#liquorish | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

leviathanleva · 4 months ago

Text

Cujo

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Supersoldier!FemReader

Description: A monster in human skin, a weapon disguised as a person, no thoughts, no emotion, as per design. He despises you and everything you stand for. He’s tried to kick you out of his squad and failed, he’s made it his mission to break you no matter the cost.

It comes as a surprise when he asks you to lie and say you love him.

[4.4k words]

[Angst, Blood and Injury, Graphic Depiction of Gore]

Chapter 3 "Liquorish"

Heartbeat heavy in your chest, you race up the supposedly abandoned building, finding enemy after enemy.

It was supposed to be a routine inspection, an easy mission, in and out in less than a week. Now everything is turned upside down and being unable to contact or smell Ghost anywhere near has your senses flaring up with the unfamiliar feeling of stress and determination.

Bloodlust hazes your vision, everything has a ruddy tint to it, be it from splattered entrails or rage, it’s beyond your understanding. The memories still linger, the last sentence you heard over the coms before everything went to static:

“Hound! Do not engage! The roof is – ”

You were supposed to be his shield, it’s your job to be ambushed and take damage, you can regenerate, he can’t. But Ghost let either his man pride or his protective instinct overwhelm him, the anxiety still lingered in his gut no matter how many times you came back to him half dead and you were good as new minutes later. He wasn’t thinking clearly when he pushed you behind him and ordered you to watch his back as you advanced through the abandoned building suspected of drug trafficking activity.

He moved ahead without you, for once he wanted to be your protector. Now you can’t sense hair or trail from him and you’re becoming increasingly frustrated.

Easy mission your ass. This was a charade for something bigger.

The mask around your mouth whirls in overdrive, siphoning as much oxygen as possible while you vigorously work your way to the dreaded roof. Straining both muscle and limb in unison, you climb floor after floor, pushing your limitations as vapor froths off your skin and trails behind you like a haunting mirage. Your body is boiling on the inside, having exerted too much energy in too short a time and your muzzle can only do so much to keep you going before you collapse from overheating.

To hell with pushing your bounds when the Lieutenant might be in danger.

Another enemy, seemingly waiting for you, they all have been, a crumb trail of beating hearts the closer you get to your destination. You dive for him as bullets dig into your shoulder, he’s sliding towards the grimy floor and clutching his shredded throat a moment later. You don’t have time for a measly nobody, he chose the wrong side, he suffers the consequences.

The concrete debris crinkles under your boots, crushed to fine dust under the pressure you’ve put on your feet. Clutching and shouldering corners, you bounce yourself off them to retain speed in the claustrophobic corridors. Jump over handfuls of stairs where more hostiles await, you hear them before you see them, distinguishing their heavy breathing over your muffled pants.

Blood painting the walls like an abstract piece of art, death is left in your wake as you rush up another floor. The screams have alerted more people, and so have the gunshots and you bristle at the amount of footsteps echoing in the shells of your ears.

What is going on? Why are there so many of them? Where the hell is the Lieutenant? How did they jam your coms?

The questions are pushed aside as you appear in the shadows of a bare apartment, blending into the darkness and only your irises visible. A menacing sight to anyone, a monster, it’s what you’ve become as you slowly drown in your brutish ways the longer you’re detached from your beloved master.

A hoarse growl escapes you, you’re nearly moving on all fours, prowling low to the floor as you tackle the first enemy target. Flashlights are thrown astray, nearly blinding you as the chaos ensues. You crush bone like it’s toothpicks, rip at flesh like paper, the whirring in your mask overwhelms the gurgling cries for help and call for reinforcements. Bloodlust can be dangerous in the hands of one who is inexperienced such as yourself and you keep walking deeper down that path as no sign of your teammate shines to stifle you back to normalcy.

Strands of hair stick to your face like glue, matted down and drenched in sweat, your gear feels heavy and damp, it’s a sauna beneath your loose, coarse blouse. Your socks are slippery against the inside of your boots and you have half a mind to kick them off and continue barefoot. Juggernaut as you are, your breaking point is nearly reached and you feel the stinging pain creeping up your spine. The idea of rest is forced away, you can’t afford it when you’re so close, you’ve come too far to shut down now to cool off, not when Ghost is unresponsive.

The amount of cocking weapons should be concerning as you near the door to the roof, bloodshot eyes opened wide and pupils dilated as the scent of familiarity finally reaches your nostrils, too intoxicating for your mind to register the plethora of other bodily odors.

You nearly break through the door in your neglectful hurry, gaze harsh and piercing, slicing through the multitude of hostile soldiers only with your oppressive presence. Hunched over, with tense shoulders and pulsing hands that are itching to rip into the men before you, you skim over the roof with vigor, letting your nose guide your vision to a familiar figure standing at the edge of the roof.

“Lieutenant!” Your first instinct is to rasp out, crystalline orbs trained on his battered form strung up by a crane like a piece of meat. A guttural snarl reverberates deep in your throat as you turn to the crowd of armed enemies with malice, ready to shred them to a pulp and eat a bucket of bullets in the process if only to get to your precious squad mate.

Ghost sways above a crater, his secured feet dangling above a deadly drop. You can smell the blood slowly oozing down his knuckles, staining his gloves, and hear his steady heart as he swims in unconsciousness. You nearly whine at the sight, reeling your head towards him with the need to call out again and maybe have him wake up.

No such simple luxury is provided for you, instead you’re faced off with a handful of brutes who believe their chances of survival are higher than zero.

You take a step forward. The weapons train on you.

You’ll rip them apart –

“ – Tut, tut!”

You falter at the voice and watch the nearly unhinged door behind you close to reveal none other than your target – suited and unbothered by your feral breathing and unceremonial entrance. The man you’ve been hunting for an age too long now to admit, a slippery bastard that felt someone breathing down his neck only when you were sent after his trail. Philip Graves stands to your right, the traitor, the absolute menace of a man that has the audacity to flick a smile at you as if you’d just joined his most prestigious party.

“Well, it’s nice to finally see Shepherd’s little experiment in the flesh.” He croons and looks you over in marvel. A bitter frown adorns your features as you abandon your prowling stance and straighten your back, adopting a more human-like pose. “Quite the achievement.” He notices your attention turn completely to him and scoffs before unfurling his fingers to show off a remote of sorts. “Don’t give me that look.”

“And that is…?” You question, words slurred by the confines of your muzzle as your eyes dart from his face to the remote, then you realize and your glare sharpens.

“The remote to the crane of course. I wouldn’t risk being in your proximity if I didn’t have a guarantee of your obedience. I’m confident, not a fool.” You’d snort at his cocky words in a different setting. He gestures at you with his free hand, flicking his fingers casually as if ushering a child. “Now if you really cherish your Lieutenant – remove your mask.”

