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cressidagrey · 3 months ago

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Stars all aligned - Chapter 16 (The End)

Summary:

If there was one thing that both Azriel and Zahra Archeron had in common, it was that they were both very good at blending into the background.

They just never thought that their family were going to be the ones who never saw them at all.

Warning:

Penultimate chapter! Bashing of like...every IC member, though we have now reached the point where Rhys and Cassian are the good guys, discussion of chronic pain, discussion of Infertility, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Underage Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Accidental Baby Procurement

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please, take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

(Lovely dividers thanks to @sweetmelodygraphics)

Which one of you blabbed? he seethed mentally to Rhys. Guess who came to a visit.

Azriel was seething with rage. He could sense Zahra's hurt, her anger, the emotional turmoil simmering beneath her calm exterior. She was protecting him, defending him, shielding him from her sisters...and it only fueled his anger further.

He wanted to step in, to shield her from everything, to protect her from the harm her sisters were capable of causing. But Zahra was standing tall, her gaze steady, as she faced her sisters. Let her have this moment, Rhys' voice whispered in his mind. Cassian and I are on our way.

"We don't want to take anything from you," Feyre broke the silence, her voice wavering. "That's not..."

But Zahra shook her head sharply. "No. It doesn't matter what you want," she said coldly. "What matters is what you have been doing. You have spent the last few years ignoring me. You have all but disowned me. You have constantly reminded me that Ia m nothing to you. The constant reminders that I am nothing to you. You have all but disowned me. And now, you come here and expect me to give everything up? For what? For you? For the family that never once treated me as one of them?"

The words hung heavy in the air. Zahra's voice was unwavering, her gaze unwavering. Azriel's chest ached with the need to protect her. His hands itched to shield her, to hold her, to comfort her. But he stayed back, his body rigid with restraint.

This…This she had to do on her own. He knew that she was strong enough for it. Zahra was so strong. So utterly strong. So resilient. She could do this on her own, she needed to proof to herself, that she could do this on her own.

Elain's eyes were watering, her hands clutching at the fabric of her dress. "I...I didn't know," she whispered.

Azriel really wondered what Elain was thinking to keep insisting on this. He didn’t believe for one moment that there hadn’t been signs. That Zahra had succeeded in hiding away every single bruise, every single injury so well that her sisters couldn't have noticed if they actually cared about.

Zahra snorted at that moment, the sound harsh. There was no true amusement in her voice as she answered: "Of course, you didn't," she said dryly. “I did everything so that you wouldn’t find out. I was willing to take that secret to the grave with me.“

“Why?” Nesta demanded

“Because I shouldn’t have to sacrifice myself to make you act like you care,” Zahra snapped.

It was so obvious from her tone…the pain, the anger…a wound that had cut deep, that had never healed.

Zahra stepped towards her sisters, her eyes burning with a fire that Azriel had never seen before. "You never once asked," she said, her voice rising. "You never once tried to even act like you cared about me. You buried your heads in the sand while I went through hell alon.."

Her words echoed in the silence that followed, the weight of her pain and her anger palpable in the air. Elain was openly crying now, soft sobs escaping her. Feyre was pale, her hands trembling. But Zahra's gaze was fixed on Nesta, a glare laced with bitterness and anger.

"You have absolutely no idea what I went through," Zahra continued, turning her gaze upon Nesta. "The pain, the shame, the humiliation. You never once even wondered why I should have an affair with him. Instead you made fun of me. Instead you treated me even worse. You never once wondered where I got the money from. You should have known that Feyre’s hunting wasn’t enough to sustain us! If I didn’t do what I had to, we would have all starved!“

Azriel's heart ached with each word that came out of Zahra's mouth. The pain, the anger, the years of pent up emotion was finally coming out, the dam broken.

She was not holding back, her words sharp and scathing, aimed directly at her sisters. The air was thick with tension, the silence broken only by Elain's soft sobs.

Nesta's mouth had dropped open, her eyes wide with shock. "You...you did that for us?"

Zahra laughed bitterly. "Who else, Nesta? Who else would it have been for? I did what I had to do to keep the rest of you alive."

Elain's sobs had escalated to loud, hitching gasps. Feyre's face was ghost-white, her hands twisted together in a white-knuckled grip. But Nesta looked as if Zahra had slapped her, the words a blow to her very core.

“Even when you never treated me like your sister, you are mine.”

Everything wrapped up neatly in one single sentence. It was a death knell.

A killing blow.

And he loved her all the more for it. He couldn’t help but marvel at the strength she possessed. She was the strongest, bravest person he had ever met, and the knowledge that he was hers filled him with a sense of possessive pride.

Elain was openly weeping now, tears streaming down her face. Feyre was silent, her eyes wide, her hands clutched to her chest. But Nesta's face was a mask of shock, pain, and shame.

"I did it all for you," Zahra continued, her voice cracking slightly, "and yet, not once did you show me a shred of care. You never once even asked if I was alright."

Her words echoed in the silence, the truth of them hanging in the air like a thick, suffocating fog. The pain, the loneliness, the rejection. It was all there, laid bare for her sisters to see. And it was clear from their stunned, guilty faces that they were seeing it all for the first time.

No one spoke. No one moved. The only sounds were Elain's sobs and Zahra’s ragged breaths. Azriel wanted so badly to cross the room, to hold her in his arms, to take away the pain he knew was coursing through her.

So he did.

Just in time to feel more than hear the arrival of Cassian and Rhys.

Azriel's eyes met Cassian's, and he saw the surprise and concern written on his brother's face. Rhys' expression mirrored the same emotions, his eyes darting between his mate and Zahra.

Azriel pulled Zahra against him, wrapping her in a tight embrace, shielding her from her sisters' gazes. He could feel the tremors running through her body, the aftershocks of the emotional storm she had just weathered.

“I thought I told you to leave her be,” Rhys said, his voice even.

Azriel didn't loosen his hold on Zahra, his arms still tight around her. He felt her sag against him, weary and emotionally drained.

“We just wanted��” Feyre protested weakly. “We were worried."

“Zahra was with Azriel. What was there to be worried about?” Cassian said drily.

“She’s our sister,” Elain burst out, tears still streaming down her cheeks. “We were just worried for her.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched. Worried for her, now? After all these years? It was too little, too late.

"Now you're worried," he growled, his voice a low rumble. "And where was this worry all those years when she was suffering?"

“Az…” Zahra murmured, her voice soft and broken and he pressed a kiss against his wife’s head

Azriel's anger faded slightly at the sound of her voice. The vulnerability, the sheer rawness of emotion in her words made his heart ache. He held her tighter, his eyes still fixed on her sisters.

“I said it before and I’ll say it again,” Rhys said sharply. “She doesn’t owe you anything and respecting her choices is the least you can give her, if you ever want her to actually talk to you again. If you truly, actually want to try and make amends.”

Elain and Feyre looked stricken, their eyes filled with guilt and remorse. Even Nesta was looking at Zahra, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“But we…we never meant...” Feyre started, only to falter under Rhys’ glare.

“You never meant?” Rhys repeated, his voice hard. “You never meant to hurt her? You never meant to ignore her existence, to never once show any care for her? You didn’t meant to disrespect her choices? Again? For cauldron’s sake, Feyre!”

Zahra flinched at Rhys’ raise voice.

She’s waking, the shadows whispered at that moment.

Given her an out that she needed desperately.

“Go take care of Azalea,” he whispered in Zahra’s ear. He could nearly feel some imperceptive tension in her frame ease at the sound of their daughter’s name.

She nodded, giving him a quick squeeze before gently slipping from his embrace.

The tension in the room felt like a physical weight, the air thick with it.

Azriel couldn't help but watch as his wife walked out of the living room, the door of their bedroom closing behind her.

Silence descended again after she left, the room seeming suddenly empty without her. Azriel turned his attention back to her sisters, meeting their gazes with a cold glare. His gaze lingered on Nesta. The oldest sister, the one who should have protected Zahra, the one who should have seen and understood her struggles. Instead, she had been the most hurtful, the most dismissive.

“How could you?” he said finally, his voice a low rumble, “How could you just ignore her? Your sister? For two decades you just…you just acted like she didn’t exist. And she believed it. She believed she was nothing to you.”

Silence met his words, all three sisters looking guilty and distraught. Even Cassian was quiet, his face grave as he looked at the aftermath of Zahra's emotional upheaval.

Azriel wanted to shake them, to make them understand the depth of the pain they had caused, the damage they had done. He had seen it for himself, the way Zahra had believed she was nothing, the way she had resigned herself to a life of being invisible, of being nothing to her own family.

