen hadn’t really thought of Jin Guangyao in the aftermath of Jin Zixuan’s death and the ensuing calamity, with the Nightless City and Wei Wuxian’s final downfall and everything with Lan Wangji taking away his attention; at best, he’d penned a careless letter belatedly expressing that he was sad that Jin Guangyao hadn’t had more of an opportunity to get to know Jin Zixuan better before his untimely demise.

Not even Su She had said anything, taking Jin Zixuan’s death as an unmitigated good – an obstacle out of their way, and nothing more. Easy enough for him to think as sect leader of his own sect, however small.

Not so easy for Jin Guangyao.

Not so easy when Madame Jin’s dislike of him had turned to full-blown maddened hatred, when his father looked at him like filth on his shoe, when they wouldn’t let him anywhere near Jin Ling as if his mere touch were some sort of toxic poison…

“…thank you,” he said cautiously. “I’ve been doing fine.”

Nie Mingjue jerked his head in a nod. “Avoid the sect elders for a time,” he said, and when Jin Guangyao looked at him, he was staring straight ahead, not looking at him at all. “Be careful with what you eat and drink. Some people don’t like to take chances.”

Was Nie Mingjue – Nie Mingjue – warning him about a possible assassination attempt? The man who had barely consented to using spies during wartime, who thought politics could be conducted through above-board dealings, who thought bribery and blackmail were unacceptable crimes? Him?

The world had truly turned upside down.

“I’ll be careful,” Jin Guangyao said, and found to his embarrassment that his tone had unconsciously softened, revealing the sudden fondness he was feeling for no good reason. He could rationalize it as a deliberate move, because allowing Nie Mingjue to do him a favor and sounding touched about it was a good way to get closer to him, to get back through those iron defenses of his. The problem was that it wasn’t a stratagem, not really, and that was dangerous.

Nie Mingjue nodded again, and Jin Guangyao expected him to move on – he and Nie Mingjue might be sworn brothers, but they didn’t chat – but he didn’t. He lingered, instead, clearly wanting to say something, something he was chewing over and not quite able to spit out.

Unusual, for someone who normally prided himself on being straightforward and direct.

“Is there something else?” Jin Guangyao eventually asked when Nie Mingjue didn’t seem to be actually making any progress towards saying anything.

Nie Mingjue grimaced and took a step – off to the side, to a corner of the path that was a little more secluded than most. Interestingly, he didn’t make the amateur mistake of going for one of the obviously secluded alcoves, which of course had all sorts of hiding-holes for eavesdroppers, but rather ended up in one of the few areas where the architecture created a natural dead space for sound.

Intrigued, Jin Guangyao followed him there.

Once they were there, Nie Mingjue still looked awkward – he was still refusing to look directly at Jin Guangyao, as if they wouldn’t be talking in hushed tones in a secluded corner if he didn’t admit that that was what they were doing – but finally said, “Would it help or hurt if I said anything?”

Jin Guangyao frowned a little, not following. “Said anything?”

“About the inheritance,” Nie Mingjue said, and Jin Guangyao’s eyes widened. “You’re the only recognized son left; you ought to be named heir until Jin Ling is full grown. But that doesn’t mean people will let that happen so easily.”

Jin Guangyao would have been less surprised if Wen Ruohan had spontaneously resurrected himself from the dead and performed a brothel fan dance on the front lawn of Jinlin Tower.

It had not even remotely entered his calculations that Nie Mingjue would be anything but an obstacle to his ambitions for power over the Lanling Jin sect – at best, he had hoped only that Nie Mingjue would be convinced that Jin Zixuan’s death was wholly Wei Wuxian’s fault and not find some way to blame Jin Guangyao for it, and that he wouldn’t immediately suspect that Jin Guangyao of scheming to kill Jin Ling and take the whole thing for himself.

He’d never dreamed that Nie Mingjue might think that he deserved it.

“I’ll support you, of course,” Nie Mingjue said, as if it were obvious, when it was the least obvious thing that had ever happened in Jin Guangyao’s life. “But I’m not actually any good at this sort of thing, you know – playing politics with the internal affairs of other sects. I don’t want to make things worse for you just because I don’t know what the right approach is, especially not here.”

Jin Guangyao stared at him.

Nie Mingjue, not hearing a response, glanced at him and scowled. Lowering his voice still more, he said, “Think on it carefully. Sect Leader Jin hates me personally, but my Nie sect isn’t nothing, not even in Lanling. It’s still more so after the war, after all those battles I won to save the Jin sect’s rotten – that is, after everything I did to help. Even if your father doesn’t like it, he still has to give my sect face, and his sect elders know it. You’re a war hero, and my sworn brother; if a public stand on my part would help make things easier for you…”

“I’ll think on it carefully,” Jin Guangyao assured him, his mind already racing over the possibilities. Nie Mingjue underestimated himself – he wasn’t just a war hero, he was the war hero, the righteous and unyielding war god that had won an impossible war for the rest of them. He was Jin Guangshan’s chief rival for the position of Chief Cultivator and he wasn’t even trying to get the position; he probably wanted nothing more than to go home to Qinghe and sleep for three months and yet practically every single sect leader that Jin Guangshan felt out on the subject invariably dropped his name as the possible alternative. Assuming he was serious, and Nie Mingjue was always serious, his public support would make it extremely tricky for Jin Guangshan to refuse to name Jin Guangyao as the official heir, even if he tried to claim that this was a private matter. The rest of the sect would force him to do it, even against his will.

Moreover, Lan Xichen would follow Nie Mingjue’s lead, or at least could be easily encouraged into doing so. He was so distracted with his brother, if Jin Guangyao went to him and pointed out that Nie Mingjue thought it was a good idea to stand behind him…no, he wouldn’t even need to do that. Everyone knew how much better his relationship with Lan Xichen was in comparison to Nie Mingjue; if Nie Mingjue stood behind him, everyone would assume that Lan Xichen did as well, and then he would have two of the remaining Great Sects backing his right to inherit – even if only in the interim – the seat of power for Lanling Jin, as the only recognized son…

Except, of course, Jin Guangshan had already accounted for that.

Jin Guangyao’s eyes flickered. Perhaps there was a way to test Nie Mingjue’s sincerity.

“There is one issue,” he said, and Nie Mingjue turned his head to look at him directly. “My father has – decided to bring home another son.”

Nie Mingjue stared at him. “Another son?”

“From a minor noble family of commoners –”

“He brought one home now?” Nie Mingjue said, and he sounded angry. He always sounded angry, but this time he sounded angry on Jin Guangyao’s behalf, something he hadn’t been since Langya, since Qinghe, and it thrilled Jin Guangyao’s heart to hear it. He’d always secretly enjoyed having someone as physically and politically strong as Nie Mingjue in his corner, the power of it going to his head; it was even more so now, when he was finally in a position where he could really use it. “That’s a deliberate insult to you, and for what? Some untried boy…”

One who isn’t the son of a prostitute, Jin Guangyao thought, but of course Nie Mingjue wouldn’t think about it that way. He never had, not from the beginning.

“Father is of course within his rights to bring home whoever he wishes, for the best interest of the sect,” he said diplomatically, and Nie Mingjue huffed and rolled his eyes. “Da-ge…”

“It doesn’t change anything,” Nie Mingjue said curtly. “Think on it, and tell me what you want me to do.”

With that he turned away and strode off towards the main hall, a scowl firmly on his face.

Jin Guangyao watched him go, pleased – Nie Mingjue was really too easy to manipulate, if you knew him well enough. He’d keep quiet during the opening ceremony of the conference, but if he was really sincere about standing up for Jin Guangyao’s right to inherit, there would be no way he’d be able to refrain from expressing his views to Jin Guangshan at some point later that evening.

Sure enough, Nie Mingjue seethed throughout most of the complex and beautiful ceremony Jin Guangyao had arranged to show off Lanling Jin’s wealth and strength and taste – all wasted on him, naturally, so Jin Guangyao didn’t take any offense – and through dinner as well, and afterwards found a reason to make his way over to Jin Guangshan. After a few words, they both retreated to one of the receiving rooms.

Jin Guangyao made his excuses very shortly thereafter and slipped away: the receiving rooms, at least, were not dead spaces, and he knew all the ways to listen in there.

By the time he arrived, they were already arguing.

“ – what business of yours?” Jin Guangshan was snarling. “These are my private family matters!”

“He is my sworn brother,” Nie Mingjue said in return, his voice stiff as always. It was interesting to Jin Guangyao that he still didn’t seem happy about admitting that fact; he was still resentful of Jin Guangyao, still suspicious, and yet he supported him regardless, just because he thought it was his right. Ah, the foolishness of good people! “When you refuse to give him face, that becomes my business.”

Jin Guangshan spat, audibly. Jin Guangyao, still carefully moving into a position where he could see as well as hear, hoped he’d aimed it at the floor and not at Nie Mingjue’s face.

“Oh, I’m sure it is,” Jin Guangshan said. “I suppose I really shouldn’t be so surprised to find you supporting him, should I?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nie Mingjue demanded, and Jin Guangyao wondered the same.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Jin Guangshan said. Jin Guangyao had never heard his father sound so cruel – and he had quite a bit to compare it to. “They do say like calls to like, don’t they?”

Jin Guangyao had just finally gotten into view position, which meant he was just in time to see all the blood drain out of Nie Mingjue’s face as if he’d just been stabbed.

“You may have won some merit,” Jin Guangshan said, and he was smirking now. “But they do say blood always tells – or did you think that people would forget that it’s your brother that’s the true-born son, and you merely a concubine’s get?”

He was what?

Nie Mingjue was –

It was impossible. Surely, it was impossible.

And yet Nie Mingjue was not denying Jin Guangshan’s words, was not getting angry at the slander, was standing there stiff-backed and grim-faced –

“I still remember how disappointed your father was when his beautiful, beloved, delicate wife couldn’t get a pregnancy to last the term,” Jin Guangshan said, picking up one of the jars of wine and taking a swig. “He didn’t want to take a concubine at all, thought it’d be disrespectful to his wife, but what could he do? He was the sole heir, with an obligation to continue his lineage…they bought your mother for the breeding, like bringing in a cow for the farmyard bull.”

He laughed.

Nie Mingjue said nothing.

“Healthy, I think he said about her. Healthy and big, good hips for bearing children, good tits to nurse them – that was all he cared about, squeezing a few sons out of her, and she didn’t even manage that. Ran away after the first one, didn’t she? You ever figure out where she went, whether she ended up married to some dumb farmer as illiterate as her, or else lying on her back in a brothel? Dead in a beggar’s grave somewhere, perhaps?”

Nie Mingjue said nothing.

“No, it’s no surprise: of course you’d back the little son of a whore for the position of rightful heir, as if letting him take it would help cover up for the way you stole your own brother’s –”

“Watch your words,” Nie Mingjue said, his heavy voice slicing through the air like a saber.

“Still pretending it wasn’t theft, then?” Jin Guangshan laughed again, pacing the room back and forth, prowling like some sort of beast. “You were supposed to step down when he was ready – you had to swear never to have children, never to marry, all so you could warm the sect leader seat until he was grown up and ready to take it himself. But a weakling wastrel like that, he’s never going to be ready, is he? Very clever of you. I bet your sect elders hadn’t thought of you getting around it like that.”

“You dare –”

“Oh, I dare! And I’d dare more, if you think you can push me around!” Jin Guangshan bared his teeth. “Let me tell you now, Sect Leader Nie, if you dare make a public statement of support for Guangyao, I’ll remind the whole world that you’re no better than him, that you ought to be one of the Nie sect’s servants, not its sect leader –”

“Go ahead.”

Jin Guangshan stopped.

“Go ahead,” Nie Mingjue said again, stepping forward, and Jin Guangyao had never actually seen him purposefully use his height against someone, wield it like a weapon to remind the other party which of them was the more terrifying. “I’ve already had half a dozen public arguments with Huaisang about the fact that he needs to take the role of Sect Leader; everyone in my sect knows that he’s the one who keeps refusing. Do you really think everyone is like you? Scrabbling for every scrap of power you can get, like a rat in the rubbish bin?”

Jin Guangshan took an involuntary step backwards as Nie Mingjue continued to advance.

