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bonnyskies · 4 years

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deadly agenda ⇢ myg

min yoongi is a dangerous man. you’re a manipulative wife. together, you two are a deadly duo, and you both have your own agenda.

pairing — emperor!yoongi x wife!malereader ft. king-husband!taehyung

genres — angst, sexual themes, royalty!au, strangers-to-lovers!au

warnings — age-gap (reader is 20, yoongi is 28), swearing, degrading terms, mentions of death, feminization, descriptions of murder, sexual themes, infidelity, betrayal, slight voyeurism, yoongi is intimidating and reader is manipulative, basically they’re just plain evil

author’s note — i hate tumblr’s new update. i had more to write (not enough for a part two) but couldn’t because of the new 250 text box rule. but as for this story, this is probably the longest one i’ve written so far and the one i’m most proud of. anyway, hope you all enjoy and sorry for taking so long to upload this, took lots of planning and rewriting, plus i’ve been busy with school too.

word count — 7.4k

masterlist

Min Yoongi is a cautious, yet observant man.

Whoever steps foot in his palace, he makes sure to know everything about them. Who they are, they’re background, appearance, and how they approach him. Each and every thing can help him learn who he can trust, and who he cannot, who are his allies—and who are his enemies.

Yoongi stood by his palace’s entrance, accompanied with his guards and greeted his special guests, one by one as they walked up his home’s grand steps. He makes sure to take notes on each and every person’s facial expression, their appearance, chosen attire, and the certain way they walk up to him.

Anything could benefit him into knowing them. Their wealth and clan can be identified based on their specific appearance and choice of clothing. Their facial expressions help him learn what their true feelings and intentions are towards him that are hidden by their fake smiles and words. And lastly, the way they walk up to him can help him know the type of personality they have, whether that be obedient and innocent, or arrogant and untrustworthy.

The way he learns about his guests have never failed him. That was, until he met you.

Yoongi would be lying if he said he wasn’t astonished when his eyes laid on you for the first time. There were many things that left him utterly speechless when meeting you. For one, when his advisor told him that his guest would be bringing his wife, he was expecting a woman—not a man.

Another thing that left Yoongi speechless was your appearance, mostly your attire. You were dressed in feminine-like clothing, silk robes that were decorated with gold jewelry instead of fine material clothing with armor plating like what many men of royalty wear. And you also didn’t hold a blade like most men do too. Instead, you held a simple wooden decorative fan.

And lastly, your eyes.

Yoongi has a remarkable judge of character. Maybe not as good when it came to you, but still adequate. On the outside, your eyes were shining with gentleness and a kind greeting. But he could tell there was something else hidden behind them—something that left him intrigued by you.

You had an agenda—plans, and Yoongi was determined to find out what they are.

The welcoming feast was extremely dull.

Yoongi absorbed gallons of wine into his system, hoping that would help numb his mind and get through the rest of the evening without having to tear somebody’s head off from their body.

And apparently you thought the same as he did. Across the table, Yoongi watched as you fanned yourself out of boredom while everyone else were socializing with one another, an unamused facial expression shown on your face. Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle behind his glass when seeing one of the other wives say something to you and you flashed her a quick smile before dropping it back down into a straight line.

It seems his attention on you didn’t go unnotice because next thing he knew, your eyes were now on him. Yoongi was expecting hints of disgust or uncomfort from you, but instead he was met with sly smirk and a raised brow.

Yoongi watches intently as you leaned over and whispered into your husband’s ear. Your husband—Kim Taehyung then stood up from his seat and bowed his head, “Excuse me, your Majesty.”

Yoongi turned his head towards your husband, diverting his attention completely away from you.

“My wife is not feeling well at the moment, so with your permission, would it be alright if he can take his leave from the feast early?”

The entire dining hall fell silent, shocked expressions plastered on everyone’s faces at the table.

Nobody has ever dared to leave one of Min Yoongi’s feasts before. Who would want to, right? It’s considered a great honor for one self and their kingdom to be invited by the Emperor himself to attend one of his events.

Whispers began to spread amongst the guests.

“How shameless is Kim Taehyung’s wife?”

“Wanting to leave the Emperor’s feast early? Utterly shameless I tell you.”

“That Taehyung needs to discipline his wife.”

“Doesn’t he know how important his Majesty’s events are? And he wants to leave just because he isn’t feeling well? Unbelievable.”

“He needs to learn some manners—”

Anxiety swept across Taehyung’s face when hearing the gossips coming from the other royals, eyes wide and mouth gaped open with panic. “Forgive me, your Majesty, I never intended to—”

With just the clear of his throat, everybody fell silent once again and all eyes were now on him. Yoongi’s gaze would shift between you and your husband, curiosity filling his veins when noticing that there wasn’t any signs of illness presently visible on you. You weren’t trembling, your eyes weren’t red and skin wasn’t showing any signs of flushness. You looked fine.

That only caused more questions to form in Yoongi’s mind. Like, what do you exactly want, and what is your reason for being here? Because according to his advisor, you weren’t even part of the guest list until today. That only raised even more suspicions he had towards you.

And it’s not like he can just throw you out—actually, he can. It’s just that he doesn’t want to because now he’s curious, and he wants to see how things turn out.

“He can go,” Yoongi says a brief silence, immediately noticing the small smile creeping onto your lips. “But take him to see the physician and let him check him out,” and then it dropped.

“N-No, your Majesty,” you spoke up, lips parted. “You don’t have to do that—”

“You’re feeling unwell, right?” Yoongi then asks, smirking at the silence he got in reply. “Well, you should let my physician diagnose you then. Don’t worry though, you’re in great hands.”

One of his guards that stood by his side approached you and started to guide you to the physician’s office. And while you were leaving, Yoongi could see the glare coming from you and aimed right at him.

If you wanted to play games with him, he’ll play.

Wandering through the palace halls at night was something Yoongi usually does whenever he can’t sleep.

And apparently you had the same tendency too.

While mindlessly strolling through his palace’s hallways, Yoongi’s eyes suddenly landed on your approaching figure, the first thing catching his attention was your choice of clothing. You were dressed in golden inner robes, your sleep-wear, and the material was so thin and transparent that every feature about you was visible to him. The sight of your clear, smooth skin and every curve of your body and muscles made his mouth water. It was like you were purposely dressed like that to seduce him.

Another thing that caught his eye was the small, slightly torn grayish book that was in your grasp, which was where your complete attention was on because you still haven’t noticed his presence despite the two of you walking towards the other.

“Hello, your Highness,” you jumped out of fear, eyes wide and closing your book when your gaze landed on him. “May I ask why you are wandering around my palace this late at night?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you simply answered, fingers tight around the cover the book, which only made Yoongi even more curious as to what you were exactly reading. “And it seems you are having the same problem as well, am I correct?”

Yoongi only hummed in reply, taking another small step towards you until you two now stood only inchest apart, him towering over you and staring down right at you. “Is there something wrong with your chambers? I can tell my servants to move you and your husband into a more comfortable place for you—”

“No no, your Majesty,” you were quick to interject. “Everything is perfect. It’s just that I’ve always had trouble sleeping at another royal’s residence, that’s all.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but find your reason funny, because he has always had trouble sleeping when there were other people staying in his palace.

A brief silence came between you two before Yoongi spoke up once again, “I’ll be taking a quick walk around my garden, you can accompany me if you like.” He didn’t wait for your reply before leaving, but when hearing the sound of your footsteps behind him right after, a smirk grew on his lips.

“You know, you never really introduced yourself when we first met,” Yoongi then brought up while the two of you made your way to the gardens.

“Forgive me, your Majesty,” you bowed your head apologetically before replying, “My name is ___, Kim ___.”

“It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Kim ___,” Yoongi reached down and took your hand into his, pressing a soft, yet tender kiss on the back of your palm, smirking at the evident blush forming on your cheeks. “And I’ve got to say, you are looking quite well for someone that claimed to be feeling sick not even three hours ago,” and that is when your smile dropped.

“Must’ve been my anxiety,” you were quick to reply back, your eyes never leaving his. “After all, I am staying at the Emperor’s palace for the first time.”

Yoongi was impressed honestly, he had to admit. For everything he had to say against you, you had something say right back at him. There isn’t a lot of people who have that type of skill to think of words—believeable words right on the spot. Anybody would believe what you were saying—too bad he isn’t just anybody.

“Must be...,” Yoongi just says, eyeing you slightly. His gaze then shifted onto the book in your hand. “What are you reading there?”

“Oh this,” you held the book up, “It’s called Flowers of the Region—a guide to every type of flower that is grown and can be found in both the South and the North. It’s my favorite book.”

“Well, that’s fortunate,” Yoongi points out, “you like flowers, and we so happen to be going to my garden. What’s your favorite flower?”

“Lily of the Valley,” you answer with a smile. “Have you heard of it?”

“I have,” Yoongi replied, his interest towards you growing even more. Lily of the Valley, despite the beautiful features of the white flower, it is proven to be quite deadly when digested. “They are only found on top of the Southern mountains—but lucky for you, I happen to grow them right here in my garden.”

Your smile grew even wider. “That’s great.”

The rest of the walk to the gardens was in silence with you trailing forward while Yoongi stood back. And with your eyes focused on the path in front of you, Yoongi couldn’t help but send glances at you every once in a while, his eyes burning into your back, admiring at the clear view your smooth skin through the thin, transparent material of your inner robes.

He surely needs to give whoever crafted your sleepwear a raise—and a big one too.

When the two of you finally got to the gardens, you were left instantly speechless at the sight of the many plots of different flowers, ranging from beautiful, vibrant ones that were quite common to dark, mysterious ones that you’ve never even seen before.

Yoongi couldn’t deny how adorable you looked though when seeing his garden for the first time, eyes wide, shining with admiration and your mouth gaped open.

“This is beautiful,” you gasped, leaning down and running your fingers delicately over some flowers.

“Thank you,” Yoongi stood beside you, “I make sure my gardeners take good care of this place.”

Silenced filled the atmosphere as Yoongi stood back and silently watched you admiring the many flowers. Normally he’d be annoyed for someone touching his property, but for some odd reason when it came to you he didn’t mind so much. Perhaps it’s because this might be the only way for him to get close to you and learn about your true intentions—or maybe he just really wants to fuck you.

Yoongi found himself once again staring at you, watching as you bent over to get a closer look at one of the flowers, giving him a perfect view of your ass and hips, both in which he wants to grab and caress with his large hands.

“So,” Yoongi spoke up after some silence, “how exactly did you become the new Lady Kim?”

Yoongi instantly noticed the way your body tensed from his question. “I was his Highness’s personal servant. When his wife suddenly passed away, he was a complete mess and I was the only one that stayed by his side through the entire mourning process. I was the one that comforted him whenever he was feeling down, I made sure he was taking care of himself and helped him with his royal duties.”

Yoongi then noticed your shoulder slumping. “After about a month or so, he started seeking me for a...different kind of comfort.” Sex. “Soon later he decided to make his new wife—the new Lady Kim.”

“You don’t seem so happy about the change in position,” Yoongi commented, “I’m sure this is much better than being a simple servant. You’re a royal now.”

“Oh, I am,” you quickly corrected him, “But being a man and having a feminine title can sometimes make things complicated.”

“Well then, don’t make them complicated.” Yoongi suggested, “You’re not a servant anymore, you’re a royal. They may not respect you now, but you have the power to make them do so.”

“Don’t worry, I know,” you told him sternly. “They’ll learn to respect me. Whether that be the hard way or the easy way—it’s their choice. So you better watch out, your Majesty, or something bad might happen to you,” you laughed softly.

Yoongi released a forceful chuckle, eyes briefly squinting at you suspiciously. It may have sound like a harmless joke, but to him, he could hear the small hints of truth behind them. “Oh trust me, I will. I wouldn’t want you as an enemy.”

“And you as well,” you replied, eyeing him back.

Silence came between you two again, Yoongi leaving you to inspect his garden in peace while he stood back and watched you. It wasn’t until an hour has passed you spoke up again, yawning, “we should head back to bed, your Majesty. We have that conference in the morning with the other royals and we need the energy.”

“You’re right,” Yoongi agreed, nodding and stepping aside so that you could walk ahead of him and back inside the place with him following right beside you. “Let me walk you back to your room.”

You didn’t say anything, only held your head low to hide the small grin on your face as the both of you made your back to the chambers. And as you two got closer to your destination, you both were froze at the sound of moaning.

Yoongi was confused at first as who it could be, but when turning to you and seeing the hardened expression on your face, he knew.

“O-Oh, Taehyung—f-faster, please!”

Yoongi was speechless. He knew many royals took on concubines while being married, but he didn’t know someone could so shameless as to bringing them to another person’s residence alongside their spouse. “Your Highness—”

“Don’t bother, your Majesty,” you spoke calmly, eyes hard and emotionless. “I’m use to it by now and it doesn’t really bother me anymore.”

“Really, it doesn’t?”

You shook your head. “At first it did, but after sleeping with my husband so many times I have learned that the only person he cares to satisfy is himself.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle. What kind of husband doesn’t have the desire to satisfy is own wife? Maybe he should take you to his chambers and show you exactly what you’re missing. “Well, I-I’m still sorry for you.”

You simply shrugged your shoulders, “it doesn’t matter, your Majesty. Have a good night.”

Yoongi watched as you then opened the door went inside the chamber, causing your husband and the woman to stop and look at you with wide eyes.

“Don’t mind me,” you said to them, not even bothering to glance at them, shocking Yoongi. “I’ll be on the balcony reading my book. Just let me when you two are done.”

Taehyung’s attention instantly went back to the woman that was straddling his lap when hearing your words, hands kneading her breasts and hips and started thrusting back up into her, causing moans to erupt from both of them. Yoongi didn’t why, but the sight of them made his blood boil.

Maybe he should go in there and fuck you in front of your husband? That’ll show him what he is missing out.

Yoongi continued to watch through the crack in the door as you walked past the couple and went onto the balcony. And once you were out of his sight, that’s when he finally got a clear view of the woman on your husband’s lap, and he instantly recognized her. She was one of the servants that accompanied you and Taehyung here. Yoongi distinctly remembered seeing her earlier today, serving you tea after you got back from seeing the physician.

Yoongi glared at the couple, scoffing at the sight. What did that Kim Taehyung see in that whore of a servant that you don’t have?

You are far more enticing than she is.

Taking one last glance at the shameless couple, Yoongi retreated back to his chambers. And while he did so, his mind suddenly went back to you. How did someone so...unique end up with a man like Kim Taehyung? He’s a weak person, a shame to royal blood. You deserve to be with someone with real power, someone who would never leave you unsatisfied, both physically and emotionally. Someone like me.

Yoongi could feel himself harden just from the thought of you.

Damn you for having this type of power over me, his mind cursed. Yoongi has slept with countless of other royals before, both men and women, and he has never encountered someone like you.

You are truly something else.

“Damn,” Yoongi mumbled out to nobody in particular, palming himself through his robes. “How the hell am I going to get rid of this?”

And right on queue, a young servant boy just happened to be walking right by Yoongi when the question ran through his head.

“Stop,” was all he said, making the servant boy freeze in his place.

“Y-Yes, your Majesty?”

Yoongi took slow, intimidating steps towards him until he was towering over him, using his hands to cup his chin and forcing the servant boy to meet his eyes. “How would you feel having the honor of spending the night with your Emperor?”

The servant boy couldn’t stop the small smile from forcing on his face. “I-I would love that, your Majesty.”

That was Yoongi needed to hear before leaning down capturing the servant’s boys lips with his, hands moving to his thighs and hoisting him up in his arms and carrying him into his chambers, lips never separating.

“You’re a eager one, are you?” Yoongi chuckled against the servant boy’s mouth, moving his lips down his neck and forcing a whimpering moan from him.

“I-It’s my duty to serve y-you, your Majesty.”

That brought a smile on Yoongi’s lips.

Yoongi couldn’t find you anywhere the next day.

He couldn’t find at you breakfast, he couldn’t find you during the conference with the other royals and their wives, and he couldn’t find you at lunch. Now as dinner was approaching, there still wasn’t any sign of you anywhere.

But he had no problem finding your husband. Wherever he saw Taehyung, he saw that whore of a servant trailing behind him like a pet—but you no where to be seen.

Yoongi thought about approaching him to ask about your whereabouts, but he couldn’t help but think of the consequences that would happen afterwards. But that still didn’t stop him from sending glares at the younger royal and the servant every now and then, which didn’t go unnotice by either of them.

“Is there something wrong, your Majesty,” Taehyung finally asks, breaking the tensed silence between the two of them. “You’ve been staring at me all day today and haven’t said a single word.”

“Oh nothing,” Yoongi simply replies, eyes still trained on him while twirling his glass of wine. “Just wondering where your wife is at right now, since everyone else is here. Is he still not feeling well from last night?”

For a very very brief moment, Yoongi could see panic glinting in his eyes before answering, “o-oh yes, your Majesty, he told me that he’s still feeling unwell so I allowed him stay back in the room.”

Liar, was Yoongi’s first thought, eyes glaring even more at the long, black-haired royal.

Everyone at the table could feel the tension between their Emperor and the young royal, and still no one chose to speak up about it.