For a brief moment, you’re left confused, blink at him twice before tilting your chin to one side and crossing your arms, eyes straying from him as you plunge into thought. The audacity was not what bewildered you, but his utter belief in having wrangled you pliant. To think he was willing to so absolutely rely on the dry, shallow information he’d dug up was preposterous. It was also wrong, your instructions were clear and no blackmail or threat was going to weaken your resolve.

You were trained to hunt, complete your assignment at any cost, be put in lethal danger, and come out victorious. Your squad mates were weak to no fault of their own, but their lifeline was something you would risk for the greater good.

This was your duty.

“No.” You answer simply and take a step forward. Whatever justice-fueled speech was circling in your head is silenced by an unfamiliar trepidation in your chest as you see Graves’ thumb glide over the release button on the remote. You swallow something thick in your throat and huff out a breath before straightening your shoulders. “Return the Lieutenant to me and I will leave you to run. I will not pursue you. You have my word.”

What was this…? What the hell were you saying?

He laughs at your words, apparently the contradiction of them to your monotone voice is entertaining. Your jaw clenches at his nonchalant demeanor used to disguise the nervous sheet of sweat forming thickly on the back of his neck. You can smell it even with the abundance of testosterone burning your nostrils.

“You see, I would…but then again, I don’t trust you.”

“I do not lie.” You state with a deadpan look.

“You don’t disobey orders either.” Graves retorts and gives you a challenging expression, pursing his lips to one side and deeming you too untrustworthy for a dealing of a peace delegation. “Mask off. Now.” He snaps when you don’t budge and twirls the remote in his hand before pointing it daringly at Ghost. A moment of nothing passes and instead of the tension you’d hoped to rise within him, he grins and rests a hand on his hip, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Oh? Is this right? You truly don’t care for your teammate?”

“No.” Comes your immediate answer, smooth and soft and lacking an ounce of care for the potential danger it might send your Lieutenant in. You glance at his limp, hanging body with disinterest and blame your palpitating heart to the long and strenuous journey to the roof rather than something else. It couldn’t be anything else, you felt nothing but the aftermath of physical exertion. “Whether he lives or dies, it’s all the same to me.” You’re being truthful yet every single word wrestles with you fervently before being forced past your teeth. Strange and bothersome, but you pay it no mind. “If I return with your head my task is complete. Your death is my mission, casualties are inevitable.”

He doesn’t buy it.

“Let’s test that theory, shall we?” Graves sneers something vile and again points the remote at the crane, toying with you and relishing in it.

Your mask hisses loudly and is tossed on the concrete floor of the roof before you can realize what you’re doing. The lower part of your face – wet from the vapor of your breaths, soiled with a snarl. You don’t dare let the bastard out of sight now that the power dynamic has shifted in his favor.

“There you go. Good girl.” He coos at the sight of your unreluctant obedience and his smug features soften in near adoration. “Seems you still have a heart after all.”

Not fond of his degrading babying, you try to steer the conversation to another, much more vital topic that has been gnawing at your gut since the revealing of his presence.

“Why are you here? What business do you have with me?”

Graves, much to your surprise, obliges your question.

“A little birdie told me I’m being hunted by a whole new predator. A…special one this time.” He begins and motions for his men to make their way to his side, steering them to a safe distance from your vicious paws in case you snap despite the low odds. He reciprocates the eye contact, almost unblinking, not wanting to miss a beat from your uncanny demeanor. “That birdie also told me you have a habit of following orders only from your Lieutenant and I thought maybe…if I manage to string up the worm, I’ll get the fish.” His arms spread wide, his chest expands and you’re almost tempted to lunge forward. “And voila.”

“That’s not an answer to my question.” You cock your head at him and let your arms unfold and fall to your sides.

The corners of his mouth twitch at your disinterest.

“I wanted to see you in the flesh, Hound.” He answers then, changing from his grandiose façade to a genuine and less irritable one. Gesturing towards you, he continues. “Check if the rumors are true. And judging by the fact you even got to the roof – they certainly are.” His hands clasped together over his pelvis, the remote shining still between his fingers, yellow and menacing in contrast to his black cotton gloves. “Quite disgusting what they did to you. Wouldn’t you say?” The nearly heartfelt sympathy in his tone does little to sway your intentions and it shows clearly on your unmoving features. Yet he keeps going, keeps feeding you with conflicting thoughts that fail to take root in your mind. “Countless months of agony just to become a pawn.”

Despite the unpleasant memories flooding your head at his take, you hum and brush them aside without much effort.

“I consented to my augmentations.”

“That you did.” He nods and juts his jaw before flicking the blonde locks away from his eyes and slicking them back. “ For the chance of serving a greater purpose, not being someone’s lapdog and wasting your potential on lowly criminals.” Scorn drips heavily from his tongue, a hidden distaste for his own misfortunes showing, misfortunes much similar to yours. “But I won’t sway you yet. I can’t when your attention is so torn between me and your Lieutenant.”

Maybe his sympathy is sincere, you think. Maybe there’s an ounce of truth in his law-breaking, scummy ways and he sees you as much of a victim as he sees himself. It would make sense why he orchestrated this whole situation instead of simply trying to kill you and rid himself of you.

A part of you believes him, you can tell that bits and pieces of what he says come from a wronged man trying to take revenge for his pain. But you’re no simple soldier, you were built to withstand manipulation, torture, worse. You admit to his twisted honesty but have no intent in following after him and abandoning everything you’ve worked to build no matter how unimportant or unimpressive it was.

“You’re misinterpreting.”

The distinct beat of helicopter wings catches your attention far before the vehicle itself appears in the distance. Graves and his men’s ride, you presume, a quick escape after he got bored of your lack of subordination and bid you farewell.

“Am I?” He doesn’t dare to glance back, instead lets his ears assure him that his escape route is secured and is hastily approaching his location. “So far you’ve completed your tasks well.” A gloved thumb rubs over his freshly shaven jaw, before nudging his bottom lip up in contemplation as he sizes you up and down with a calculative look. “I have one last objective for you, though, just to test your limits. Figure out what I’m up against, you know?”

“I don’t take orders from you.” You hiss, expressing something more than monotony for the first time during your conversation.

His words had struck a nerve somewhere, surprisingly so, yet he took the opportunity regardless.

“This one you’ll have to.” He all but sighs, bored with your resistance and crackling unbothered demeanor. There’s too much peaking beneath it and he wants to sink his teeth into it, yet you continue to deny him. Whether from a lack of understanding over your emotions or a very bad attempt at hiding them, they were visibly showing through and he couldn’t get enough of it. “Tell me, do you think if you jump from this building you can survive?”

“Without my mask, it’s highly unlikely.”

A gust of wind sweeps by you and suddenly you’re painfully aware how it sways the rope Ghost hangs from, still and silent. Sweat forms on your brow, your hands curl into fists, blunt nails digging into the flesh of your palms and nearly drawing blood.

“Interesting.” He hums at your answer, nodding at the new information bestowed upon him – a weakness, a flaw in your design that your makers hadn’t been able to work out. This gave him a useful advantage against you. “So without a steady supply of oxygen, you’re rendered useless.”