“When there are those who speak against you, you must do so well that they have no choice but to shut their mouths,” Nie Mingjue said, and it was the very same words he had spoken in encouragement to Jin Guangyao, all those years ago when they had first met. At the time, and thereafter, Jin Guangyao had thought him naïve, of not knowing of which he spoke. “Tell me, Sect Leader Jin, if you go out and spew your poison to your sycophants, do you really think any but the most loyal and brainless will open their mouths to condemn me now? Now, when I’ve just won the cultivation world a war, when I saved Lanling Jin a dozen times or more? Do you really think people will remember my mother instead of my saber?”

“You’d be amazed what people remember,” Jin Guangshan said, even if his voice was weaker, more desperate than it had been before. Less mighty and more pathetic than before, as if Jin Guangyao were suddenly seeing him in a brand new light: seeing him as what he was, as a man who would never looked beyond a person’s birth, no matter what their merits. “In the end, public arguments or not, you were the one who raised Nie Huaisang, now a good-for-nothing, a waste, and you sit in his throne, managing his Nie sect. People will remember that! Your sect will still lose face, be dishonored!”

“Fine. Then I’ll just kill you,” Nie Mingjue said, and Jin Guangshan gaped at him. “Why not? You’re right. To protect my brother’s birthright, I vowed never to have children, never to marry; the only ambitions in my life were to allow Huaisang to live well as he grew older and to avenge my father, and I’ve accomplished both. Even if they execute me for your murder, what’s it to me? What will I have lost?”

Jin Guangshan’s mouth moved open and closed, mute in his shock, and Jin Guangyao couldn’t blame him.

Nie Mingjue’s lips twisted into a sneer of his own.

“For once in your life, Sect Leader Jin, just do the right thing,” he said, sounding tired, and Jin Guangyao felt something loosen inside of him that had gone inexplicably frozen and pained at the idea of Nie Mingjue breaking all those morals and principles he always seemed to hold so dear.

It was strange. Not a day earlier, Jin Guangyao would have sworn that he would’ve liked nothing more than to see Nie Mingjue pushed too far, forced down into the muck and mud that the rest of them trudged their way through, and now that he saw a hint of it, he’d never wanted anything less.

“Name Meng Yao your heir until Jin Ling is grown,” Nie Mingjue continued. “Reap the benefits of the alliance he brings with him and have us all honor you as an elder, if that’s what you want. But playing games like this…I’d say it’s beneath you, but I’d need a shovel to get that deep. So don’t think about it. Just do it. Or I’ll make you.”

He left, Jin Guangshan still gaping after him. It wasn’t long before he finally started moving, throwing around expensive teacups and furnishings and shouting for servants to bring him a drink and a whore, even though it was early; Jin Guangyao returned to the party, knowing there would be nothing more for him to learn, not when his father was in a mood like that.

Later that night, when the party was over and all cleaned up, he went to the quarters assigned for their guests from the Nie sect and was unsurprised to see a light still lit within the one assigned to the sect leader.

He knocked, and a familiar voice beckoned him to enter.

Nie Mingjue was dressed in a sleeping robe, but he was at his desk, writing a letter; he’d clearly been unable to sleep. He looked up when Jin Guangyao entered.

“What?” he asked, short and sharp and rude as always.

These days, Jin Guangyao usually planned out his encounters with Nie Mingjue in advance, hoping to minimize awkwardness and achieve his goals without too much of a scolding. He’d done that at the very beginning of knowing him, only to rapidly give up during his time at Qinghe – Nie Mingjue was both predictable and yet somehow an utter mystery, and it was easier to just go with the flow, adapt to the circumstances, than it was to plan in advance. Only after he’d left did he start planning once again.

He wasn’t planning now.

“Your mother,” he said, and Nie Mingjue barked a laugh, reaching up with a hand to rub at his eyes.

“Did your father tell you?” he asked. “Or did you just listen in?”

Jin Guangyao shrugged, and Nie Mingjue for once did not seem inclined to demand an answer.

“Is it true?” he asked instead, even though he already knew. “That she was…”

Like mine.

Not exactly like, of course. Jin Guangshan wouldn’t have hesitated to call Nie Mingjue the son of a whore directly if he thought he could get away with claiming it was merely fact, and had managed to imply as much nonetheless. Jin Guangyao’s mother’s shame could never be washed away, not in his lifetime; Nie Mingjue’s birth, being merely low, was not the same.

And yet.

“Oh, it’s true,” Nie Mingjue said mirthlessly. “Right down to the fact that they all but bought her based on how fertile she looked, for all that my father later pretended it wasn’t that, and the fact that she ran away.”

Jin Guangyao blinked. If he was playacting, he might have bitten his lip, averted his eyes, and he still considered doing it, but for the moment he was still feeling too off-balance to really commit to it. “Is she – still alive?”

Nie Mingjue shrugged.

“Have you looked for her?”

“I’ve been sect leader for over a decade,” he said, which wasn’t a denial. “If she wanted to find me, she knows where I am.”

That was a good point, Jin Guangyao supposed.

“Was it hard?” he asked, and Nie Mingjue frowned, clearly not understanding the question. “For you, when it was you. Was it hard to convince them to let you inherit?”

Nie Mingjue’s eyes slid half-shut in pained memory. “Yes.”

Jin Guangyao nodded, and went to sit down next to Nie Mingjue, who allowed it, returning to his work. He didn’t say anything.

It was rather atypical for Jin Guangyao – he was always thinking of something to say, when it came to Nie Mingjue, trying to bridge the gap between them with clever words. Perhaps it was only that the gap had shrunk, or had never been as large as he had thought.

After a while, Nie Mingjue said, “You know I wish you were better than you are,” and Jin Guangyao looked at him sidelong. “But in the end, you’re my brother. Isn’t that what matters?”

“Yes,” Jin Guangyao said, and there was that uncalled-for fondness again. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

[uraharashopslut]

"Daddy" - Byakuya Kuchiki smut

18+

Prompt: Byakuya overhears a squad member refer to him as daddy.

-

His feet padded softly through the grass. Squad members chatted with one another all around him, but his eyes remained on the horizon. Until he saw her. She was standing in the corner of the Squad Six garden with her friend Tamiko Nakamura, dark hair swaying in the breeze in long tendrils behind her. The corners of her mouth pulled up into a smile as she laughed.

His heart fluttered softly, frustratingly. Since Hisana's passing, his heart stirred for no one, and he'd concluded it would never stir again. That was, until she joined his squad. She'd risen quickly through the ranks, now holding the Third seat. Her effortless strength caught his attention, and her air of dignity kept it. There was an elegance in the way she carried herself.

"She was destined to be a noble," Byakuya thought to himself as his path neared her presence.

"You could help fulfil her destiny," Senbonzakura whispered in his head.

He shook his head at the thought. He'd pressured the Kuchiki clan enough by marrying a commoner, something he'd sworn to never do again, but who said anything about marriage?

He shifted his focus to the horizon again as he neared her. The darkest thoughts in his mind could never be brought to light, especially to her. Better to redirect himself until the feelings were subdued.

"There's just something about him," he heard her say.

"What do you mean?" Tamiko asked.

"He's just," she sighed. "Okay fine, I'll just say it, but you can't make fun of me."

Tamiko laughed. Byakuya's eyes may have been on the sky, but his attention was directed at the girls' conversation.

"Just say it!" Tamiko prodded.

"Okay, um, Kuchiki-taicho is just such a daddy."

His heart skipped a beat. He'd never heard such a phrase before.

"That's definitely not what I thought you were about to say," Tamiko snickered.

"Don't make fun of me!"

Confused, Byakuya flash-stepped into his office. Daddy? What did she mean by that? His heart betrayed his cool by rapidly increasing it's tempo.

"A term of endearment, perhaps?" Senbonzakura offered.

"Not likely. The squad members typically fear me," Byakuya reasoned with his zanpakuto.

"If you don't ask, you'll never know."

"Whom would I ask, Senbonzakura?" he questioned.

"Who would know?"

His mind raced. Who could he ask? Who could be trusted?

Rukia.

He flash-stepped to the Thirteenth Squad's barracks and into Ukitake's office.

"Kuchiki-taicho, what a surprise! What can I do for you? Shall I brew some tea?" Ukitake asked, raising from his chair.

"I have no need for tea at this moment, Juushiro. Where is Rukia?"

"Your sister is in her quarters, Kuchiki-san."

"Thank you," he replied, disappearing in a flash.

His feet touched down lightly as he made his way to his sister's living quarters.

"Imouto {Japanese for "little sister"}, may I enter? I have a matter that requires your knowledge," he called out from behind her door.

The door slid open.

"Nii-sama, come in," Rukia replied, stepping to the side. "What can I help you with?"

"You're familiar with the idioms of the current generation, are you not?"

"Yes, what do you want to know?" Rukia asked, pouring a cup of freshly brewed tea. She handed the cup to Byakuya before pouring a glass for herself.

Rukia sat cross-legged on the ground and gestured for Byakuya to do the same. She took a sip as her brother sat.

"What does the term 'daddy' refer to?"

Rukia spat her tea upon hearing Byakuya's question. Her eyes widened.

"Nii-sama!"

"What is it? Is it an offensive word?"

Rukia contained her amusement. "Definitely not, but, I am curious, what was the context?"

Byakuya shifted uncomfortably. "I overheard a member of my squad, when conversing with a friend, refer to me as 'daddy'. What is it's meaning?"

Rukia crossed her arms. "I'm not sure I should divulge. You were eavesdropping!"

"Nonsense. I was doing no such thing. I simply overheard as I was walking past to my office," he replied smugly.

"Are you certain you want to know?"

"Why won't you tell me? Does it have a bad connotation?" he pressed.

"Not exactly, although you might find it dishonorable."

"Dishonorable? What is it's meaning? Disrespect will not be tolerated within my squad."

Rukia chuckled to herself. "Nii-sama, people often refer to men they have sexual interest in as 'daddy' in a reference to the man's dominant nature."

Byakuya's eyes widened and his back stiffened. He felt his face warm despite maintaining it's usual pale color. "I see."

"I asked if you wanted to know. I didn't want to tell you," Rukia said, standing and grabbing her brother's empty cup.

"Indeed." Byakuya rose to his feet. "I appreciate the information you have shared with me. If you'll excuse me."

With that, he flash-stepped to the Squad Six gardens. His heart beat loudly in his chest as he breathed in the summer air, filling his lungs. All of the squad members had retired to their living quarters for the evening. Byakuya's feet grazed the wooden paneling of the barrack floors as he flash-stepped to Ayame's private quarters.

"Satō-san. May I speak with you?"

The paper door slid open, revealing the dark-haired, ethereal girl.

"Kuchiki-taicho, what an honor, do come in." Ayame bowed deeply in respect.

Byakuya made quick work of closing the door, drawing his katana and pulling Ayame back against his chest, his blade pressed to her throat.

"You understand I could shred you to pieces with one command of my blade, do you not?" Byakuya said, his voice hushed and intimidating.

"Yes, Kuchiki-taicho," the girl replied.

"Why then have you dared to dishonor my name in the presence of Nakamura-san?" he questioned, strengthening his grip on the girl.

"I would never dare, Kuchiki-sama."

"I was walking the perimeter of the squad garden today and the wind carried your conversation with Tamiko to my ears."

Ayame's cheeks flushed crimson as she squirmed against his restraint. The tinge of pink on her cheeks reminded Byakuya of a cherry blossom in the spring. His fingers begged the caress the soft skin but he resisted.

"My apologies, Kuchiki-taicho, I can explain," Ayame started.

"There is no need. Do not waste my time." Byakuya released the girl, who stepped away, turning to face him.

"Kuchiki-taicho, what can I do to make amends?" the girl asked, making dignified direct eye contact with her captain.

Her audacity caused Byakuya's mind to flood with the salacious thoughts he'd worked to keep at bay. He took a step towards her, his presence towering over hers.

"I can overpower you in many ways beyond my zanpakuto's abilities, Satō-san."

"I deeply apologize, Kuchiki-taicho," Ayame responded, lowering her eyes to the ground in respect.

"Disrespect from a subordinate towards their captain must be dealt with swiftly, do you understand?" Byakuya continued, his eyes darkened with lustful desires. He used one hand to grab Ayame's wrist and pull her close to him, and the other to raise her chin so she had no other option but to look him in the face.

Ayame's pupils dilated when she locked eyes with the man standing above her, his face inches from hers. "I think I'm starting to understand, Taicho."

"Good. Now repeat how you described me to Nakamura-san."