Yoongi had a reputation. He is the first ever Emperor to achieve the throne through combat rather than family bloodline—and he is also the youngest ruler to ever be placed higher than a simple king. But that weren’t the only things he was known for. He was also generally known for being intelligent and quite reserved, and cruel if absolutely necessary, and also able to hold a grudge. It may sound simple, but everybody knew that if their Emperor had something against you, your days were limited.

So that’s why nobody chose to speak up when seeing the menancing glares their Emperor were sending at the youngest and only surviving Kim. Because they knew if they intervened, they’d only anger him and get on his list, and that’s the exact opposite of what they want to do.

“Your Majesty,” his advisor suddenly whispered right beside him. “I think it would be a good idea to continue the meeting. Some of your guests has some things to say about the...improvements you’re doing to the North.”

Yoongi clenched his jaw, eyes scanning over Taehyung once more before turning his attention to the other royals. “Sure,” he then says, “which one of you want to speak first?”

Not even a second later, Park Jimin, ruler of the Park Kingdom stood up from his seat and spoke. “Your Majesty, my council and I believe that the border that you have placed around my region is completely unnecessary.”

“How so?” Yoongi asks, leaning back against his chair with an amused look on his face. He had to admit that he was impressed that the blonde man was the first to speak up. He may not be the youngest royal out of everyone, but he certainly is the one with the least experience when it came politics.

“For starters your border cuts right through my kingdom’s river, slicing our water supply in half,” he starts, voice slightly raising. “And the amount of wood you required for the construction of the wall resulted in about ninety percent of the forests in my region to be completely cut down, forcing most of my workers into unemployment.”

Yoongi continued to listen closely with his hands laced together and resting on top of his chest, rocking back and forth in his chair with an intent glint in his eyes.

“I also find it completely unfair how your border only crosses over my kingdom but no one else’s.” Jimin continued to rant, jamming his finger repeatedly angerly against the table while keeping his eye contact with him. “I think it’s not for protection like you have claimed many of times, but as a prison, to keep my people in check. You’re nothing but a—”

Yoongi slammed his hand heavily onto the table, instantly silencing the young royal and causing everyone to gulp nervously. He may at times find it amusing when someone fights back, but he will never allow anyone to talk down against him, not in his own residence.

“You think I built that wall as a prison?” Yoongi asks, chuckling when the blonde man didn’t reply. “Are you forgetting what happened before I built that wall? Spies from the South would come right into our territories and would gather information on us, murder our people in their sleep—that’s how your parents died, am I correct? Some spy that sneaked into their palace assassinated them when they were asleep? It would such a shame if the same thing happens to you—after I take down the wall, of course.”

Yoongi smirked when noticing the seeing Jimin’s jaw clenching and hands angrily balling into fists. “So don’t you ever accuse me again? Because everything I do is for the best of my people, not just yours. The wall is only bordering your land because your land is the only one that connects with the South.”

Jimin’s head hung low, hands unclenching and lips dropping into the frown.

“So before you come at me, you should make sure that you have all the information, do you understand me?” Jimin nodded and sat down.

Everybody tensed when Yoongi then stood up from his seat and slowly, intimidatingly made his way to Jimin’s chair. And when placing his hands on the younger man’s shoulders, Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle when feeling him jump slightly underneath his touch. “Normally I’d kill anyone who spoke to me that way,” leaning down, he whispered into Jimin’s ear, sending chills along his pale skin, “but I’ll let it slide for once since you’re new to this whole thing.”

“T-Thank you, your Majesty.”

With one last pat on the shaking man’s shoulder, Yoongi pulled away, and he was standing straight again, his eyes suddenly fell on your figure who stood near the entrance of the conference hall. But you weren’t alone, no, three servants that he couldn’t recognize was with you. The four of you seemed to be in a deep conversation, and with everybody focused on him, nobody noticed you.

Yoongi’s eyes slightly squinted out of suspicion when seeing you then bow your head at the three servants, a smile on your face before each of you went your separate ways.

Yoongi is definitely going to look into that.

“Now,” returning his attention back to his guests, Yoongi leaned himself against the table, keeping close to the blonde man that was still trembling. “Does anyone else have anything to say to me?”

“N-No no, your Majesty,” Jung Hoseok, another royal spoke up, gulping anxiously as he tightened his hand around his wife’s who sat beside him. “We have no complaints whatsoever, you’re doing an amazing job—the perfect ruler.”

Kiss ass, Yoongi rolled his eyes, pushing himself away from the table. He then shifted his attention towards your husband and asks, “what about you, your Highness? Anything to say?”

Taehyung shook his head. “No, your Majesty.”

“What a bunch spineless people,” Yoongi’s mind scoffed, and he couldn’t agree more.

His advisor then rose from his chair and spoke up, “okay everyone, thank you all for attending his Majesty’s annual end of conference feast this year. You may all now return to your rooms and get some rest before heading back to your own residences in the morning.”

Yoongi stayed back and bid farewell to everyone, and once everyone was gone he left the conference hall with only one thing on his mind—you. He was determined to find out what exactly were you and those three servants were discussing about. Yoongi was so rapt on you that he didn’t even hear his advisor calling out of him to come back.

He practically jogged to the chambers hall, heading straight to your room and when he got there, just as he was about barge right through the door he was then stopped by a sudden sound. Moans could be heard on the other side of the door—female moans. Yoongi’s hands were already hovering over the door handle before he opened it slightly to where there was only a crack, giving him the view of seeing your husband with same servant girl from the night before.

Yoongi watches as she claws his back, legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he place open mouth kisses along her bare chest and thrusted deep into her, causing loud, pleasurable moans to erupt from both of their mouths.

“T-Tae,” the young servant girl gasped, hands running up and down his sweaty back and fingers digging into his marked, glistening skin. “I’m close.”

“Me too, love,” he groaned back, leaning down and capturing her lips into a passionate kiss. “Together, okay...?”

Utterly shameless, Yoongi shook his head and pushed away from the door with disgust. Just as he was about to continue searching for you, he froze at the sound a voice behind him—a female voice.

“Are you looking for Lady Kim, your Majesty?”

Yoongi turned around and was greeted by one of your servants, hands laced together and hanging in front of her with a wide smile on her face. “No, I’m not,” he quickly replied, shaking his head. He expected her to just nod her head and leave, but instead she released a small chuckle and turned around, saying in a soft tone, “follow me.”

Yoongi was hesitant, eyes burning suspiciously into the servant girl’s back as she began to walk away. But he soon decided to follow her despite the constant warnings that were running through his head at the moment.

The servant’s gaze was trained on the path in front of her, not even bothering to acknowledge the glare she was receiving by platinum-haired man that was trailing right behind her.

The warnings that were consuming Yoongi’s head started to get louder as he continued to follow her deeper into his residence, parts of his home that he hasn’t even been in.

Yoongi stopped in his place when the servant led him to a room with dark, double doors. “What is this,” he asks with a cold expression, causing the young girl to chuckle and open the door without saying a word to him. He was about to question her even more but when he got to see what was behind the door, leaving him speechless.

Standing right in front him was you, along with over a dozen guards and servants that were from many different kingdoms. Some of the guards and servants were part of the Park Kingdom, some were from the Jung Kingdom, and others were from your own home.

“What’s going on here?” Yoongi asks, his eyes glancing across the many different pairs that were staring right back at him.

“They work for me,” came out of your mouth. “We are all part of movement that believes that the North needs a change in leadership—which is you. You’re the only that deserves to rule the North, not these cowards.”

Yoongi was speechless. For once in his life he didn’t know to say. For the first time he wasn’t the one that was planning in the shadows, plotting against somebody—but instead it was people who he has never even met before. “Why,” was the only thing that came out of his mouth.

“Because war is coming your Majesty,” you stepped towards him to where you stood only inches away from his face, staring up to meet his eyes. “My agents told me that the South is planning an invasion into our territory, and the way the other kingdoms are ruling their land—we won’t survive this war. You are the only one that is capable of leading us to victory.”

Yoongi turned towards your followers. “Do you all agree with him?”

“Yes, your Majesty,” one of the guards spoke up. Each and every person then stepped forward and began to speak loudly on their opinions of their leaders.

“Park Jimin is too young to be King—he doesn’t know how to rule.”

“He can’t even hold a sword properly.”

“Jung Hoseok is a spineless man!”

“Damn right he is! The moment the South comes barging intl his palace, he’ll do whatever it takes to save his own skin and not his people.”

“Kim Taehyung is shameless bastard who would rather spend his time fucking his servants than leading his own Kingdom.”

Yoongi could see you snicker at that comment.

“He spends our taxes buying whores instead of using it to improve our home.”

“None of them belong on the throne!”

“They are right, your Majesty,” you stared at him with a small smirk on your lips. “Out of everyone, you’re the only that deserves to rule us. You are the one who will lead us to glory.”

Yoongi stared down at you with such desire. He may have found you attractive before, but now he couldn’t help but find you utterly irresistible. “So this isn’t just some power trip? Doing all this just to get to the top?”

Yoongi had his suspicions already about the war. He has heard from his own agents that the South were planning on some sort of invasion, but there wasn’t any evidence that confirmed that. So sadly he hasn’t been able to do any preparations—at least, none without the other royals knowledge of it.

You shook your head. “I don’t care about power, your Majesty—only survival, and you’re the best way to achieve that.”

“I see,” Yoongi reached up and stroked his chin, “how would you all do this anyway? Kill the rulers of each Kingdom can be tricky, and what about their heirs?”

“It’s quite easy,” you answered with a small grin. “They all have their jobs,” you nodded at your followers, “once they are home and unguarded, that is when they’ll strike. And as for their heirs, well, that’s not really a problem.”

Yoongi raised a brow. “Jung Hoseok’s wife is unable to bare a child, and he also doesn’t have any younger siblings to take over. So once he passes, rulership of his Kingdom immediately goes over to you. Same goes for my husband and Park Jimin.”

“I see,” Yoongi hums, biting inside of his cheek. “So what’s my job then?”

You smirk. “The only thing you have to do is have your succession speech ready, your Majesty.”

“But I have another problem,” Yoongi added. “Many people already disagree with our war with the South. How will we manage to persuade them that this is necessary? It’ll be difficult since three of the four leaders of the North are dead.”

“Trust me, your Majesty,” you spoke with such clarity and a smile on your face. “Everything is planned out and you don’t have to worry.”

Yoongi didn’t replay, eyes briefly glancing at the people that surrounded him. You must’ve noticed his still cautious state because next thing he knew you were signaling everybody out, telling them to “get some rest and prepare for your departure in the morning.”

“Why are you doing this exactly?” Yoongi asks the moment you two were alone in the room. “Because there is no damn way you’re doing this just for survival. I mean,” he suddenly chuckles, “you are giving complete control of the North. What is your angle here? Are you going to kill me after all this is so that you become Emperor?” Yoongi was starting to get frustrated. He has never had trouble understanding someone before until he met you. And now because of you, his mind was a complete mess.

“That’s not my intention at all, your Majesty,” smiling up at him, you placed your hand on his shoulder, smirking at the feeling of him tensing underneath your fingertips. “All I want is for the North, my home—your home to finally come out of its shadow that it has been forced to hide in for centuries.”

“And you think I’m the one that can do that?”

“Yes,” you nod, fingers dancing across his chest. “I’ve read records of previous Emperors and you’re the only that deserves that title. Unlike the other ones, you are resilient, intelligent, ruthless if necessary, and you even fight alongside your men which no other Emperor has done before.”

As each compliment came out of your mouth, Yoongi couldn’t help but feel himself starting to get hard underneath his lower robes, and you running your hands seductively over his chest definitely wasn’t helping.

“How should I repay you for your kindness then,” Yoongi found himself melting against your touch, his hands finding their way into your waist. “Because someone like you definitely deserves an reward for their loyalty.” Yoongi then turns you around in one quick motion, causing you to gasp at the sudden action and feeling his strong chest pressed up against your back and lips brushing against your ear.

A tiny moan escaped from your lips when feeling his hard length suddenly rub against your ass, you yourself starting to get hard as well. “Should I buy you plenty of jewelry, or maybe a large palace just for you?” Yoongi then pushed you up against the wall, smirking at the small gasp that came from you. “Or perhaps,” another moan came out of your mouth when one of his hands slipped underneath your robes and caressed the soft flesh of your behind, “make you wife?”

Yoongi chuckled when feeling shiver against him. “Yeah, you would like that, huh? Being my wife, an Empress, ruling right beside me?”

“Y-Yes, your Majesty,” you stuttered out, tilting your head back from the sensation, giving Yoongi the opportunity to lean down and leaving wet, tender kisses along your neck and bare shoulder, leaving dark bruises that’ll be near impossible to cover up tomorrow morning.

“Good,” Yoongi left another mark on your skin, dragging his finger across your ass, teasing your clenching hole with his fingertip. “Then how about we—secure our deal, then? And when you nodded, that was all Yoongi needed before turning you around to face him and crashing his lips down forcefully onto yours. The kiss was rough, yet tender and filled with lust. With your hands around his neck, Yoongi’s slid down to your thighs and hoisted you up into his arms, deepening the kiss with his lips moving in perfect sync against yours.

The kiss was like a drug that neither of you couldn’t get enough of.

“Please, your Majesty,” you whimpered against his lips, which made Yoongi want you even more than he already did. “Can you please h-hurry?”

Yoongi smirked against your lips, pulling away. “Don’t worry, my love, just be patient.”

It was quite ironic though, because Yoongi was everything but patient when it came to you. He couldn’t wait any longer. Instead of carrying you all the way to his chamber, he laid you on the closest flat surface which happened to be a table and tore your robes completely off of you, leaving you bare and them in ruins.

Yoongi decided to take his sweet time with you, dragging his lips across your ankles, up your legs to your meaty thighs. He then began to leave open mouth kisses over your abdomen and up your chest, teasing your nipples with his tongue and grazing the wet muscle over your collarbone. Yoongi continued his assault on your body until he reached back up your lips, capturing them this time into a soft, passionate kiss which you gladly returned without a second thought, hands sliding up to his shoulders and helping him strip from his own robes, revealing his pale and toned body.

Your mouth watered at the sight of him, eyeing his define muscles, the way his abs clenched as he climbed onto the table and hovered over you, and the way his biceps bulged as he held himself above you. “Y-Your Majesty—”

“Yoongi,” he cut you off, pulling away and moving his lips to your throat. “Call me, Yoongi, my love.”

“Y-Yoongi,” you tried out, heart warming in both of your chests once hearing his name come out of your mouth. It sounded right coming from you. “Please—”

“Don’t worry, my love,” Yoongi reassured you, moving his lips back up to yours. “I’m here, I’m here. Let me show you how it feels to be loved by a real man, yeah?”

The night was then soon filled with nothing but the sound your combined moans, skin slapping and the shared whispers of sweet words between one another.

This was the start of something new.

“T-Taehyung, faster, faster please!”

The sound of the woman’s moans and the bed’s headboard banging against the connecting wall to your room made your blood boil. Your hands clenched into fists and teeth biting angrily down onto your lips.

“Be patient, my love,” you could hear your husband say through the thin wall, making the rage that flowed through your veins grow more. “Let me cherish you, beautiful...”

“Your Highness,” the sound of a man’s voice tore you out of your thoughts, “I’ve done what you’ve asked me to do.”

“Everything’s prepared and ready?”

The guard nodded his head once you turned around, “yes, your Highness. The only people remaining in the palace are your loyal followers. Everyone else has been sent home.”

“Good,” only came out of your mouth before leaving your chambers with the guard following closely behind you. You walked over next door and didn’t bother knocking before barging right in, your husband and the girl instantly jumping to cover themselves with the thin bedsheets.

“What the fuck?!” Taehyung curses loudly, staring at you with wide eyes and wrapping his arms around the girl’s waist, pulling her close. “What are you doing here? I told already you that I’m staying here tonight.”

“I know,” you replied with not even a single ounce of emotion heard in your voice.

Taehyung’s eyes then shifted towards the guard that stood beside you. “What’s going on here?”

You didn’t say anything, only smiled, and that caused fear to form in the pit of Taehyung’s gut. With just the simple nod of your head, the guard walked over to the servant girl and snatched her by her hair, tearing her away from his grasp and yanking her off the bed and onto the ground.

“Stop—” Taehyung tried to reach for her but stopped when the guard pulled out a dagger and held the sharp blade against her neck, tears shining in her eyes. He then turned towards you, eyes glistening as well, “why are you doing this?”

“Change,” was all you said before nodding your head again, giving the guard the order to slide his blade across the girl’s throat, killing her instantly and letting her limp body collapse into the ground.

“N-No no,” Taehyung didn’t hesitate this time to jump out of the bed, despite being completely nude and taking her now lifeless body into his arms, blood staining the ground and his skin, and tears spilling uncontrollably from his eyes. “She was pregnant...”

“Oh well.”

Taehyung’s head shot up from your heartless comment, his teary eyes shining with a newfound rage. Before he had the chance to say anything the guard approached him from behind and wrapped his arms tightly around his neck. He immediately began clawing at his arms, trying to gasp for air that was becoming harder and harder to obtain, eyes bright red and nearly bulging out, tears slipping from them and sliding down his cheeks.

The last thing he saw before he took his last breath and eyes slowly closed was you standing in front of him with a sinister grin on your lips.