“I can still rip you in half.” You declare and lean forward, arms dangling and ready to clutch at the floor and propel you forward. Your patience runs thin and Graves tastes it on his tongue, not much longer before you snap and dash either for him or the Lieutenant.

“Oh, I don’t doubt.” He laughs in your face like your threat means nothing and gestures for his men to board the helicopter before hopping on himself. He grips onto the side of the door and smiles bitterly at you. “Well, it’s been a pleasure making your acquaintance finally after such a long game of cat and mouse. I’m afraid we must be going now though.”

“Do you like hearing yourself talk?” A bark reverberates somewhere deep in your throat, akin to a growl as you lunge towards the helicopter.

No more talking, you’ve given him enough grace. Should have ended everything minutes before, forced yourself to move out of the stupor your Lieutenant’s state had pinned you in.

He doesn’t matter, nothing matters but Graves’ head, and like a scared mutt, you’d let him grow confident in his false influence over you.

“You know, you’re right. I’ve talked enough.” Venom oozes from his smirk as he spits one last taunt your way. “Fetch!”

You fail to realize why he’s so self-assured when you’re still capable of reaching him before the helicopter has lifted off. The slimy smirk doesn’t leave his face as he presses the button and turns away from you with a distinct “Ta!”. It’s sickening. Ghost matters not, your orders are clear and you’re sure the Lieutenant would understand the sacrifice you had to make were he in your stead. It’s a worthy sacrifice, he’d be honored after his demise, renowned for leading you to the den of the enemy for you to demolish and rid the world of their stain of an existence.

“You’re a fool if you think – ”

Your voice hitches as your body involuntarily turns away from Graves.

WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING –

You dash across the rooftop and leap over the edge without a drop of hesitancy. A coil nestles in your stomach, not from the sight before you – a height so devastating, the street below so far that the cars look like mere pebbles, but at the thought of abandoning your prospect, disobeying a command, revolting against your upper command.

Too late to turn back now. And even if you could, would you?

No…

You adjust your limbs against the merciless wind, propel your arms forward like a diver about to hit the water's surface, your entire being flattened to endure as much resistance as possible and cut through the air. The cold whips against your eyes, blurs your vision with tears which you rapidly blink away to not lose sight of Ghost’s descending body.

Was it only the cold? Why were the tears so salty then?

Why was your face stuck in a desperate grimace of horror and hope?

Halfway across the building, you manage to snatch the rope around your Lieutenant’s waist. Your victory is shortlived as the earth beneath approaches steadfast and you bite into your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood and keep your head as cool as possible.

What now?

Even if he’s safely in your arms, you’re still heading for an inevitable death and thinking time is limited. You wrack your brain into turbo mode to come up with something, anything to save him, prevent his fall. The solution comes to you and it’s not all too pleasant, but without an alternative, you relent.

You thrust your arm through the glassy wall of the building, letting the shards shred through your skin, unable to exert your full potential without your mask. You try to regardless and your throat feels like it’s closing in on itself, you can’t breathe in enough air, the oxygen is not nearly the amount you need and you’re left suffocating slowly. Your hand mauls through cement floors and polished windows that shatter under the pressure as you desperately grapple for something, trying to slow your momentum.

Heart hammering in your throat, eyes wide with plea for something to work, for a miracle to happen, but it doesn’t. No fairytales allowed for the sinful and decrepit, for those who’ve abandoned their humanity for the betterment of civilization.

Pain doesn’t register on your features as your arm continues to endure in vain, shredded, sliced, battered to a pulp. But the horror registers when it shatters, the bone and flesh unable to withstand such detrimental amounts of damage, it’s rendered useless. It’s not the physical agony that terrifies you, but the only means of you saving the Lieutenant – now completely obliterated.

What now?

You think while your gaze darts from the bloodied, mangled mess that is your now worthless limb to the hastily approaching pavement below.

DO SOMETHING! ANYTHING! –

“Bloody f – ”

The once-lidded chocolate orbs you’ve grown to cherish look up at you – spastic, disoriented, glued to you as if you could explain your current predicament. You drown in them for a moment, pained, mournful that you’ve failed to fulfill both your duties.

Not a good hound. Fucking useless.

The prey got away, your keeper is soon to be a splatter of intestines on the ground below.

Good for nothing you are. Failed at everything. Can’t even save your own Lieutenant.

“Hound! Fucking hell, we – ”

Your jaw tightens, and your skin crawls once you’re close enough to discern the peculiar cracks in the sidewalk, you’re that close now. Doom, there’s nothing left but to die.

No. You refuse. If not for yourself, then for Ghost. You can’t lose him. You’ll sacrifice everything for him.

In a last attempt at being a hero, you struggle in the air, against the howling wind that screams bloody murder in your ears. You fiddle spasmodically, manage to clumsily maneuver both of you, deaf to the breathless curses slipping past his mask. You thrust him sideways, fling him into a window hard enough to make it give in under his weight. He breaks through back first, you hear him choke as he hits and skids on the carpeted floor with a deft thud.

You nearly smile, a contrast at his horrified expression as he realizes the situation – your maskless face, your bloodied limb, it’s only for a split second before you’re back to hurtling down without him. You hear a scream of your name, the intimate one, the real one.

Your eyes water anew, maybe from the air, maybe from him calling out to you in what sounds like spastic worry.

One good hand was all you needed.

You’re free now. You fulfilled your duty.

Everything hurts, you feel your entire being imprinted into the roof of a car, having squished it in the impact. Blood coats your tongue, your throat feels crushed. You’re choking for air quietly, your body desperately trying to repair all damages but failing because your mouth and nose can’t gulp enough oxygen no matter how greedily you’re breathing.

Sprawled out, the sky swirls high above your head, gazed at through blurry vision. Stars twinkle like smudged jewels, the moon is nowhere to be seen and for a moment you feel alone and at peace. It doesn’t matter that you’re molded into a random car with shattered bones and punctured lungs.

Maybe there are witnesses, maybe the streets are empty, you’re unsure, the screaming in your ears is punching at your eardrums and you can’t make out anything.

A peaceful death after years of war is what you wish for.

The cold creeps over your skin, through your gear, its caress soothing against your steaming flesh.

A splotch of creamy whine enters your vision, poking from one of the shattered windows. A skull mask, you recognize it even with both eyes and mind hazy and drunk on scalding pain. You’d reach out if you could, your first instinct demands you to do so, reach out to Ghost, reunite as leal hound and loving master once more. But you can’t, your body refuses to budge, a twitch of your fingers is all you can muster.

A cough rips through you, excruciating, and more stomach-churning iron rushes over your sticky tongue.

Will he remember you? Will he mourn you if you pass? Will he miss you? Will your absence leave yet another scar for him to nurture? Will he ever forgive you for sacrificing yourself for him?

Does it matter?

Not really…

But it does.

Somewhere deep within the crooks and crevices of your heart, it does matter to you, if only a little.