"How can you say you care for her now," he snarled, his voice sharp, "after you let her suffer alone for so long? How can you pretend that your worry means anything to her after all these years?"

Elain was still crying openly, her hands clutched to her chest. Feyre looked like she was struggling to hold back her tears. But it was Nesta who finally spoke, her voice quiet but intense with emotion.

"We…we never knew…" she whispered. "We should have seen it…should have asked her, should have realized what she was going through…"

Azriel's anger flared again. "You should have," he agreed. "You should have cared enough to ask, to notice, to remember that she was your sister. But you didn’t. You just ignored her, left her alone, abandoned her."

He sighed, the anger embering in his gut.

“And you know what’s the worst part?” he asked Nesta sharply. “She’ll forgive you. One day, she will forgive you, because you are her sisters. Because she loves you more than you ever deserved her to. Because she’s good right to the bone. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure that people don’t take advantage of that part of her,” Azriel said sharply.

The sisters flinched at his words, the truth of them a blow. Feyre looked at him, her eyes pleading, her face wet with tears. Azriel held her gaze, his expression stern.

He knew that Zahra would forgive them one day. He knew that because he knew her heart. And that was what angered him the most. They didn’t deserve her forgiveness, they didn’t deserve her love.

But he also knew that Zahra's forgiveness would not come easily. It would not come without effort, without remorse, without proof that they truly regretted their actions. And even then, he knew it might never truly heal the wounds they had inflicted.

"Zahra will forgive you," he said coolly, "because she is good and kind. But do not take her forgiveness for granted. Do not presume that she will give it without you earning it."

Nesta nodded, her face white, her gaze fixed on the floor. Azriel could see the guilt, the pain etched into her features. But he knew that it was not enough. Not yet.

"It will take time," he said quietly, "and effort. And you will have to prove, again and again, that you understand the depth of your actions, the harm you caused. And even then, it might not be enough. Because she is my wife now, and she and our daughter are my first priority."

“”From where exactly do you have a daughter?” Feyre blurted out. “She wasn’t…Zahra wasn’t pregnant, was she?”

“The shadows kidnapped her,” he said drily. “They have moral issues with keeping babies in dungeons.”

Feyre's eyes widened, her mouth dropping in shock. Elain gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Even Nesta looked taken aback.

He couldn't help but feel a small pang of satisfaction at their dumbfounded expressions.

***

Zahra had retreated to the safety of the small bedroom, the door tightly shut behind her. The pain, the anger, the years of pent up emotions had all come bursting out in a wave that had left her trembling.

She laid down on the bed, burying her face into the pillow. The sobs came again, a shuddering, bone-deep release of emotion.

Her mind replayed the words she had said, the emotions that had spilled out, the hurt and the pain laced through her voice. It had needed to be said, the truth needed to be laid out. But the aftermath was…messy. The look on her sisters' faces, the shocked expressions…

She couldn't bear to think about it, not right now. All she could do was sob, sobbing into the pillow, her body shaking with the force of her emotions.

A soft coo next to her, and she looked up to find Azalea sleepily reaching out for her.

The sight of her baby girl made her throat constrict. Azalea was blinking up at her, her little hand reaching out for her. The sound of her soft coo only fueled the emotions churning in Zahra's chest.

She reached out, picking up their daughter and cradling her close against her chest. Azalea snuggled against her, her tiny body warm and familiar.

Azalea never screamed. Or cried. Or demanded attention unless she could see them… then she sometimes gave a questioning soft coo, wanting them to interact with her.

Zahra found comfort in the familiarity of her daughter's presence. Azalea was quiet, always quiet, yet always observing, always needing to be part of the action.

She held her tight, her cheek pressed against the soft, downy hair. Azalea cooed again, her hand coming up to pat Zahra's face, almost as if she knew her mother needed comfort.

The tears continued to fall, sliding down Zahra's cheeks and disappearing into Azalea's hair. The pain and the hurt still burned deep, but holding her daughter helped blunt the raw edges.

She sat there, rocking back and forth gently, her eyes closed, focusing on the weight and warmth of her daughter in her arms, the steady rhythm of Azalea's breathing. Slowly, slowly, her sobs quieted, her racing heart slowing down its panicked pace.

“Come on, let’s go see Daddy.” She said softly.

Azalea cooed in response, her big, innocent eyes looking up at her. Zahra couldn’t help but smile, as she lifted her in her arms, settling her against her hip.

She stood up, holding Azalea close against her, and made her way towards the door. The silence in the rest of the house was stifling, as if the whole building was holding its breath. Zahra paused outside the door, her heart pounding.

What was happening out there? What were her sisters thinking? What was Azriel thinking?

She took a deep breath, steeling herself, and pushed open the door.

The battle lines had clearly been drawn.

Azriel was standing by the kitchen, his back to the door. His shoulders were tense, his hands clenched into fists. Her sisters were on the other side…Cassian and Rhys right there in the middle, clearly ready to throw themselves in the fray if something did happen.

The silence seemed thick enough to cut with a knife.

Zahra stepped into the room, her heart in her throat. All eyes turned to her, Azriel the first to turn around. His face softened as he took in her appearance - Azalea in her arms, her eyes red and puffy, her face streaked with dried tear tracks.

He held out his hand for her and she fitted herself against his side. His eyes were soft, full of concern and love, but there was a hardness to his features, a flicker in his gaze. He reached out to brush his knuckles over her cheek.

“Are you alright?” he murmured, his voice low. His hand moved to the baby in her arms, gently touching Azalea’s soft hair.

“I will be,” she whispered, looking up at him. The warmth of his touch, the understanding in his eyes eased some of the remaining pain, some of the hurt. “I just...I needed to hold her for a bit.”

Azriel nodded, his eyes lingering on her face for a moment longer before turning to her sisters and the High Lord and Cassian. His expression hardened, his protective instincts clearly flaring at the thought of what they had done to her.

They remained silent, their gazes shifting between her and Azriel. It was Feyre who finally spoke, her voice hesitant.

“Zahra...we -”

“Don’t,” Zahra interrupted, her voice weary but firm. She didn’t want to hear their apologies, not yet. She couldn’t stomach that. Not right now.

Azriel’s arm slipped around her waist, supporting her.

“I’ll need time,” Zahra said weakly.

“And you’ll have it,” Azriel said firmly, his arm tightening around her. He met the gazes of her sisters, his eyes hard as steel. “As much time as you need.”

”I am so sorry,” Feyre breathed, her eyes fixed on Azalea.

Zahra couldn’t help herself as she pulled her daughter nearer to herself.

Azriel tensed beside her, his arm around her waist like a vise. The sight of her sister’s apology, the look on her face...it was too much, too soon. Zahra took a ragged breath, trying to calm the rush of emotions in her chest.

“I need time,” she repeated, somehow managing to keep her voice from shaking too badly. “I - I just...I need time.”

Feyre nodded, tears spilling over her cheeks. “I understand,” she choked out. “I just...I never wanted to hurt you, but I did and I…”

Zahra felt Azriel's grip on her tighten, his body rigid with barely controlled anger.

She placed a hand on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under her palm. “It’s alright,” she repeated, more for his benefit than her sisters’.

She couldn’t look at Feyre anymore, the sight of her tears making her own heart ache. She turned her gaze to the other two, her eyes locking with Nesta and Elain.

They were watching her silently, a mix of guilty sorrow and regret on their faces. Elain’s usually soft features were pinched with shame, Nesta’s cold expression betraying a hint of remorse.

And they were staring at her baby. “What’s…what’s her name?” Nesta asked, her voice shaky.

“Azalea,” Azriel answered, his voice hard. Zahra felt a flicker of satisfaction at his cold tone. He wasn’t going to forgive them easily, not after witnessing the pain they had caused her.

Elain looked stricken, her eyes wide. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered. Nesta simply nodded, her eyes glued to the baby.

Zahra felt a small pang in her heart at Elain’s words. She knew the compliment was sincere, but there was also a pang of hurt, a reminder of the years of silence, the years of being ignored.

She pulled Azalea closer, her grip instinctive and protective.

Azriel’s hand was rubbing circles on her hip, grounding her, reassuring her.

“Thank you,” Zahra brought out.

“She looks like Azriel,” Nesta said suddenly.

“She is biologically his niece,“ Cassian said flatly. “But she is Azriel’s and Zahra’s daughter.”

There was a moment of silence, the statement echoing through the room. Azriel’s breath hitched beside her, his grip on her hip tightening for a moment. The implications of the words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the unconventional ways in which Azalea had come to be.

Zahra, however, felt a strange sense of calm. The words were merely stating a fact, a truth that could not be denied. “She’s ours,” she agreed with Cassian, sticking out her chin, daring her sisters to say something. But they didn’t.