“Your Majesty.”

Yoongi glanced up from his book to see his personal advisor standing right in front of him by his library’s entrance. He hummed in reply, signaling for the young man to continue. We’ve gotten word from Lady Kim—” Yoongi glared at him, causing his advisor to pause and correct his words, “—I mean, ____’s agents that they have completed their duties.”

“They have?” Yoongi asked with a raised brow. He knew you were more than capable of doing this, but he thought something this major would take at least a week to accomplish. He didn’t expect to hear about any success a day later.

“Yes, your Majesty,” his advisor nodded. “The Jung palace is flames at this moment and there is word that Jung Hoseok himself and his wife were in their chambers when the fire happened. And as for Park Jimin, he was found murdered in his bed with a dagger in his chest. Some say it was one of his concubines that done it.”

“What about Kim Taehyung?” Yoongi found himself asking, his mind instantly thinking of you. “Was ___ successful?”

“Yes, your Majesty he was,” his advisor answered. “I was informed about Kim Taehyung’s death by ___ himself.”

Yoongi couldn’t stop the smile forming on his lips. “Good.”

“Would you like to start writing your succession speech now, your Majesty?”

“Yes,” Yoongi answered. “We’ll have the succession conference next week, and make sure every minor clan leader comes so that they know who is in charge now.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” his advisor nodded his head, and before leaving he turned back and said to him in a teasing tone, “oh, and someone is here to see you.”

Yoongi was about to ask him who it was, but he stopped himself when his eyes suddenly landed on you standing in his library’s entrance, his heart stopping in his chest at the sight of you. “H-Hey,” he stuttered out, cringing at the sound of himself. In all his years of living, nobody has ever had this type of power over him—but he wasn’t complaining either.

“Hello, your Majesty,” your reply sent tingles all over his body—and he loved it.

There was nothing but silence afterwards between you two because there wasn’t any need for words. The only thing you two needed to express the feelings you have for each other was your eyes—the passion, the lust, the want that shined in them.

This is just the beginning for you two.

would you guys like to see a drabble series of these two in the future maybe? emperor yoongi and his male wife.

TAGLIST:

@ben-c0c, @sombreboy, @theclawofsa, @joongtoons, @xavi-in-kpopland, @ephemeralkookie, @yoshiure, @illbeyournightmare, @sonderkook, @spaceisbigger, @catboygyu, @justqueerandhereforthetea, @xxminilah

#bonnyskies #bts #bts angst #bts one shot #bts x reader #bts x male reader #min yoongi #min yoongi angst #min yoongi one shot #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x male reader #yoongi #yoongi angst #yoongi one shot #yoongi x reader #yoongi x male reader #bts imagines #min yoongi imagines #yoongi imagines

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usergreenpixel · 3 years

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Frev writing prompts, Part 5! Seriously, I have no idea how I keep coming up with these. 😅

36. The protagonist was born and raised by a troupe of traveling performers. For as long as they can remember, they have been traveling from place to place, never staying anywhere for a few days at most.

The protagonist’s father is the troupe’s flutist and singer while their mother is a puppeteer so the youth has always had a passion for the performing arts and dreams of traveling all over Europe with their big happy family.

Nicknamed “L’œillet rouge” (The Red Carnation) by the troupe as an homage to their father’s favorite flower, the protagonist enjoys playing the flute and singing with their father, as well as putting on puppet shows with their mother.

With a song in their heart, a smile on their face and their father’s precious flute in their hands, the protagonist travels all over the country with their family, entertaining the people of France but never settling down and they like it that way.

But one day, while the troupe is staying in Paris and putting on a rather satirical puppet show which mocks the current regime, the protagonist’s parents are suddenly arrested by the police. Apparently, the father is a dangerous rebel while the mother is guilty of having sheltered said rebel years ago.

The protagonist is convinced that there must be a mistake and decides to rescue their parents with the help of all the other troupe members, including the protagonist’s older maternal half-brother and their maternal grandparents, all of whom are eager to help.

The time is limited and the rescue will be far from easy, but the protagonist will be damned if they don’t at least try to succeed. So, with that in mind, the young flutist and their family start to concoct the rescue plan...

37. Rumors have it that people who have been murdered tend to become vengeful ghosts and haunt their killers to exact revenge.

This is certainly true for Robespierre and his supporters. Unable to find peace, their souls are brought back to the realm of the living, seeking revenge on the Thermidorians.

This particular circumstance is quite convenient for the protagonist, a spirit medium who summons these ghosts and intends to use them as tools in their plan to torment the Thermidorians and avenge their family that got massacred in Lyon, skillfully using the revolutionaries’ restlessness and anger to achieve their goal.

However, soon certain events make the protagonist question the morality of using these spirits. Perhaps the protagonist is no better than their enemies if they are not above manipulating others. Perhaps there’s another way… Nonsense! It’s not manipulation if the other people also want revenge and are dead anyway...right?

38. The heroine of the story, like many other girls of the noble class, grew up and got her education in a convent in her hometown of Caen, France.

As a result of this upbringing, the young woman is rather used to a sheltered life, her idealism is through the roof and she is rather nostalgic about her life in the convent and her friendship with another noble girl, Charlotte Corday, who is the heroine’s closest friend and confidant.

At first the noblewoman wants to stay out of the events of the revolution, dreaming of taking her vows as a nun and living a quiet life in the convent, but those plans are abruptly thwarted by Corday, whose influence slowly gets the naïve heroine deeper and deeper into the mess that is the French Revolution.

Being idealistic, easily trusting, quiet, pacifistic and devoutly Catholic, the heroine initially follows her best friend’s lead and trusts her judgement since Corday is the closest thing to a big sister that the young woman has.

However, when Corday tries to convince her to kill Jean-Paul Marat and end the revolution, the heroine starts having mixed feelings about her friend’s decisions, despite being angry with Marat for her own personal reasons. After all, her faith teaches to forgive, not to judge and take revenge, so now the heroine must make a choice.

Will she betray her best friend and ruin the plan or will she cast aside her morals to help Corday and, presumably, the rest of the country? Is Marat really the bloodthirsty monster that Corday says he is? Is there another way to deal with the situation at hand without any casualties? And what consequences will the main character face for the choice she makes?

39. The main character is an illegitimate son of a Russian noble and a serf (yes, serfs were still a thing in Russia) who got taken in by his father as a “ward” and sent to France to get a good education, as everything French was very fashionable in the Russian Empire at the time.

There, in Paris of 1789, the young man absorbs all the knowledge he can, learning languages, reading the prominent books written in the Enlightenment era and even befriends a man by the name of Maximilien de Robespierre, a lawyer from Arras and the representative of Artois.

Considering that Robespierre was almost born illegitimate, he is the first person in a long time who doesn’t judge the protagonist for the circumstances of his birth and accepts him for him. Excited to be accepted at long last, the young man begins to look up to Robespierre as a mentor and an older brother of sorts, quickly absorbing his ideas and supporting him.

So, naturally, when the revolution begins and the young man finds himself trapped in Paris, he joins the revolutionaries to fight alongside his mentor.

Thus begin his adventures.

40. The protagonist is a child of criminals forced to survive on the streets after losing their parents until they’re eventually taken in by a seemingly sympathetic Jacobin, given a new name, a home and a fresh start in life. The protagonist essentially becomes the revolutionary’s ward and their guardian even takes them to the Convention so the youth can observe the meetings.

All seems good for the protagonist...almost too good to be true. But eventually certain events force the protagonist to wonder if their new guardian truly cares about them.

Could it be that their Jacobin guardian has some sinister motives? And will the protagonist be able to move away from their “bad” heritage and live an honest life at last?

41. Barras is in love. Again.

Head over heels over a pretty servant he recently hired and she even seems to like her employer back. Even her suspiciously strong resemblance to a certain Jacobin who got executed in 1794 isn’t a dealbreaker for Barras and the smitten man writes said resemblance off as a coincidence.

The other Thermidorians, especially Fouché, are not that blind and they fear that a relative of that particular executed man is here to seek revenge. Fouché decides to investigate this seemingly ordinary and harmless young servant, suspecting that she has quite a few skeletons in her closet.

Are these suspicions going to be confirmed or is Fouché simply being paranoid?

42. Thermidor has just taken place. The Jacobins are imprisoned and it seems like the traitors are going to win. All hope is lost for the Jacobins and their enemies rejoice.

But little do the Thermidorians know that by betraying and imprisoning all the men who stand in their way, they have just acquired new enemies - women.

Revolutionary women.

Wives, daughters, sisters, nieces, goddaughters, lovers, wards, friends and sympathizers of the captured Jacobins who are not going to sit back and give up.

Seeing how bleak things are, these women, led by a mysterious woman who conceals her face behind a mask and calls herself “Citoyenne Liberté” (Citizen Liberty), decide to rescue their imprisoned loved ones from the clutches of the Thermidorians.

They’re running out of time, they’re outnumbered and not equipped with proper weapons, but that is hardly a problem they can’t solve and they’re willing to fight against the odds regardless of the obstacles.

After all, Heaven hath no fury like a woman scorned, which is what the Thermidorians are about to learn the hard way.

43. A singer and actress who used to perform in Venice flees to France after a scandal demolishes her reputation. Having only her voice and her acting to make ends meet, for a while she tries to find work in Paris but barely makes enough money for her and her son to survive.

Her only friend and confidant in this bleak situation is a future revolutionary who happens to admire the heroine’s singing and strongly believes that she deserves better. He even bonds with the actress’s toddler son and is willing to step up and become a proper father figure for the child.

Thanks to said revolutionary, the heroine’s life begins to change for the better and she decides to settle down in Paris. Even when she learns about the approaching revolution, she chooses to stay in the only place where she feels like she can belong.

What’s more, the actress finally finds her new purpose in life. She too can fight for the cause of her new partner and his friends, in her own way.

How is a woman whose main talents are acting and singing supposed to be able fight, you may ask? Why, by becoming a spy for the Jacobins and the singing voice of the revolution of course!

And she might just be able to prove that anyone can be a revolutionary and one doesn’t need to be a fighter nor an orator to help a noble cause.

44. A female servant working for Georges Danton has to practically flee the house of her employer after the latter crosses all the possible boundaries while drunk.

Fearing for her safety and profoundly traumatized by the event, the servant is found and taken in by a seemingly sympathetic man who sees Danton as a sworn enemy for his own reasons. Considering that both have a grudge against Danton and the man is a journalist, he and the servant team up to bring Danton down.

Will they succeed? Why does the journalist hate Danton? And is his desire to aid the heroine genuine?

45. Paris, France. The revolution is in full swing.

The Committee of Public Safety has to deal with multiple issues, the ongoing war is depleting France’s resources and the situation seems dire.

What’s more, a new newspaper, “La Voix de la Justice” (The Voice of Justice), began to circulate in the city. While this particular fact isn’t that surprising by itself, the thing that sets this newspaper apart from the rest is the fact that its author is anonymous.

Nobody knows who writes this newspaper but the articles are quite good and this mysterious person has already exposed several people who were using the Reign of Terror as an excuse for their atrocities.

Naturally, all these details catch the attention of Jean-Paul Marat and Camille Desmoulins, two of the most prominent journalists of that time. Intrigued by this new newspaper and its author, the two revolutionaries team up to track that person down, if only to find out who they are and thank them for helping their cause.

46. The protagonist grew up believing that Robespierre is single handedly responsible for the execution of their beloved aunt and uncle and, as a result, believes that the man deserved to be executed for that betrayal.

However, the protagonist is soon forced to question their judgment when their older cousin, Horace Desmoulins, reaches out to them in a letter, inviting them to Paris and claiming that he found evidence proving that in actuality Robespierre attempted to save Camille and Lucile Desmoulins, Horace’s parents.

Although the protagonist is skeptical at first, since Horace has always defended his godfather, they are still intrigued by their cousin’s invitation and leaves Guise to join Horace in his investigation.

Together, the two cousins are both determined to clear the names of Horace’s parents and figure out what role Robespierre actually played in the family tragedy.

47. The five protagonists are all members of a heavy metal band whose name and songs are an homage to the French Revolution.

Previously little more than a quintet of college misfits determined to rehabilitate this particular event and tell the real story through music, the band finally starts gaining popularity after a successful concert at a music festival in Marseille.

And then things take a turn for the unexpected when the band gets into an accident on their way home, only to wake up in Revolutionary France. Naturally, they now must survive and return home but this adventure might just become the inspiration they needed so much...

48. After the protagonist’s father leaves them and their blind mother behind to move to Paris, the protagonist is naturally upset. Year after year, they wait for their father to return but he never does.

In 1789, after losing their mother to an illness, the protagonist decides that enough is enough and travels to Paris to confront their father. To their disgust, they soon find out that their father is now remarried, with a new family and quite rich while the protagonist is basically a pauper. Moreover, the father seems to have joined the revolutionaries, which is something that the protagonist cannot approve of either.

Now the protagonist wants to make sure that their father faces the music for his betrayal so they contact a journalist who is about to expose said father in an article.

A story of one of his enemies leaving behind his first family will be a nice addition to the already existing accusations of corruption, but the protagonist and the journalist soon realize that they are not immune to the consequences of their actions either and this article might cause more damage than they think it will.

49. (A reimagining of Aladdin) After their flute is broken beyond repair, the protagonist goes to a pawn shop to find a replacement for their practice.

It is there that an old ivory flute catches their attention so the protagonist purchases it, has it professionally restored and decides to keep it, ignoring the warning of the shopkeeper that it’s cursed and the suspiciously low price.

The protagonist is a skeptic and never believed in magic, curses and other occult things.

That is until they play the flute for the first time and a man poofs into existence like a genie from a lamp. Introducing himself as Louis Antoine de Saint-Just, he informs the protagonist that he used to be the owner of the flute but is now trapped in it because of black magic.

Despite their skepticism, the protagonist cannot logically explain anything that’s going on but wants to help so they strike a deal with Saint-Just - he is going to help the protagonist win over their love interest in exchange for freedom.

As for how the spell is supposed to be broken, the protagonist is completely clueless but their mysterious neighbor with a knack for alchemy and the occult might be able to help…

50. Lyon, France.

The future Thermidorians mercilessly massacre innocent people and rule with an iron fist. Just today they massacred several prominent noble families of the city for defying them.

However, what the tyrants do not know is that they didn’t massacre everyone, for the daughters of the executed nobles are currently living at a convent to get education, as was common back then.

Upon receiving the tragic news and fearing that these young girls are going to end up on the death list, two nuns, the heroines of the story, come up with a plan to escort the girls out of the city and get them to a different location where they would be safe.

The plan is daring but the risk is too high to sit there and do nothing. Will the nuns be able to keep their students safe?

Let me know in the comments or DMs if any of my prompts interest you! I can help you with certain prompts if you want! 😊

#louis antoine de saint just #french revolution #writing #writing prompts #frev #paul barras #I still refuse to make a fouche tag #charlotte corday #jean paul marat #camille desmoulins #lucile desmoulins

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stevenuniversetanzanite · 4 years

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The Angel Among Us (Cordelia X reader) part 5

Wrote this at 12 am this morning. Hope it's not too rushed, I tried to move the plot along. I didn't expect to write 5 parts for this series but I like the plot of oh well. Probably 1-2 more chapters for the prequel before we go to the outpost.

Warnings: Murder

Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 , Part 4, Part 5 , Part 6 (will be added when done)

Cordelia had been working all hours to find ways to protect the girls. She had piles of protection spells but they all detailed different ingredients and served different purposes. Some only worked on an individual, others on blood relation. She knew the correct one had to be somewhere. A couple of the books were missing from their spot on the bookcase. The last user had not placed the books back in their rightful spot after use. She groaned, using her powers to find the location of the book. She found the book, accompanied by similar titles in your ‘study’. She settled her candle down on the floor as she rested on the floor wincing at the contact. She went to open the book when her cell phone rang. She jumped as the sound rung throughout the room. She left her work phone on the bedstand, her personal on dead and with no power to charge it, it would remain that way until the power grid fixes the electricity.

“Hello, this is Cordelia Goode Headmistress of miss Robichaux's academy for exertional young ladies speaking, how may I help you this evening?” She said when she picked up the device.

“Cordelia, this is John Henry Moore. I have found something that might concern you…”

The man thought you had looked familiar which led the man into a search to see why he thought you recognised your face. John was going through the old archives when he found an old journal about a being described as divine in nature.

The tale, in summary, goes as followed: A woman birthed from light wandered the earth in search of an item she lost. She stumbled on a wounded woman in the red dust. She offered her aid in return she must help the woman of light find what she lost. Without options, the wounded accepted the help. The being of light protected the other woman from the red sand under her feathered wings. As the story goes on the woman refused to help her causing the woman of light to undo her end of the deal. The woman of light left the woman buried in the red dust. The story ends the same way as it began, the woman wandering the earth.

By the warlocks who recorded the story, the woman of light was dubbed the She-devil by some and only seemed to be a threat to woman. The name itself didn’t work to well, as the word has connotation to being a malicious or spiteful induvial while the book displayed her as fair and just, however like the devil loves deals and excepts both ends of a bargain to be upheld. The woman was compared to one of the 19th century who was seen as the living female eqiverlant of the devil making the name more literal.