Byakuya felt Ayame's heart race as he gripped her wrist between them.

"I told Tamiko-san that you were 'such a daddy'," Ayame said, her voice dropping to a whisper at the end.

Unsatisfied, Byakuya gripped her chin and raised her face even closer to his.

"What did you call me?"

"Daddy," Ayame said matter-of-factly, her confidence pushing through the layers of shame, embarrassment, and now, arousal within her.

Byakuya closed the distance between their lips, releasing her chin from his grasp and running his hand along her jaw to the small of her neck, his thumb resting gently on her throat. Ayame warmed into the kiss and ran her free hand up Byakuya's clothed chest. Taking her cue, Byakuya slid his tongue masterfully against the crease of their lips, begging for entrance to go deeper. Butterflies danced in the hollow of his stomach for the first time in decades. He released her wrist and put his hand on her waist, pulling her body closer into his chest. Ayame broke away for air, bewildered and bewitched.

"Kuchiki-taicho," she started.

Byakuya refused to let her finish her thought. He placed both hands firmly on her hips and guided her back against a wooden support beam in her room, showering kisses along the length of her neck. A soft whimper escaped her lips as his mouth connected with the most sensitive part of her neck. He sucked ever so slightly, eliciting another moan of satisfaction.

Ayame's hands found the front of his robes and pulled both sides apart, revealing her captain's firm chest, chiseled from a century of training. Byakuya's heart raced as her hands explored his bare skin. He pressed his body against hers.

Their lips connected again. This kiss was different from the first. This kiss was hungry and demanding. Ayame brought her teeth down on Byakuya's lower lip, tugging gently. Unable to control himself, he grabbed her thighs, hoisting her up and pinning her against the beam. Ayame wrapped her legs around his waist.

Byakuya gripped her waist with his arms as Ayame rolled her hips against his pelvis. She brought her hands up to his hair, tugging it free from the hair pieces that usually adorned his head, indicating his nobility. Ayame pulled away from the kiss, admiring the way the raven-black strands fell like silk around his face.

Byakuya took the opportunity to carry the girl to her futon, laying her down. He knelt between her legs and untied the belt holding her robes together. His lips started at her collarbones, adorning them with kisses, then worked his way down her chest, between her breasts. As his kisses trailed lower, he opened the front of her robe further until she was completely exposed. He kissed from her ribs down to her navel before lifting his head, admiring the figure of the woman beneath him.

"Exquisite," he remarked outloud, trailing his fingertip below her belly button.

Ayame's cheeks twinged pink at his comment. "Taicho, I," she started.

"Call me by my name," Byakuya interrupted, kissing the inside of her thigh.

"Byakuya," Ayame continued. "I don't know what to say."

Byakuya slid his hands up her shins and down her smooth thighs, lowering himself. He positioned his face between her legs and looked up at her.

"Then don't say anything at all."

He planted a kiss to the left of her folds, then to the right, his lips lightly grazing over her core as he switched sides. He traced his tongue around her center, avoiding the throbbing bundle of nerves crying for his attention.

Ayame whimpered as he teased her, her legs threatening to close around his neck with the slightest provocation. Byakuya looked up from between her legs and locked eyes with her. He slowly brushed his tonge in a circle around her aching bud, watching as her neck arched in pleasure. He licked deeper and deeper with every flick of his tongue, each gesture masterfully intentional.

Byakuya pulled her legs over his shoulders and lifted her hips so she was at his eye level. Her body twitched and squirmed as he continued to play with his tongue. He positioned his lips over the bud, sucking ever so slightly.

"B-Byakuya, don't stop, I'm so close," Ayame whimpered, tangling her hands in his hair, gripping the black strands tightly.

Byakuya buried his face deeper, maininting eye contact with the girl. His tongue moved along the slick folds of her inner lips then drummed against her clit. Ayame's eyes rolled back into her head as his worship between her shaking legs reached its peak. A breathy moan escaped her lips as her hips bucked forward, grinding against Byakuya's face.

"Oh, Byakuya," she sighed, riding out her high.

Byakuya lapped up the sweet juices of her body before fully untying his disheveled robe. The fabric draped loosely around his figure and displayed his statuesque build. Ayame sat up, admiring his body. She ran her hands slowly up his abdomen and chest. She moved to her knees and pushed him down to the futon, straddling his lap.

His hair clung to the beads of sweat on his brow. Ayame traced the edges of his abs before pushing his robe to the side, revealing his fully erect member. Looking up at him, she closed her mouth around the tip, sucking. Byakuya let his head roll back. Ayame dragged her tongue up the underside of his shaft, causing his legs to spasm slightly. She pulled his full length into her mouth. A moan escaped Byakuya's stoic mouth as she started to bob her head up and down. Ayame used one hand to rub the base of his cock in time with the movement of her mouth. Byakuya placed a strong hand on her head, gripping her hair.

Ayame continued to pleasure her captian, feeling his member twitch in her mouth. Byakuya pulled her up to his face and kissed her ravenously. He flipped them over so he was on top, placing one hand to the left of her head. He lined himself up with her still-soaked entrance.

"Byakuya, are you sure this okay? You're a noble. I'm sure there will be people who object," Ayame asked.

"I've disappointed their expectations before. Do you object?" Byakuya asked, teasing her entrance with the tip of cock.

"Not at all."

With her permission, Byakuya pushed himself into her. Her walls welcomed him, pulling him deeper.

"Is that alright, Ayame-chan?"

"Yes, Taicho," Ayame breathed, adjusting to his girth.

"Not Taicho."

"Byakuya."

"Also not Byakuya," he said, pulling out slowly.

Ayame's cheeks flushed darker. "Yes, daddy," she said cautiously.

"Good girl," Byakuya praised as he plunged into her again, deeper than before.

Ayame threw her head back with a gasp. Byakuya began thrusting his hips forward repetitively, hitting deeper and deeper with every stroke. He put his other hand on the right side of her head, caging her in.

Ayame's inner walls sucked and pulled at his length, beckoning him further inside. The slap of skin and the smell of pheromones filled the air as Byakuya grew more frantic with his ministrations. The rigid tip of his cock dragged across her spot with every thrust. Byakuya leaned back and hiked one of Ayame's legs over his shoulder, offering a different angle. Her hips rolled, legs shaking, the knot in her stomach threatening to unwind.

"Call me that name again," Byakuya breathed.

He brought his thumb down between her legs and brushed agasint the bundle of nerves. Ayame's back arched off the futon as fireworks erupted inside of her.

"Oh, daddy, that feels so good!" she moaned as her insides contracted, pulling Byakuya's release closer. He dropped her leg and positioned himself above her again, leaving passionate kisses along her neck. His breathing turned shaky as he neared his own release, milked by her core.

Ayame whimpered with each thrust his body gave. With a final heave, ecstasy ripped through his body. He moaned, muffling the sound in the curve of her neck. His back expanded with each haggard breath.

"Next time, don't wait fifty years before touching a woman," Senbonzakura said.

Byakuya shoved the thoughts of his zanpakuto to the side and removed his captain's haori, gingerly wiping the girl clean. He laid on the futon beside her as he regained his breath.

Ayame propped herself up with one elbow. "For the record, Taicho, this is exactly what I meant when I said you were 'such a daddy'."

Byakuya smirked at the girl. "I know."

[forsworned]

[♥] academyau!substitute teacher {renguko kyojuro x reader}

Genre: Slight Fluff, Comedy

Categories: F/M

Relationships: Kyoujuro Renguko/Reader, Giyuu Tomioka/Reader

word count: 2,538

a/n: this is a pretty long read, so read at your own risk of boredom. i guess it could also b classified as a "x giyuu" but the title is just way too long and kind of throws the main focus off. might turn this into multiple parts so let me know what y'all think! also this is just a filler for the requests i have rn i don't want to leave you guys hanging

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

"I literally don't know shit about history."

Giyu sighed in exasperation. "You don't need to know anything about history [first name]. The teacher already has a lesson plan and you literally just need to pass out the papers. I just need you to cover for a couple of a days because one of the teachers are out sick."

You groaned as you threw your head back in annoyance, pushing your feet up against the edge of your desk. Even though it didn't look it Giyu was practically begging you to substitute for one of his coworkers. And he almost never asks for favors.

Giyu ran a hand through his hair. "He's super picky with his subs and everyone he's had come in hasn't come back."

"So you're saying that I'm a good pick." You mused, with your head in your hands with an annoying smug look.

"Don't push it."

You scrunched your face in disgust. "I just really, really don't want to Giyu. Middle school kids are the absolute worst. All they do is make moaning noises and forget or neglect to wear deodarant."

Giyu lightly chuckled. Your eyes darted to watch his usually solemn demeanor melted away into a small smile which immediately disappeared when you caught wind of it.

He cleared his throat and continued to speak like nothing happened.

"Anyway, so you'll do it?"

You rolled your eyes.

"Yeah, whatever. I'll do it."

Giyu looked pleased with himself when he heard your answer.

"I mean after all, I do owe you like a million and one favors." You sarcastically mused.

Which you kind of did. Giyu was your childhood best friend and always kept your out trouble in the nick of time. Whether it was you getting chased down by the neighborhood cat, or when you got gum stuck in your hair and you didn't want your parents to find out so he quickly snipped it out of your hair with everything seemingly in place like nothing happened. Yeah you could say you were a bit of troublemaker growing up, but Giyu was like the older brother that always looked after you.

"I'm so glad you realized." He replied cooly. "Be here by 7:30AM. Don't be late, I already have enough on my plate and I don't need you embarassing me."

You used your hand to shoo him out of your office space. "Mhm, you can leave now."

"I'm serious."

"Yup."

He squinted his eyes at you."[first name]"

"Ok! I got it. I'll be there 7:30 sharp." You exclaimed throwing your arms up in surrender.

He smirked in satisfaction. "Good."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The morning air was crisp as the sun shone down on your blurred eyes. You absolutely dreaded waking up in the morning and despite that you still agreed to be here. Oh, how you hated that man.

"Good morning." A familiar voice muffled beside you.

Speak of the devil.

He was munching away at his raisin bread walking next to you in the most nonchalant manner. Typical Giyu.

"Shut up." You mumbled miserably.

"You know, you could be a little nicer."

Your eyes narrowed at him. Expression in full death stare mode, but Giyu was as cool as ever, and as always completely unfazed by your behavior. But before you could retaliate, middle and highschool girls were practically lining up to say good morning to Giyu, blushing like mad when he acknowledged them. You on the other hand, were getting the death stares and whispers instead.

"Must be nice to be the heart throb PE teacher." You teased, poking him with your binder.

Giyu ignored you as you walked into the building, showing you to your classroom. You ignored the stares of kids burning holes through your back as you analyzed everything. Tons of inspirational historical quotes lined the walls, pictures and signatures of past and possibly current students covered one single wall. You inspected closely trying to catch a glimpse of who the teacher you were substituting for. One person in particular caught your eye, and he was hot. With a capital H. But before you could look at the other pictures to confirm Giyu called you over.

"Miss [last name], can you come up to the front and introduce yourself."

You sighed as you approached the front of the classroom and watched as the students all stood up. As their whispers got louder, you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"Good morning class. I'm going to be your substitute teacher for the day as Mr.--"You glanced over at the desk and moved the plaque in your direction. "--Renguko is out sick today."

As the class bowed in respect getting their good morning greetings, some of the children could't help but show their disappointment. You noticed most of them girls.

"I'll leave them to you." Giyu stated, and then looked at the class. "And be good to your substitute. I don't want to hear anyone misbehaving."

They bowed as he exited the room and now all eyes were on you. You sighed to yourself.

I really gotta learn to say no sometimes.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

To say you were exhausted was an understatement. It’s not that you hated kids or anything, but they always just see to have so much energy and well, you didn’t. Not even a cup of coffee could save you right now. You watched as the clock above your desk ticked and felt yourself getting more and more sleepier by the moment. Your consciousness fleeting as you lie under your warm blankets.

The image of that fiery haired man popped into your head and your eyes shot open.

You totally forgot to ask Giyu about that hot guy!

You let out a loud groan, knowing that your timing was off because now he would most definitely be suspicious if you asked him tomorrow. The curiosity of knowing that man itched at your skin. You absolutely had to know who he was.

What if he was a high school student, or worse a middle school student who looked very grown.

You outwardly icked at the thought, closing your eyes and scrunching your face in disgusted.