Your eyelids are heavy and you’ve not the strength to keep them open anymore. The chill air is so welcoming, lulls you and tugs you towards the comforts of slumber.

You hear a rasp, his voice echoing, deep and baritone as he disappears somewhere in the darkness.

You can’t stay conscious anymore no matter how desperately he begs you. You’re tired, just want to sleep, you’re aching, you want out of the pain, out of responsibilities and bloodshed.

This feels nice. Oblivion is welcoming.

The cold dissipates, and everything goes dark. You take one last meager breath and succumb to blackened dreams and fleeting pictures, sprawled vastly on the surface of your mind as your body gives out completely.

<<< Chapter 2

Chapter 4 >>>

Masterlist

#x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost cod #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #ghost x you

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missmoonfrost · 4 months ago

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Some to choose from - a wolfstar microfic

@wolfstarmicrofic

September 2 - Hogsmeade Words: 379

Remus knew the moment he woke up that it wasn’t going to be a good day. His throat hurt. His head was heavy. But he didn’t say anything. He just drank three cups of hot tea at breakfast and hoped it would go away. He didn’t want to ruin their day in Hogsmeade.

By the time they had made the walk down he was beginning to feel dizzy.

"How are you?" Sirius asked.

"Fine", he tried to say, but it was more a wheezing than anything else. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I'm fine. It's nothing."

"Really?"

He avoided Sirius' concerned look and dragged him with him to catch up to the others. He survived the obligatory first stop in Zonko's by letting the others do the talking and deciding. The second they stepped outside he sat down on the nearest bench.

Sirius sat down next to him. "Moony, what's wrong?"

"Just need to rest a little bit."

"You really don't look well." Sirius put a hand to his forehead. "Merlin, you are boiling! Why didn't you say something?"

"I just didn't want to ruin the Hogsmeade trip," Remus said. I just wanted to be with you, he didn't say.

Sirius shook his head. "You are not ruining anything, silly. Let me just buy one more thing and I'll walk you back. What flavour chocolate would you like?"

"No, don't buy anything for me. And no rush, I'll just wait here until you are all done."

Sirius gave him an unconvinced look. "Very well then."

It felt like Remus just had time to sigh, lean his head against the uncomfortable back of the bench and close his eyes before Sirius was back again. He opened a bag to reveal twenty or more different kind of chocolate bars.

"You didn't tell me which one, so I bought some to choose from.”

"Merlin, did you by all they had?"

"Not really. I know you are no fan of liquorish."

"You're too good to me.," Remus murmured, but he didn't complain when Sirius slung the bag over his shoulder, helped him up and started their slow walk back to Hogwarts. In fact, spending the rest of the day in bed having Sirius' attention all to himself suited him just fine.

#wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #wolfstar microfic #sirius × remus #marauders

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flowerishness · 5 months ago

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Foeniculum vulgare (fennel) and (Dolichovespula maculata (bald-faced hornet) plus Ammophila procera (common thread-waisted wasp)

We planted this fennel three or four years ago so this short-lived perennial is probably at the end of it's natural lifespan. Fennel looks much like it's relative dill (Anethum graveolens) but fennel is usually much bigger and twice as tall (up to eight feet). Both fennel and dill impart a liquorish flavor to food and both have edible bulbs.

Fennel is a member of the carrot family Apiaceae and in early August, it's like an insect magnet. Like bees, these wasps drink nectar to generate the energy to fly. But, unlike bees, wasps are also voracious meat-eaters and provide your garden with a form of natural caterpillar control.

#flowers #photographers on tumblr #fennel #wasp #hornet #fleurs #flores #fiori #blumen #bloemen #our garden #tinman #Vancouver

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ananke-xiii · 4 months ago

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The Power and Love in Post-Purgatory

In my previous post about Betrayal&Fidelity in Purgatory I've tried to interpet Dean's and Cas' relationship as a marriage founded on its very antithesis: betrayal. Both parties are committed to each other by keeping the phantom of betrayal always alive in order to hide the reality behind their bond.

While Dean wants Cas to remember what he did to him, Cas wants to focus on anything but. In other words, while Dean wants Cas to stay in their committed relationship without acknowledging its romantic aspect, Cas wants to stay out of it precisely for the same reason: he also doesn't want to acknowledge his love because doing so would mean coming to terms with the fact that he has betrayed Dean.

Cas is ready to do penance for all the sins he committed against heaven and earth but his "sins" against Dean, which means that Cas is bound to keep betraying Dean. Dean is ready to forgive all of Cas' sins as long as it means that the angel stays in a relationship with him that negates their real feelings. And so the cycle continues.

Robbie Thompson's idea to have Dean say "I love you" to break Cas' connection with heaven and re-establish his connection with him was accurate. Because hearing Dean say such a thing would indeed make Cas stop fleeing. It would have also served the point of showing that, even though he was on his knees and bleeding, Dean was the one with more Power in their relationship.

It's then worth analyzing love's opposite in this story like in any other story: power.

There's a power imbalance in Cas' and Dean's relationship and this is what causes them a lot of trouble.

Obvsiously, Cas is factually stronger than Dean because he's an angel ("What happened? I happened"). This is also one of the reasons why he gets depowered every other season, to give a resemblance of power balance between Cas and the Winchesters.

However, it very soon becomes apparent that Dean's got a lot of power over Cas. The moment Cas touched Dean maybe he was not immediately lost but, in the words of Faulkner:

... there is something in the touch of flesh with flesh which abrogates, cuts sharp and straight across the devious intricate channels of decorous ordering, which enemies as well as lovers know because it makes them both:---touch and touch of that which is the citadel of the central I-Am's private own: not spirit, soul; the liquorish and ungirdled mind is anyone's to take in any any darkened hallway of this earthly tenement. But let flesh touch with flesh, and watch the fall of all the eggshell shibboleth of caste and color too.

Cas touched Dean and branded him with heaven's power but he got himself branded with Dean's power: he found someone with whom he could talk with, someone with whom he shared some similiraties with, someone who saw him and understood he had his own world inside.

Now, this is a real problem for Cas. While Dean deals with power in terms of control, Cas deals with it in terms of wants and lack thereof. Cas wants to become his own person but, in doing so, he finds himself disconnected from his original host and connected with a new one: Dean. He used to be a part of a "much better club" and now, "because of Dean", he has lost everything.

I've already written about how Cas uses Dean as an excuse to avoid dealing with his issues with power. It's almost like a tell: 9 times our of 10 when Cas claims he's doing something for or because of Dean he's most likely not.

Conversely, when Cas speaks about power imbalance or he claims he doesn't know why he did something he did re: crypt scene, now that's because of Dean. Cas lies. A lot. Mostly to himself.

Back to Dean: a way the show portrays Dean's power over Cas is making him describing the angel as a child, a baby in a trenchcoat, a dorky little man etc. If we want to take the charitable route, Dean does so in good faith. If we don't want that we must acknowledge Dean's tendencies to get mad, really mad, when people don't do as he says. And Cas never. NEVER does what Dean says and it drives Dean crazy.