For a time, she was seen as a goddess among that ill willed men prayed when their wives got to be too much. But do not pray to not call for her if the woman is wounded, a redhead, or the emotionally damaged for you will never see her again.

“I might be missing something but how is this story important enough for me to hear at 10 pm?”

“It’s the drawings that accompany it. In all renditions of the same story all the drawings are the same.” They were all of her girl. The man told her to check her emails for all the photos he took of the book. “I don’t want to accuse people of being someone they’re not but if there was a chance the antichrist was on earth, there’s more of a chance he isn’t alone.”

It didn’t necessarily mean the person was bad and if this hypothetical person was her girl than wouldn’t be it fair to offer her the same that she did with Michael? She would have to make sure the boy didn’t get to her first. She wouldn’t make an offer until she could be sure.

“Is there anything you can tell me about this ‘woman of light’? How to call her? What she wants? Or, how to stop her?”

He left her for a moment to scan the information he had on her. “Nothing was recorded. The men who summoned her never saw her but new of her visit when their wives were gone. One tale mentions an indication of a visit; she steals trinkets from the men and for her favourites, she had been known to steal articles of clothing form the woman. A few accounts of her say not to argue with her and never lose her trust.”

Crap. If they are the same- may not have been the best time to being having a fight… or withholding information from her. Everything would be fine; she was only at a slight disadvantage. She was your girlfriend; she had a higher chance of winning by those odds alone. You had a long history together and what did you have with Michael? Nothing.

You were brought back to the academy in the school’s van driven by Madison. She wasn’t pleased in being forced to drive the school’s van and even less impressed on having to pick you up from the hospital.

The results of your tests were messed up, they blamed them being screwed up due to the power outage and had to retake them. The results were the same, a doctor came into the room to tell you that you should have been dead. Your body tempter was way below that of a person suffering from hypothermia. A few doctors begged to do more research, their sudden eagerness coming off made you feel more of a science experiment than their patient. Not to mention with knowledge of the dangers of being out in the open, you needed to protect the girls now more than ever. Michael knew you by name, claimed you knew his father. What a load of horse shit, you would remember if you knew his father, right? His voice was the same from that night at the gas station. He made you watch the man burn.

As the van grew closer to your destination, you were closer and closer to suggesting places the two of you could go to prolong the drive.

Your mind drifted back to the last night you saw your girlfriend. You should have been angry for yelling at her or withholding information, but you weren’t anymore. She didn’t bother to tell you about problems that would affect you so why bother sharing yours with her. She had no need to know about your interactions with Michael. The boy hadn’t threatened any of the girls as far as you were aware. It seemed to be a personal vendetta against him and Cordelia. Once again you were left out of the loop. You had no clue what the boy was or what he was capable. You knew he was powerful if the warlocks would mistake him for the ‘Alpha’.

The boy spoke to you as if he trusted you or at least needed something from you, ‘You have no need to fear me Y/N, I come here as a friend.’ And suggested that Y/N L/N wasn’t your real name, ‘But you’re Y/N M/N L/N or at least that’s the name you go by on Earth.’ Few knew your middle name, not even Cordelia could recall it from memory.

You decided to keep this information to yourself. It might help you save the coven if you were seen as his friend. If you wanted it protected, then would he harm it?

Sat in Cordelia’s office, you twiddled your thumbs. The two of you had been silent from the moment you’d returned. She had requested for your presence, sending one of the students to fetch you. She was treating you like a student who’d gotten in trouble and was not sure what she was going to do or say to you. You stared at her directly waiting for her to make the first move. You didn’t want to see her, you were back here to do your job, protect the girls from the threat your girlfriend didn’t care enough to tell you about. Clearly you weren’t important enough to her and thus shouldn’t waste your time which you only found out is limited.

The blonde faced her back to your, her vision focused out the window she stood in front. The curtains were pinned back to allow the cool breeze to fill the room to remove the slight stench of decay in the air. It wasn’t something you noticed before, but it lingered around her person. Your senses were heightened ever since the serge of energy you got before the power out. Reading the woman became more predictable. She would wait in hopes that you’d start the conversation, when you don’t she would force herself to being on something minor then the discussion with grow into the major problem on her mind. It would start out as distant but by the end of the night you’d both be cuddled up in the shared bed.

Cordelia moved over to her chair across from you. It too at a distance. Where to even begin with you? Cordelia thought. With your powers? Telekinesis, Transmutation, Divination and Pyrokinesis, three out of four she didn’t know you had until the last couple of days. Or how about your newfound smoking habit? She told you she didn’t approve, was she going to scold you for that first?

“Has she passed all the tests?” You snapped the woman out of her train of thought. You never started the conversation first.

“Who?” You started talking to her like you had been having a conversation for a while now and expected each other to be on the same page.

“Mallory.” Was this the only thing you’d been thinking about since the last time you spoke? Cordelia pondered.

“Yes. There’s only a mattered of time now.”

“Then what? The coven moves on like normal?”

“Eventually,” Cordelia answers plainly. “Yes.”

“Unbelievable.” You rolled your eyes shifting your body to face aware from her.

“We can talk about this later, for nor there are more pressing matters.”

“Like what? What’s more important than your eventual death.” You snapped. “The stench of death surrounds this coven and that bloody window isn’t helping anything.” You point at the window. “Seriously light a candle or something.”

“Maybe it’s from all your cigarettes. And for more pressing matters, you and your dangerous behaviours. Smoking, Y/N, really?”

“You found out? Who snitched?”

“No one had to Y/N-”

“No~ someone told because it took you too long to figure that out otherwise.”

The two of you fought back and forth, the conversation got heated. You were face to face shouting at each other. She compared your behaviours in the conversation to a child when she was wanted to talk to you like an adult. You told her she had no say over what you do, say or act and if she cared more, she would be around you more. She blamed her lack of time on being the supreme and that you wouldn’t understand responsibility or the threat of danger because you hadn’t had to deal with witch hunters or warlocks who want you dead. You had dealt with people wanting you dead, hunting you down for sport. She called you bluff. Inches apart, you towered over the other woman, but she didn’t find you intimidating for one second.

“We need to be honest with each other-”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

Once you were both done tearing each other to shreds, you were both out of breath. The blonde kept eye contact. Your eyes, that were still staring daggers at her, were fully dilated.

“You want to-” Cordelia went to ask.

“Bedroom or office?”

Cordelia thought for a moment. No one would dare go into her office without permission while her office was free ground and she didn’t want to be disturbed. “Bedroom.”

“Good choice.” You picked her up and she wrapped her legs around your waist. She cupped your face and pulled you in for a long kiss. In was only a matter of seconds before she was lying on her back as you shifted your hands were from when you were holding her. Your hand found it’s way to her stomach when she hissed out in pain. You recoiled back, an apology slipping from your lips. The words didn’t register as her main priority was the sudden pain.

“You alright?” You asked when you didn’t receive a response.

“Yeah,” she groaned, hunching over, her hand cupping the area in pain.

“Show me.”

“What?”

“Show me the area.”

“Y/n”

“Show me, please,” you begged giving her your best puppy dog eyes. Anxiously, she unbuttoned her blouse. The mood died down with your concern for your girlfriend.

“Oh. God,” you gasped. One hand covered your mouth, the other reaching out to touch the one of the many wounds. They’d spread over her torso, in all the most frequently touched places you’ve touched. The wounds were shaped like cracks in a wall that were never maintained. The largest and most discoloured one was the on the left side of her stomach. It was the same one that got her researching in the first place.

“Y/n.”

“Delia.” you shook your head, in a state of shock. “Delia-Delia.” You crawled away, keeping your distance from the woman, in fear that a single touch of her and she’d shatter. “I didn’t mean to touch it- oh god, why didn’t you tell me it’s gotten worse?” You choked up, eyes darting between the woman and her body.

“I’m fine Y/n-” She tried to console you even though she was the one in pain. You should be helping her. Stop being a cry baby and comfort your girlfriend. “You didn’t mean to-”

“No, you are not Delia. You’re in pain. I can’t even touch you anymore without-” You stopped mid idea. “I didn’t mean to?”

“Yes, baby, it’s not your fault.”

“Not my fault?”

“How about we call it a night and try again another night?” Cordelia smiled weakly and you felt completed to nod in a similar calibre.

“Sorry, I ruined the night.”

“It’s fine, love and you didn’t ruin anything.” Cordelia paused for a second to think of her next move. As much as she wanted to, she didn’t think she could physically sleep next to you tonight. Her body ached at the contact of anything, she didn’t need you acting as a catalyst for a more painful and sleepless night. As much as it tugged at her heart, she needed to distance herself in order to work. By tomorrow, she can figure out a way to solve this and have everything back to normal. “I do need to speak to you about something. You know how I suggested we be honest and keep each other informed about our lives?”

“Yes.”

“That warlock I told you about, he threatened the coven. I need your help as well as the others to prepare some of the more skilled students to perform a protection spell.”

“Of course, I can do that tomorrow-”

“It would take half a day to get the ingredients-”

“-and you want it done as soon as possible?” Cordelia nodded. The woman rarely condoned your eagerness to work on magic, that’s why you offered to do it tomorrow. You weren’t going to complain that the woman wanted you to work but it made you sceptical. “Alrightly then.” You bounced up and dashed to her side to plant a kiss on her check. She bit her tongue.

By one in the afternoon the next day, the spell was ready for casting. You were put in charge of overseeing the protection spell while Cordelia had a meeting with Mallory. You weren’t happy about the news of her replacing your girlfriend, but Cordelia assured you everything would be alright. She knew that with you and Myrtle helping Mallory, the coven would be in safe hands. You wanted to believe her. It would take a long time to move on. She isn’t dead yet, calm down and focus on the moment, you thought.

“We can’t always control the energies around us. Negative emotions, sickness, toxic people, unwanted spirits. These things are unavoidable,” Zoe said.

“But the guardians chalice is our first line of defence against all of that,” Queenie said.

“Uh~ a bear trap for bad juju. You just stash one here and around a space you want to protect and-”

“-and that's not even enough, not without this dope ass mantra to recite before. That's going to put all this power into these jars of junk.” Queenie handed out papers with the incantation on them. She offered you one, but you passed already knowing the spell. “Everyone repeat after me. We’ll do it together.” Everyone joined in. “Any unwanted spirit, with negative energy, you must leave now.” Something was off, you stumbled back towards the wall, grabbing onto it for support. No one noticed, thank god. “Any evil presences must leave now.” The front door called out to you. You needed to get out of here. Have a smoke or anything, just not be in this house. “Only light presences and healing energy is allowed in here.” They repeated the mantra again.

Slowly, you slid against the wall, crumpling at the floor, fighting against the small part of you that wanted to leave. Suddenly, the urge died down and you blurted out, “It’s broken.”

Before the others could comprehend what you meant, Michael made his grand entrance.

“Clearly that mantra’s bullshit. Oh, come on. You can’t be that surprised to see me.”

“Fuck no you were prophesied, darling. Up yours.”

“I told Cordelia what I was going to do to all of you. I have deaths to avenge.”

Zoe and Queenie used telekinesis to fling glass shards towards Michael but he reversed it, hitting the girls and Bubbles. You sprung up, leaping out in front of the table to protect the remaining girls. You raised your hands on guard and recited a protection spell for a barrier. Mead walked out.

“Mead! How the fuck are your here?”

“I was built for this,” she said, removing her arm revealing a gun. Mead gunned you down before you could finish. You dropped to the floor. You felt the warm blood flowing out of your body. The man smirked while observing the death of your sisters.

She shot down Zoe. Queenie reached out, grabbing a shard and slitting her throat. A large gash formed at Mead’s throat, white liquid pouring out. Queenie was shot as well as any girls trying to get away.

You clenched your stomach, applying pressure to the wound. “Nice show.” Michael’s attention brought you. Michael offered out his hand to you. He registered you had no idea what he was talking about. “You're fine. You're not bleeding.” What was he on about? Of course, you were. You looked down to prove it. Your clothes are stained red. “These witches have done a number on you.” You were still confused. “Take my hand and I’ll explain everything.” Hesitantly, you take it. You were scared he would gun you down again and unlike last time you’d remain down.

“What am I?”

#cordelia x reader #cordelia foxx x reader #cordelia goode x reader

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atlantic-riona · 5 years

Text

A Retelling of Bricriu’s Feast

(or, as I like to call it, “Who Will Be Ireland’s Top Couple?”)

disclaimer: this is a very paraphrased, pieced together retelling of a myth. it’s got bits that are summarized and bits that are added and bits that are skipped over and bits that are from a ton of different versions.

it’s how I would tell this story to someone who has no prior knowledge of Irish myths; when I retell Irish myths to kids, this is usually the style I tell them in. it’s meant to be funny and entertaining. it’s not at all scholarly. if you want the actual myths, please feel free to ask! I’ll tell you my sources so you can see the original.

with that out of the way, here we go:

Bricriu throws a feast and he’s trying to get all the Ulstermen to fight

bear in mind he spent a year building a lavish house SPECIFICALLY for this purpose, with a secret balcony for him to be able to see everything going on without being seen

Bricriu is The Troublemaker™ of Ireland

anyway when everything’s ready, off he goes to Emain Macha, where the king of Ulster (Conchobar) and the Ulaid (men of Ulster) are throwing their own party

Bricriu tells Conchobar about all the cool house he built and how he’s throwing a feast there, wouldn’t he like to come? Conchobar, not being great at recognizing when Mischief Is Afoot, is like, “sweet! I’ll go if everybody else will go”

then good old Fergus mac Roich and all the other chieftains go, “mmm...hard pass”

“if we go to his feast, he’ll make us fight, and then our dead will outnumber the living”

you think they’re being dramatic but you haven’t seen Bricriu’s response yet

Bricriu: if you don’t go to my party I’ll do way worse than that

Conchobar *side eyes him*: like...what?

Bricriu: I’ll make all the kings and warriors and youths and chiefs fight each other, and you’ll all murder each other unless you come to my party

Conchobar:

the other Ulaid:

Conchobar: yeah, no, we do that on a daily basis anyway. what else you got?

Bricriu: okay, if that’s not bad enough, I’ll make all the daughters and mothers fight each other, and if that’s not enough for you, I’ll make all the women fight each other until their breasts are RUINED

the Ulaid: *horrified gasp*

Fergus, a known womanizer: noT THE WOMEN

Fergus: we gotta go to this party

luckily, the other chieftains hold off long enough to come up with a plan (mainly due to Sencha, a judge and poet, who is like. the only one here with any common sense)

and their plan is to demand hostages from Bricriu to ensure their safety AND as soon as the feast is ready to be eaten, eight swordsmen will force Bricriu to leave the room so he can’t incite them to violence

outwardly Bricriu’s all, “of course! no problem! I just want us all to have a good time!” while on the inside he’s cackling maniacally or something

“YES THEY FELL INTO MY TRAP”

all the Ulaid happily march off to Bricriu’s new house (free food! drink! a good time had by all! except NOT)

Bricriu spends the whole time plotting, and finally hits upon a way to incite mischief (as he usually does) along the way

he sidles up to a hero named Loegaire and starts praising him (very poetically, might I add), and finally tells him that he definitely deserves the Champion’s Portion

[scholarly digression #1: the Champion’s Portion in Irish mythology is where the warrior who’s considered the bravest is awarded the best cut of meat and given precedence over all others. lots of fights get started over it. like this one!]

and Loegaire’s like, “no duh, of course I deserve it”

Bricriu says that Loegaire should take his advice if he wants to be recognized as The Best in Ireland, and Loegaire happily agrees (I guess he also is Unable To Recognize when there is Mischief Afoot)

Bricriu then goes off and describes what the Champion’s Portion will be at his feast

(it’s a descriptive list, Irish myths do this a lot, but basically it goes like this: a cauldron big enough to fit three men full of wine, a boar and a cow that will be super tasty because of how they’ve been fed, and 100 wheatcakes cooked in honey)

forgot to mention that the Champion’s Portion doesn’t just have to be the best cut of meat, so there’s that

and then he tells Loegaire that when the feast is ready, to have his charioteer stand up and the Champion’s Portion will be given to him

questions: how?? where is it all gonna go?? is Loegaire expected to eat that in one sitting???

alas, there are no answers given to us

by the end of this, Loegaire’s all pumped up and tells Bricriu that the portion better be given to him, or else blood will be spilled

when Conchobar said that killing each other was a daily occurrence, he wasn’t kidding, guys

Bricriu then goes to Conall Cernach, another hero, and repeats the same spiel, amping up the deceit, so he’s twice as slimy, I guess

Conall also doesn’t recognize Stranger Danger and falls for the lies

THEN Bricriu goes to Cúchulainn (who is, just so you know, the Hero of this particular cycle of Irish mythology), and really lays it on thick

Bricriu: why should anybody else get the Champion’s Portion when you exist?