No way. He definitely had to be an adult. Maybe even a teacher.

“The history teacher!” You exclaimed out loud, shooting your whole body up.

It had to be him. You smiled victoriously to yourself, mentally patting yourself in the back.

And you had the perfect plan set up to find out.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You had to have looked in the mirror for about three hours to make sure you looked absolutely stunning. Hair curled to frame your face perfectly, and make up subtle but very much enhancing your natural features. You rubbed your lips one more time in the mirror before smacking your hands to your face to wake yourself up. Giyu was not going to be happy.

The morning bells chimed and you were seated at the desk welcoming students as they walked in. You discreetly checked your make up in your compact mirror under the desk to make sure nothing was running and not a hair was out of place.

“Perfect.” You whispered to yourself, running a hand through your blow out. All this work for a man that probably wasn’t even a teacher here.

“Miss [last name], what are you doing here.”

You froze at the voice. Nothing could prepare you for the icy glare that Giyu shot down at you. It sent a shiver down your spine. But his glare melted right off of you as you glanced over to the man next to him. Your mystery man finally come true!

“Oh hello, Mr. Tomioka. It’s pleasure seeing you.” You smiled, standing up. You looked right over to the handsome man right next to him. His hair like rays of sunlight with eyes to match. You could barely contain your excitement. “And you must be Mr. Renguko.”

His smile as big as the sun. Scratch that. He was the sun.

Bright, beautiful and fiery. He physically made you warmer just being in his very presence. You could’ve sworn you heard simultaneous female sighs in admiration, but you were way too distracted by how utterly gorgeous he was.

“Yes, I am.” He cheerfully stated. “And you must be the substitute that was in for me yesterday.”

He took your hand in his and you could’ve sworn you melted at his touch. Finely calloused hands, indicating that he worked with his hands a lot. Not that his physique couldn’t already tell you how absolutely fit he was.

“Yes, I am. Your class was wonderful. I didn’t have any problems with them whatsoever.” You couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear. This really was the man and it took every ounce of you not to pinch yourself to see if you were awake or not.

“So are you going to tell me why exactly you’re here today.” Giyu chimed in. This time his icy glare had no effect.

“Oh yes, I thought I was still scheduled for today. I never heard anything back from Mr.Tomioka so I assumed that I would head back in.” You lied right through your teeth and Giyu could see right through it.

He narrowed his eyes at you. “And I remember emailing you last night confirming that Mr. Renguko was fully recovered and ready to work again.”

You couldn’t see it but Giyu was totally spitting out venom with every single word he spoke. It was almost terrifying, but you were way too distracted by the glow of the man that was the literal sun right beside you.

As if the smile on your face couldn’t get any bigger.

“That’s odd. I don’t remember getting an email.” You innocently put a finger to your lip, and looked upward as if you were searching your head for the memory of the email confirmation that you definitely recall getting.

Giyu’s went from you to Mr.Renguko. And then it finally clicked for him. His shoulder dropped in defeat. He did not have the strength required to dealing with your shenanigans today. He turned around heading out the classroom, raising a hand to dismissively.

“Just don’t burn the place down.”

You gave him two big thumbs up. “You got it!”

"So would you like to observe the class since you're already here?" Mr.Renguko interjected. He motioned to the empty seat right beside his desk and chair.

You beamed at him. "Only if that's okay with your class, of course."

"Oh trust me, they are more than okay with that." He grinned at the students. Most of them smiled and blushed looking away from your direction. You sat there in confusion, but before you could inquire about what he said, he shot out of his seat and grabbed the stack of papers on his desk.

"Alright, class we are going to go over your classwork from yesterday and finish the rest of chapter six."

☆彡

It seemed like forever until Mr.Renguko had settled into his seat while he let his students work together on their classwork.

"I can see why my students are such big fans of you." He mused. You looked up from your phone and saw him warmly grinning at your face. This time you didn't fight the blood rushing to the surface of your cheeks.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well," He pulled out a stack of notecards and began shuffling through them. "I always have my students write their own evaluations of my substitutes and yours were outstanding. Lots of compliments about your appearance and how you carried the class."

Evaluation? Appearance?

Your jaw went slightly aslack at his words. The only thing that left your lips: "Evaluations...?"

His grin grew. Mr.Rengoku knew that this had caught you off guard but he continued. "Yes, I like to know what substitutes are doing their job and keeping my students in line and comfortable."

You were almost speechless. "Wow, you must really care about your students."

He smiled softly this time, and fondly looked over at his students working diligently and quietly together. "Yes, I do. They're kind of like my own kids. I want the very best for them."

Just when you thought you couldn't admire him anymore that you already did. Hot and caring? It had to be too good to be true. You pointed to the best teacher of the year awards on his desk. "I guess you didn't get those just based off your looks alone then."

He visibly blushed and chuckled at you statement as he rubbed the back of his head. "Nah, I don't think so."

You raised an eyebrow at him and pointed at the wall of photos and signatures that lined his wall. "That wall definitely says otherwise."

He laughed a hearty laugh this time. "I don't really think that's the case. Like I said I just look after my students like their my own. They really are my pride and joy."

It really was incredibly hard to not let yourself melt into a puddle in his presence alone. But before you could collect your thoughts, the lunch bell rang and students filed out to their homeroom's and handing in their assignments on their way out. Most of the girls shot you dirty looks before heading out as a way of showing their contempt towards you before the smiled at Mr.Rengoku who was collecting papers at the doorway. At this point, you literally couldn't blame them. Their teacher was a total hottie and you were practically stealing him right under their noses.

As the last student handed in their assignment, Mr. Rengoku closed the door behind them and approached his desk to set aside the stack of papers. He pulled put a box of tissues, picking one out and sneezed rather loudly into it. Cheeks were now a hue of vermillion and he slighted groaned while holding his head.

"You don't look so good, Mr. Renguko." You stated worriedly.

He waved you off. "Nonsense, I'm fine. And you can drop the formalities when were not in front of students. Call me Kyojuro."

You sighed as you fumbled through your bag handing him some cold and flu pills and a packet of vitamin c. "Ok, Kyojuro. You can call me [first name], but I'm going to need you to take these for me and get on home."

He blew loudly into his tissue before tossing into the trash revealing his very red nose. "I-I'm fine, Miss [last name]-- I mean [first name]. Really, I'm ok." He stuttered as he tried to collect himself and get up. Unfortunately, he couldn't hold himself up for more than ten seconds before collapsing and luckily you were there to catch him. He seemed to have been mumbled incoherent words as he laid heavily in your arms. You sighed as you slowly laid him down on the ground and reached for your cellphone to dial the one person you knew could handle this situation the best.

"You didn't actually burn the place down did you?"

You rolled your eyes. "No, idiot. Teacher down."

"Ah, fuck."

[sassycassie-s-writing]

Want You Back

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC/BatFam - Jason Todd/Red Hood

Rating: PG-11/T- (little violence, little blood)

Original Idea: Exes-to-Lovers is kinda an underrated trope, when it’s done right.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) This one is... 2,833 words. I wish I could say I’m sorry for it being long but I’m not. Have fun! @welovegroot @jason-redhood @jason-todd-squad

^^^^^

“Oh shoot—hide me!” I hissed, ducking behind Daisy. She looked at me in confusion before glancing around the party.

She rolled her eyes. “Girl, you haven’t dated Jason in like a year. Can’t you at least try to be civil?”

“Oh trust me, I’d love nothing more than to be civil. Honestly, I’d love nothing more than to get back together with him. I thought we made each other happy. But he kept so many secrets and I can’t be in a relationship with someone who can’t be honest with me. We broke up so… explosively that I’m not sure we can speak nicely to each other,” I replied. “Just… block his view of me while I sneak into Jessie’s room, okay?”

Daisy heaved a heavy sigh. “Fine. But hiding from him won’t do you any good.”

“It’ll do us both a world of good if it means I don’t have to talk to him.”

Daisy did as I asked and blocked Jason’s view of me until we got to the stairs. I bolted up them two at a time and ducked into Jessie’s room. The door had been closed but unlocked. Once I shut myself inside, I leaned against it and sighed.

The bookcase in Jessie’s room was more meant for displaying knick-knacks than holding books, so a quick glance at her collection revealed nothing worth reading. I sat on the floor next to her bed, on her fuzzy pink rug, and stared at the screensaver on her computer monitor—a bunch of bubbles floating around and bumping into each other, changing colors.

Why was Jason here? Jessie knew he and I fell out over a year ago. Did she invite him? Did her brother? That seemed more likely. Jessie probably didn’t even realize he was here.

No need to get angry at her.

I pulled out my phone. I had a few books on it. Kept them just for this reason. Hide from a party and make people think I was just on my phone. I didn’t trust reading fanfiction in public, so I only kept traditionally-published work in my phone’s files.

I’m not sure how long I read. A half-hour, probably.

I was startled by the door opening and closing. “Whew. Dodged a bullet there,” a familiar voice said with a sigh of relief.

I looked up in alarm.

Jason was leaning against the door, eyes closed, breathing hard.

I held still. Maybe if he didn’t hear me, he’d slip back out to the party after a moment and leave me alone—and we wouldn’t have to exchange words. I watched my phone screen dim, then shut off completely, while Jason just stood there.

He opened his eyes. His gaze landed on me. “O—oh,” he said. “I… I didn’t know you were in here.”

I nodded, slowly and once. “I figured,” I said flatly. Awkward. “Did… Jessie’s brother invite you?”

“Yeah,” he said. “But… one of his ex-girlfriends from high school wouldn’t stop flirting with me. So I pretty much ran away. I thought this was a bathroom.” He gestured to the room around us. “Clearly, I was wrong.” He glanced at the door over his shoulder. “I would leave, but I don’t want that girl to come after me again. Think we can get along long enough to share?”

I pushed myself to my feet, tucking my phone in my pocket. “No need. Since I came in here to avoid you, I’ll just go back to the party—and you can stay here for the rest of the night, for all I care. I will say, though, the bathroom is the next door down.”

I moved to brush him out of the way to leave Jessie’s room, but he caught my wrist. “Babydoll, wait,” he said, voice soft.

I pulled out of his grip. “Don’t call me that. I’m not yours anymore.”

“I miss you.” His big blue eyes were giving me puppy eyes.

“I miss you too. But you know perfectly well why I broke things off. I can’t be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth about why he disappears all the time—and clearly can’t keep his story straight. I thought we were happy together, Jason. But when you vanish for hours at a time with no word and come back with lame excuses, how was I supposed to trust you? I doubt you were cheating on me but how would I know? And what else was I supposed to think?” I knew I wasn’t strong enough to push him away from the door—the man was 6’ and 225 pounds of muscle—but when I shoved he gave way.

I yanked open the door and shut it hard behind me. I stomped downstairs and back to the party.

“You see Jason?” Daisy asked. “He went upstairs a couple minutes ago.”

“We spoke,” I said shortly.

Daisy cringed. “Went that well, huh?”

“Part of me still loves him, but I’m definitely still ticked at him.”

She made a face. “Sorry,” she offered.

“It’s fine.” I shrugged. “Anyway. Have you even seen Jessie or her brother?”

Daisy looked around. “I said hi to her when we first got here… but no, I haven’t seen her since,” she said. I followed her gaze. A sea of people in a small suburban house outside Gotham was pretty crowded for a party, and it was hard to see if Jessie and her brother Robert were even here anymore.

“Me neither,” I muttered.

“Wonder where they went,” Daisy mused.

“I mean, with the amount of people here, I’m not surprised I can’t see them.”

“Yeah…”

Somewhere nearby, I heard glass shattering. “Uh-oh. That can’t be good,” Daisy remarked. “If Jessie’s parents find out someone broke something—”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence as a window crashed in right next to us. I shrieked and grabbed Daisy, dragging her away from the flying shards. Several of them splattered over my jacket and cascaded to the floor, but I was lucky not to get impaled by any of them. A dark figure in body armor landed on the carpet, holding a large assault rifle.

I put Daisy behind me and backed up a few steps as the music stopped. She was taller than me, but hunched over she could almost disappear behind me. At least, whoever the intruder was wouldn’t have a clear shot at her past me.

“I’m looking for Jessica and Robert Williams,” the intruder said, levelling his gun at the crowd. Someone screamed from near the stairs.

While the intruder’s attention was elsewhere, I snuck my phone out of my pocket and found Jason’s number. I sent a text as fast as I could. Get out of here. Shooter just broke in.