Nesta swallowed. “Congratulations,” she said softly, much to Zahra’s shock. “She’s adorable.”

Zahra blinked, surprised at the unexpected well wish. The words seemed almost genuine.

“Thank you,” Zahra murmured, her voice soft. Azriel’s hand tensed on her hip again, his protectiveness on full display. Zahra could see the muscles in his jaw clenching, his eyes flicking between her sisters and their daughter.

The room was filled with a strange sort of tension. She should have known that it was gonna be Cassian that had absolutely no problem with breaking it with a bright grin, waggling his fingers in Azalea's direction who immediately reached out for him.

“She likes me,” the general chuckled, his usual easy smile plastered on his face. "I am clearly the favourite uncle."

Rhys rolled his eyes, the tension breaking somewhat. “She just want to grab your fingers, you oaf.”

“Nah, she’s smart, she knows who the cool uncle is,” Cassian retorted, reaching out to hold Azalea’s little hands in his bigger ones. Azalea cooed, grabbing hold of his fingers with a serious expression, her tiny hands looking laughably small in his grasp.

Azriel rolled his eyes but the tension in his shoulders relaxed a little, his gaze fixed on their daughter. It was hard, even for him, to stay completely serious and protective when the Lord of Bloodshed was making funny faces at Azalea and she was giggling like a little maniac.

Zahra couldn’t help but smile at the scene, the tension in the room slowly easing.

Azalea’s giggle was like a ray of sunshine, bright and pure. She was usually quite reserved, her emotions more often than not kept hidden, but she was clearly enjoying the attention.

Cassian, meanwhile, couldn’t resist the temptation to start pretending he was eating her fingers, making exaggerated ‘nom nom’ sounds and grinning widely when Azalea shrieked with delight.

Even Azriel couldn’t help but smile at the sight, the corner of his lips curving up. It was impossible not to be charmed by Azalea’s infectious happiness.

Feyre chuckled, her earlier tears wiped away now. Even Rhys and Nesta looked less tense, their gazes on Azalea as she continued to pull on Cassian’s fingers.

There was a part of Zahra that wanted to hold on to the good moment, to bask in the relief provided by Azalea’s laughter and Cassian’s antics. But the elephant in the room was still there…

She knew there was more that needed to be said, more that needed to be discussed. The pain, the hurt, the years of silent isolation… She couldn’t simply ignore it all now just because Azalea was being cute.

Despite this, she didn’t know how to start, how to voice her hurt without the pain and the anger taking over again.

Azriel seemed to sense her turmoil, his hand on her hip moving to the small of her back, gently rubbing soothing circles.

“We need to talk,” she said, her voice steeling. "We will talk. Soon. But not now. When I am ready. And not when you decided that you need to apologise because you feel bad."

Her sisters nodded, their expressions solemn. It was Feyre who spoke up, her eyes wide and sincere.

“Of course,” she said, her voice low. “We will wait until you’re ready, just… just know that we do want to change, to fix things…”

Nesta and Elain nodded silently, their gazes fixed on Azalea who was still grabbing at Cassian's fingers.

Azriel’s hand on her back began to rub soothing circles again, his silent support grounding her. She took comfort in his presence, in the knowledge that he was right behind her, ready to back her up.

“We understand,” Nesta spoke up suddenly, her voice more firm than it had been before. “We will be patient. We will wait.”

Even Elain, who was usually the more soft-spoken sister, nodded emphatically.

Azriel's hand on her back tensed, but he remained silent. His whole body was taut with suppressed anger and the need to protect, but he held himself in check, letting her handle the conversation.

“Thank you,” Zahra said quietly, her voice a little stronger now.

Feyre smiled softly, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “We won’t try to make excuses or to justify our actions,” she said, her words firm like a promise. “We messed up, we own that. We’ll wait until you’re ready and then we’ll listen. No interruptions, no excuses, no defenses.”

Zahra would believe that when she experienced it.

Azriel's hand on her back continued rubbing soothing circles, as if sensing the scepticism in her mind. He was still wary of her sisters, unwilling to trust their word so easily.

But he was also willing to take her lead on this.

Azriel was many things, but he respected boundaries and choices. He would always give her the space and the time she needed to deal with things her own way, while still being a steadying presence, a quiet strength by her side.

Despite his reservations, he was trying hard to keep his own anger and opinions to himself. But she knew him well enough to sense the tension in his body, the way his muscles kept clenching and unclenching, evidence of the restraint it was taking him to keep quiet.

The others in the room likely noticed it as well. Nesta and Elain were both discreetly watching him, their expressions wary. Even Cassian, who was usually oblivious to these things, was stealing quick glances in his direction.

“Just… just give me some time,” she said quietly, her eyes flickering to each of her sisters in turn. They all nodded, their faces solemn.

Cassian was the next to speak, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "Take as much time as you need, Zahra.”

It was strange, hearing a tone from the usually brash and boisterous general she hadn’t thought him capable of. But his words were genuine, his expression sincere. And coming from Cassian, saying that was just one more reminder of how much her relationship with her sisters had been damaged.

Azriel's hand on her back squeezed briefly, a silent signal of his agreement.

The others remained quiet, their gazes flickering between her and Azriel. It was a strange dance they were all doing, a careful balancing act of emotions and words left unsaid.

But it was something. Something closer to peace than she ever thought she would have.

"Whatever you need," Rhysand promised, fiercely. The High Lord’s voice was firm and unwavering, the power evident in his words.

Zahra could sense the sincerity in them, the genuine regret and determination. It wasn’t enough yet, not nearly enough after all that had happened, but it was a start.

It was something.

The support from her sisters, the promises from Rhysand and Cassian…

They were something. A foundation to start rebuilding on.

The road to forgiveness would be long and rocky, she was sure of that.

Azriel's hand on her back squeezed again, silently reassuring her.

Her eyes met his for a brief moment, the look in them speaking more than any words could.

In the warm, deep hazel of his eyes she saw worry, determination, a hint of anger and a lot of love. She saw acceptance and support, understanding and patience.

And she knew that no matter what she decided, no matter how long it took her, he would be there with her. Always.

***

Notes:

I could probably write another 16 chapters in this story, but I do feel like right now it's an alright space to stop. A bit of an open ending, with a kinda hopeful look in the future.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #Azriel x Archeron!Reader #Stars all aligned

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rocketbaby · 1 month ago

Note

please can you do some pro hero izuku… maybe with secret dating? but he gets jealous or something… ugh i love jealous izu!!!

would love nsfw too but not required! 🩷 thanks in advance if you do the request!

Argshhshh i love this sm,thank you for the request!!<3

Izuku is 25 here and reader is 20+(Afab reader)

Tw this is nsfw

---creampie penetration, reader receiving, fingering and I think that's all,lemme know if I missed anything

-he cums so quickly he can't last long:((

Izuku was always the type of guy who enjoyed keeping things more private and especially since he became a pro hero,he thinks it's mature this way.Not because he was embarrassed of you or because he had something to hide but he believes that if no one knows about it(your relationship with him),no one can ruin it.

He's also a bit scared of dating you because if any villains would find out about it,they would use you to get to izuku and he just couldn't risk you getting harmed in any way. He wouldn't allow anyone to hurt his pretty girl.

So when you and him started dating you both came to an understanding and you won't reveal the relationship for a while at least.

Since no one knows about you and him,you would often get hit on and most guys that would pass by you would always find a way to flirt with you.

You were good looking so can you really blame them?

Izuku would avoid being around you in public spaces because he wouldn't want the villains to get the idea that you two were close. But he noticed the way every single guy just drools over you. He noticed everything.

He wouldn't think of himself as a jealous type of person but that's because he didn't have a reason to be jealous before. He surely does now.

He absolutely hates the way people just won't stop staring,never getting their eyes off you. He gets so angry but you won't really be able to tell because he's actually pretty good at hiding it(sometimes)

He doesn't like how guys look at you so lustfully,when they look at you like you're an object just for their pleasure. It was making him see red.

When he gets home from patrol one day,he slips his hero costume off, putting on a more comfortable fit. He makes his way up into your bedroom, checking to see if you're there. And you,bless your heart,were snuggled up with your blanket. His poor baby was cold.

As he saw you,his face immediately just softened up. He had to admire you for a bit. God you looked so beautiful and gorgeous. And man he just loved how hot you were. He always feels so guitly when he thinks about lustful things with you because he doesn't want to be like those guys who always flirt with you. He doesn't want you to think that he sees you as an object, because he doesn't. He just can't help himself.He gives you a warm smile.

"Hi honey. What is my pretty girl up to? You look cozy in there"

He said with a chuckle at the end. He always talks so sweetly with you,how can you not fall in love with this man? You return him a smile.