Cúchulainn: anyone who tries to take the Champion’s Portion besides myself will lose their head, courtesy of me

Bricriu: nice. very violent

Bricriu then goes and mingles like there’s no tomorrow, pretending that he didn’t just set up the most awful prank ever

they get to the house, everybody settles in, the feast gets set up, and then everybody gives Bricriu The Look

as he’s being escorted out at swordpoint, he points out the Champion’s Portion and says it should go to the best warrior in Ulster

the Irish equivalent of Eris throwing the Apple of Discord into the midst of the Greek gods, only manlier

the three heroes’ charioteers stand up in order to get the champion’s portion for their respective masters and do a collective double take when they see the others, only with more shouting and insults

then the three heroes start fighting while the rest of the Ulaid sit at the table, looking at each other like “I just wanted to eat my food, can we please not”

finally Sencha tells Conchobar, “hey. can you like...be the king and stop this?” (I told you he was the only one with any common sense)

Conchobar and Fergus break up the fight and then Sencha says, “right, here’s how this is going to work. we’re going to divide it equally among everybody tonight—YES, everybody, sit down, Loegaire—and then tomorrow we’ll get judgement from elsewhere. everybody go off and get drunk now”

which they do, happily

Bricriu, sitting in his hidden balcony with his wife, is Not Pleased at the way his mischief is being ruined, courtesy of Sencha, and starts thinking up ways to start up fights between the wives who accompanied their husbands here

he sees Fedelm, the wife of Loegaire, leaving the hall with her fifty attendants, in search of fresh air (because they’d all been drinking a lot) and goes, “oh! new idea!”

he tells her (and then as they come out in turn, Conall’s wife Lendabair and Cúchulainn’s wife Emer) that whoever gets back inside the hall first is the Best Woman in Ulster

all the ladies are like, “nice. it’s going to be me”

gotta love that confidence

they mosey about outside, breathe in that nice night air, and then eventually decide to go back in and rejoin the party

so at first, they’re walking back all stately. then, they start to move faster. and then it becomes an all out sprint

they cause so much noise (because their attendants are really confused and also running, and there’s probably about a hundred of those people) that all the warriors, inside, think they’re under attack

they jump up and make as if to kill each other

because that’s a good reaction

but then again, as you’ve seen, the Ulaid will kill each other for no reason at all, so why are we surprised

but Sencha’s like “WAIT THIS IS BRICRIU AGAIN” so he orders the doors to be shut so that there won’t be fighting and killing on behalf of the women

Emer’s the fastest, so just as the door closes she reaches the entrance and tells them to open it because she won. Cúchulainn’s like, “sweet,” and gets up to open the door for her, but then the other ladies’ husbands go, “wait. MY wife is the best,” and they get up too

they don’t even know what their wives are competing in, but they support them anyway

now THAT’S some relationship goals right there

FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

Conchobar’s all “STOP STOP STOP” and makes them all sit down (though if I was going to bet on that fight I would bet on Cúchulainn) and he says they’ll have to duel this out with words

(epic rap battle)

(but not really)

so each of the other ladies give a quick speech about how they’re the bestest and queenliest and prettiest, and their husbands are the greatest heroes, and so they should be let in first

and then Emer destroys them

she’s like, “okay you might be pretty but actually WAIT NO YOU’RE NOT”

“I’m the most beautiful AND I’m the wisest AND I’m the most graceful in the whole darn country”

“and everybody KNOWS IT”

“Mary Poppins might be practically perfect in every way, but I’m actually perfect in every way”

(obviously I’m doing some extreme paraphrasing here)

and then she goes, “oh, you know who else is perfect? my husband” and basically calls the other ladies’ husbands feeble when compared to Cúchulainn and goes on a rant on how great her husband is

anyway, after this praise, all the husbands are all, “yeah, my wife is DEFINITELY the Best so I’m gonna let her in now. doors? who needs doors?”

the other two rip out parts of the wall so their wives can come in

but Cúchulainn casually lifts up one side of the house so Emer AND all her attendants (plus the other wives’ attendants) can get in

which they do, and Emer’s looking around like, “yep, I am the Best and so’s my husband, beat that”

and then Cúchulainn goes “meh” and drops the house, but it goes too far into the ground so it’s lopsided now

which happens to knock Bricriu and his wife over off their secret balcony into the mud

so Bricriu storms into the house, unrecognizable because he’s covered in mud, points a finger at the Ulstermen and yells, “FIX THIS,” and puts a geis on them so they won’t eat or sleep or drink until everything in his house has been put back in order

and the Ulstermen are like “oh no” “our dinner is in danger”

(as their dinner often is)

so they go out and do their best, but it doesn’t budge. they ask Cúchulainn to fix it and he tries to lift the house again, but fails. he gets angry about this and gets undergoes his warp spasm (a.k.a. all his hair gets sucked into his head and his ribs become really prominent and a lot of weird stuff happens to him. like the Hulk, but more disturbing. I don’t know. Cúchulainn goes through a lot) and puts the house back where it was.

then everybody’s like, “thank god, food,” and they sit down to eat.

but everybody’s still talking about who is The Best, and the women are still arguing about it, which makes their husbands get up in arms about it, so finally Sencha (still the only one with any common sense) goes, “guys. please. we’re eating. save the drama for after the food”

and Emer goes, “make me” and proceeds to reiterate why she and Cúchulainn are The Best. why? because she can. and nobody’s gonna stop her.

so Connall says to her, “okay, and? let’s see him do all this great stuff you’ve been saying he can do”

dude’s looking for a fight I guess

Cúchulainn, normally all about fighting everybody, passes because he had a busy day and needs to recuperate before fighting anyone

which is true, he had a very busy day. he was busy wrestling a horse that came out of a lake so he could ride it everywhere.

goals

and then he lifted up an entire house. twice. dude’s tired

he tells everybody this and then says, “fighting you will be fun, but later. need to eat. and sleep. then I’ll fight and maybe kill you”

*thumbs up*

anyway the fighting is put on hold for a couple days

but then the heroes start bickering about it, so Bricriu tells them to go to a man named Curoi mac Daire so he can judge them

you know the drill. each hero sets out separate from the others and rides through the night, with their charioteers. at some point a magic mist shows up and makes them lose their way. a giant appears and they fight. Conall and Loegaire end up running away, ditching their chariots and charioteer. tsk, tsk. Cúchulainn, however, beats up the giant, who forfeits. Cúchulainn heads back towards Emain (and he brings the other heroes’ stuff back with him to boot)

do they thank him? ABSOLUTELY NOT

Bricriu’s about to give Cúchulainn the Champion’s Portion, but the other heroes go “uh-uh. no way. that was not human. that was a guy from the Otherworld. he’s probably a friend of Cúchulainn’s. that whole thing was RIGGED”

so nothing’s solved and everyone’s back to fighting again

Conchobar’s all, “gotta get these guys OUT of here,” and decides to bring them to Aillil and Medb in Cruachan (a rival king and queen, who are kind of like the Ulaid’s frenemies? it’s complicated)

everybody heads off to Cruachan, but Cúchulainn hangs behind to entertain the ladies by performing feats with apples and knives and javelins, as one does

his charioteer Laeg finally goes up to him and says , “dude. buddy. are you stupid or what? everybody else has already reached Cruachan by now, you’ve lost the Champion’s Portion”

this is usually how Laeg talks to him, btw

running on Pure Spite™, Cúchulainn says, “I think NOT” and they set off towards Cruachan, Laeg insulting him the whole way to make him go faster

they go so fast that they get there first

also they cause an earthquake on the way in

rip

more feasting commences

then Conchobar brings up why they’re here and gets Aillil and Medb to agree to be the judge. as soon as that’s done, he and the other Ulstermen yeet themselves out of there as fast as possible

depending on the version, three magic cats attacked the heroes while they were eating or while they were sleeping. either way, Conall and Loegaire jump to the rafters and stay there for the rest of the night.

Cúchulainn doesn’t do anything until one of the cats tries to eat him or tries to eat his food (it’s unclear). either way, Cúchulainn ain’t having it. he tries to chop off its head, but it bounces off the creature’s neck. because magic. so he basically stays on guard against the cats all night

(kind of reminds me of all my friends with cats who try to walk on their faces during the night so they have to protect themselves)

(Extreme Cat Owner Sport)

in the morning, the cats disappear, Aillil and Medb come in. “awesome, looks like we have a winner,” they say, eager to wash their hands of the Ulster heroes. “NO WAY,” say Conall and Loegaire. “that was RIGGED. this is a contest between MEN, not MAGIC PEOPLE. this doesn’t count”

it’s unclear whether they’re still in the rafters at this point. I like to think they are, because that’s way funnier

Aillil’s like “oh dear” and sits in his bedroom for a few days because he’s so worried about this. finally Medb loses patience (as Medb often does), and says, “you coward! make up your mind or I will”

Aillil waffles and says the decision is really difficult

Medb says, “think again. Loegaire and Conall Cernach are as different as bronze and silver, while Conall Cernach and Cúchulainn are as different as silver and gold. this decision is a piece of cake”

and then Medb goes, “wait, I just had a really great idea that will get these guys out of our hair AND make Conchobar upset. I’m going to do it”

“you’re not even going to think about it for a second?” Aillil says uncertainly

“absolutely not. I’m a genius.” and away she goes

she summons the heroes one by one

to Loegaire, she says, “you are Ulster’s greatest hero and you deserve the Champion’s Portion. here’s a bronze cup. but don’t show it to anybody until you get back to Ulster, m’kay?”

Loegaire goes “nice” and they both drink some wine. then he leaves for Ulster

she does the same spiel for Conall, only he gets a silver cup instead of a bronze. they drink, he leaves.

Medb sends someone for Cúchulainn because he hasn’t shown up yet.

in one version, he’s asleep.

in another, he’s playing chess with Laeg.

anyway, the messenger shows up and Cúchulainn offs him with either a rock or a chess-piece. he’s a big fan of killing the messenger. this is not a new thing.

Medb puts her arms around his neck (is she trying to hug him? stab him? who knows) but Cúchulainn is all “you’re about to get slaughtered if you don’t get your hands off me”

“but Cúchulainn, I was going to say that you’re The Best,” Medb says, very slyly

“well in that case let’s go”

they go, Medb tells him that he’s The Best, and gives him a really sweet golden cup with precious gems all over it. and, bonus, she says that Emer is also The Best

this makes Cúchulainn happy. he drinks a lot of wine and leaves.

which makes Medb and Aillil happy. everybody’s happy.

but it is not The End yet

in some versions there are more tests, but I’ll sum them up for you: everybody agrees Cúchulainn and Emer are The Best

there is definitely a pattern here

gosh if only a decision had been reached by multiple sources as to who’s the best so that all this fighting could be put to rest

alas

it was not to be

back on the ranch

in Ulster, all the heroes are back and it is Feasting Time

everything’s been served except for...

dun dun dun

the Champion’s Portion

someone asks the obvious question: “who’s it going to? none of the three returned with a prize from Medb”

DUN DUN DUN

Loegaire stands up and proclaims that he is the champion because Medb said so and also he has this wicked bronze cup she gave him so there

Conall Cernach and Cúchulainn scoff

Conall Cernach stands up and says “it is a well known fact that rock beats scissors and furthermore, that silver beats bronze”

he holds up the silver cup Medb gave him and declares himself the winner

“that’s a no, actually,” Cúchulainn says, and pulls out the really sweet golden cup Medb gave him. “rock beats scissors and silver beats bronze, but gold beats everything. so, actually, I’m The Best. also Medb said Emer is The Best so there.”

“absolutely not,” the other two say. “you totally paid Medb and Ailill to give that to you. LET’S FIGHT”

these two are very sore losers, aren’t they

Cúchulainn’s all “COME AT ME” but Conchobar and Fergus step in to restrain the other two (again)

sad

anyway, everybody agrees that this is getting to be way too much but they can’t think of a solution

what do they do

THEY FEAST OF COURSE

so everybody’s feasting and whatnot, when suddenly the doors blow open, all dramatic like

and in comes a giant, who’s super ugly and frightening. he’s carrying an axe and a chopping block

surprising no one, he’s not here to sell some Girl Scout cookies

it gets really awkward because the giant’s glaring at them and they’re trying to avoid his gaze until finally Sencha asks what he wants

the giant says “I want to meet someone who can keep a bargain. I’ve been all over the world looking for such a person, but I haven’t found him yet. I’ve heard that you Ulstermen are always boasting about your bravery and your honor, so I’m here to put it to the test.”

Conchobar goes “alright, sounds lit. what’s the bargain?”

“well, first of all, you and Fergus are disqualified because you’re kings, so jot that down,” the giant says. “my bargain is this: someone chops off my head tonight, and I chop off yours tomorrow”

(scholarly digression #2: this sounds like a King Arthur story to you, doesn’t it? good news! the two stories are indeed related.)

anyway it doesn’t sound like a great bargain to any of the Ulstermen and so they kind of just stare at the giant

the giant finally says (I guess he really wants to play a head-chopping game) “isn’t there some sort of champion competition going on here? who’s the bravest in all the land and all that? well? come on up here and show me who’s the bravest”

all eyes turn to Loegaire

who’s not looking thrilled to be chosen first, let’s be honest

so Loegaire meanders unwillingly over to the giant and says “I chop your head off, right?”

“that’s right,” says the giant placidly. “and then tomorrow I chop off yours”

not exactly reassuring

“but, uh” says Loegaire. the giant hands him the axe. “if I chop your head off won’t you be dead?”

the giant lays his head on the chopping block and says “if I chop your head off, will you?”

which is the teensiest bit chilling, ya know?

but in the end peer pressure wins out and Loegaire chops off the giant’s head, which bounces across the room from the force of the blow

gruesome

everything’s silent for a moment. the giant doesn’t move. Loegaire breathes a sigh of relief.

then the giant gets up, walks across the room to pick up his head, walks back across the room and retrieves the axe from a horrified Loegaire, grabs the chopping block and says “see you tomorrow night.”

he leaves, his neck still streaming blood.

it puts everyone off their dinner, which is the real tragedy of the night

so the next night, everyone is again assembled, but this time they’re waiting for the giant to show up and kill Loegaire (I guess ‘cause there was nothing better to do)

the giant shows up, but Loegaire fled Emain and no one knows where he went

honestly? I don’t blame him

“sad,” the giant says. “who’s next?”

all eyes turn to Conall

he also does not look thrilled at being singled out

but again, peer pressure wins out, so he chops off the giant’s head

probably hoping that this time the death would actually stick

but it didn’t

giant gets up, retrieves his head and belongings, and heads out. “see you tomorrow night.”

tomorrow night arrives, and everybody’s waiting. the giant shows up, but Conall is nowhere to be seen.

“hmph,” says the giant. “you’re all miserable cowards, the lot of you. Ulster’s full of boasters but no brave men. say, where’s Cúchulainn?”

a few fingers point

“he’s a miserable squinting fellow, I’ve heard, but let’s see if he can keep his word”

Cúchulainn’s all “thanks but no thanks” so the giant shrugs and says, “fine, I get it. you’re just scared of dying. not brave at all. oh, well.” he turns to leave

“whAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?”

spoilers: Cúchulainn does Not Like being called a coward

he jumps up, runs forward, and grabs the axe from the giant

“LET’S GO”

he chops off the giant’s head, the giant gets back up and says “see you tomorrow night”

one version I read has Emer none too happy about this, and I kind of like it

“seriously Cúchulainn?? a mysterious stranger shows up and recovers from a beheading, and you agree to let him chop off your head? how can you be The Best if you’re DEAD”

priorities

tomorrow night arrives, the giant shows up and bellows “where is Cúchulainn?”

“here I am,” Cúchulainn says. he’s a lil depressed. understandably.

the giant has him come over to the chopping block and lay his head down. “stretch out your neck more,” the giant says

“it’s stretched,” Cúchulainn says

“it’s too tiny for me to chop. stretch it out more.”

Cúchulainn grumbles, most likely at the implication that he’s short, but stretches his neck out as far as it can go

the giant raises the axe

everybody looks away

the giant brings down the axe so that it lands on the floor. “congrats, you win”

everybody’s all “???”

( Cúchulainn’s all “neato I’m not dead”)

the giant says “you win the contest. you get the Champion’s Portion because you are the greatest hero in Ulster. also Emer is the greatest lady in Ulster. together, you two are The Best”

“aww yes,” Emer shouts. “also I’m glad you’re not dead, hon!”

“and,” the giant says, “anybody who contests this decision can FIGHT ME”

since he can recover from beheadings, nobody takes him up on the offer

Bricriu asks (like he doesn’t already know, pshh) who the giant is. the giant explains that he is Curoi Mac Daire, and he already judged the three of them when Bricriu asked him to (he was the giant that attacked them on the road), and he had chosen Cúchulainn as the winner. he came the last few nights to make sure that his verdict was upheld, since he knew Cúchulainn would be the only man in all of Ireland brave enough to fulfill his part in the bargain.

then he vanishes, and Cúchulainn is awarded the Champion’s Portion, and Emer is given the honor of going before all the other women in Ulster

and that’s how they became Ireland’s Top Couple

The End

#mine #retelling #irish mythology #ulster cycle #bricriu's feast #this was really fun #but it got really long #(it is one of the longest stories in the Ulster Cycle)

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howwelldoyouknowyourmoon · 4 years

Text

Religious Freedom for Japanese Members! (The FFWPU established a slave caste.)

A message for Dan Fefferman who campaigned against the kidnapping of Japanese UC / FFWPU members.