That was all I had the time for before slipping my phone back into my pocket like I never had it out. The intruder prowled around the crowd. “Jessica… Robert…” he singsonged. I held Daisy’s wrist behind me. “If you two don’t show yourselves in the next sixty seconds, I’m tearing up your friends.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I glanced at the text on my watch. Jason Todd: I’m not leaving you.

I slid my phone out. You have to. At least call the cops.

The window on the other side of the living room shattered inward. Another dark figure swooped through and landed on the floor. My first thought was Batman—but as the figure straightened from his landing, I saw a red helmet glinting off the disco lights.

“Red Hood,” I breathed, in awe. I’d seen him a couple times. Imposing, tall, muscular. I’d only ever seen him from a distance. Seeing him up close was almost more terrifying.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you,” Red Hood said to the intruder, voice being run through some sort of ring modulator to disguise it, “that it’s rude to gate crash a party?”

The intruder growled, “Red Hood,” like an animal. My blood ran a little colder.

Red Hood stepped forward, completely unfazed. “Get out now, and this doesn’t have to get any uglier than it already is.”

“What do you care, crime boss, that I get up to a little trouble?”

“I care because everyone knows my rules. No innocents get harmed. Look around you. This place is full of innocent people.” Red Hood gestured to the party crowd. For a moment I could have sworn the eyes of his helmet lingered on me. But he was probably looking at the window. “Get out before I haul you out in a body bag.” He whipped one of his massive handguns into his hand, cocking it with the other in one practiced, fluid motion.

The intruder levelled the assault rifle at Red Hood’s chest. “Make me,” he spat.

Red Hood shrugged. “Okay.”

Bang! His handgun went off. I jumped. The intruder dropped to the floor, his rifle spraying bullets briefly toward the ceiling before stopping when he hit the carpet in a splatter of blood.

Red Hood looked around. “Everyone okay?”

A few scattered nods.

“Good. Get out on the front lawn. Wait for the cops to show up. They should be here any second,” he ordered.

The crowd rushed out the front door, bottlenecking and slowing down. Daisy included. I stayed where I was, staring at Red Hood. He noticed me not moving and came over.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly.

I looked down, peeling my hand away from my right side to reveal the blood soaking my shirt. “His spray. It got me,” I said, voice hoarse. My head was light and fuzzy. Not from blood loss—not yet. More likely from the shock of getting hit.

His helmet tilted down and he looked at the wound. The ring modulator distorted his whispered swearing but I still figured out what he said. “We need to get you to the hospital. Like, ASAP. And I can’t take you on my bike. Did you drive here?”

I nodded. “My car—it’s the dark green Explorer half-a-block that way.” I pointed down the street to the left with my non-bloodstained hand.

Red Hood nodded. “Keys?”

I pulled them from my other pocket and passed them over.

He swung me up into his arms and left. The crowd had cleared the front door in the time it took us to talk, so he marched across the front lawn and headed for my car. I heard Daisy call my name, but didn’t have the mental strength to call back.

As he walked down the block, each step jolting my wound, he said, “Batman, I’ve got a GSW. Taking her to the hospital. There was a hostile at a party in the suburbs. I took him down and the GCPD is on its way, but I’m moving the wounded girl.” He paused for a moment, but I couldn’t hear anything. “Yes, it’s a girl. She’s got her car here. I’m taking her in that.” Another pause. “Copy that. I’ll check in later.”

Red Hood set me gently in the passenger seat and laid it as flat as it could go. “Just hold on, babydoll. Hold on,” he said softly.

I scrunched my eyebrows as he shut the door and circled the hood to get in the driver’s seat. Once he gunned the engine, I put my clean hand on the arm of his brown leather jacket. “Why’d you call me… babydoll?” I asked.

“Well, I don’t know your name, miss, and I thought it’d be more comforting.” The car pulled away from the curb.

“You just heard my friend shout my name.”

He swore again and sighed. “Fine. Just don’t freak out. You’ll lose more blood.” He pulled his helmet off with one hand. “Couldn’t see as well to drive with that thing on anyway.”

Jason’s tousled black hair, white streak at the front, puffed up a bit as the helmet freed itself from his head. I tried to sit up, but fire burned in my side and I flopped back down before I’d even moved an inch. “What?” I squeaked. “Jay?”

His eyes flicked to me briefly. Deep blue and… there was something melancholy in them. “Yeah, babydoll,” he said. “It’s me.” There was his sad smile. One I’d seen many times. “You haven’t called me Jay since…” He didn’t finish his sentence, but I remembered when I’d stopped calling him Jay and “my Jay baby.” It was about a month before I finally had enough of his excuses and lies and broke up with him.

“Is this… is this why you always disappeared for hours and came back with excuses?”

“And could never seem to keep my story straight? Yeah. I wanted…” He sighed. “I wanted to tell you so many times but Batman said it would only be safe for me to tell you if we ever got married. And even then you’d still be in danger. You made me so happy and it killed me to lie to you. Killed me even more to lose you. When you broke things off… I am not proud to admit that every criminal I fought on patrol that night went to the hospital with more broken bones than I usually leave. I love you. Still. So much so that this past year has been… empty. Without you.”

I cleared my throat of the tears clogging it. “I said to Daisy earlier tonight, when I first saw you at the party, that I’d love nothing more than to get back together with you. But I couldn’t if you were going to keep things from me again.”

“Don’t get my hopes up like that while you’re in shock, please babydoll. Because I don’t know if you mean it or if you’re babbling from the shock and have no idea what you’re saying.”

“I told you I miss you,” I pointed out.

“That doesn’t have to mean you still love me or want me back.”

“But I do. To both. Love you and want you back. You can be honest with me now. But, we can talk about it when I don’t feel like passing out from pain.”

He reached out and grabbed my hand. “Hey. Hey, hey, hey. Don’t you dare pass out on me. If you do, you might not wake up again. Stay awake, babydoll. Stay awake. Please.” His grip tightened on my fingers. I tried to nod, but I wasn’t feeling well. My vision was a little blurry and I was tired.

“I’ll try,” I said.

We kept driving. Jason had fallen into pensive silence.

“Alright. We’re here,” he said. He parked my car and put his helmet back on. Then he ducked out, circled the hood, and picked me up to carry me into the ER, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Just stay awake. I’ll come visit—as me—later, okay?”

I nodded. “I’d like that,” I said.

Automatic glass doors slid open. Someone yelped. “GSW,” Jason said, voice modulated again. “Right side. No exit wound.”

“Get her on a gurney!” a nurse called over his shoulder.

I hugged Jason tighter. “Thank you,” I whispered.

He nodded. “Of course, babydoll.” His voice was soft. Comforting.

He set me on a gurney, and I watched him stride out of the hospital as they rolled me away.

—

When I woke up after surgery, Jason was there. Alone. Blue jeans, red T-shirt, hair a mess, and dozing in the armchair. “You look like crap,” I croaked.

He jolted and sat up. “Speak for yourself, babydoll,” he retorted. But he spoke gently. “Your family’s down in the cafeteria, getting some breakfast. I told them I’d keep you company. Your mom looked like she might murder me just for suggesting it, but I told her we made up enough to be friends at the party. So she—begrudgingly, mind you—allowed me to stay.”

“Just friends?” I asked.

He smiled and sat forward to run the backs of his fingers down my cheek. “For now. You said we’d talk about it more when you were feeling better.” He leaned back in the armchair. “So, how are you feeling?”

“Still not great, but the shock has worn off, at least.”

“That’s good.”

“I meant it, by the way,” I said. “That you can be honest with me now, so if you’re willing, we can try again.”

Jason met my eyes. There was hope in his expression. “Are you sure?” he asked.

I smiled. “Absolutely. I told you before: I miss you.”

He leaned forward, and pressed a kiss to my lips. The EKG monitor beeped a little faster as my heartrate spiked. I grabbed his shoulders as he moved away, and pulled him back to me. He smiled into my lips as I kissed him again.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

He tilted his head for a better angle, and I pushed one of my hands into his hair.

The door to the hospital room opened. “What’s going on in here?” Mom demanded.

[deans-haunted-baby]

Okay I see there are those who are confused as to why most of us are pissed about 15x19 I will gladly explain in depth:

Let’s start off with our boys Adam Milligan & Michael. These characters have not been seen for 10 fucking years. During that time there were Adam stans like myself campaigning like mad to have him and the infamous archangel return for some much needed closure. We had to content ourselves with headcanons, fanfictions and metas based on what we briefly knew of Adam and Michael as people while they unfairly sat in Hell. You might have seen the “Adam’s Still in Hell” memes that circulated. WE WAITED OVER A DECADE FOR THIS. And finally SPN answers our prayers and returns these boys back into the story for the final season. None of us anticipated what their arc and dynamic would look like. Before we could only imagine who these two characters were/are after having been trapped in a cage so long; what their personalities would be like and if they’d be antagonistic to TFW. 15x08 was a surprise because not only were Adam and Michael likable right out of the gate but the writing for them and their dynamic was damn near flawless! And Jake fucking stole the show he killed it as these two. It’s a crime they were not featured in more episodes because the chemistry between these characters is amazing and they’re played by the same dude.

We were given so much background into both Adam and Michael’s psyches in just a short period of time. Their motivations, interests and how they viewed those that wronged them (like the Winchesters); how Hell affected/changed them both and how they viewed their families. We got to see them banter, cooperate with one another and most importantly their different personalities. With Jake Abel appearing in only a handful of SPN episodes, he still fleshed out Michael and Adam beautifully; giving them layers and complexities that most side-characters (who’ve appeared more times than they have) didn’t. The way Jake played Adam’s anger and resentment towards his brothers was brilliant because it’s more under the surface compared to his angsty teenage self in 5x18. He’d become somewhat restrained, laid-back, gentler and wiser which works because Adam displays traits similar to Sam and Dean. He’s kinder and has a sense of humor but none of that distracts from rational thought as he’s quick to analyze and dissect situations. Man, he would’ve made a great hunter/Men of Letters recruit. We know right off the bat Adam’s pissed at his brothers for abandoning him in a thousand-year-prison-sentence and didn’t lift a finger BUT that ironically doesn’t compromise his willingness to help them unlike his past self in 5x18. Jake gets the point across with this character without saying much and that’s what made him so compelling to watch in this episode.

Now Michael was even more of a mystery onion since he wasn’t onscreen as much as Adam had been in past episodes so Jake got to really build on top of this character. Going from the uptight, cold-blooded merciless celestial warrior/dutiful son of God we saw in 5x22 to someone whom despite his arrogance and regal princely demeanor was very human, intelligent, fair, mindful and compassionate. He trusted Adam and respected his opinions even if he didn’t agree 100%. Whereas most angels take over the vessel completely from their original occupant; Michael chooses to share his vessel with Adam as a mutual agreement which says a lot about who he is. He’s fascinated with humanity and wanted to explore it instead of returning to his throne in the clouds. We know that Michael was created specifically to be Humanity’s protector and guardian of Heaven and Earth so these quirks he’d demonstrated in 15x08 aren’t too far off. He holds a lot of pain inside from his abandonment issues with his father whom he loves to a fault and grief over the death of his brothers. On the surface there’s very much an abused child syndrome thing going on with him though he masks it with a domineering presence. And above all this we saw that he was capable of forgiveness. Whether or not Michael always had these traits inside to begin with, its very evident that his friendship with Adam influenced the person he became post-Hell. And that was someone who, like Castiel, chose to rebel for the sake of free will by aligning himself with the Winchesters after witnessing the evil his father had committed. He actually cared about saving the world. This is what we call character development.

What does 15x19 do? It shits all over that. We don’t get to see Adam and Michael’s dynamic at all; and this was perhaps one of (if not the first) most healthy portrayal of a relationship between an angel and its original vessel occupant in the history of Supernatural. Adam is just killed off-screen Thanos style without so much as one last word and Michael barely reacts like he gives a crap. It was just established to us in 15x08 that he’d developed an emotional bond with Adam through years of inhabiting the same body. He protected Adam while they were trapped together in Hell. They were each other’s only friend and source of comfort. They’d developed a certain co-dependency on each other while respecting one another’s space. They’d both made peace with their joint situation. All they had was each other and the writing in 15x19 basically tells us their relationship meant absolutely NOTHING to Michael based on his OOC actions in this episode. He shows up much darker and shadier now that Adam is gone and its like all those years of friendship, things like that independence, newfound strength and humility he’d gained from living with a human for so long are erased. Michael just reverts back to Chuck’s 5x22 bitchboy persona in the most ridiculous 180 shift I’ve ever seen in my whole damn life. And all because his little brother called him mean names. Pitiful. Just when he lectures Lucifer about standing up for what’s right; he betrays his own words, his allies and the rest of humanity in T-minus 2 minutes. That is total character assassination. Nothing about this motivation makes any sense.