It drives Dean crazy because, as he says in s8 I believe, if it was anybody else, anybody not Cas, he would NEVER let it slide. Hell, he doesn't give his own brother the same treatment. Dean can't let Cas go, he pretends to not know why and it drives him crazy because he can't control the angel, he can't control his feelings and he can't do anything about it.

Here we have THE Purgatory's problem: Dean can't let go but Cas can. Worse: Cas wants to.

Let's look at this beautiful dialogue from "A Little Slice of Kevin":

Dean: Look, I don't need to feel like hell for failing you, okay? For failing you like I've failed every other godforsaken thing that I care about! I don't need it!

Castiel: Dean. Just look at it. Really look at it. [He touches DEAN on the forehead.]

Castiel: See, it wasn't that I was weak. I was stronger than you. I pulled away. Nothing you could have done would have saved me, because I didn't want to be saved.

Dean: What the hell are you talking about?

Castiel: It's where I belonged. I needed to do penance. After the things I did on earth and in heaven, I didn't deserve to be out. And I saw that clearly when I was there. I... I planned to stay all along. I just didn't know how to tell you. You can't save everyone, my friend... though, you try.

Dean is mad at Cas because, once again, he didn't do what Dean told him to. Their argument leads to this explosive moment where Cas makes Dean remember things as they happened in Purgatory: Cas let go and he let go because he planned to do it, because he wanted to do it.

Cas is saying that he wasn't weak, he was stronger than Dean and he's obviously not talking about physical strength: he was stronger than Dean in that he was able to break their connection, to set himself free from Dean.

I think that this and Jack's pre-birth in s12 are the only two moments where Cas has got more power than Dean in their relationship and sort of unilaterally decides to break up with him. It's tragic to notice that both times Cas chose to completely opt out from Dean's life.

Cas saying he didn't want to be saved means that Cas is rejecting Dean and his obsession with saving people: Cas doesn't want to stay in the type of relationship Dean offers him.

Cas then talks about belonging. He belonged to Purgatory, not Dean and not just because Dean's human. It's because Dean doesn't need to do penance while Cas does.

Back to the crypt scene: Dean talks about beloning there. Cas is family. Dean loves him. If Dean had said those words their story would have ended, in a way. Dean would have managed to gain the upper hand against Heaven because he would have told Cas exactly what he wanted to hear: tell me you love me, tell me you forgive me, tell me we belong together and let's move on from our past, free me from my pain because I've hurt you and I don't know what to do to make it better.

But this doesn't happen, Dean says he needs Cas, he still gets the upper hand over Heaven but just briefly: the connection was broken but the one between Cas and Dean is NOT repaired. Dean tells Cas he needs him and Cas doesn't want that, Cas doesn't want to be Dean's responsibility, he doesn't want to be saved by Dean, he wants to protect himself from Dean (in the form of the Angel Tablet) and the connection he's offering him, one based on need.

What's worse, Cas' connection with Heaven is cut off only momentarily as he will later choose Heaven again thinking he needs to keep doing his penance (and making a huge mistake).

When Cas goes to Dean to ask for his help to close Heaven's gates, Cas is testing Dean. Back in S6 Cas asked Dean the same kind of help with the exception that, back then, Cas wanted to open a gate and now he wants to close it.

To be fair, I'm not so sure Dean pass the test. Sam intervenes in their conversation and I'm inclined to think that if he didn't, Dean wouldn't have helped Cas.

Anyway, the point is that Cas is testing Dean because he doesn't need Dean's help since Dean does nothing but drink a beer with him. So, you know. As I've said, Cas lies to himself.

Finally, Cas deems that Dean has passed the test and they say their goodbye. It's a bittersweet moment because nothing's been resolved: Dean lets Cas go because he thinks there's not much to be done about it, Cas is sort of giving Dean a chance to patch things up but nothing really happens so Cas can convince himself he's doing the right thing and he's ready to die.

They have both given up (for now ofc).

It's beautifully sad.

So, is their relationship based on power or love? Well, the second, of course.

In S8 both Dean and Cas have their moment of power over each other but it ends with a tie. The love is still there, though. Not for nothing their final interaction involved Cupid.

#spn #supernatural #castiel #dean winchester #destiel #spn meta #spn s8 #power and love #dean and cas #spn purgatory #destiel and betrayal

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sheeple · 2 years ago

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Miracles don't exist | 10: The greatest nightmare

Genre(s): Riddle!reader / Slytherin!reader / kinda slowburn / little happy moments Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Theodore Nott x Reader / Harry Potter x Riddle!reader Summary: Being the Dark Lord's daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy's is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father's arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his follower’s sons. Warning(s): Moldy Voldy is back bitches, now the real shite show begins. A/n: So I'm gonna take a couple weeks off before posting year 5, just to give myself some time to further develop the story and so I don't get burned out lol. Next chapter will be posted 2nd of July [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist] [Playlist]

You're hesitant to knock on the headmaster's door. But the door swings open before your knuckles can make contact with the door.

Professor Dumbledore sits behind his desk, half-moon glasses down his nose. "Ah, Miss Black. For what do I owe the pleasure?" The Headmaster rises as you enter the office. He motions for you to sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk, and you obey.

"Liquorish snap?" Dumbledore holds a bowl with black droplets for you to take, but you politely decline.

"No thank you, Sir. I've uhm... I've come to suspect something is happening, Sir." With a motion from Dumbledore, you continue; "I've this weird feeling. It's dark and festering inside me, down to my bones. And when I saw Professor Karkaroff's Dark Mark and heard him speak about it burning, it confirmed my suspicions. The Dark Lord is returning, Professor."

Dumbledore drops his back against the back of his chair, his hands clasping the armrests. "Are you one hundred per cent sure? Do you know when he will return?"

You frown and look down at your hands. "I do not, Sir. But I am terrified. Terrified of what will happen once he does return. What will happen to me?"

Dumbledore hums, stroking his beard. "I am afraid I do not have an answer, Miss Black. The only thing I can tell you is that Hogwarts is always your home."

You sigh. Great, so nothing can be done at all. And it's not like you can stay at Hogwarts during the summer.

Having told what you needed to tell and getting nowhere, you stand up from the chair. "Thank you for your time, Professor. I'll have to go, otherwise, I'll be late for History of Magic."

"Of course, have a nice day, Miss Black." Dumbledore waves you out of his office, a hand massaging his forehead.

You slip just in time into the History classroom and take your usual spot, which is next to Blaise. He gives you a glance and a nod before turning his attention back towards Professor Binns. It's the only class you have with just Blaise.

Today you're learning about the Goblin Rebellion of 1890, which was led by Ranrok. It was said a Fifth-year student with the help of a professor defeated the rebellion.

As Professor Binns' ghost drones on about the ways Ranrok and Rookwood helped each other, Blaise leans over. "How are you and Theodore doing?"