"hi baby,I didn't even hear you. when did you get home?"

"just a few minutes ago,honey. How are you doing, pretty girl?"

He seemed a bit off today. He was just as sweet as he always is with you,but for whatever reason you could tell something was up with him.

"I'm good,thank you. Just a little cold. Is something the batter,baby? You seem like you're bothered by something,what happened?"

Izuku sighs as she lowers his head a bit, looking down at the floor. You knew him so well,of course you do, you're a smart girl. Nothing goes unnoticed by you. He stands where he is,at the entrance of your bedroom and shakes his head

"it's nothing serious darling,just thinking about stuff"

You were about to say something back to him but before you get the chance to,you see him making his way to the bed. He gently slides in next to you and snuggles up to your neck.

You giggle. "What's up with you today?"

He let out a groan, keeping his face buried at the crock of your neck,his breath tickling you a bit.

"too many guys started hitting on you recently..ion' like it at all,it's pissing me off"

He mumbled to you. His voice was so low but still gentle. His hand makes it's way to your hip, his grip on it firm.

"ah baby yeahhh I know,it's so annoying but I promise I always try my best to ignore them"

He hums as he gently starts placing small,wet kisses to your neck. His breath was ticking you again, making you giggle a little bit.

As he hears your giggle,he lets out another small groan,the vibration of it feeling nice on your neck. He keeps planting kisses here and there as his hand moves to your thigh.

"those guys are assholes.."

He mumbled in between the kisses as you just nod, agreeing with him. His hand started caressing your thigh, moving up a bit higher. He then places one last kiss on your neck and lifts his head up to look at you

He smiles warmly and then leans in to just plant a small smooch on your lips

"they'll never get to have you, pretty girl. You're mine and I'm all yours. I wish I could show them what imma do to you tonight, sweetheart. They'd be so jealous"

His hand moves even higher, teasing you a little,right around your core. A soft gasp leaves your mouth as you didn't expect him to be so direct. You don't mind it,of course you don't,you love this actually. It's just that he's acting different today. You do have to admit.. he is very attractive when he's jealous. He tried to not show his jealousy as often or to sometimes hide it but when it's visible it's just so hot. You can't help yourself

"Mm..izuku"

He groans as his hand makes its way inside your PJ pants. His fingers started rubbing your core though your panties all while he grinds his hips against your thigh. He just couldn't help himself

"is this okay,honey? Can I keep going?You just gotta say the word and you know I'll stop.."

"yes izuku,it's okay.. please just don't stop"

He hums as he nods. His fingers then move your panties to the side a bit. You were wearing the ones he got you for your birthday. What a sweetheart you are.

As izuku does that you try to also slide off your pants too, making it easier for him

His fingers gently rub your pussy, finally entering you. He was experienced with the human body so he always finds your sweet spot very quickly and today was no different. His fingers side in deeper, pressing up against your spot, making you let out a gasp

"god you feel and sound so good,honey..I'm just so fuckin pent up because those guys got me mad,I need to remind you that you're mine, pretty girl"

He didn't waste any time nor did he give you time to reply to him. He sat up, quickly removing his belt and unbuttoning his pants.

"I need to have you.. please"

He said with a pleading tone, looking up at you with gentle eyes. You just gave him a slight nod as it was hard to talk at this moment for you. Everything felt a bit overwhelming but not in a bad way,you knew izuku would stop if you wanted to.

He removes his pants and then quickly takes off his boxers too. Poor boy,he just couldn't hold back anymore but can you blame him? You looked so sweet and delicious.

He gently takes his cock in his hand, giving it a few strokes. He was already so hard for you he really couldn't hold back anymore. He gently places his other hand on your chest, slightly pushing you down on your back.

"I need to be inside you,honey"

"please izuku,just do it already" You whine to him

He groans as he strokes himself a few more times and then he aligns his cock with your core, sliding inside so easily. It slid in so fast,you were so wet for him,He giggled a bit. His breath becomes a bit more uneven as it was hard for him to stop himself,He just needed you so bad and you were right here, giving him what he wanted and needed so bad.

He grabs onto your hips, holding you with a firm but gentle grip as he starts thrusting. His hips move at a quick pace, whining and groaning while doing so.

"fuck,I needed this so badly..I need you so badly"

He whispered to you as his hips seemed to just move on their own. After just a few more minutes of him thrusting,he managed to hit that spot you just love so much. As it was mentioned before,he's very skilled in human anatomy and he knows what and where it feels good for you, that's why it didn't take a lot for him to find your sweet spot.

You gasp and let out a loud moan and he grinned at your reaction. He was a slut for giving pleasure to others. His hips pick up the peace, thrusting inside you quickly.

"ngh..spread those legs for me,baby..I need to make you feel good"

Izuku said as his two fingers make their way between your legs, quickly finding your clit. His fingers move at a somewhat fast peace as he grins down at you, his hips never stopping as he kept pounding into you

"mmh..I'm close, honey. Should I pull out?"

He asked with a somewhat concerned tone. He wanted to cum inside so bad ,he really did but he knew it wasn't right unless you gave him permission to do it. He looks at you with a pleading expression

You just let out a softer groan,your head leaning back onto the pillow

"fuck.. please don't pull out, please izuku,I need it inside" you beg him

Poor izuku didn't waste any time as his thrusts became more uneven, trying to pick up his speed. He was so desperate to cum inside,he always had to fantasize about that he's just so lewd but it's not his fault. Of course it isn't,you're just fuckin hot,that's on you.

His fingers never stopped rubbing your clit, trying to pick up the speed a bit,and god it felt so good,your fingers will never compare to his as they were doing the job better than yours.

He groans and grunts as he keeps pounding into you and after a few more thrusts it finally hits him. His mouth opens up to let out an almost feminine whine, resting his head on your chest while he cums. He couldn't stop himself,this man always cums so hard and you knew it but you loved that about him. It was so hot to you

Your hand rests on his head, stroking and playing with his hair a bit as you were waiting for him to calm down. It takes him a while but his hips still twitch on their own as he was still inside you

He came so much,as expected, and it felt so good he didn't even want to pull out. You were just so warm like this

"you did so well,izuku"

You whisper to him. Your voice seemed a bit sore and tired because this was pretty Intense. It may not seem like that but he surely can get you tired so quickly when pounding into you

Izuku didn't reply,he was almost asleep. This man ended up not pulling out,his head was still resting on your chest,it was his favorite place to sleep cause you were just so soft.

He is so tired after that,he just gets exhausted so easily,he has no stamina,poor boy:(

Sorry chat this was a bit rushed:( Merry Christmas to everyone tho<3

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absolutedestinyapocalypsse · 2 months ago

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When Harrow is very obviously grieving, (and also when he wants to gaslight her) John tells her to make soup about it, to focus on the little things, to take it day by day. When asked to help with the lobotomy, Ianthe tells Harrow that the worst is over- she's a lyctor now, and she should try and move forward instead of sticking herself permanently in limbo. These are not terrible pieces of advice to give a grieving person; if actually practiced, they might even be helpful. Except for Harrow, they are the absolute worst things you could possibly say.

None of what happened to her should have happened, of course she doesn't want to accept it and progress further into lyctorhood. Everything is terrifying and new to her, of course she won't find peace in "the little things". John is actively trying to fucking KILL HER, of course SOUP isn't going to help! Like obviously the general grief advice isn't gonna work for Harrow because she's in a psychological horror book and is being haunted and is grieving jesus christ herself, but also, does it really work that well ever? Does being told to move on actually ever in any circumstance help the person move on? Or does it just make them feel more broken, more inadequate, more lonely?

Sure, focusing on little things that give you joy and trying not to ruminate on the past are on paper productive ways to cope, but its also the LAST thing a grieving person actually wants to do. Telling someone to simply forget about what they went through and who they lost, to just focus on the boring and isolating minutae of everyday life instead of the world-ending tragedy they've experienced feels impossible. To do it would be like betraying yourself, and the people you lost.

Most of the book is Harrow knowing that certain things would probably make her feel better if she would just try, being told constantly that if she would just do x y or z, things would fall into place and she would be less broken. She doesn't even remember WHY she feels like this, but she does, and it's all-consuming. Lyctorhood is the scale by which her "normality" is measured, and she is failing SPECTACULARLY. She refuses to set aside Gideon's humanity and significance in her life to use her as a battery, and that makes her weak and a failure in the eyes of the other saints.