There’s no build up to it, no foreshadowing in 15x08 or throughout 15x19 until they get to the lake. He’s completely deconstructed as a character in this episode and rendered weak. It’s like 15x08 never happened. Stripped of all his development for lousy shock value. Instead utilizing all of what he’d learned through Adam and sticking it to Lucifer by proving he could be more than what Chuck tried to mold him into; Michael becomes just another NPC in the story forfeiting the hero he was. And his reasons for siding with Chuck are never specified. Was it about about saving Adam? Was it about proving something to Lucifer (whom he’d already killed in anti-climatic fashion)? Was it all an act that he was in on with the Winchesters; cause there’s absolutely NO FUCKING WAY they could’ve predicted he’d flip on them like that for their magical plan to work. Not after everything Chuck’s done, killing Adam and Jack and leaving Michael to rot in Hell for eternity. And why would he suddenly go along with destroying the Earth when defeating Chuck would probably get Adam back (if that was his goal) which IT DID not to mention its his sworn duty to freaking protect humanity, hello? So his betrayal meant jack shit in the end as it got him killed by his fucking dad!! He’s brought back into the show only to be ruined forever and killed off in the stupidest fashion.

Moving on.

Jack Kline & Castiel. This iron-clad relationship has been in development for 4 in 1/2 years since before Jack was even born. And next to Adam & Michael its the other most healthy relationship on the show. Castiel, a million year old celestial being, spent the first 9 years of his arc on Supernatural following around the Winchesters, being torn between his loyalty to them and to Heaven. He rebelled when he was supposed to be a straight-by-the-book warrior of God. And he defied every rule in the process even when the odds were stacked against him. There was an endless rinse and repeat cycle of love, loss, betrayal and redemption when it came to his relationship with Sam and Dean. It made his character complex, interesting and layered but it still didn’t give him an arc that was his own. Castiel started out moreso being written as just the Winchester’s angel BFF/side-kick. Until Lucifer got Kelly Kline pregnant in 12x08 then things really took off. Before this, Castiel was a lost soul. His faith was broken, he was depressed, lonely, battered and rundown from years of being conflicted over the other angels and Sam & Dean. He felt he’d lost a sense of self and meaning in his life. And didn’t have a mission. Once he turned on Heaven’s orders, Castiel was a rebel angel without a cause so to speak. But like I said this changes the moment he meets Kelly.

Originally Castiel was suppose to kill Kelly in 12x19 because she was carrying the child of the devil and Nephilim are considered forbidden abominations. Told that if Lucifer’s kid was born he could unleash even more evil into the world. But instead of doing what he thought he should, Castiel decides to runaway with her. Choosing to protect her from all threats (Lucifer, demons, other angels, princes of Hell); this especially included the Winchesters. During this short time-frame the angel develops a strong, emotional bond with Kelly and her unborn son that stretches all the way to the S12 finale; to the point where it actually gave him a power-boost. From the womb, Jack appoints Castiel to be his father and protector and he’s given a glimpse into the child’s destiny that he’ll bring paradise to the world. A prophecy that the writers establish head on. This is an unusual circumstance because right here is where Castiel’s solo arc apart from the Sam & Dean takes shape. The journey of becoming a first time parent and guardian. Its a new kind of independence that for the first time has nothing to do with his friends or his family members/colleagues in the sky. Its his own personal mission that he willingly accepts, the second he connects with Jack from inside Kelly. Castiel immediately falls in love with him, before they even see each other; and adopts the boy devoting himself to keeping him safe. Making a promise to Kelly that would later become a vital plot-point in the seasons to come.  

Castiel literally risks everything (Heaven and Earth) to ensure Jack’s birth and ends up dead by 12x23′s startling conclusion. Leaving the newborn infant Nephilim alone in the care of the Winchesters going into season 13; scared, confused and aged into a seemingly 18 year old boy for his own protection. And Alexander Calvert who is a fantastic addition to the cast really brings something wonderful to this role; he’s like a breath of fresh air and a bright light in the middle of a dark room. Jack’s naïve, innocent and curious about his surroundings but also as Castiel once put it “remarkably intuitive”. Right when he’s introduced his arc is intentionally paralleled with Castiel’s. Their alien-fish-out-of-water beginning is practically identical as is their adorable stoic facial expressions. Like father like son. And this helps because while the angel is currently dead in the beginning of season 13, there’s an empty void he’s left behind. So Jack is kind of his temporary stand-in. Odd enough this type of switcharoo would’ve been considered very controversial but it’s handled quite well. Alex is so likable and charming I almost wish Supernatural had introduced him sooner. I mean I really thought I was looking at Castiel’s actual mini-me and not the son of Satan. But I digress Jack’s story in the first half of this season is pretty much about discovery and reuniting with Castiel. He’s a baby so everything is new to him but he’s also one of the most powerful beings in the universe destined for greatness which makes the Winchesters very nervous.

Jack remembers choosing Castiel as his dad which is why he already feels strongly connected to him. Its a bond so powerful that it actually resurrects Castiel out of the Empty the first time. Something Chuck himself was unable to do (that was until the mess that is 15x19). When they’re finally reunited the payoff comes so naturally. Misha and Alex have such a phenomenal onscreen chemistry starting with that first hug; they really play off one another so well that it doesn’t feel like two angels interacting but a genuine father and son duo. So much of what makes Jack and Castiel’s relationship so relatable, deep and endearing is because of what the actors bring to it. But they’re not just a fascinating relationship, they’re compelling on their own too. Both trying to find their way in the world and within the Winchesters’ lives. Death is no stranger to either of them (tragic being that Jack is only a toddler). They’ve each experienced their own personal pain, traumas, life lessons, mistakes and decisions. The biggest for Castiel would be his deal with the Empty to save Jack in 14x08. While for Jack it was the consequences of said deal that would lose his soul causing him to accidently kill Sam and Dean’s mom in 14x18 as a result (something that Jack struggles with immensely to the brink of depression from so much guilt and regret that he’d rather die). Repercussions that would follow into the shows final season. What’s interesting about this deal though is that Castiel made it on parental instinct alone not as a promise to Kelly. He chose to sacrifice himself for the sake of his son as a selfless act of love and kept it a secret from Sam & Dean until his death in 15x18. That’s the extent how much this child meant to him. The other great thing about their family dynamic is that it parallels nicely with the Winchesters. Castiel and Jack share this unconditional love that can never be broken. its even greater than their ties to the Winchesters themselves just as Sam & Dean’s love for each other is greater than any of their other relationships. They would do anything for each other. Castiel would go to the ends of the earth for the little nougat baby because that’s his son.  

Each time these characters were faced with danger or died, Castiel and Jack were overcome with extreme devastation and distress. That said its not just pain that binds these two its happiness. Jack is the best thing that ever happened to Castiel. Literally becoming a father to that child saved him. It brought him back to life, restored his faith and gave him a sense of self-worth and hope he’d long since abandoned. And for Jack, Castiel is the best dad he’ll ever have! He gave this baby comfort, wisdom, nurturing, strength. Was always there when he needed him whether it was to talk or to have his back. No other person in Jack’s life has ever made such an important impact nor made him feel more safe and loved than Castiel. Even when Jack had done such a horrible thing to Mary alienating himself from his family; it was Castiel’s unyielding devotion to Jack that ended up being his salvation. This was huge because once again he’d chosen over the Winchesters proving that no matter what (whether it be the world ending) his son comes first. So when Castiel’s pact with the Empty finally comes due in 15x18 you’d think it’d have an earth-shattering affect on Jack in 15x19. I mean for the first bit it does...until he becomes God. Then its like to hell with that relationship. Castiel is a complete afterthought to Jack and the rest of TFW in this episode. JACK DOESN’T EVEN GET TO GRIEVE HIM PROPERLY. And he just lost his dad because of a deal he’d made a year ago for him. A DEAL JACK HAS BEEN FUCKING DREADING WHILE HE WAS SOULLESS MIND YOU. And when he finally has the power to bring him back, he doesn’t? Jack just walks around with a conceited smirk on his face, bids Sam and Dean adieu and fucks off. I mean who gives a shit right, its only your dad that you love more than anything. This was extremely OOC given that time in 14x14 Jack nearly lost his shit when Castiel got infected with gorgon poison; the anti-venom wasn’t working so Jack resorts to using his powers putting his soul at risk.

I mean if he was so limited to helping Castiel in the Empty AT LEAST FREAKING CLARIFIY THIS TO THE AUDIENCE. This is not about shipping a certain pairing btw. Jack becoming God is not the issue its his characterization after the fact. His first instinct would’ve been to save his dad above getting in touch with the Earth. Yes we knew this transformation was coming it was foreshowed way back in Season 12. Does that justify bad writing or character assassination?? HELL NO.

This is what I’m talking about, episode 15x19 deliberately butchers these characters and their relationships. It shat all over them. No one is behaving like themselves. The pacing is wonky and inconstant. The script feels like it underwent several rewrites and I swear there were scenes cut out. The acting is off too and maybe the pandemic could be blamed for these things but it ultimately falls on the writer. Buckleming screwed up by showing us they don’t know who the hell these characters are, their motivations nor do they give a rat’s ass. And its noticeable on screen. I’ve known better fanfiction writers for SPN than these guys. It’s like they all came back to work but just didn’t care to put the effort into it. That’s why people like me are upset and we have every freaking right to be. Some of us have been with this series for the entire 15 year run. I at least expect these characters to be handled better and for things to make sense. 15x19 doesn’t and its not satisfying its just a cruel joke. The writers and Dabb should be embarrassed to have put this out there thinking we’d just swallow it and shut up. But far as I’m concerned the only thing this episode serves is to disrespect and ruin everybody while angering long-time fans.

MICHAEL. ADAM MILLIGAN. JACK KLINE AND CASTIEL DESERVED BETTER. And that’s the tea.

[saurexhas]

Love is Blind - Part 3

We’re back to MC’s perspective with this one, and prepare for feels!

Fun fact, as someone who rarely writes xreader stuff, the sheer amount of times I write you or your is driving me crazy because I legit cannot replace them with some other descriptor like I would in third person to break things up XD

As always, mind the tags, you never know what I get up to when I’m writing angst :)

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Blinding pain was all you could recall as your mind drifted towards consciousness, hazy memories mingling with your dreams. You could hear Nightmare calling to you, his voice raw with so many emotions that it was almost overwhelming. The others could be heard too, though most of their voices had a somber note to them. Yet as you tried to recall what you could see, the only thing that came to you was the colour red.

With no means of making sense of the fragmented memories, your mind let them go only to be replaced with new sensations as you truly started to wake. Every little shift brought pain, your face feeling like it was still being burned by Ink. Your limbs felt stiff, like there was something restraining them, though at least your surroundings were soft. It felt like your bed, the same soft sheets and blankets that Nightmare had gotten for you. But as you thought of the dark god, you were made acutely aware of just how dark it was right now.

Nothing you did could alleviate the darkness; it was the same whether your eyes were open or closed. Considering how even your eyes ached and burned, it felt better to keep them closed for now since nothing could fix the crushing darkness. As panic set in, your movements became more erratic. Even if you knew you were safe within your room in the castle, that fear still gripped your soul with relentless strength. Blankets were nearly ripped off in your efforts to escape, and as you sat up in bed you hoped that your negativity would be a beacon to Nightmare.

The feeling of cool, slippery bones sliding against your cheek served to snap you out of your hysteria, your hopes answered in the familiarity of Nightmare’s presence. With his touch, you felt him steal away the negativity within you, leaving you calm if feeling a bit empty. He only absorbed your emotions whenever they were clearly out of control, so you were never too mad at him for doing so since they would come back after a while. And it served this time to calm you down from the panic that had consumed you, allowing you to relax as you leaned into the hand still resting against your cheek.

“There we go, little moon, you’re alright,” Nightmare cooed, his thumb rubbing against your face while his tentacles all moved to ensure you remained calm. While you couldn’t see them, they remained close enough that you could feel them crawling along, finding different places to rub against in a petting motion. “Just relax for me, okay?”