2011

Dan,

I believe you when you say you are “passionate” for religious freedom. But what I do not understand is why your passion does not extend to by far the biggest religious-freedom problem in the Unification Movement, and I am not talking about the kidnapping and deprogramming of Japanese members, which has become the cause célèbre of many of the UM’s top leaders, which has them jockeying all over the world, interacting with organizations of all sorts. What I am talking about is the continued abuse, stress, oppression, inequitable treatment, and financial servitude under which the entire Japanese movement has be subjected to for decades. This involves many tens (hundreds?) of thousands of Japanese members, compared to the “4300” members said to be kidnapping victims.

One could reasonably argue that many of these kidnappings could be attributed to the bizarre, extreme, and oppressive demands made over many years on the Japanese, exacerbating the concerns the members’ parents and relatives in traditional Japanese society had with the Unification Church in the first place. If you put enough heat under a tea kettle, Dan, it’s going to whistle, right? We all know the horror stories, Dan. Idealistic and faithful Japanese members made to mortgage their homes or take their college savings and give the money to the church; do “spiritual sales,” thus causing 3200-plus current lawsuits in the many millions against the church; having Japanese couples separated for many years so they could continue making money, in Kodiak and other places; the continual financial demands made on members, recently involving members being asked to donate their disaster-relief checks to the church and being asked to donate $15,000.00 each to the church to “atone” for the natural disasters; and perhaps most famously, Japanese members being given a “special rate” to pay at church activities, like Cheongpyeong Lake, workshops, and other requests, where they are asked to pay 10 to 15 times the Western rate.

Beyond the relentless money sponging, Dan, Japanese sisters have been used to work in the homes of leaders throughout the world, where they have worked for no pay, being told that this was their “mission.” From East Garden where they served as nannies for the True Children and cooks, to fundraising and housekeeping for top leaders’ families, to working in the Kodiak fish factory, a state of servitude that destroyed a number of marriages, by husbands who could not accept the fact that their wives were made to fillet fish over their starting their family.

How many Japanese sisters have been used as the personal servants of top leaders, receiving no pay, no health plan, just taken for granted like so much personal property, simply because of their “faith.” How many thousands and thousands of Japanese members have ruined their futures, their chance of going to college and establishing a meaningful career, fulfilling their Blessing, even keeping their sanity, under the pressure cooker of church demands and heartless leaders, whose only concern for the Japanese movement is how many millions of dollars it can produce?

Sure Dan, we can blame “outside” people for the harm being done to some Japanese members through kidnappings, but why not investigate and describe remedies for the greater, contributing problem: The long-term, systematic abuse and denial of the religious freedoms of the entire Japanese movement. I think that by now the Japanese have paid back the Koreans and others for old “war crimes,” with interest. The large number of Japanese kidnappings may just be an inevitable response to the well-known abuse and oppression of the Japanese members. If the Unification Movement were truly interested in “religious freedom,” Dan, it would take care of the real 800-pound gorilla in our room, the horrendous treatment of the Japanese members, which will only get worse due to the top-level, financial mismanagement of UM funds and assets. You can only get so much blood out of a stone. The mistreatment of the Japanese membership is a major blight on the history of our movement, where we established a slave caste, a goose that laid the golden egg, just so money could be funneled to a select few. Dan, why not get religious freedoms for all of our precious brothers and sisters in Japan? It will take courage, Dan, you may be persecuted, but in your heart of hearts, you know it is the right thing to do.

Religious Freedom for Japanese Members!

Mansei Man

_____________________________________________

In 1965 Japan gave $800 million as reparations for Korean occupation

Asia Times Online December 2005

In 1965 Japan gave $800 million as reparations for the occupation of Korea, in a combination of grants and low-interest loans. This was part of the Korea-Japan Normalization Treaty of 1965. In January 2005 details were disclosed to the Korean public for the first time.

https://www.asiatimes.com/atimes/Korea/GL23Dg02.html

_____________________________________________

The words of Sun Myung Moon, the True Father of all Humankind. November 24, 2011 Cheon Jeong Gung, Korea

“From my childhood, the spirit world educated me.

I haven’t been able to release my grudge towards Japanese people yet. Who chose Japan as Eve nation? (‘It is Father.’)”

http://tparents.org/Moon-Talks/SunMyungMoon11/SunMyungMoon-111124.htm

_____________________________________________

Change of Blood Lineage: The Real Experience of Salvation by the Messiah

Sun Myung Moon October 13, 1970 Seoul, Korea

“Many prophets and pioneers in Japan had to make sacrifices in the past. For what purpose did they do that? It is, of course, necessary to establish a nation in the masculine position [Korea as Adam], but their sacrifices were to establish an Eve nation. The Eve nation should be filled with gratitude to be suffering for the sake of the Adam nation. That is the historical task of Japan.”

_____________________________________________

¥ 1,400,000 to be paid to Hak Ja Han’s church by each Japanese FFWPU family.

Time period: October 20 - December 26, 2015

百四十万円 = ¥ 1,400,000 = $11,400 USD for each UC/FFWPU family

Believers are desperately looking everywhere to borrow or get the money any way they can.

_____________________________________________

Japanese woman recruited and sold by FFWPU to a Korean farmer

6,500 women missing from FFWPU mass weddings

Japan High Court judge upholds “UC used members for profit, not religious purposes”. This has serious ramifications.

Moon founded “The World’s Greediest Church”

“Moon betrayed his followers and distorted the church’s lofty goals by turning his movement into a huge money-making machine.”

The Atsuko Kumon Hong “suicide / murder” of August 2013

Suicide of Moon money mule in Uruguay

A huge FFWPU “Spiritual Sales” scam in Japan is revealed

Moon personally extracted $500 MILLION from Japanese sisters in the fall of 1993. He demanded that 50,000 sisters attend HIS workshops on Cheju Island and each had to pay a fee of $10,000.

Why did a Japanese UC member kill her Korean husband?

Shocking video of UC of Japan demanding money – English transcript

Unification Church Tied To Sales-fraud Scheme In Japan

“Apology marriages” made by Japanese UC members to Korean men

The lie that Kim Myung-hee was raped in Japan

Ashamed to be Korean

#Religious Freedom #FFWPU of Japan #Sun Myung Moon #Hak Ja Han

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queen-of-deans-booty · 5 years

Text

Sex and Violence- Part 2

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,313

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

Coming in through the front, you and Dean flashed your badges to the bouncer who let you in without any questions. Entering the place, all you could hear were men cheering on women to show off their bodies. It was a very sexist job, and you hated how they had to sell their bodies to make money. It was disgusting how these men would treat these women.

Looking at Dean, you saw him admiring them women who were dancing on poles before you stepped in front of him, placing your hand on his chest which got his attention.

“You want a stripper, I’ll strip for you. Much more intimidate than this, I can promise that. The only difference? You can touch me,” you smirked.

“I am so taking you up on that offer,” he groaned, licking his lips. He looked up to see an older man counting the money he’s made. “However, there is the manager. We need to talk to him.”

“Right,” you nodded as you both made your way over there. Introducing yourself to him, you flashed your badge to get him to open up to you.

“I'm looking for three girls. Jasmine, Aurora, and Ariel,” Dean said.

“You seriously think those names mean anything to me?”

“One's a redhead about 5'9". The other one's Asian, about—”

“You have any idea how many girls I deal with? Fake names, fake hair, fake,” the man motioned to his breasts making you roll your eyes.

“You gotta have some sort of paperwork. Cheque stubs. Some way to keep track of the strippers,” you said, making him look at you, giving you a once over quickly.

“Please, exotic dancers. Independent contractors working for cash. I stay out of their hair, they stay out of what little I have left.”

“Three of your customers murdered their wives. You don't think that that's weird?”

“Yeah. I think that's super-fucking weird. But you know what it ain't? My problem. If you’re interested in a job, call me,” he smiled before handing you his card.

“Leave right now,” Dean growled, making the manager choose wisely.

“What, I’m glad I’m hot enough to get an offer,” you shrugged.

“This is all mine,” he said to you in a jealous tone. It was so hot when he got jealous.

“Then this,” you gently grabbed his cock, “is mine.” Dean closed his eyes as he tried to get control over his thoughts and body when you spotted Sam. “Come on.”

Taking his hand, you walked through the sea of men before reaching the younger brother.

“Any luck?” he asked.

“No. You?”

“A little. I just talked to Bobby, we officially have a theory.”

“What’s that?”

“Siren, but the siren's not actually a myth, it's more of a beautiful creature that preys on men, enticing them with their siren song.”

“Let me guess, 'Welcome to the Jungle?' No, no. Warrant's 'Cherry Pie’,” Dean smirked.

“Their song is more of a metaphor, like... like their call, their allure, you know?”

“So, they shake their thing and the guys zombie out,” you put the pieces together.

“Basically, yeah. Sirens lived on islands, sailors would chase 'em, completely ignoring the rocky shores... and dash themselves to pieces.”

“Sounds like Adam and his buddies.”

“Yeah. If you were a siren in '09 looking to ruin a bunch of morons, where would you set up shop?”

“So, whatever floats the guy's boat, that's what they look like?” you asked.

“Yeah. You see, sirens can read minds. They see what you want most and then they can kind of, like, cloak themselves. You know, like an illusion.”

“So, it could all be the same chick? Morphing into, uh, to different dream girls?” Dean wondered.

“Yeah, actually. Probably. Sirens are usually pretty solitary.”

“Watch out boys, I may have to keep an eye on you more closely. Don’t want you killing me for some other woman,” you teased lightly.

“How do we kill it?” Dean asked after he laughed at your banter.

“Bobby's working on it. Even if we figure that out, how the hell are we gonna find it? It could be anybody.”

“Well, I know I could use some entertainment that isn’t women. As hard as I tried back in the day, I don’t swing that way,” you declared.

“How hard did you try?” Dean asked.

“Not the point,” you quickly said with a smile before leaning into his body, pressing your mouth close to his ear. “Wouldn’t you rather find out what I have under this dress than waste any more time here?” Nibbling on his ear lobe, you pulled away with a sweet smile.

“Sammy don’t come back to the room anytime soon,” Dean said as he slapped his brother’s chest before leaving with you.

“Wait, Dean, what am I supposed to do!” he exclaimed, sighing when he was out of earshot. Looking around the club, he watched some women dance before leaving the joint. He didn’t like strip clubs solely for the purpose of seeing those women degrade themselves. Plus, strippers aren’t his type. Cara Roberts, now she was his type.

“I didn’t know you had that,” Dean chuckled when you put away the lingerie you bought in secret to surprise him. Sam was out looking into yet another man who had killed in the name of love. Last night was full of great sex after Dean found out how good you looked in skimpy panties and heels.

“That was kind of the point,” you chuckled before walking over to him and sitting on his lap. He placed one hand around your waist and another on your upper thigh.

“I love you,” he muttered before kissing you gently. Hearing him say those words were a rush that only he could provide. A slight buzzing sound is what broke you two apart, and you looked at the table to see Sam’s phone that he apparently forgot. Remembering his secret phone call, you picked it up to see a text from an unknown number.

“I wonder who he’s been calling,” you said before going to his recent calls. Redialing the unknown number, you placed the phone between yours and Dean’s ear just as the person on the other line picked up.

“Hey, Sam,” Ruby said, causing your heart to plummet to your stomach. This is who Sam’s been secretly calling? He’s keeping way too many secrets. “Sam?... You there...?” Quickly hanging up, you tossed the phone back on the table.

“I can’t believe him,” Dean sighed right before the door opened. Sam raised his eyebrows at you and Dean just as you got off Dean’s lap.

“We weren’t doing anything.”

“I don’t want to know,” he interrupted you with a hand up. “Lenny Bristol was definitely another siren vic.”

“You get in to see him?” Dean asked as you walked to the sink to get another cup of coffee.

“Yep. He bought home a stripper named Belle. A couple of hours later he offed his mother. Belle, of course, went MIA.”

“Wait, he killed his mom?” you asked.

“The woman he was closest too,” Sam shrugged. His phone started ringing and Dean picked it up with a sarcastic smile.

“Yeah, you, uh, forgot your cell phone,” he said before standing up and tossing his brother the phone. Dean walked over to you before you handed him a cup of coffee which he took.

“Hey, Bobby… Ahhh, no. And, uh, it doesn't seem like she's slowing down any. You got anything?... Hold on a sec, I'll put you on speaker,” he said before doing just that.

“It says you need ‘a bronze dagger, covered in the blood of a sailor, under the spell of the song’.”

“What the hell does that mean?” you asked.

“You got me. We're dealing with 3000 years of the telephone game here.”

“Best guess?”

“Well, the siren's spell ain't got nothing to do with any song. It's most likely some kind of toxin or venom. Something she gets in the vic's blood.”

“Which makes them go all Manchurian Candidate. Uh, what do you think, she infects the men during sex?” Sam asks.

“Maybe.”

“Supernatural STD,” Dean chuckled.

“Well, however it happens, once it's done the siren's gotta watch her back. She gets a dose of her own medicine, it kills her like a snake getting iced by its own venom.”

“So, we just gotta find a way to juice one of the OJs in jail?” Dean asked.

“Not that easy. None of those guys are under the spell anymore. Haven't got a clue where you're going to get the blood you need.”

“I think I might have an idea,” Sam said with a smile.

“Oh, you gonna visit your girlfriend?” you teased, talking about his little doctor. Sam gave you a glare, but your dad spoke.

“Whatever you do, be careful. These things are tricky bitches. Wrap you up in knots before you know what hit ya.”

“Don’t worry, dad, I’ll watch them,” you said before looking at Dean. “Some more than others.”

“Okay, hanging up now,” he said right before the call was cut.

“Come on,” Sam shook his head and grabbed his phone, Dean grabbed his keys, and you poured your coffee in a to-go cup before you all left the room.

“Dr. Roberts,” Sam smiled once he saw the doctor.

“Agent Stiles. Can't stay away, huh?”

“Actually, uh, we're here on business. About the blood samples. The ones with the high... you know... oxytocin?”

“You still have them?” you asked, making her look at you with a nod. “Good, we need them.”

“What for?”

“Excuse me, Dr. Roberts?” a man in a suit asked as he approached her.

“Yeah?” she turned to face him.

“Excuse me, uh, we're a little busy here, buddy,” Dean said as you three flashed him your badges. The scary thing is, he did too.

“Yeah, so am I, pal.”

“Doc, can you give us a sec, please?” Sam said politely, and thankfully she didn’t argue.

“What's your name?” you asked once she was gone.

“Nick Munroe. What's yours?”

“I'm Special Agent Sam Stiles, they are my partners Dean Murdoch and Y/N Barnes. What office are you from?”

“Omaha, Violent Crimes Unit. My SAC sent me down here to see about the murders. You?”

“D.C. Our Assistant Director assigned us,” you answered.

“Oh, which AD?”

“Mike Kaiser.” It was like a quick game of question and answer. You had an answer for everything he asked which made him suspicious.

“What are your badge numbers?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Dean scoffed.

“I'm just following protocol.”

“Look, sir, just call our AD. He’ll sort things out,” you said as you handed him the card that had one of your dad’s numbers on it. He was your go-to for everything if you ever got in trouble. Nick grabbed the card before stepping away to give him a call. When he was away, you looked at the brothers in confusion. “They don’t normally come out here for things like this.”

“I know,” Dean whispered.

“So why send him, and where are his partners? Does this seem fishy to you?” you asked.

“No, but it clearly does to you so be on the lookout,” Dean declared just as Nick came back.

“I'm sorry, guys,” he handed you back the card.

“Just don't let it happen again.”

“Where are you at with this?”

“Where are you at with this?” Dean repeated the question.

“Well, I was just about to run the, uh, perps' bloodwork—”

“I already checked, dead end,” Sam interrupted.

“But get this. I feel like I found something that, uh, connects all the murderers. They were all banging strippers.... from the same club”

“You don’t say!” you said sarcastically which didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“What do you say we, uh, go down there and check it out?”

“Well, here's the thing, Nick. See, we're kind of lone wolves—”

“You know what,” Sam cut off his brother, “that sounds like an excellent idea. Just... just give me a second with my partners and we'll, uh... one sec.”

��Dude, you two gotta stay with him,” Sam said once the three of you were out of earshot.

“What?” you scoffed.

“Keep him out of the way.”

“Why us?”

“'Cause I gotta get the blood samples.”

“You just want time to spend with your doctor,” you scoffed which earned you a bitch face.

“What the hell are we supposed to do with him?” Dean asked.

“Just take him to the strip club... keep an eye out for the siren. Come on, Dean, just... just focus on the naked girls. You'll forget he's even there!”

“He’ll be focusing on me, thank you very much.”

“I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing it for her,” Dean said as he pointed to you. Sam gave him a quick smile before leaving you two.

“Alright, we're taking my ride, no complaining about the tunes,” Dean said, leading you and Nick to the car.

“No way. You drive an Impala?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, looking at Dean.

“It's a '67, right? It's a 327 four barrel?”

“Yeah, actually,” Dean smiled, but you were too weirded out by this. Something wasn’t right with him. Lately, all you’ve been feeling was that emotion. Was Amara doing something to you?

“It's a thing of beauty,” he said as he approached the car. Going to the back like always, Nick stopped you by opening the passenger side door.

“I’ll sit in the back.”

“You sure?” you asked in a surprised tone.

“It would be my pleasure,” he smiled. Shrugging, you got into the front and he shut the door before entering the back.