It makes you turn your head towards the taller boy. "Okay? I guess? Why are you asking?"

"Well... the two of you seem awfully close since Christmas break, I only assumed you and him made it official."

You frown. Did you and Theodore grow closer? You guess... but it's not that much different than before the break. Sure, he hangs around more and you actually enjoy his company now, rather than before. But that's because you're friends.

"We're just friends, Theo and I."

"Theo?", Blaise licks his lips and looks at you incredulously, "yeah- just friends. Sure. Theodore jinxes anyone else to hell and back if they dare to call him by anything other than his name."

You glance at the Professor — who keeps droning out his lecture, unbothered by the many sleeping students. "That can't be true. You are all just too wimpy to do it. And besides, Theodore isn't that intimidating."

A laugh escapes Blaise, which makes Professor Binns stop briefly in his story before continuing. "You've never been on the receiving end of his hard stare. He has always been soft for you."

You roll your eyes. "We haven't spoken to each other before this year."

"He's always been too intimidated to approach you. Your family's reputation proceeds you."

You glare at him. Of course, your family is the problem. They are always the problem.

Blaise flicks your wrist with his fingers. "Hey now, don't give me that look. You should be happy anyone told you."

"Why are you even telling me? Aren't you also in the race to win my hand or whatever?" You fold your arms over each other and slump down in your seat.

Now it is Blaise that rolls his eyes. "Originally. That was until she found out your lot still supports You Know Who."

He refers to his mother, obviously. Miss Zabini is truly a beautiful witch, but something about her is off. At least, that was the one time she was introduced to you. Maybe it was the party filled with Death Eaters.

"I don't blame her", you mutter. You wouldn't want your son to marry into a family of crazy blood supremacists.

The remainder of the class is spent in silence. Blaise has nothing to say and your thoughts are running wild. If what Blaise says is true and Theodore has been quote-unquote 'interested' in you for quite some time... Why? What made him? If you never interacted, what pulled him to you?

You only notice that class is over by Blaise getting up and packing his bag. You snap out of your thoughts and collect your ink and quill, stuffing it in your book bag.

"You're coming to the stands with us?", asks Blaise as he points over his shoulder towards the general direction of the final task.

You shake your head. "I'm going to the library and finish an essay I have yet to finish. I'll come later."

Blaise nods wordlessly and turns around, loosening his tie and stuffing it in his bag.

You don't actually need to finish an essay, you just need to have some alone time. And you're glad you took it, because once you reach the tribunes of the final task, people are talking loudly, cheering, and there is a band playing. You spot Draco and his friends and go to stand with them.

Looking around, you see Gjol and his friends standing with Durmstrang and the both of you wave to each other. You also spot Hermione and give her a small smile.

"You've just missed the send-off", says Theodore as he makes room for you to stand next to him.

You hum. "So we're supposed to just stand and wait here?"

Theodore nods. You let out a huff and go sit on the edge of the tribune behind you. That earns a laugh from the dark-haired boy and he goes to sit next to you. "You've just got here, why are you already sitting down?"

"I am not going to stand for who knows how long waiting for someone to show up with the cup to end the stupid thing."

Theodore chooses to stay silent and the two of you sit next to each other, listening and participating in the conversations around you.

The first thing that happens is a red spark rising up from somewhere in the maze and Fleur gets pulled from the competition. Next to getting dragged out of the maze is Victor, who looks weird.

Finally, it is between Harry and Cedric. There are no red sparks or anything coming out of the maze, so they're probably lost somewhere.

Suddenly, a cold-like grip travels up your spine and grabs your throat, making you gasp. You reach for Draco's arm. At first, he looks at you annoyed but when he sees the panicked look on your face, his own quickly morphs into that of concern.

"Are you okay?" Draco crouches down so he's at eye level

You shake your head, blood drained from your face and eyes wide. Without knowing exactly what the feeling is, you know what it means. "I felt it..."

"Felt what?", inquires Draco, grabbing your shoulders to stop your shaking.

"He's back."

At that moment, appears Harry with Cedric out of nothing. The elder boy lies limp on the ground. Harry's bent over Cedric, his shoulders shocking. And he says the words you've been dreading your whole life.

"He's back! He's back! Voldemort is back!"

Taglist (bold means I couldn’t tag you): @the0doreslover @lqndkxlmqma @st4rrry @choppedpartymuffinwinner @ledtassoo @literallyobessed @lestat-whore @vanishingcherry @harrysnovia @pietrobae @ireallywannasleep127

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vilevexedvixen · 6 months ago

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Inscryption cocktails

Each Scrybe would have a menu reflecting their three minions (increasing in size - a shot, a squat drink, then a tall drink) and then the main cocktail based off of the menu's titular Scrybe.

Each scrybe also has a dish relating to them and how they play their cards.

Thank you @dariusblake for your suggestions on different flavour profiles and placemat details.

Leshy's menu:

"The prospector"

A caramel whisky shot rimmed with golden nugget cereal crumbs. Modelled after the gold nuggets the prospector can transform cards into.

"The Angler"

A salted liquorish cocktail using anise flavouried liquior and fish-shaped gummy salted liquorish hanging over the rim of a bucket shaped recepticle. Modelled after the Angler's bait bucket card.

"The Trapper/Trader"

A rich, blood-red velvet cocktail made with red grenadine and a chocolate liquior. Served in a stein with a fake bit of pelt padding embellishing the handle. More modelled after his trading role than how he plays cards.

"The Scrybe of Beasts"

A botanical gin-based cocktail comprised of rhubarb gin, elderflower tonic and red grenadine seeping in from the top like a drop of blood, garnished with a sprig of elderflower. Served in a tall tiki mask glass (ideally etched to look like his masks, but a normal tiki glass would work) Playing into his tree-like appearance, emphasis on blood sacrifice (thematically and mechanically), and because he's an old man (hence use of elderflower specifically).

"Eight Fucking Bears"

Technically more of a food challenge than a regular dish of eight very spicy pork ribs with a thick, blood-like sauce.

Grimora's menu:

"Royal Dominguez"

A limoncello and triple sec shot rimmed with crushed sherbert. Based on his death from scurvy at sea.

"Sawyer Patel"

A stout Sheep Dog peanut butter whisky and ginger ale drink served in a tumbler lined with a dash of peanut butter drizzle.

"Kaycee Hobbes"

A refreshing blueberry vodka and fireball slushy served in a tall glass and garnished with blueberries and cinammon caramel drizzle.

"The Scrybe of The Dead"

A black forest espresso martini made with Kaluha, cherry vodka, chocolate liquior and a shot of espresso. Served in a china teacup with a pitted black cherry skewered on the teacup's rim.

"The Lord of Bones"

Fried chicken drumsticks and wings served in a coffin-shaped basket.

Magnificus' menu:

"Goobert"

Lime jelly(jello) shot. The shot glass would have little googly eyes stuck to it and an edible paper wizard hat instead of an umbrella.