But by failing to move on, she ends up actually preserving (??? who actually knows man) Gideon's life. For the classic grief advice to not only be unhelpful to her personally also ACTIVELY MALICIOUS/ HARMFUL PLOT WISE is such a great 180 to me. Instead of a "grieving character comes to terms with loved one's death for the Greater Good and moves on because its the Right Thing To Do" narrative, we get a kind of bereavement revenge fantasy. Harrow's complete refusal to move on stops Gideon from actually fully dying. And she does makes soup, not to cope with the constant terror she's living under, but to EXPLODE her tormentor from the inside out. These things probably aren't "good" for Harrow, or for anyone dealing with grief. They do not make life easier for her, and they do not make her a lyctor, but they are honest and they are SO satisfying. Having the power to bring back the person you lost, even at great personal detriment and to explode everyone who hurt you with your mind is i think the perfect power for someone in mourning and i love that htn let Harrow have it. There is no greater good to be served, no larger moral about loss to be told. The objective is not to see Harrow heal from loss, it's to see her by sheer determination and force of will, refuse to fucking lose.

#tlt gender studies #not rlly gender more grief #but i wanna tag all my meta the same #none gender with left grief #the locked tomb #harrow the ninth #htn spoilers #harrowhark nonagesimus #harrowhark the first

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koinotame · 29 days ago

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idolatry

word count: 3.1K content warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamics, half self indulgent reader insert fanfiction half character study, unreality, religious undertones, possession is discussed abstractely, hypothetical harm to reader, the yandere is subtle but it's there

summary: you've somehow been reincarnated into a version of genshin impact where all the playable characters are self aware and seem besmitten with the player. the problem is that they can't make up their minds about whether you're their player or not...

a/n: aether vs your many fake fans

the flow of time has never felt steady to aether. despite how important it was to humans wherever he and his sister have traveled, there has always been a disconnect from it for him. You disappearing for months at a time is nothing out of the ordinary. time flows the same with or without You. like the sea's waves, it recedes and pushes. when he's used as a vessel by You, weeks can pass by in the blink of an eye and hours can feel like years spent in Your embrace. years have passed since You first started possessing them, and yet it's only been a couple of months at most. nothing moves forward in Your presence, nothing stays in stasis in Your absence.

so when he suddenly truly understands how humans experience the passage of time during another one of Your disappearances, aether immediately knows something is wrong. filled with dread and a harrowing heaviness deep in his gut that something has happened he can never take back, he finally understands what it means to be desperate for more time. have You abandoned him at last? has he not been enough, not quick enough to uncover this world's secrets and find his sister as You desired? finding you, clearly not from this world and trying to backtrack when you call him by his name—aether, his name, not Your sacred name he has been passing off as his own ever since Your arrival in teyvat—before any of Your other undeserving, fanatical vessels do seems nothing short of a miracle to him.

overjoyed at not having been abandoned after all, he clings to you and promises to protect and guide you through this foreign world—this time not as Your vessel, but as your first and most devoted follower. he doesn't need to be his own person, not when he can exist within the context of you.

paimon is less convinced. aether has turned even more immoderate and unnerving ever since your appearance, and she's not a fan. she… kind of understands. how important You are to aether, to the many others You've met through them during their journey. but does he—do any of them—really need to devote their entire being to You? she doesn't mind you, as a person, she really doesn't. but she doesn't like what You as a concept do to aether.

these days, she barely feels like she's part of the group, the one she formed with aether what seems so long ago, anymore. your arrival has completely overshadowed her presence. where she was previously part of a duo with her travel companion, she feels like little more than an afterthought now. she misses him. he calls her silly for it. she has only ever known him through Your command, so there isn't anything to miss. he's the same as he has always been. she just doesn't understand because You never graced her with Your embrace, and now that you have seemingly lost that ability perhaps she will never understand.

she says nothing, but she finds herself a little glad. better to never experience Your embrace, whatever that means, than lose herself completely in devotion to someone who clearly wants none of it.

the first archon they approach with you, venti, is apologetic but firm in the notion that aether is simply confused. he can understand how aether came to the conclusion, desperate and unused as he is following Your disappearance, but Your presence is simply unmistakable. he bids the two of you farewell amicably, but you find it impossible not to notice the difference in his demeanour afterwards when you run into him around the city. his smile is deftly crafted and practiced, his voice level and fingers steady as they pluck the strings of his lyre, but something about his eyes betray his own growing desperation.

if even aether is faltering like this, perhaps You really have abandoned them this time…? if he shows You how well mondstadt is faring, how much they've rebuilt and grown and thrived since You helped him quell dvalin's anguish, will You be proud of him and return? even if not to him, at least to the city? will You ever have Your vessels dance in the city square's fountain, or make the hike up the skyfrost nail to gaze upon the beauty of the unabating grey and white landscape again?

over time, even venti wavers and starts seeing what aether has seen in you. it is equal parts acceptance and desperation that drives him to you, to the one Your faithful traveler has placed his belief in, to feel Your embrace again, even if it can never be the same as it once was. he survived thousands of years without Your grace, to fold for it now that he knows what Your benevolence feels like is nothing short of shameful. the thought gnaws at him all the while until it has consumed him whole. in the end, he has not grown at all; still that little wind spirit desperate to not lose another he holds close. somehow, when you hold him, he can't seem to mind.

while the two of them have never discussed the matter of You explicitly, aether is perceptive enough to realise zhongli is one of the most reverent of the whole… of any of Your vessels. you called them cast without thinking the other day, whatever that meant. of Your cast. so he goes to him next, telling him that You've made Your way to this world permanently, that he's found You. his first instinct is anger, anger at your lying, anger that aether, who You have blessed with Your presence more than anyone else, who You picked as Your primary vessel, would fall for such mockery. aether was astute to not bring you along when he announced this, or perhaps you knew and chose not to yourself. it matters not. he knows he has proven himself to You, that the real You would never hesitate to reveal Yourself to him. instead of expression his righteous fury, he does his utmost to reign it in. if anything, this works in his favour. he almost feels sorry for aether, wrapped so tightly around the pinkie of a fraud.

upon meeting you properly, he realises perhaps he misunderstood the situation a little. zhongli isn't a fool (when he's not blinded by momentary rage, at least), he can see how uncomfortable you are with the whole situation. while you are not blameless for continuing this facade, aether has deluded himself and cast You aside entirely on his own—and when You finally grace them with Your real presence, zhongli is certain aether will be the first to fall from Your grace. that drunkard too, falling into temptation out of loneliness like that, will get what's coming to him.

until then, all he needs to do is keep his distance and stay as he is, as Your most loyal and dedicated devotee. until then, all he needs to do is send the two of you off. there is no need for him to get violent, not when Your punishment will hurt aether all the more. he thought he was long past such childish emotions, but he supposes that even now You breathe new vigor into him.

you shy either away from visiting inazuma entirely. seeing how the previous archons have reacted to you, you have little doubt that the raiden shogun would be the first to get violent. it's a dilemma you would rather avoid altogether, if possible. just in case. maybe your worry is misplaced, but… aether, of course, can never deny You, and the raiden shogun, of course, would meet your expectations without a proper thought.

the puppet has learned since, but much of the framework of logic she used to enact the vision hunt decree and rule over inazuma in the past several hundred years remains and is hard to completely make away with in such a short amount of time. imposing ei's will on a whole nation is wrong, but arresting and doing away with someone making a ridicule of You is a completely different thing. ei remains a little more hesitant, but even she cannot bring herself to completely disagree. You are the pinnacle of eternity, of control, of life—for some mere human to be impersonating You is unacceptable. hearing the traveler, Your closest companion, has put his trust in you would give her a bit of pause. he was right last time, so maybe this time as well… but then it was You who was right through him, not him in and of himself.

ultimately, your instincts would have turned out to be correct, and she buries herself in her plane once again, leaving the shogun to continue cleaning up inazuma. on her own, she imagines herself meeting You—the true You—and what it would be like to welcome you to her nation in earnest. she wonders if You would be proud of her.

nahida knows You immediately. she is the archon of wisdom, and weak as she may be, that title is not for nothing. your presence feels a bit differently from how it did when there was much more distance between You and her, but it pushes and pulls in a similar way. she doesn't feel she needs to, but should it come to it, she could always take a quick peek at your thoughts… and she would just get confirmation that she was right from the start. now that she's free—largely by virtue of You and the traveler—her word has much more weight than before. sumeru will always welcome You with open arms. if you prefer to live more privately, she understands that. but know that you can always come to her. for anything. she really, really means it.

it's only a small, selfish part of her, and she doesn't like thinking this way or how the other archons, the ones who should recognise You right away, are treating you, but a tiny part of her deep down finds herself feeling almost proud that she's the only one to recognise your grace. whenever you're around, she finds herself spending all of her free time with you. she wants to hear everything—your thoughts, your opinions, which weather or meal or nation you like better, your experiences, your home world, what it was like handling your vessels, everything and anything you deem fit to share with her. from how you indulge her, she's glad she also seems to bring you a similar comfort to the one You give her.

she wonders if Your embrace feels similar to when she possesses others' bodies. the warmth and absolute serenity that overtakes all of her senses when You control her can't compare to anything else. it's nice to be in at the helm of herself too, of course, especially with her newfound autonomy. but if You were to offer her that comfort permanently, she wouldn't be able to turn down Your offer.

when furina looks at you, she sees a reflection of herself. she might not recognise You, but she cannot bring herself to disdain someone in such a similar position to herself. she cannot imagine that You, kind and benevolent and goodhearted as You are, would want her to be cruel to you. whether that is her genuine belief or an attempt to redeem herself to You, after deceiving not only Your vessel but also You directly, does it matter?