“How the hell did you talk the Bureau into letting you drive your own wheels?” he asked excitedly, admiring the interior.

“A lot of hard work,” Dean replied before taking off.

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#supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fiction #dean x reader #dean fic #dean fanfiction #series rewrite #season 4 episode 14 #s4e14 #spn #supernatural

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soapbubbles511 · 1 year

Text

Manifesting a jealous, possessive kiss tonight

Murder wives are causing problems on purpose. Anne plops herself on Stede's lap and tries to make out with him. Ed knows what she's doing. She's doing this on purpose. He shouldn't be jealous. But damn it, it's actually working.

So he grabs Stede, pulls him into a dark corner, pushes him against a wall and kisses the shit out of him

#about 12 hours until this episode drops #so MANIFESTING #ofmd #ofmd s2 spoilers #edward teach #stede bonnet #ed/stede #anne bonny #mary read #and if murder wives isn't already their official ship name it should be

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lovemecharlie · 5 years

Text

The Wives as Disney Princesses

So I purposely didn't use Tiana because we'd all be Tiana.

♡

Angel

Because she's always glam. Always. "Touch all of this skin." She takes no nonsense, and she's willing to wed a street rat and keep him on lock. She'll talk junk back to you while serving looks and watching you from her high tower. Judging.

♡

Charlie

Almost too oblivious to be functional but when clued in is very bright *cough* 🙃. Often deep into her research, social experiments, and case notes. Very kinky. She's no furry, but she dabbles in other things the kompound finds strange. Such an odd girl.

♡

Bastion

The primping. The zest for life, exploring, and excitement. The bright and shining eyes that hold wonder and intrigue when she's surrounded by treasure. You like Cartier? She's got twenty! But who cares? No big deal. She wants MORE.

♡

Hennessy

Mastered the art of killing via katana to save herself and those she loves. Being a Gemini with two sides, the princess who is small and cuddly and the warrior who is capable of anything. Underestimate this munchkin at your own risk.

♡

Aly'Sha

If she's at home, she's asleep, snoring, and causing no problems. She's sweet and loveable, but apprehensive when people invade her space or cross boundaries (Looking at you Prince Phillip). She might get a little crazy then due to her military background. Still a sweetheart.

Ryley

"Hoow HIGH does the money count go? If you ask Ryley, I'll bet thaat she knows!" She paints with all the bolors of the wind though in reality she only likes two. She's the rebel who won't do what you tell her or bare how you view her. Your perspective is none of her boncern.

♡

Kimora

Seductive and highly sought after by the higher-ups and big rollers. Easily captivates an audience with her dancing and her personality but no one's entitled to her. Oh no. Look but don't touch. She WILL twerk that ass, get that cash, and disappear on your ass.

♡

Kennedi

Woodsy and a fan of the exploring the great outdoors. Bold and unorthodox, exceptionally bright and extremely sassy. A firecracker.. when she's around.

♡

Josephine

She will freeze an entire kingdom if she's in one of her stubborn moods. "World stop!" She is the chaotic one. She caused World War I. She stole Christmas. She also has a murder kink and in true snow queen fashion would kill her husband and her sisters. (Bye Anna!) "Carry on."

#the kompound #the wives as #original

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catch22inareddress · 6 years

Text

Stolen Choices: Chapter One: Cindered Conscience

Summary: TRIGGER WARNINGS: Domestic Abuse

From a young age, you were thrown into a life that you despised by people that made choices for you. When the first opportunity to make your own arrises would you make the right one? Or would you sign your own death warrant?

After years of having your decisions taken away from you, it's time for you to take your rights back. It started with going to SHIELD and handing over HYDRA secrets that your husband left behind when he left the county in hiding. Little did you know that Captain America would step in and start making the decisions for you. By SHIELDS orders, you were to help him infiltrate your social circle as your new security detail in hopes of gaining access to your husband.

Just when you thought you were done playing the pawn in a never-ending game of chess, it turns out you have a few more moves to make.

As you paced your penthouse apartment and took in all of the luxurious surroundings, the only thing emotion that you could feel was disgust. While you never wanted this life and all of the things that came with it you still utilized everything and it made you sick. Every arrangement made to this point was made in your best interest, or so it was said. Your finishing school and all of your training to be the perfect subject. The perfect prize, the perfect specimen to walk hand in hand to every ball, auction, or meeting by his side.

You were orphaned at a young age and your cruel uncle found a lucrative interest in you and your beauty. While you thought you were just ordinary with all of your other attributes to the blue blood and your education you were the purebred partner. He protected you at high cost and kept you under lock and key to maintain every bit of pureness; then you were handed off to a finishing school and so on. At 18 you were auctioned off to the highest bidder, your current, and only husband. To you utter delight he was in hiding, and you refused to follow, but in your solitude, you found...secrets. Many many secrets. You knew that your time away from Henry would be short-lived and this was your chance to finally be free from him and his HYRDA affiliates. During his extended leave you had found a vast collection of information on the empire, and while you knew he was into the life in the underworld, you had no idea how deep it went. The images were burned into your brain, and you were determined to help in whatever way that you could. There were too many innocent lives that had been murdered and killed. How could you stand by? You were ashamed that you had never tried to find out before, but he was always there, lurking with a heavy hand.

You were ashamed to say that you were also hopeful that with everything that you were going to give them they would be more than willing to provide you with a new life. It was an easy decision, right? The problem was this was the first decision that was ever sincerely yours.

You paced your room even considering the risk of leaving the safety of the suite. Although you knew that whether you stayed in your fabricated fortress of solitude or left the walls, you husband Henry could gain access to you either way and then the abuse would begin again. For now, you served a purpose with the other wives and partners; to maintain appearances in the absence of those who were elsewhere working for the cause. You felt the bile rise up and knew.

You grabbed the hard drive and went down to the garage and took toward the Stark tower, praying that you had enough of a head start ahead of your bodyguards. With your nerves going haywire and your heart beating you knew you had to drive like the devil through the city to have any chance. You wove in and out of traffic knowing that you would never escape but clinging to the little bit of hope that this was your only chance and it just had to work.

The intercom in your car went off. "Mrs. Abbott, please stop. There is nowhere to go!" You cut off the coms and knew as you approached the tower that you would never be able to run inside. The benefit of Henry being a tyrant is that there was no way your guards had informed him that you were on the run if so they knew they would be dead before dawn. You began honking the horn and people scattered about as you crashed through the front glass wall. Stark employees came running over but you couldn't hear what they said before the abyss claimed you.

You awoke to a soft-spoken man with dark hair who called for Tony and Fury to come in to see the new patient. From what he said his name was Dr. Banner, and he was kind and timid and you felt at ease in his presence. That was swiftly exchanged for solid testosterone when Stark and Fury entered the room to your silent objection.

Fury was the first in and was slightly heated in his monologue. "So, you're Mrs. Henry Abbott?" You slightly nodded while you head screamed at the movements even with the good doctor's painkillers. "Yes. I apologize for the scene below, and I hope no one was injured. I --Just had to get away from my ---Henry's goons." They both looked between one another quizzically. "I would say that isn't a problem as they have been killed. They tried to pull you from the crash and Bucky--Sargeant Barnes went into combat with them, and he and Black Widow killed them before bringing you here." Your eyes lit up while you processed the information. "So...Henry still doesn't know that I'm here." Tony shook his head. "Certain of it. And why are you here?" He was patient and kind which was a contrast to Fury's intimidating stance, which genuinely did nothing to you. You have spent 8 years with Henry and a lifetime with a sadistic Uncle. This was a cakewalk of sorts.

"I have something for you. .." You handed him the drive with all of the digital information you had found on HYRDA and proceeded to tell the men your brief history with Henry and how the drive came about. You knew he was a horrible man but this was the proof you needed, and these people were the closest thing to salvation for someone like you.

Soldier by Bishop Briggs-Link ( I wanted this song to portray how tired Steve is of the battle. Please listen to this song and watch this girl kick ass edit. You’ll thank me later!!!)

Another mission had come and gone and more lives lost to tormentors and persecutors alike. Cut off one head, and two more shall take its place. That's the burden that claimed the Cap at the moment. The title, the name, the team. All of it. He was battle weary and knew that he couldn't take anymore. As he finally dressed and cleaned himself up from the latest long and grueling mission, he found Tony and Fury in his quarters in in-depth discussion. He knew why they were there and didn't want to talk about it right now, he just wanted a moment of damn peace in this hell hole.

"Really?? I just got back." He let out in an annoyed huff to the two men. They broke away from their deep conversating. "If this is about my resignation, save it. My mind is made up."

Tony was about to speak, but Fury stopped him with his hand. "Hear me out, Cap." Steve sat down and put his elbows to rest on his knees and silently waited for Fury to continue. "One last mission. Then...if you want you can leave. Live a life anywhere you want, away from the fight. But we need you now." Steve scoffed at the proposition knowing that it was too good to be true but knowing that he couldn't turn them down. He couldn't turn down the look of desperation in his friends' eyes as they asked for his help and it pissed him off to no end. "Shit. What is it?"

Fury smirked and Tony sat in the chair next to him. "Turns out we have a young wife in the med bay. Married to HYRDA head and she'd got a shit ton of intel that she just handed over, but she needs our help and we need time." He couldn't contain his aversion to the idea of a woman who was only helping to save her hyde but the prospect of all of the information and lives that it could save, well that outweighed his new life.

One last mission.

They made quick work and while you dozed off in what they called a briefing room. They seemed kind and said that you were safe. For the first time you allowed yourself to let your mind wander and mull over a possible future and jobs that you could do, you always loved the idea of working at a library or as a teacher. A safe house would be ideal, a new start? Anything would be better than going 'home' but as you see so many agents running and hustling about you felt unease.

What you knew to be the Avengers team came flooding in the room and while some sat others stood around the table. You knew James Barnes and Natasha Romanoff as they leaned against the wall while Steve Rogers trailed behind with a scowl as he spoke with Fury and Stark. The rest of the team sat down, and Sam was the first to give you a soft smile, you could tell he would smile at a wall if he thought it could talk back.

Steve was the first to speak and fill the silence of the room. "So this is her." Your head snapped up at the comment with such disdain dripping from it. "Yes, Y/N, please. I'd like to thank Sargeant Barnes and Ms. Romanoff for saving me earlier. Mr. Stark informed me that no others were hurt. I'm very relieved to hear that."

He crossed his arms over his broad flannel-clad chest with his brows stitched together. "Those men, your bodyguards were killed. Or do you not care." Tony hissed his name in reproach, but it did nothing to quell the Captains contempt. "I can assure you they've never been bodyguards, just babysitters. You did a service by killing them before they killed any more people. So can we please move on?" His eyes narrowed slightly, and everyone stared at him for a moment before continuing. You were shocked that you had that in you but after years of abuse from Henry and your Uncle for doing nothing wrong you were livid for doing something right and being met with such repulsion, at least from him. Captain Self Righteous.

"So under the circumstances with us needing to go through the information and Mr. Abbot and HYRDA unbeknownst to the leak...we think it in your best interest to return to your home." You were struck silent by Tonys claim. Had you not just risked life and limb to deliver this information literally on their doorstep only to be tossed aside. You felt a silent rage boiling up under to calm exterior, and your breathing hitched. They were supposed to protect you and here they are sending you back out there to the wolves. You understood the concept of the greater good, but the fear was about to overtake you.

"That's it? What am I suppose to do? Tell Henry that John and William just disappeared?! Go back to waiting for him to send someone...to take me to wherever he is?! Go back to living in fe--" A silent sob nearly escaped as you closed your eyes and regained some composure and with your voice barely above a whisper. "You were supposed to protect me?"

Tony cleared his throat and stepped in upbeat as ever. "That's the second part of the plan. See Cap here is to be your escort. As you can see he's all lumberjack and bearded, so most of the civilian world doesn't recognize him." You stood up and shook your head in clear confusion. "Are you trying to set Henry off? Is this a joke to you people? He'll ....kill me."

You didn't notice all of the looks given to you by the room, ranging from confusion to sympathy. It was Fury turns to explain their intentions. "The information that you gave us will be void if they know that we have it. We need time to decipher it and act on it. We also think that if you appear to have Steve as your new bodyguard and perhaps show you two getting... friendly... at a few public events it will send Henry over here to collect you or we can find out where he is staying. We're also putting a tracker on you." You could feel your body closing in on itself, and with a cold and distant finality, you stated. "He doesn't love me and you're playing with fire."

Steve spoke up with an indignant attitude. "Well, why get married? You must've loved him at some point, or he loved you. So we're banking on those feelings otherwise more innocent lives will be lost. I'm sure you don't want that on your hands, Mrs. Abbott."

You could no longer hold your temper any longer. You were finally making a decision for yourself, and it just went to hell in a handbasket. "Listen here, Captain America. Save your self-righteous commentary for the public and your fanbase. Not everyone gets the white picket fence and the happy ever after. Some of us get sold off at auction to the highest bidder. The only way Henry comes back is to get his property not his love. This is not some romantic fairytale that I've had the luxury of living. So shut the fuck up unless you have something useful to say."

Steve was dumbstruck and humiliated as the thought never occurred to him that you married with no choice. He just assumed that you loved a deplorable man and willingly went to bed with HYDRA. Literally, and now this was your way out. His mouth was agape, and while you were ashamed at your outburst, you felt it was a long time coming and it felt good. Very good. Perhaps too good and you should let that lion out of the cage more often.

"Look, I'll do it. If it will give you time to take down HYDRA and Henry but is there anyone else besides him." Steve's brows hitched together in what you found to be a usual look for him, and he put his hands in his pockets knowing how he acted; you had every right to ask for someone else. He also knew that the request would be declined.

Fury shook his head. "No, Bucky is too high profile with HYDRA. Sam and Clint are great but not if you're attacked by multiples, they aren't superhuman. Plus Steve's already comin' off an undercover op so he'll be more incognito to the public eye." Then he turned to Steve. "Make it work, Rogers." And with that, they left the room.

"I-I just have to get my bag then we can go to your place." You waved him off and as soon as he left you finally let the tears fall as you looked out on the New York Skyline.

So much for new beginnings.

So this is going to be a longer and darker series and will have domestic violence and triggers with those things associated with it. Some mentions of sexual situations in regards to her being sold into marriage. I apologize in advance if that makes you uncomfortable.

As for Cap-there will be language and smut. This is a one time warning because I’m a lazy asshole.

Tags with strikethroughs didn’t work so check your settings or the spelling on the tag list link on my page. You can also send me an ask. Love to all you sassy Marvel lovin’ bitches. Feel free to hit me up anytime lovelies!!

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#captain america #captain america reader #captain america x reader #captainamericaxreader #captain america smut #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans reader smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #miniseries #Steve Rogers #steve rogers smut #steve x reader #avengers #eventual smut #eventual romance #angst

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mommydragon-of-all · 6 years

Photo

By all means and costs, you shall be protected.

- another Soriden flashback that can be read as standalone

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As every big recruiting bunch, the inquisition too drew around itself a fair share of delinquent and criminals, predators, curious opportunists and all sorts of misfits with interests and intentions far and wide from the “big noble goal”. So it was only natural that Soren got involved, as soon as it all started budding and it bumped winds. As it was also only natural, being a bunch of colorful individuals hoarded together with a big and heroic goal, that Soren soon stretched his giant protective wings over all of them good people.

Soren was hoarding to his nest yet again, one spreading over Thedas now thicker than ever, and no sneaks were allowed to touch it. Thus the number of shady figures in the bad meanings of the word (Soren had an extensive explanative vocabulary on the word “shady” alone, in all languages and a couple of his own additions) was drastically dropping. This territory was claimed and guarded by a much bigger beast after all. The most dangerous kind. One with a giant heart and burning passion, and a protective fierceness from hell.

Harmful elements, leeches and wolves in sheeps clothing or honest in appearance but fangs flashing the wrong direction were disappearing all around the inquisitions core, or anywhere it traveled accompanied by Soren. The Inquisition was HIS folks now. From the head of the inquisition to the last cleans maid that joined.

(If you asked Soren he could tell you that brought in by Dana the smiths wives older sister who was a traveling merchant, the last cleans maid joined yesterday, her name was Sara and she liked sour snacks and horses. But who even took notice of her presence yet, except Soren of course. And Soren simply had to ask her about her former village next time he saw her and actually MET her like normal people do, and also ask if she saw any interesting crystals in that area and what she thought of magic and her travel and her family and absolutely any and every other detail she would spill in sudden conversation with an armed to the teeth stranger with a stupidly big smile and –literally- glowing eyes… but people did spill. They did spill a LOT to Soren… it was easy and fluent and relaxing and they all just kept going on and on while this strangely sympathetic elf soaked every drop up like a sponge. A sponge containing the life stories and all spilled details of thousands and thousands and always eager for more.)

And so it happened that That predatory creep didn’t spend much time lurking around Haven. Soren made quick and (relatively) clean work of plugging that weed out, ditching the body to the bottom of the frozen lake. Only Leliana sniffed it out somehow, of which he really was not surprised about even then. He was taking a deep breath preparing himself to defend his act of killing a new civil recruit without any actual proof in is hand against the guy, nor had he actually done anything while still around, but Leliana just smirked and thanked Soren’s excellent social service. She sure had dug up the motive of the act too before facing Soren about it, or maybe her keen eyes caught suspicion too by then? “Points down on discretion though” she added in passing. Now that was an unfair bar to meet with Leliana in charge, really.