"The Pike Mage"

A sweet and spicy chipotle-orange syrup, bourbon and vanilla liquior cocktail served in a martini glass and garnished with a skewered glacie cherry donning an edible paper wizard hat.

"The Lonely Wizard"

Black Sangria (made with dark wine - blackberries, black grapes and black plums) imbued with green edible glitter. Served in a wine glass and garnished with a lime slice donning an edible paper wizard hat.

"The Scrybe of Magicks"

A colourful tie-dye milkshake of creme de menthe, mint ice cream and strawberry cream liquieur embellished with edible glitter. Served in a tall flute and garnished with a swirl of whipped cream, rainbow sprinkles and a spherical marshmallow made to look like Magnificus' missing arcane eye in place of a cherry.

"Mox"

A dessert made of blue raspberry, orange and apple sorbet scoops. Sprinkled with crushed sherbert and gemstone-shaped hard candies.

Po3's menu:

"The Inspector"

A simple blue raspberry sour shot with a blue raspberry popping candy rim.

"The Melter"

A vibrantly fire-coloured chocolate orange spritz. Mixing chocolate liquieur with aperol and prosecco. Garnished with curled orange rind and dark chocolate shavings.

"The Dredger"

A boba blue gin fizz. Made of bombay sapphire gin, lemon juice blue curaçao and soda water with lemon boba. Served with a silver coloured straw.

"The Scrybe of Technology"

A bright blue bubblegum cocktail topped with sweet sparkling wine and lemonade. Served in a tall, angular glass. The most boring of the Scrybe cocktails tbh.

"Kilo-bites"

Byte-sized sharing platter of savoury pastries and square pizza slices made to look like floppy discs.

I'll be honest, I was drawing a blank for Po3's menu. Dude's Vox if Vox had self-control, which takes away a lot of vibrancy to bounce off of for flavour profiles and visual ideas.

Bonus Mycologist dish:

Roasted ox-tongue mushroom, stuffed with mushroom paté and blue cheese with a creamy but sharp cheese sauce.

Ngl, Leshy's is my favourite menu. Definitely tempted to make it, maybe for an Inscryption themed party?

#inscryption #food ideas #cocktail #eight fucking bears

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xxmourningdove666xx · 2 years ago

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yknow i love the ppl in the creepypasta fandom who are like "we need more realism in this community" cuz yall are the backbone of it however i do have to admit i dont think im ever gonna make anything dark or gritty with creepypasta characters because its far too fun to say zalgo is babygirl and draw seed eater looking like a bear/bird hybrid. love yall tho, keep making dope shit i love it with a passion

#creepypasta #liquorish rambles

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remembertheplunge · 1 month ago

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12/4/1993

Arturo and I had an enjoyable afternoon… saw “Nutcracker” and drank liquorish tea at John’s new place…first time in it. I Love it. I see many splendid hours of contemplation, writing, conversation there. Sad to see the old place gutted.

End of entry

John was a gay man who owned a coffee house in Modesto, California. In the above entry, he had just moved locations. Pre 2020 pandemic, I spent many hours writing, studying, integrating and talking in coffee houses. Post pandemic, I, harvest my years of coffee house and home journal work via curating the work into postable blogs. The pandemic sucked the soul out of the coffee house experience and converted it into a time to convey the meaning of the writing via the blog. Arturo was my Aids match from 1990 to his death from Aids in February 1994. John (not his real name), who attended Arturo’s funeral as I recall, said that he knew Arturo from the gay book stores. Arturo came up from Mexico with the help of a Coyote (immigrant smuggler) John said that Arturo taught himself English in the gay book stores. By the time I met Arturo, he had a good grasp of the English language. As a volunteer with the Stanislaus County Aids Project, I was matched with Arturo to help him through his illness and death. The Nutcracker was a movie released in November 1993.

#journaling #writing #gay history #gay #aids #The Nutcracker movie 1993 #Coffee Houses #writing in coffee houses #Aids match volunteer #gay book stores #Coyote aided immigration #12/4/1993

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mybiasisexo · 11 months ago

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for the drabbles can you do bbh 4? i've been having Feelings for that guy lately... anyway thank you and i love your works!!!!!

Weapon ⭐️

Genre: angst | Royal!au Pairing: Baekhyun x f.Reader Length: 2k (idw to talk about it) Warnings: not explicit but smut

a/n: ok so ive been reading acotar (im in the middle of book 2 and uuummmm wtffffff 😭) and this is v inspired by that series 😬. also this is like my 3rd royal au with this man idek. and apparently ive been having Feelings™ for him also cause damn this long 😭. ty for requesting 💕

DRABBLE GAME | MASTERLIST

You walk down the empty hallway, running your fingers over the ancient wall, in no hurry as you approach the large double doors at the end of the hall. The guards scattered around the long aisle make no move for their swords, seeing you as no threat. You guess, they’re sort of right. You have no weapons hidden under the thin fabric that is a poor excuse for a dress.

You are a weapon.

When you finally enter those massive doors, you are met with a luxurious room, filled with carpets and fabrics and paintings and other decorations built for a king.

Opposite you, the far wall is made of thick glass revealing the beautiful view of the Kingdom of Lights. It lives up to its name. The world beneath shimmer in the same way the sky above does. Twinkling with promises of peace, pureness, love—

The doors slam shut behind you, and hands are clawing at the fabric covering your hips. Wet lips latch to your neck, white teeth nibbling on the sensitive flesh.

You groan at the sensations, leaning your head back onto a firm shoulder.

“Baekhyun….” You whisper, losing yourself into his touch as you roll your hips in a silent dance.

It’s a reminder, of how you ended up in here in the first place—with a dance.

The man behind you growls, hungry—always so hungry—for you.

You spin around in his touch, cupping his face and gazing up at the prince. The future King of Lights, Byun Baekhyun.

And you see them in his eyes, like marbles holding the kingdom he will soon rule within them.

For months now, you have been under him, in his sheets. His lover. His whore.

His.

The tenderness in his expression is proof that you’re succeeding at your job. The strong grip of which he holds you, the lack of distance between your heaving chests. You have been successful so far when it came to your mission from the King of Ice, the kingdom you call home.

And just like that kingdom, you are frigid, calculating, lethal.

You are a weapon.

But right now? In the arms of a man from another land, you are warmth, you are sweetness, you are soft.

You are whatever it is you need to be to get him to trust you.

“Did you miss me, Your Highness?” You ask teasingly.

He grins and it takes your breath away. Baekhyun—with his dark eyes, his white as fresh snow hair, and red like liquorish lips—is a sight to behold. He, undoubtedly, is the most beautiful person you have ever met. Even more beautiful than your king, Kim Minseok. As of late, you’ve found his otherworldly looks to be even more distracting than when you first began this game.

“I always miss you whenever you are not by my side,” he confesses, voice quiet and honest.