Your presence has been a fairly recent entrance in her life, but she has been hearing about You for hundreds of years. she cannot remember a single conversation she ever had with her mirror self that did not feature You as a point of dialogue, of ambition. with only her and You to cling onto for hope for five hundred years, the only natural outcome was to develop such a strong faith and dependence on You. perhaps not as fervent as some of the other… archons, but not something that should be underestimated. Your presence in fontaine, even if through the traveler, had given her renewed hope at the time. as soon as she saw him for the first time, she knew.

your presence is… completely different. there's hints of You—likely residue You've left in the traveler—but not much else. she cannot believe in false idols, she tells the two of you, but she will see about providing some lodging for you. even if the traveler—even if aether is wrong about this, his service to fontaine deserves some merit, so she's sure this can be overlooked. it's what You would want, she hopes to herself. and if she finds herself seeking you out more and more, what difference does it make? when you smile so sweetly at her and praise her for holding on for so long, that you're proud of her, her resolve cracks.

neuvillette has always known of You. it is only when the traveler shows up in fontaine with Your presence in tow that he understands with certainty that You do exist, that he truly understands how wonderful Your warmth feels even at a distance and in these circumstances. You take Your leave for a while, and he thinks he is alright with that. even just knowing Your comfort so intimately (because this is already so much more than most are permitted), however brief, is enough for him. perhaps his returned authority also has an impact, but he is certain it would not have felt this invigorating without Your help.

and then You return, and he finds himself actually understanding what it means to be embraced. no sooner is he experiencing what it feels like to be whole for the first time before he finds himself in sumeru's desert, where he remains stranded for a week. Your presence fades until his punishment—for what, he remains uncertain—is complete, but Your hold on him does not, and something keeps him in place there the entire time. You do not use him much after that. he cannot deny Your judgement, even if he does not quite understand.

he learns of your arrival in teyvat through chance, by way of some opera gossip which happens to mention that furina has found herself a close friend. when he catches a glimpse of you… he cannot say he feels Your presence. none of you breathe a word about the subject to him, and it is only much later he learns of what you're hiding. if Your every loyal furina and Your first and most important vessel recognised You when he did not even so much as suspect it, where does that leave him?

of course childe would recognise You. that piece of the abyss that clawed its way into him so deeply it will never separate from him again would recognise You anywhere, even should ajax not. long before your current descent, he recognised Your strings of control much earlier than most of Your other vessels did. while he's never really given much thought to whether others have recognised You as well, he noticed the way Your presence lingered on aether in particular right away.

it's part of what drew him to the traveler in the first place—what's so special about him? why not childe? why did this outlander get to be Your vessel and he didn't? has he not proven himself enough for You? his mission aside, he felt a more personal disdain at the traveler. after he embarrassed himself in front of You and the truth came to light, he tries his hardest to redeem himself to the traveler. to You. so, naturally, when Your favourite little traveler comes to him with You in tow, he recognises You right away, as he always has. he's a little bitter, if anything—why did it take aether so long to come to him? does he not trust him? is he controlling You and Your actions? or—and he tries not to think about this too hard—is it You who doesn't trust him?

it doesn't matter. You're here now, and he's here for You now, and he'll do everything in his power to help You. You won't have to be alone any more, he promises, You won't have to hurt any more. nobody will harm You, ever again, not when he's here now. (he ignores how aether has easily stopped any harm from coming Your way so far without his help.)

it is you who thinks to approach albedo. the link is weak, but as soon as aether shows up at his makeshift lab in dragonspine with You in tow, he knows. it's as if he has no other option than to recognise You, however faint Your aura has become, as if there was never another possibility. it makes sense—after all, he was made for You. so were all the others, in a way, as was the whole world of teyvat, but not in the same way his master crafted him for You. to appeal to You. to be used by You. to find out the truth about You, though it's possible she just left him with that mission (to find out the truth about "the world"—You are the world) to keep him busy after she threw him away when he did not yield the results she was searching for. it doesn't matter. he's found You now, and he can't let you slip away. especially not to Your other, faulty vessels, those who couldn't recognise You at first glance.

thankfully, you seem fond of the area of the mountain and don't mind staying. you even take interest in his work, though you seem to not enjoy the constant sketches and pieces of art he produces of You for you as much. it's not the same as when You fill every molecule in his body and bend it to Your whim, but this is also nice.

one day you ask him about alice; she's been to different worlds, so you wonder if he could ask her about her methods. you seem hesitant, and you waited specifically until aether had left to collect some food for the next couple of days. it's a logical choice, Your favourite vessel would not take Your request well. albedo can't find it in himself to either. even if it's you asking, he cannot just let You leave, not after all this time. he promises you he will ask, but is honest when he tells you alice might take a long, long time to pass by mondstadt again, so… in the meantime, let him know if there's anything he could do to make Your stay here in teyvat more comfortable. anything at all. You're going to be here for some time, after all.

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awearywritersworld · 1 year ago

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she mumbled that i was peculiar

sukuna x reader summary: impressively, sukuna is still trying to find ways to deny his feelings for you. nevertheless, he keeps you safe from harm when a late night trip to the store doesn't go as planned. will seeing his violent nature for yourself change the way you feel about him? he seems to think so. w/c: 4.2k (oops) tags/warnings: angst to fluff. attempted kidnapping. canon typical violence. depictions of blood. reader throws up. reader is in shock for a bit. cursing. aged up!yuuji. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. *please mind the warnings for this chapter* a/n: i'm sorry this took so long! im ngl, i struggled quite a bit to write this chapter. i'm still unsure about the pacing, but here it is anyway. thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy! series masterlist // masterlist

it's not often that you go out for the evening, but tonight is one such occasion. you leave around seven, excited to meet nobara and maki for dinner.

when yuuji falls asleep a few hours later, sukuna doesn't take over right away. he spends a while in his domain, engaging in what some people might call sulking.

before long, however, he begins to feel restless and he tells himself it's because he's grown accustomed to his finite hours of freedom. of course, it has nothing to do with your absence.

so he assumes control of his vessel's body and pulls a short novel from your bookshelf. settling on the couch, his fingertips brush over the cover: the stranger by albert camus

it's the first time he's ever been alone in your apartment, a fact he's well aware of, and his eyes wander to the front door. it'd be all too easy to pull it open, to make his way downstairs and out onto the street.

how long would it last before yuuji regained control? are you nearby? would you get caught up in the havoc he'd doubtlessly wreak?

the thought makes him grimace. returning his focus to the book in his hands, time seems to pass by faster as he makes his way through the pages.

even so, he deems the narrative a bit boring. in his (what's the opposite of humble?) opinion, dead mothers and nagging girlfriends don't make for the most captivating story, so his mind begins to wander once he happens upon the quote:

"so why marry me, then?" she said. i explained to her that it didn't really matter and that if she wanted to, we could get married. besides, she was the one who was doing the asking and all i was saying was yes. then she pointed out that marriage was a serious thing. i said, "no." she stopped talking for a minute and looked at me without saying anything. then she spoke. she just wanted to know if i would have accepted the same proposal from another woman, with whom I was involved in the same way. i said, "sure." then she said she wondered if she loved me, and there was no way i could know about that. after another moment's silence, she mumbled that i was peculiar, that that was probably why she loved me but that one day i might disgust her for the same reason.

sukuna thinks about you— the woman who forced her way into his solitude.

although, what if it hadn't been you? what if the brat had been involved with another woman? would he have eventually taken an interest in her too?

are you really that special, or is he just going crazy inside the cage that is itadori yuuji? the latter is much more likely, right?

he supposes he prefers the idea of madness over... feelings for some human.

all of a sudden, your apartment door seems much more inviting. would it be so bad if he were to step through it? what did he really have to lose?

yeah, that's right. he'll get up any second now and act on every horrible impulse he's been repressing. any second now... any second...

he can't quite figure out why he's unable to bring his limbs to move, weighed down by some force that's beyond him.

it's at that moment the door clicks open and for a split second, he thinks it must be his sign to go, but then you come waltzing in.