“A-Alright,” you stuttered out, melting under his precise touches. A sigh left your mouth as the previous tension within you let go, leaving you feeling truly relaxed. As much as you wanted to simply stay in the peaceful moment though, a thought kept nagging at you as you turned your head in the direction of his voice. “Night… why can’t I see you? E-Even if I open my eyes, it’s… just black. T-There’s nothing.”

The appendages currently touching you froze for just a second, and even as they continued their comforting motions, there was a stiffness to them that wasn’t present before. Silence filled the room for quite a time, all the while you waited with growing dread. Eventually, your partner spoke up, but his words weren’t what you were expecting. “What do you remember happening on our little outing to Outertale?”

“Outertale?” You echoed, thinking back on what you could recall. The two of you had been watching the stars, enjoying a moment of peace away from the crew. But that peace was shattered by the Star Sanses ambushing you, attacking Nightmare while he had nobody to fight alongside. You could recall Ink pursuing you despite Nightmare’s efforts to keep the Stars focused solely on him, and you remembered the joint attack that you saw coming from Dream and Ink. That attack would’ve crippled Nightmare if it didn’t kill him, and you clearly remembered your last-minute decision to save him despite the risk. Beyond that though, everything was a blur. “I… I remember the fight, and… I remember how the Stars were teaming up to take you down. I know I tried to save you, but… I don’t remember what happened after that…”

You trailed off, frowning at the gap in your memory that stopped you from answering any questions you may have had. The frown was quickly swept away though as you felt a gentle ‘kiss’ placed against the back of your hand, Nightmare’s teeth mimicking the affectionate gesture as they pressed against your skin. “Yes, you saved me, little moon. You saw right through my brother’s trickery, and you risked your own life to save mine. Part of me wishes to berate your foolishness for rushing into such danger, but… I’m more angry at myself for being unable to save you in turn.” The hand rubbing against your cheek shifted up to your temple, gently brushing against the underside of your eye. Yet you couldn’t feel his bones directly, merely the pressure indicating the presence.

Something was in the way, preventing him from touching you directly at that spot. Before his tentacles could stop you, your free hand reached up only to freeze at the far too familiar feeling. “B-Bandages? Night, w-why are my eyes covered in bandages?”

Your trembling hand was gently coaxed away from your face, a soft tentacle wrapping around the limb and pulling it back down. While you now knew why the world was dark for you, it only brought up so many more questions, and from the sound of Nightmare’s sigh, he didn’t want to tell you. “MC, you… Dream- ugh, this is harder to say delicately than I expected.”

“Then spit it out!” You almost growled, panic and desperation clawing at your soul. Until you had an answer, the feeling wouldn’t go away, even if your partner tried to force apathy upon you.

Thankfully, the dark god hadn’t resorted to attempting such, a groan of displeasure leaving him. You tightened your grip on his hand, silently begging him to simply be blunt if stepping around the issue was too difficult. Any answer would be better than nothing at this point… at least that’s what you thought.

Your opinion on the matter very quickly changed as Nightmare spoke up. “When Dream fired his arrow, you pushed me out of the way of his strike. Your actions spared me, but… his arrow damaged your eyes. That alone wouldn’t have been so difficult to deal with, however Ink, that chaotic little devil… his paint hit both of us. It did little to hurt me since my brother’s attack missed, but…” The dark skeleton trailed off, and you could’ve sworn that you heard him sniffle a bit. Such a “weak” display of emotion was uncharacteristic of him, even in front of you. “I’m so sorry little moon, but his paint got into your eyes. It burned them, and… we couldn’t undo the damage. You… I’m afraid you’re blind.”

“W-What?” Your voice was barely more than a whisper as you processed his words, finding yourself riddled with disbelief. There’s no way you could be blind, there’s no way the guys failed to heal you. Cross and Pyre had both taken care of your injuries in the past, and you knew that Nightmare’s preferential treatment of you made them too scared to fail for fear of his wrath. “You… you have to be wrong… t-there’s no way I’m suddenly blind!”

“MC, please calm down. You’re still recovering from your injuries, you could hurt yourself-”

“I’m already hurt, Nightmare! You told me I’m fucking blind!” You screamed, your eyes stinging as if they were trying to produce tears. Yet you couldn’t feel anything, not even the damn bandages growing damp. Growing furious, your hand shot up to rip them away, your arm pulling out of the tentacle’s lax grip with ease. The bandages had to be the reason you couldn’t see, it wasn’t that you were blinded!

Just as your hand managed to touch the soft fabric, the tentacle returned to grappling your limb with renewed vigor. “MC, stop this foolishness! You’ll only hurt yourself further!” Nightmare snapped, the tentacle continuing to wind its way around your arm and pull with increasing strength. Gritting your teeth, you dug your fingers into the bandages, determined to pull them away, and simply stopped fighting against the tentacle.

Your arm was yanked from your head, tearing bandages and damaging the still-healing flesh beneath. But despite the pain, you opened your now uncovered eye only for despair to hit you. “I… I-I’m blind,” you mumbled, feeling a sob build in the back of your throat even as your eyes refused to let you cry. They only continued to burn, the sensation growing worse the longer you held your eye open for. “I-I’m blind… I’m blind... I-”

Several tentacles wrapped tightly around you, bringing you closer to Nightmare as he hugged you to his chest. It managed to stop your spiralling thoughts, your hands digging into his jacket as you tried to come to terms with reality. Nightmare wasn’t lying; you really had been blinded by the Stars.

Some of your negativity was siphoned off, but most of it remained so that you could process your emotions and not simply run from them. Part of you wished to ask for the same emotionless bliss that Killer enjoyed, even if temporary, but you knew that your partner wouldn’t oblige. Still, he at least made the swirling negativity within you easier to handle, allowing you to have your moment with the god’s silent support.

It was only when the maelstrom within you calmed that he pulled away, his fingers brushing against the tender, burnt skin on your face. You couldn’t help the flinch, now keenly aware of the pain that your actions caused. The skeleton said nothing as he shifted, rustling being heard from what you assumed was the nightstand. It wasn’t much longer before the rest of the ripped bandages were stripped away, the air stinging your face until they were replaced with fresh ones that hid your injuries from the world once again.

“There, I’ll have to apply a cream to your facial burns a bit later, it seems you managed to rip open some of the blisters so I’ll wait until Cross can heal them.” More rustling could be heard from around the nightstand again, and you so desperately wished that you could simply see what was going on rather than trying to guess. “In the meantime, you should eat something now that you’re awake.”

One thing you were at least acutely aware of was Nightmare’s presence; the air around him was always a degree or two cooler, and there was a faint aura of dread that emanated from him. In your time together, you’d grown so used to his aura that it no longer bothered you. What did bother you was when you felt that aura pull away, your panic surging at the thought of being left alone. Without thought, you blindly reached out for him, managing to grab one of his slippery tentacles despite his movements. “P-Please! Don’t go! I... I-I don’t want to be alone…”

“MC, I’m just going to the kitchen to have Pyre prepare you something to eat,” he argued. Despite the fact that your eyes were hidden by bandages, you immediately tried to put on your best puppy-dog eyes, the one look that you knew he couldn’t resist. If it was from an actual puppy, Nightmare might’ve kicked the thing away out of annoyance, but you’d worn him down to where he caved to your begging almost every time.

This time was no exception, the god of negativity sighing as his tentacle wrapped around your arm and his presence returned to your side. “Alright, I’ll remain here for now. When one of the others comes to check in, I’ll send them to get your meal. Will that appease you?”

“Mhm,” you simply hummed, following the tentacle back to Nightmare’s chest where you proceeded to snuggle into it. He might’ve been seen as cold and cruel to everyone else, but he was nothing but a source of comfort for you. It would take quite a bit of adjustment and probably a few more meltdowns before you properly came to terms with your newfound blindness, but for now you felt surprisingly calm as you simply enjoyed the moment of rare peace in the castle.

“Hey Night, do they know we’re a couple yet?”

Just as your partner went to answer, the door to your room slammed open, causing you to jolt and pull back.

“Woah, not what I was expecting to walk into!” Killer’s voice echoed throughout the room, your face heating up despite your best efforts. “Didn’t know that you were into cuddles, boss! Guess it takes a certain special someone to make ya all soft~”

A groan left Nightmare’s mouth, and you could practically envision him pinching the bridge of nose at Killer’s words. “If they didn’t before, then they definitely know now.”

The two of you didn’t hear the end of it from Killer until Nightmare slammed the door in his face, though he could be heard loudly blabbing about what he’d seen to everyone in the castle. Yelling would be a more apt word. Still, it at least brought some of the others to check on you now that you were awake. Cross tended to your burns with some healing magic, dulling the pain and taking care of the blisters that you broke open in your earlier hysteria. Pyre rambled off something about cooking from the great Papyrus before darting off as quick as he came, returning with a bowl of soup that honestly smelled delicious right around the time Cross left. Nightmare never left your side the entire time, treating your wounds alongside Cross while one of his tentacles almost never broke contact with you. It was more reassuring than you would’ve thought it would be, allowing you to physically feel that he was staying with you just as he said he would.

It was strange having everyone fuss over you so much, though you guessed that might’ve been the fact that your relationship with Nightmare was now out in the open. It wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be though, as everyone except for Killer was respectful. Killer… well, there was only so much you could expect from someone who insulted others for the fun of it, so it wasn’t too surprising nor hard to deal with. It was almost… easier now that you didn’t have to hide your feelings for the lord of the castle, and it might’ve been your imagination but the others almost seemed to be treating you better than before. Pyre was always kind to you, and Cross was never difficult, but they seemed to be treating you a bit more carefully now than before. It was likely all in your head though, merely some of the castle’s nicer residents showing compassion to you in one of your times of weakness. Killer certainly wasn’t acting any differently. Regardless, the biggest source of comfort was your boyfriend sitting next to you, never leaving your side even as the warm meal, healing magic, and sheer emotional drain left you nodding off and relaxing back into the covers of your bed.

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[imstronglikeanamazon]

Julie and the Phantoms Pushing Daisies AU

Julie realized she can touch the dead and bring it back to life at a very early age.

The first time it happened it was a bouquet of dahlias he mother had brought into the house. She had just reaches out to brush against the petals of the dead flowers, and before her very eyes they lifted and the color brightened.

She showed her mom right away. Rose Molina was so proud of her special daughter.

They always kept dahlias in the house from then on, as a symbol of life and of Julie's special skill.

Neither of them made the connection to their neighbor's suddenly wilting garden just across the street.

Their neighbor, however, a terse and somewhat cruel man whose wife had left just a year before, leaving him alone with his son Reggie, was not thrilled about his sudden inability to keep his garden alive.

Julie's mom died a couple of years later. A blood clot ruptured while she and Julie were playing the piano together and she was gone.

Before her father or little brother could find them (she knew they heard the sudden cacophony of notes that came from Rose's head hitting the keys) Julie touched her head and brought her back.

Rose looked at Julie, tears streaming down the child's face and knew right away what happened.

60 seconds later Reggie's dad collapsed.

Reggie ran out of the house screaming. Both adult Molinas rushed over to him. They called the police and brought Reggie over to stay with them.

When the police found no cause of death, Rose figured out what must have happened pretty quickly. She's always been pretty bright after all.

Reggie stayed over for a while, the Molinas working with CPS to make it his legal foster location while they attempted to locate his mother.

After Reggies mom was found and said she didn't want him, the Molinas worked pretty quickly to formally adopt him.

Rose told Julie what happened. After that Julie avoided pretty much everyone. She was so afraid of killing someone else that she avoided touching everyone, alive or dead for a while.

Even the dahlias started wilting normally again.

Rose understood. Instead of pushing, she helped Julie learn how to touch people through music.

And she did the same for Reggie.

Ray wanted to fix it, but Rose helped him be more patient and understanding. It was a lesson he would internalize and never forget.

Pretty soon Reggie's two best friends, Luke and Alex, started coming over to play music with them too.

It started with just the boys, but Luke kept inviting Julie to join them and eventually she did.

Julie and The Phantonms formed early under the support and love of Rose and Ray Molina, who gave all of the boys the parental love they were so lacking.

The band, and more specifically Luke, brought Julie back out of her shell.

She never told them about her power. After all, she never intended to use it again.