“Show me,” you breathe, eyes locked on his addictive mouth. “Show me how much you miss me. And I in turn will show you how much I need you.”

He wastes no time whisking you onto the bed, worshipping your body. The only person in the land he has ever kneeled before. The only one he ever would.

This night is different.

In the months you’ve spent seducing Baekhyun, you’ve grown to know him—the man, not the ruler—and…you have been finding yourself regretting taking on this task.

King Minseok sees the Kingdom of Lights as a threat he needs to neutralize. War, in his eyes, is imminent. As soon as you are to discover Baekhyun’s weakness, as soon as you are to break him, the king will invade and destroy the majestic kingdom. Snuffing the light with heavy coats of ice.

You discovered Baekhyun’s weakness a couple weeks ago. Well, his two weaknesses. His first, and most damning, is his love for his lands. There is nothing he wouldn’t do to protect his home.

His other weakness had taken you by surprise when you discovered it. It is the reason why now, with you wrapped around him urging him to go deeper, deeper, to tap into that cold soul of yours and bring light into the darkness within it, you have tears pouring down your temples. Your cries louder than they’ve ever been. Every sound, every movement, every touch coming from him igniting you as if you both came from the Kingdom of Flame.

It is you—his other weakness.

You have no idea when you both stopped being more than simple lovers. No idea when you lost sight of the role you are supposed to play, instead losing yourself into the fantasy he created. But, as Baekhyun makes love to you, as he encourages you to shatter underneath him, letting explosions of light fire off behind your eyelids as you’re thrown into intense ecstasy, you know that you’ve failed your purpose of being here.

He follows soon after, groaning so deliciously in your ear as he fills you up, you almost come again. You both lay there, him with his full weight crushing you—just as you like it—attempting to regain your breathes. You run your hands over his wide back and shoulders, your lips sweetly kissing any bit of skin they can connect to, your hips slowly circle, enjoying the intrusion of him, the fullness he brings. You never knew you were missing something until you met him. Hadn’t realized just how empty you had been. Baekhyun had shown you another way to live, had shown you kindness and faith. These are things you had no idea existed before him.

You have thought that maybe….

Baekhyun’s breathing has slowed so much you thought he had fallen asleep. But then he groans lightly, moving so that those strong arms of his wrap around your small frame. His mouth goes to your jaw, your chin, the corner of your mouth. He meets your moving hips lazily, hands flaring at your waist.

And then he’s holding you down, forcing you to stop your ministrations. You frown as he lifts his head, looking into your eyes. The only light comes from the full silver moon overhead, and it washes you within that glow, making the stars in his eyes sparkle more fiercely than usual. At least, that’s what you tell yourself is causing that shine.

You gulp at the expression he wears, feeling fear for the first time.

“What is it?” You ask, voice hoarse and raw from screaming throughout the night.

His lips thin, dark eyebrows furrowing as he debates on whether to share his current thoughts or not. This is always the time when you would fish for information, when he was still drunk from your body, his senses dulled, his guard down.

But tonight, as you already thought, is different.

He appears fully aware, fully present. Those bright eyes of his focused as he gazes down at you. Your heart thuds harder in its cage.

“You felt different,” he shares, running a calloused finger down your chest, over one of your nipples. It hardens under his touch. “Tonight.”

So, he feels it to? He isn’t stupid, despite what your king believes the younger royal to be.

“Different how?” You ask, holding your breath. You want to know just how insightful he is, how much he sees and keeps to himself. It makes you realize that you too have been underestimating him, forgetting that he too is playing this game, and probably using his boyish looks as a way to make people doubt his role.

He doesn’t answer for a minute, instead just taking you in. Then he pulls out of you, much to your dismay, falling onto his back beside you. He drags you over him, so that your head rests on his chest and you can no longer see his face.

The tips of his fingers run up and down your damp spine as he ponders his next words.

“It felt like…you might….”

You stiffen.

“Like I might?”

He’s sitting you both upright and you curl your knees underneath you. He’s watching you again, and for the first time, you see the threat of him—of his kingdom. Light is pure. It’s grace, a gift. But it can also blind, can burn, can distort.

You are a weapon.

But so is he.

“Like you might be in love with me.”

It’s quiet for a breath, both of you merely studying the other. Your adrenaline hits, and for a moment you think you might have been caught, like you will have to fight your way out of here.

But that’s only the fear reacting. Baekhyun will never hurt you, could never hurt you.

With that knowledge you decide to be honest with him for once.

“That’s because I am in love with you,” you reveal on a breath.

And then he’s smiling at you. So blindingly bright, you think his power might be shining through. It’s full of joy and relief and life and love.

It’s heart wrenching.

He pulls you back down, back onto his chest. “I love you too,” he murmurs onto the crown of your head. “I love you so much, my queen.”

You attempt to sleep. You try to keep your reaction to his words to yourself. Even as his breath finally slows and he loses himself to sleep. You’re wide awake.

Hours pass, the sun slowly makes its trek into the sky, and you know it is time to go. Time to return to your home, your kingdom…. And take whatever punishment will come with failing your task.

Because you can’t go through with it. Not now. Not knowing that you can never remain by Baekhyun’s side. Never be his queen. You are ice. You are sharp. You are… you are….

You are in love with Byun Baekhyun, future king of the Kingdom of Lights.

You failed.

Climbing out of the massive bed, you head towards the doors of the room, not caring that you’re naked.

You’re turning the knob when he calls after you.

“You’re leaving?” He asks, voice careful, a mask of calm.

You know that he doesn’t mean just this room.

“I am,” you reveal.

He’s then scrambling out of the sheets, rushing towards you and you can’t take it, take the alarm of his steps. So, you hold out your hand, asking him to stop—

Making him freeze where he stands.

His eyes widen and then they’re searching you frantically.

“Please,” he begs—begs—and you close your eyes, fighting off the tears flooding them. “Don’t go. We can work it out.”

You don’t say anything, so he continues his plea. “We love each other, right? You love me. You just told me you did, and I know that you were being truthful. So, please. Whatever it is, we can figure it out. Just don’t leave me!”

You shake your head, those cursed tears dripping down like melting icicles. “It’s too late, Baekhyun.”

He hears the pain in your words, takes in the trembling of your body and realizes there is no talking you out of this.

“What did I do wrong?” He asks, defeated.

You drop your hand and he falls to his knees. It’s a silent plea, a surrender, a display of his weakness.

“You trusted me,” you tell him, voice steady as you watch him sit there. For him you will endure whatever punishment will come your way. You will protect him.

Even if that means making him hate you.

You go for the door again.

“Stop!” He demands, voice flooding with the power only he as future king possesses. It almost brings you to your own knees, his authority, but…. “As your future king, I demand you to stop!”

Despite all that power, you’re still able to defy him. Opening the door, you dare one last glance at the man you love. You hope he can see the apology on your face, the love you have for him.

“You are not my king.”

And with that, you leave him in that room, ignoring the way he takes all the light with him.

45 notes · View notes