"'kuna!" you greet in an excited manner, disrupting the peaceful quiet.

kicking off your shoes haphazardly, you make your way over to him and promptly drop yourself into his lap. it elicits a bout of unwelcome clarity for the king of curses.

no, he wouldn't have taken an interest in just anyone, that much becomes obvious. it wasn't through a medium as flawed as chance that he came to... tolerate you. you're much too annoying for that to be the case.

"hello???" you wave your hand in front of his face. "i'm home."

"i can see that."

"welcome home, darling," you say in a deep voice, a poor imitation of him. "i missed you so much— that's what you're supposed to say."

yeah, definitely too annoying.

"but i didn't miss you." one of his hands comes to rest on your thigh, a betrayal of his preceding assertion.

"you're sitting alone reading—" you pause to inspect the book lying open beside him. "existential fiction about a nihilistic frenchman. of course you missed me."

he changes the topic rather swiftly. "you're drunk."

"i'm tipsy, at best." you roll your eyes. "can't i just be happy to see you?"

"you'd be the first."

"i don't mind making history."

you place a kiss on his lips, casual and affectionate in way that makes sukuna's body stiffen, and stand up.

"i need to get ready for bed, then we're gonna watch tv together because i missed you— gosh, see how easy that was?"

you run off to the bathroom and his body doesn't fully relax until he hears the shower turn on.

the thought of missing someone is a strange notion to him, because it implies eagerness and desire. for as long as he cares to remember, those emotions have been reserved for proclivities much more sinister.

so he hadn't missed you. he just would have preferred it if you stayed home. that's all.

when you return to the living room around fifteen minutes later, you're wearing one of yuuji's shirts, and as far as sukuna can tell, very little otherwise.

making yourself comfortable on the floor between his legs, you pass a hair tie behind you. "can you braid my hair?"

he's watched you get ready for bed enough times that he's fairly certain he can manage it. taking the tie from you, he still asks "why can't you do it?"

"because i'm sleepy," you frown, reaching for the tv remote.

gathering your hair in his hands and carefully dividing it into sections, he sighs. "you require so much looking after."

"you're not going to die if you can't have cookies tonight." sukuna states dryly, glancing at the clock that reads eleven o'clock.

"please don't trivialize my struggle," you begin, pulling on your jacket. "i want miso butter cookies— my grandma's secret recipe."

most of what you need can be found in the kitchen, but a trip to the store is in order for a few final ingredients.

"my mistake," he huffs, rising to his feet. "how insensitive of me."

"oh, it's alright. just don't let it happen again."

"sure. i'll keep that in mind, princess." sliding the apartment door's chain lock off the track, he does little to hide the vexation in his tone.

just as he reaches for the handle, you stop him and wrap a scarf around his neck, forcing a hoodie into his hands. "put this on. you'll be cold."

he looks at you as if you're crazy. "i don't have to worry about things as insignificant as the weather."

"well, put it on anyway," you insist.

he decides that acquiescing will be easier than arguing for the next five minutes and slips the hoodie over head. when you both step out into the chilly air of night, there are still a decent number of people traveling the streets.

stopping at a crosswalk the next block over, you begin to prattle on about what you need to pick up and the different steps in your recipe. naturally, you completely miss it when the pedestrian sign turns green.

"come on," sukuna commands, his hand wrapping around your wrist and tugging you along with him. "i don't have all night."

you scoff. "to be fair, i didn't say you had to come with me."

"yeah well it's late. you shouldn't be out alone." there's a hint of exasperation in his voice, like he truly had no choice in the matter.

despite that, once you reach the other side of the street, his fingers slide down your palm and thread through yours.

you glance over at him and find he's looking off to the side, so you bite your lip to suppress your pleased smile. is he avoiding your gaze intentionally? you decide that bashfulness suits him better than you would have expected.

offering him a light squeeze of the hand, you hope it conveys your appreciation of his small display of affection.

"so, are you going to help me make the cookies?"

his lips press into a thin line. "as thrilling as that seems, i don't particularly have a penchant for baking."

"you think you'd humor me a little! you know, since i'm your only friend and all."

"if anyone else asked me such a ridiculous question, they wouldn't live to see tomorrow." you ponder whether he's joking and quickly decide that he isn't. "this is me humoring you."

"you're so mean to me."

"hardly."

"fine," you pout. "then you can't have any!"

"now, hold on." the threat does make him hesitate. you've come to learn that if there's one thing he loves as much as reading, it's food. "let's not be hasty."

you're approaching the store, the sliding doors just a few strides away.

"it's only fair! besides, you're not going to die if you can't have cookies," you throw his earlier words in his face.

he exhales deeply. "have i ever told you how irritating you are?"

"woah! now you're definitely not getting any, mister!"

"alright, alright," he groans as you step inside. "i'll help you bake your stupid cookies."

"perfect!" you exclaim as if you knew he'd give in eventually (you did). "then you can start by finding the miso paste while i get everything else!"

you scamper off before he can tell you not to order him around like some common servant. he's never even been grocery shopping, how the hell is he supposed to find anything in here?

wandering the aisles, he stews over how domestic this is. for god's sake— the king of curses, shopping for ingredients and making baked goods. what have you reduced him to?

just as he considers giving up, he spots the item he's looking for and grabs it so aggressively that it knocks a few packets of instant miso soup to the floor. wrinkling his nose in distaste for the entire experience, he sets off looking for you, though his efforts are to no avail.

he wonders where the hell you could have gone off to when a flickering light catches his eye, filling him with a strange sort of unease.

it's emanating from a narrow hallway tucked away in the back corner of the store. at the very edge of the hall, a phone with a familiar case is lying on the floor, the screen shattered.

his blood runs cold, a sensation that is fully unknown to him, and the miso paste slips from his fingers. he appears in the hallway the very next second and the sight that greets him ignites a furious hostility in the center of his being— heavy and consuming.

you're struggling against one man as he drags you out of the backdoor and into an alley. another man is holding the door open, urging his partner to hurry up.

the hand over your mouth keeps you from yelling, but you're unsure you would have been able to make a sound regardless.

one second you're cast into darkness, and the next, the light seems blinding. the flashing is unceasing and it makes your head hurt.

two limbs are wrapped around your torso, keeping you firmly in place, and your arms are trapped at your sides. you might be kicking your legs, but they may just be dragging along too. you really can't be sure.

there's a thrum of a heartbeat at your back. it's pace is unforgiving, the intensity mirroring that of your own. you've a vague concern that your heart may very well beat right out of your chest.

then there's an abrupt shift in the air and a sickening crack echoes through out the night. crumpling onto the concrete, you think it must have started raining before you realize that the droplets on your face are warm.

you wipe at your cheek and your fingers stain crimson, the color matching that of an increasingly large puddle seeping across the pavement beside you.

there's a heap lying a few feet away and you recognize that it's wearing clothes. it's a sight you struggle to make sense of.

needing to focus on something else, your eyes find sukuna and the expression he's wearing is fierce and unreserved. "tell me what you wanted with her."

you've never heard him speak in such a way. his tone is low, his cadence nothing short of threatening.

"s-s'kuna?" your own voice sounds foreign to you and it goes unheard by him.

he has your attacker pressed against the brick wall of the alley, both hands wrapped around his throat. he's too livid to realize the pressure on his windpipe is preventing him from answering.

sukuna throws him to the other side of the alleyway out of frustration, the man rolling onto his back and wheezing to appease his lungs.

"tell me!" sukuna commands again, louder this time. less collected.

the man scrambles away from his looming figure. "th-they sent us, told us they needed her for an important matter."

"who?"

"they'll kill me if i tell you—"

sukuna crouches down, laughing dryly. "and what do you suppose i'm going to do?"

his eyes are almost unrecognizable to you. they're frenzied— a few shades deeper than the scarlet you've grown so fond of.

"you'll k-kill me either way, so at least i'll die with honor—"

"tch. useless." sukuna waves his hand, and you can hardly comprehend what happens right in front of you.

neat red lines appear across the man's body, then it ruptures into nothing at all. the only evidence that he was ever there in the first place is his blood.

the stench of which is perhaps the worst part— intense, coppery, and hot. it makes your eyes water, and before you know it, you're hunched over and emptying the contents of your stomach onto the ground.

sukuna is at your side in an instant, pulling your hair away from your face, but while one of your hands is braced against the concrete, the other endeavors to push him away.

his body doesn't budge at the contact, but he takes a step back anyway in an attempt to respect your wishes.

your mind is a mess filled with racing thoughts— what the fuck? this cannot be happening. what the hell even happened in this first place? that man was there and then he wasn't.

inhaling sharply, you wipe at your mouth and shift to pull your knees to your chest.