He was a good assassin, thank you very much. ...tough he did act impulsively and also did need to accidentally burn a shed and he even did go and told Jamy with a self-satisfied smile that: “The stinky pig wont bother you anymore for sure, you don’t have to be scared now” and ruffled his copper hair like he was a small puppy to be herded, despite the boy being practically grown up already, then left for some celebratory drinking to treat himself to. Leaving the boy gaping after him because really, was his fear that obvious, and how even and wha~…

Ok, he was a good assassin in DEED.

Jamy would have been the guys first victim, had he not found a certain fully armed elf casually cleaning a blade on top of the storage building -where Jamy went for some extra linen at that chilly night-, eyeing him flatly, blade reflecting the moonlight cold and sharp. The guy then often found himself altering his route on the trail of Jamy or some other lithe young men heading to or through remote locations, the unsettling elf always lounging around the weirdest places, right in his way, silently tending to sharp things and looking at him like a deadly version of a conscience he long left behind.

Soren figured out quite soon that his options for solving this ugly problem were narrowed down, especially since the thought of this filth getting his way somewhere else didn’t sit well with him at all either. This clearly wasn’t the start of his rotten ways and would not end here without being ended. Everything from the glint in his eye to his systematic under the radar observing routines spoke of a drilled and addicted predator, even his breathing on pursue. But Sorren would not let actual assault happen for an arrest. He considered briefly the “generous” second chance option of liberating the guy of some influential jewelry, but then there was a chance of the violence getting worse from frustration, with the problem rooted upstairs really.

But the damn shit was considered a member here now and had done absolutely nothing wrong “in fact” and Soren was a bit reluctant to screw his place here up over some dirt like that, so he guarded and plotted for days. The guy seemed to choose the same type of targets, lithe and lean and young men, but only those picking his interest enough for pursuing who have accomplished something, had a big name or some skill acknowledged and praised, things like that… almost as if he would feel powerful by hunting them down and raping them. Which was probably the case.

Soren mused about setting a trap and getting him locked up when he was sitting by the chimney of a small building one evening, keeping an eye on the pig on the move a few paces behind Noel, when it happened…

Soren took his eyes off of the guy for a second when a mop of sunshine flashed into his eyes through the darkening alley. An involuntary smile pulled up the corner of his mouth at the sight of Hadiden, always brightening his days, lifting him from the darkest corners of his heart. His lopsided smile widened into an amused grin as the lithe elf dropped an empty flask, almost breaking it, and looked like swearing under his nose while he picked it up, blinking around, swiftly checking if anyone saw him being clumsy, face suspiciously rosier. What an delightful distraction from chilly evenings and dark plans. Hadiden was so adorable, looking smaller and much more delicate than he actually was in puffy warm outer clothes and embarrassed over something so small. He continued on his way, very much likely to the hills for some last minute herb collecting, unarmed and hurried, carrying the right tools.

Soren considered coincidentally popping out of a bush next to him there and offering joined search, when he remembered he was on “duty” here.

He broke his gaze from Hadidens departing form and looked around in search for that worlds worse sight again, grin replaced by a disgusted pout, but he didn’t need to search far. In fact, the pig was standing right where his eyes left him. He was seemingly rooted to that spot until now. As if a new wind catching into his sails he moved again, wavering and changing course, panting big heavy clouds into the crisp air. Soren felt his blood freeze in his veins, then explode in fire. The bag of filth was going straight after Hadiden, more purposeful than ever, fuming like a horny beast catching a smell. While logically Soren knew very well that Hadiden was more than capable of defending himself, surely even unarmed and even from a human that big and muscular with experience of how to subdue a smaller body… it did not fucking matter, not through the murderous roar inside shaking Soren's bones.

He saw red and was on his feet before he realized his body moved. Oh no, that pile of shit wont go even NEAR dear Hadiden, laying his filthy gaze and intention on that glorious bottom like that was already a deadly sin, and Soren wouldn’t allow even the forewind of an assault reach that precious man, regardless of who would pull the shorter straw of such an attempt. Even if it was, logically, the perfect solution against the pig. Attacking the Herald and getting his ass handled to him, assisted by a trusty ally of the elf, then locked up for good, problem solved. It was simply not an option, not even the wind of such attempt was allowed to reach Hadiden, not on Soren’s watch.

Soren moved swift and fast through roofs and alleys as if carried on the wings of death itself. He reached the last, remote building much faster than the lurking bastard, only instinct keeping him in full stealth, unseen by every possible onlooker.

His fingers almost trembled as he waited, hidden in a blind spot, for his prey to reach the dark corner of the building from where the pathway narrowed and turned to the hills between bushes and trees. Where Hadiden passed with light steps just a short while ago. Soren felt rage over even the fact of how the rotten bag of filth was stepping on Hadidens trail. The wait felt like ages, standing still in a raging storm, but it did bring result.

The guy was on the floor of the shed before he realized what was happening, but oh Soren did make sure he learned it swiftly, especially the cause of why it was happening, with his boot heavy on the filthy bastards throat, long blades to his face and heart ensuring he listened nice and still.

The pig pissed himself way before actual harm came to him, likely seeing the surety of his impending violent death clear as day in the dark of the shed, looking into the flaming eyes of a beast leagues above his kind, like a rat under the feet of a raging dragon. The glowing emerald orbs burned the words right into the rotten soul of the bastard, who couldn’t even utter a sound under them even without a long boot squashing his pipes.

Soren wasn’t one for torture though, not even in rage, when he was sure he got his point across he promptly crushed the insect under his booth. That did not magically blew his anger away, but it brought a dark satisfaction and relief over an ugly lurking danger to his dear folks eliminated for good, many saved and who knows how many avenged, and most importantly, Hadiden untouched by filth, in any way it might have been able to.… most importantly… despite so many innocents… sure, Hadiden was the one of the targets he knew best and started to really care for lately, but now that his rage calmed he found himself facing some difficult truths. “Dangerous” truths he rather not dwell on, showing them back down before they could gain ground in his head. He should occupy himself with the task at hand instead, ditching the stinky corpse unseen and untraceable.

He sighed, long and slow, blowing the last of the storm out, then looked up around in the shed as if seeing the scene for the first time. Everything seemed ten times sharper, his body just coming down the rush, silence deafening after the roar of his blood echoing in his ears.

Shoulders sagging he leaned against a post behind him, arms going limp and blades scrapping the floor, head softly thumping back on the old wood. He looked up at the rapidly fading, weak stripes of light coming through the weathered roof and breathed a laugh, quiet and helpless, on himself, on the ridiculousness of this situation he got himself into, in automatic wash of lightness after such a heavy rush, but mostly, in disbelief. Bloody fade, he technically just have killed a new civil recruit in guarding a fine ass, if he put it like that, even if there was much more to it…

Funny how one kind of beast guards from other beasts in a harsh world like this. But as long as he was kept around for it or otherwise, he didn’t mind being one, newer had.

#Soren Lavellan #Hadiden Lavellan #aka #Soriden #dragon age inquisition #Haven #flashback #blood #violence #killing #protectiveness #what else should i tag #Soren being Soren XD #mommydragon #strikes #oh also #my art #but half photo manipulation so no biggie #also rushed

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jerrykatt · 6 years

Text

Voltron/Percy Jackson Xover Part 2

Here's part one. I'd recommend reading it before coming back to this.

And so, now we know that Leo was rejected by his mother's family, his own aunt labeling him a diablo, a devil. We know that he was shunted off into the system with little sympathy and even less kindness. We know that the memory of his mother's death haunts his steps like an eldritch phantom. But now another death plagues him with suffocating guilt. The death of the man who chose to be left behind in a firestorm, knowing that his death was mere moments away but willing to face it head on if it meant he could save one small fledgling life.

He didn't remember much in the aftermath, that much was certain what with the shock that set in.

The fire giving one last heaving roar, reminiscent of a dragon's destructive fury. The unnatural explosion of force rocking the building. A woman's silhouette, standing tall and sinisterly pleased with her spiteful vengeance, throwing one last malevolent sneer in his direction before sinking into the earth below her feet.

The ringing in his ears and the ladder being blasted backwards.

Falling and screaming. An unmerciful impact with the pavement and his vision going black.

Waking up in a hospital, alone and unwanted.

It was all too much of a blur for Leo's young mind to comprehend in his traumatized state. But one of the things he did remember, besides the hole in his life where his mother should have been, was finding out the fireman's name. Or at least, the last part of it.

Kogane.

(That's where we see Keith fit into this chapter of Leo's life.)

Like Leo, Keith was also unfortunately placed into foster care. I haven't decided yet on how they meet after the fire. Perhaps they were sent to the same group home? Maybe they ran into each other after running from their respective foster families, sleeping under the same freeway overpasses? Either way, they might've become friends for a short time and then the classic reveal happens - Leo finds out Keith's last name, and ultimately the fact that his father was Fireman Kogane.

Leo can't face him anymore, not with the knowledge that he was reason his friend's father went up in flames. His flames.

He runs. And Keith? Well...

His mother's glaring absence, His father's death, and now his friend's unexplained rejection.

Each cut into his chest like a knife, as sharp as the blade he kept strapped to his belt.

The same blade that gives him a goal. A purpose.

To find his past. To find some answers.

(Anything to distract from the gnawing resentment, the aching loneliness)

So yeah. Keith takes it hard. But this is the perfect place to pause and explain EXACTLY why I chose Krolia to be Aphrodite in this AU. And, ultimately, why I thought Keith being the son of the goddess of love made SO MUCH SENSE. AND ALSO LETS NOT FORGET SEASON SEVEN ADDING MORE SPICE TO THE MIX

Let's start with Krolia. Krolia and Canon!Aphrodite have... little in common when it comes to personality. At least with the depictions I've read in PJO where Canon!Aphrodite apparently approves of her children breaking hearts (It's apparently a rite of passage in Aphrodite's cabin if I remember correctly). And the fact that her negative traits could be summarized in how one of her demigod children turned out (I'm looking at you Drew). Anyways here's where my idea comes in.

Sit up and away from your computer screen and take a look around at the world. Times are changing, standards are being shattered and rebuilt with each passing day. The concept of beauty itself is being torn into different directions. We have people who still prefer the classic hourglass figure, the full lips and sultry eyes, the flawless skin and the soft spoken nature of a damsel in distress. People who want the pretty princess bride, the stay at home wives.

Not necessarily weak in some aspects, but definitely not at the strongest potential either.

Still, it is the usual form that Canon!Aphrodite takes with little difference made when approaching each potential lover.

And on the other end of the spectrum, we have people who are attracted to independence, intellect, and strength. They want someone as either an equal or more than that. They like big biceps and thick muscular thighs.

We especially have people who don't care for what their precious people look like and end up adoring every part of them anyway. These people are muddled in the middle of the spectrum. They want something more raw, more real. It doesn't matter if the person is thick or thin, hairy or bald, or if they're missing a limb or two. A big nose? Bad breakout of zits? Trust me, for these people, it only adds to the charm.

I'd imagine in this turbulent world where opinions of beauty were being bounced around like a particularly ill aimed bouncy ball (one that would more than likely smack you in the face rather than land safely back in your hand), Aphrodite would end up having an identity crisis.

God's and goddesses have a sustainability that is based on mortal's worship and the strength of their domain. Aphrodite had enough mortals immortalizing her presence in art and literature to keep her remembered, that certainly wasn't the problem. Neither was the concept of love. Love was universal, the goddess of love understood that more than anyone. The problem was that Aphrodite's physical form was constantly fluctuating due to her the part of her domain pertaining to beauty being... constantly reconstructed? Stretched thin? I'm not sure how to describe it. All I can tell you is that Aphrodite ran from Olympus as she felt her powers getting out of hand. Maybe Haggar/Gaea and Zarkon/Uranus had planned to amplify the effects of what a changing society can do to a godly being? Perhaps Aphrodite was chosen to be a test subject to see if such a thing could be used as a weapon?

Regardless of the cause, the goddess fell to earth. She crashed outside a certain fireman's house and when she woke, her form had settled into the one we all know and love - Krolia's. Yep, purple skin, dual toned hair, pointed ears, claws, inhuman eyes, the whole package. I'm not kidding. Also I'm pretty sure if she hadn't sustained a concussion (and hadn't been so... pleasantly distracted by Kogane nursing her back to health) she would have screamed bloody murder at her reflection. She's at least grateful that she managed to keep her mile long legs (even if they now had her towering over most mortals) As it is, her powers are temporarily rendered useless because of the strain of her transformation.

Also the panic attack that she had once everything registered didn't help. Thankfully Kogane managed to calm her down, with a soothing voice and gentle rough hands.

Things settle. At first when they make introductions, she mixes up two of her usual aliases "Kristine" and "Olivia" and ends up blurting out "Krolia" instead, much to her horror. And after an awkward minute of panic she also reveals more than what she was intending to bargain for. Oddly enough, the goddess reveals her true nature right off the bat and Kogane takes it in stride just like he did with the whole Canon!Alien issue. Usually she keeps her lips smartly sealed but.... right now? She's doesn't have the confidence that comes with her preferred, perfect yet almost plastic form. She's disoriented and confused and homesick and a little fucked up in the head right now.

Kogane helps her through it. And with him guiding her, she discovers new things about herself, and is reminded of the better parts of who she is and who she could potentially become.

To no ones surprise, they fall in love. And to Krolia's surprise, she ends up WANTING to stay, even -ESPECIALLY- after giving birth to this man's child. His son. Her son.

Their son.

But monsters from Tartarus have always lied in wait. She leaves just like in Canon. Because of one too many close shaves with beasts and traitorous gods alike trying to snatch away her new found happiness and self discovery. She leaves to protect the person she loves most.

Their son. Keith.

((Again I'm on a tight schedule (needing two jobs sucks sometimes) so I'll wrap this up and talk about Keith))

Now you may want to ask why I chose Aphrodite? Why didn't I choose Hades to be Keith's godly parent? It would have matched his basic demeanor, the basis to his character - the loner (also awesome undead powers would've have been a plus!!). Why didn't I chose Ares? Keith is a phenomenal fighter! Why not Zeus? His fighter pilot skills makes him second to none in the skies!!!

My answer is this: Keith has an unfathomable AMAZING capacity to love.

Think about it. Remember that the reason that he rejects people is because he knows just how much he's risking when he's putting his heart into someone's hands. You only see that in a person who's had their heart torn to pieces by the unspoken consequences of abandonment.

Finally, Look at what this guy has done for a dying man. IN CANON TO BOOT.

Look at what he's done for Shiro even back before his feelings evolved into what can be interpreted as romantic, when his relationship with the man was purely platonic in a mentor/student dynamic level. He SUPPORTS Shiro. He doesn't pity him. He doesn't coddle him. He doesn't look at the fact that Shiro most likely has only a few more years left in him before his body breaks down. He sees his friend that has every right to pursue his dream instead of wasting away on a military base that cares more for its fucking reputation than it's actual students (I resent the Garrison for lying about the mission, make no mistake. THEY EVEN TOOK THE SIDE OF THAT SHITTY BRAT WHO MADE SNIDE REMARKS ON KEITH PARENTS!!! WTF?!!).

This is the man that's promised to never give up on him. The one who reminded Keith that, most of all, he can't give up on himself. And Keith? My Defensive, prickly, hold-everyone-at-arms-length son? What does my firecracker boi do?

He takes it to heart. He fucking takes it to heart.

Now fast forward again - we have Keith beautifully beating the crap out of Iverson and other "high ranking" officials who essentially now see Shiro as a liability, as someone who cannot be let free with his new found knowledge on extraterrestrial life. We have him basically breaking multiple laws to get Shiro out and onto to his bike so he could drive them and their Tagalongs to safety. We have Keith running to Shiro AGAIN AND AGAIN. It doesn't matter who stands in his way - Zarkon could suck on a lemon and those wild beasts on that remote planet in 'Across the Universe'? They can Quiznak right off because He will never give up on Shiro. Enough said.

And one last thought. I'm sure you guys have seen the leaked scenes of Keith staying by Shiro's side while he's in the healing pod, his vitals showing that his conscious is not assimilating with Kuron's body. I'm sure you've seen how Keith pleaded with Allura to think of a way to help them. You probably heard Allura regretfully admit that there wasn't anything she could do to help anymore than she already had. You saw Keith in his disbelief, in his grief. You saw him slam his fist onto the healing pod, head hung low wand pleading to the man within to fight. To stay.

"You can't do this to me again"

And miraculously, Shiro wakes.

I didn't plan on giving Keith Charmspeak. I only planned on giving him an IMMUNITY towards other Charmspeakers. And even now I still stand by my decision on NOT giving him such a power. Because it makes this scene, when adapted into my AU, have THAT much more significance. He didn't need any godly gifts to bring back the man he loves, his own voice, rough and raw and full of desperation.... it was enough. It was MORE than enough.

"Keith you saved me." "We saved eachother"

#voltron legendary defender #voltron #percy jackson #vld season 7 #vld #vld shiro #takashi shirogane #keith kogane #sheith #leo valdez #krolia #papa kogane

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