It was years later that the unthinkable happened. Julie and the Phantoms were about to perform in their yard for a bunch of their neighbors and Rose gave Julie a dahlia pin to remind her of her strength.

After pinning it to her jacket, Rose went to rest her hand on her daughter's cheek.

When Rose dies the second time, no amount of touching or crying could bring her back.

Julie gave up music that day.

After months of trying, the boys stopped pushing her and formed Sunset Curve.

Julie started spending time with Flynn and Carrie.

When Flynn's dog died, Julie brought him back, it was the first time she used her gift since her mom.

She timed it, found out about the 60 second rule when a squirrel fell out of a tree.

Flynn was sworn to secrecy. She kept it.

When Carrie lost something important to her, she blamed Julie. They had a devastating fight.

Flynn and Julie lead an investigation and found the item, but their friendship with Carrie was irreparable.

Julie and Flynn realized they make pretty good detectives.

After High School, when Sunset Curve left to try to make it big, Julie and Flynn opened a PI firm.

They also sell flowers. They throw out surprisingly few wilted ones.

They're vaguely well received as a flower shop, but they are absolutely thriving as a detective agency. They solve a lot of murders.

They were watching the news when they saw Bobbie Wilson, Carrie's cousin talking about the tragic accident that took the lives of the other three members of his band.

Julie froze. Flynn looked up the details of the case. Something seemed off to her. I mean, death by hot dog? And one surviving member who would end up getting all of the royalties and song credits? Just as they were getting big?

Julie was only half listening as Flynn detailed this out. She pulled out her phone to look up where the funeral would be only to find she had about 30 missed calls from her dad, brother, and aunt.

She called them back. Found out where the bodies were. And then told Flynn they were taking the case.

She left Flynn at the shop when she went to the funeral home. She wasn't intending to keep them alive, but maybe a part of her was leaning that way.

She had seen Reggie over the years, they were siblings after all, and they'd spent holidays together and met up a few other times too. She'd even seen Alex a couple of times, he didn't have parents that wanted to see him during holidays and so he'd join the Molinas more often than not

Luke though... he'd gone home to his parents; their relationship was strained, but he didn't really have much of a choice.

This was the first time she'd seen her childhood crush since the band stopped practicing in her garage way back in High School. And here he was, completely still in a way he'd never been before. Pale and cold in a coffin next to his two best friends.

She touched Reggie first. A gentle poke on the nose, just like he used to do to her.

She was going to do them one at a time. Give each one 60 seconds to tell their side of the story and then let them go.

That plan went out the window the moment her adopted brother opened his eyes.

She could only pray the three people she was about to let die were bad people.

They were. The three closest people were graverobbers digging someone up in the attached cemetery. They'd been getting away with it for years.

Reggie was obviously confused, and then immediately upset about seeing his best friends in coffins. But Julie told him that she'd explain in a second and moved onto Alex.

Alex she touched on the forehead. She'd like to say it was because if how much he over thinks everything, but honestly? Reggie was still freaking out behind her and she didn't really give it much thought.

Alex cried as he pulled himself out of the coffin and Julie pointed him in Reggie's direction. She couldn't explain yet, there was still one more

For Luke, she hesitated. She still remembered how it felt every time Luke would invite her to play music with them. Everytime he would choose to sit with her. Everytime he smiled at her. She was about to touch the boy she had definitely never gotten over for potentially the last time ever. But where?

She chose his cheek. She could still feel the gentle brush of her mom's fingers on her own cheek just before her second death.

When he opened his eyes and saw her leaning over him, he smiled.

[nukacoola]

Companions react to Danse stepping out of power armor for the first time!

Cait: 

She would look Danse up and down very obviously and grin which would make him extremely uncomfortable. 

“Ya’outgha get out of that thing more often Dansey. Who knew there were cookies in that tin can of yours.”

She obviously isn’t actually interested in Danse. Way too boring. But she’s not one to toss out eye candy just cause it isn’t her favorite flavor. She wouldn’t actively follow him but for fun and also to get on his nerves she would definitely cat-call him everytime he was in hearing range. Deacon and Hancock might join in for a few comments if they don’t have anything better to do.

She would not stop unless sole made a convincing plea or reason for why she should and maybe not even then.

Danse would not respond or look at Cait but he would be very red and never get out of his suit in front of her again.

Codsworth: 

“Why Paladin Danse I dare say you’ve been keeping up your workout routine! Cheers to your excellent health whether in or out of your power armor!” Codsworth is reassured that his owner is traveling with someone so equipped for the struggles of the wasteland.

“Uh, thank you, Codsworth.” Danse would feel a bit awkward but he would appreciate the compliment. 

“Might I polish that for you while you're otherwise engaged? It seems to be in a just dreadful state and I would like nothing more than for you to be looking your best in your wasteland escapades!” Though he is reassured by Danse’s physical state and abilities, he is mortified by the state his armor is in. All the scratches, dings, and dirt? It’s just horrible. Codsworth has always wanted an opportunity to fix that suit up and is pretty happy that the day has finally arrived.

“I- If you’d like to you can.”

“Oh good! I do so love a difficult task!” With that Codsworth would zoom away to procure the necessary supplies to return Danse’s armor to it’s original state. Danse didn’t really know whether or not he should be offended at the robot’s comments but he decided to just continue about his business and not think about it too much. 

Curie:

“Oh Monsieur Danse, you are quite zee lovely specimen! I would be eager to do a physical examination if you would allow me to.” Ever since leaving the vault, Curie has been astounded at how many different sorts of humans there are. Danse is particularly interesting to her because of the amazing athletic feats he does so regularly. She is also interested in studying the effects of constant power armor usage on the human body. When she sees him step out of his suit for the first time and sees his overly muscular physique, it just tacks on another reason she wants to study him. 

Before Blind Betrayal:

“The only specimen that needs examining is you, synth. Don’t talk to me unless you’re submitting yourself to the Brotherhood.” The only reason Curie isn’t already on the Prydwen is because Sole thinks it’s their friend. It bothers Danse immensely that Sole hasn’t destroyed or used this inhuman thing already.

(Don’t get mad at me he literally says this in game.)

Curie is very hurt, she expected this reaction but it still hurt. She was still getting used to feelings such as the pained ones she felt in moments like these.

After Blind Betrayal:

“No. Thank you.” Danse’s words were strained. Being around Curie was pretty awful for him. He had treated her so terribly before and he still had strong feelings of disgust towards her despite what he knows now. Everytime he sees her and has those feelings of hate and disgust, he remembers that he and Curie are the same. He’s still struggling to overcome the years of propaganda that were drilled into him. 

Curie is disappointed. Did Danse not see they are the same? If he didn’t believe in her humanity then he would have to not believe in his own. It is very confusing for Curie. She hopes that he will eventually go back on his denial of her offer. He would be a very interesting specimen.

Deacon:

He would be surprised that Danse would be able to wear that clunky thing so much in the first place. He wouldn’t be surprised at how muscular he is under the suit though. It takes a lot of strength to operate those suits. He’d read that before they were fully developed, a lot of trial runs had resulted in really terrible accidents. The kind of accidents that crush all of your bones at once or remove your top half from your bottom.

Deacon would definitely make a few jokes. “Hey the sardine’s outta the can!” “Isn’t getting out of that bulldozer against Brotherhood policy or something?” “And I thought it was glued on! Learn something new everyday.”

Danse would scowl at his comments but say nothing. He did not like Deacon one bit. That man’s hiding something and if it turns out what he’s hiding will harm Sole or the Brotherhood’s mission, there was gonna be hell to pay. Danse could’ve sworn he’d seen him on the Prydwen a few times but whenever he looked back again to check, he was gone. Danse didn’t much like the idea of leaving his power armor alone with Deacon around but Sole assured him he’s harmless. We’ll see...

Whenever Danse returned to his suit Deacon would stand suspiciously close to it and act like he was trying to play cool after almost being caught doing something nefarious. He would never get tired of watching Danse carefully inspect every part of the armor before apprehensively getting in. Man that guy’s fun to mess with.

Dogmeat: 

He was so surprised! He thought this human was just made of metal! But now Dogmeat can play and jump and lick! Yes!!

Danse has no idea how to deal with a dog he wasn’t allowed to kick so he would just try to awkwardly push the pup off until Sole took care of it.

Hancock: 

Oh HELL YES! Hancock has wanted to punch this fucker since he first laid eyes on him. “HEY SOLDIER BOY, TIME TO SEE WHAT YOU CAN DO OUT OF YOUR DAMN COWARD COFFIN!” He would make a beeline towards the paladin and the paladin would speed walk towards the ghoul as well. Sole barely let him insult the damn freak but this was a direct attack of which he was most definitely gonna defend himself from.

Sole would freak out a bit and try to get in between the two. They would both try to get Sole out of the way so they could pummel each other. A brief alliance in order to facilitate their battle. This was too sweet of an opportunity to miss. 

“Sorry Sunshine, this is happening.”

“Sole, it has directly started an altercation with me and I intend to see it through.”

If they both had a great relationship with Sole after a bit of panicked begging to both parties, the men would begrudgingly back off. They would, however, insult each other viciously despite Sole’s protests. 

“You have no fucking idea how lucky you are meathead. I swear to god if they weren’t here…”

“You call me a meathead but you’re the one who’s rotting, ghoul.”

They would continue to jab each other until Sole dragged Danse off to do what he got out of his suit to do in the first place. 

If one or both of them didn’t have a close relationship with Sole, well, it wouldn’t be pretty. They would forcibly move Sole out of the way and fight for a while. Though Danse is much bigger than Hancock, Hancock is quicker and better at hand to hand. Danse, being unused to fighting outside of his armor, was ultimately unable to beat the ghoul. Hancock landed one final blow to his face, knocking Danse flat. When he stayed down Hancock laughed loudly and spit at him.

“Done in by the best, lucky you.” It would be a huge blow to Danse’s ego and he’d resent Hancock even more now. Hancock would gloat constantly when Danse was around. “Heyyy, there’s my favorite punching bag!” “Come on over Dansey I won’t bite!” He wouldn’t out of shame, but if Danse ever did try to retort, Hancock would just taunt him. Saying something like “Oh yeah? Ya know my favorite way to settle conflicts is by beating the other asshole into the dirt. Hop outta that suit and we can go for round two.”

MacCready:

Mac’s always thought of Danse as an annoying asshole. He still thinks of him this way but when he stepped out of that armor for the first time. Ho lee sh-crap. MacCready might have to look into joining the Brotherhood if the rest of those guys looked the same as Danse. He had expected him to be strong cause of the whole carrying 500 pounds of steel everywhere but his body was something Mac was not expecting and something he could look at for a while. 

If Danse came near the merc he would probably clam up and blush a bit. If Danse caught him staring, he would annoyedly ask, “Is there a problem, civilian?”

“I- uh no.” any other day he would’ve fired back some snide remark but he couldn’t quite seem to think of one right now. 

Nick:

Nick really couldn’t give less of a damn. He hated Danse, Danse hated him, and the two did their best to ignore each other. 

Piper: Piper didn’t really care either. Sure he was muscular but she was very turned off by the everything else about him. All she really payed attention to was the possibility of an exclusive interview or an inside look at the Brotherhood’s workings. Danse would never agree to either of those though. Preston: Preston didn’t care. He already knew you had to be strong to wear power armor especially if you wore them as much as Brotherhood Paladins did. He didn’t like the Brotherhood and by extension, he didn’t trust Danse. Preston was mannerly of course, for Sole, but he knows Danse thinks very little of the Minutemen so he didn’t try too hard to be kind. Strong: Strong thinks this is good time to smash strong human. He has killed many brothers but he wears metal suit. He is weak without metal suit. Human friend tells Strong that if Strong smash, Strong will not find milk of human kindness. Strong angry, Strong want to smash, but Strong not smash.

Danse would never get out of his suit near Strong unless he absolutely had to. Sole insisted that the abomination wasn’t going to be a problem but he didn’t believe it for a second. It took all of his willpower to not open fire on the thing whenever he saw it. Sole has poor taste in companions...

X6:

X6 wouldn’t care. He would consider taking this opportunity to get rid of the high ranking Brotherhood soldier, but it would make Sole upset and would do relatively little to the Brotherhood as a whole. 

Ask and ye shall recieve! I decide the winner on Hancock’s one by their special stats. How the hell does Hancock have such good stats and he’s still terrible in a fight??