"what..." you trail off, surveying the unutterable, incomprehensible scene before you. "what did you do?"

he doesn't respond, though his features noticeably soften. somewhere in the back of your mind, you know very well what he did, but you can't help repeating. "what did you do?"

"we need to leave." it's not that sukuna couldn't handle whoever might show up, but seeing as this is your reaction, he has no desire to. "if you let me touch you, i can take us home."

you take a moment to think about it, then nod wordlessly. as soon as his hand falls on your shoulder, you're met with that same sensation you felt the night gojo teleported you and yuuji home after one too many drinks.

though this time, the sick feeling in your stomach isn't caused by liquor. you don't stand up, you don't so much as move a muscle when you feel the surface beneath you shift from concrete to carpet.

sukuna breathes out your name, his uncertainty evidenced by the way he's shoved his hands into his pockets. meeting his eye, you reiterate the same inquiry once more. "what did you do?"

it's almost as if you want him to tell you that he didn't do anything. that the whole experience was some disturbing nightmare.

"those men would have hurt you."

"that doesn't mean they deserved to die." you choke on the final word.

"yes— it does."

with that, silence hangs in the air like a suffocating miasma.

looking to your hands, you're reminded of the blood you've been spattered with. "i need to wash up."

you still don't move from your spot, too fixated on your flesh and the dreadful hue that it's been painted with. sukuna notices now that you're trembling.

he approaches you hesitantly before extending his hand. "let me help you."

you decline his offer, shying away from him. "i think you've done enough already."

god, the look in your eye is utterly despondent. he struggles to swallow the lump that forms in his throat.

his arm falls limply to his side and he looks across the room, your copy of the stranger earning his attention.

he's overcome with chagrin when he realizes that his concern brought about by camus' quote the other night was wholly misguided. he'd been focused on his own feelings, whether they were genuine or simply wrought by his isolation.

how foolish was he to ever question what you truly mean to him? with the anguish that's settled in his chest at the sight of your current state, the fact he ever doubted it makes him feel like a hopeless idiot.

had he any sense at all, the part that resonated with him would have been—

she mumbled that i was peculiar, that that was probably why she loved me but that one day i might disgust her for the same reason.

disgust. is that what you're feeling now? he's certain it is.

it was just last week that he relayed the story of his past. you're the only person alive to know the truth of how his wickedness came to be, and you met him with unconditional sympathy and understanding.

you pulled him close and embraced him, but now that you've seen him for what he truly is...? you can barely stand to touch him and it's like a knife to his heart.

you're so fucking warm— like the sun against his skin after weeks of endless rain.

and if you're the sun, surely he is the moon— cold and barren on his own, but brilliant when in the presence of your light.

to be without that? to be without you? it's a prospect too terrible for him to bear. it makes his stomach twist miserably.

you're startled (as is he) when his form falls to the floor, his knees meeting the carpet with a dull thud. he calls out your name again, but this time, his voice cracks as he speaks. "please."

he doesn't have a clue what he's even asking for. a chance to explain? forgiveness? a way to turn back time?

you don't say anything, but you do shift your gaze to him. he knows that he needs to fix this, so he wracks his mind for the right words.

"i didn't enjoy killing those men." he's somewhat surprised to find he's telling the truth.

"you didn't?" your voice is so small and timid that he can hardly decipher your words.

"no. my only concern was to keep you safe— to make sure they never put their hands on you ever again. all i felt was rage and... and... guilt. i should have never left you alone and it's my fault—"

"stop," you interrupt him.

there are tears welling in your eyes, making it difficult for sukuna to breathe. he's positive you're going to tell him that his intentions were of little consequence and that you never want to see him ever again.

instead, you push yourself forward and collapse against his body, your own wracked with violent sobs. the reality of the situation is only just now hitting you. it'd been much easier to focus on what sukuna had done, rather than what almost happened to you.

"i was so scared, 'kuna."

and still, despite the way you're clinging to his shirt and burying your face in chest, he's under the impression that it's him you were afraid of.

"i'm sorry," he tells you earnestly. "i never meant to frighten you."

"n-not of you. those men." you're struggling to speak in between desperate gasps. "why did they do that? what did they want with me?"

"i don't know." though, he is going to find out.

sukuna is not a man well versed in comfort, so he's not entirely sure why he begins rocking you back and forth, but he does it anyway.

when you finally start to breathe a little easier, he mumbles into your hair, "come on. let's get you cleaned up."

he doesn't give you a chance to respond before he scoops you up in his arms and carries you to the bathroom. setting you down on the counter gently, he searches the linen closet for a cloth.

it's quiet, save for your intermittent sniffling, as he runs it under warm water and wrings it out. his free hand moves to rest against the side of your neck and he dabs at the blood on your face, rinsing the washcloth every now and then.

he tries his best not to show it, but sukuna is agonizing over what might be going through your mind.

do you still feel safe with him? have your feelings changed? do you still love him, even when you've been so harshly reminded what he's capable of?

when you speak for the first time your words are hoarse, barely above a whisper. "thank you for saving me, sukuna."

he thinks about telling you not to thank him, not when it shouldn't have happened in the first place. he left your side, an error in judgement he'll never forgive himself for.

he considers your mortality— your weakness— in relation to his feelings for you. he's always seen this exceptionally human quality as despicable.

but now? all it does is terrify him.

"in the past, i was only concerned with my own whims and desires." his hand moves to cradle your face, his thumb running over your cheekbone. "though after tonight... you have to know..."

it's clear that he's struggling. his eyebrows draw together and his mouth twitches as he ponders his next words.

"i care about you, angel." his voice is hushed when he adds, "very much."

your eyes widen briefly and you murmur his name, but your mind is still reeling from the events of the past twenty minutes and you can't think of anything more to say. you're emotionally exhausted in a way you would have never thought possible.

it's plain to him too, so he knows his next question is selfish, but he can't go on without knowing. "does what you saw tonight change things between us?"

the silence preceding your answer seems to stretch on forever.

"i thought it would," you confess eventually. it was as if you'd put up a wall in your mind separating sukuna the king of curses from sukuna the man you spend your evenings with.

and it's difficult to reconcile the fact that the hands you saw used to murder two men are the same hands that are caressing your face so delicately.

at some point, however, you realized that the only time you felt fear tonight was when you were without him. his arrival and ensuing actions inspired shock and apprehension, though in some twisted way, you knew it meant you were safe. "but it doesn't."

the next question tumbles from your lips thoughtlessly. "does that make me a bad person?"

he chuckles and some of the tension in the room dissipates. "i think i'm the last one on earth that can pass moral judgement on you."

he tucks your hair behind your ear and scans your face, relief coursing through his body when he sees you smile. in this moment, there isn't anything else in the world he would have asked for.

"i guess you're right."

and now, the hand over your mouth is your own, an attempt to stifle your tired giggles. the light of the bathroom is warm and steady. sukuna's hands rest atop your hips, his touch firm but comforting. while you can't feel your own heartbeat, you're positive it must be beating in time with his.

when you crawl into bed that night sukuna pulls you close, your back pressed to his bare chest. you're thankful for the softness of his demeanor, because you need it tonight more than ever.

he doesn't recede to his domain until yuuji wakes up the following morning. he's determined to keep an eye on you as you sleep, to watch the slow rise and fall of your chest with newfound gratitude.

he knows he needs to speak with the brat about what happened. someone is after you and while he hates to admit it, he knows he can't ensure your safety alone.

and he will keep you safe, no matter the cost.

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skyrigel · 7 months ago

Note

Can you write an image in which Benedict is obsessed with Y/N and is always looking for reasons to touch her. However, Y/N knows that when it comes to women, Benedict quickly gets what he wants... sex. She keeps him waiting and doesn’t sleep with him until the wedding day.

Obsessed with you | I

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: Benedict bridgerton x afab!reader

Synopsis: Ton's most eligible bachelor is obsessed with the mystery lady in silver, and would do anything to have her

Warning: Reader's mother has issues, scandalous family, last name Rose for convience, Benedict being a smug bastard, some regency class differences, cute Polin, cute kathony, minor non-con touching, smoking cigar, lots of teasing and ofcourse obsessive and possession behaviour. Might be toxic! Benedict but please he's a cutie.

Dearest gentle readers,

While for sure we have seen former Rake now Kate's beloved whipped husband, and Colin bridgerton who is so smitten with his dearest wife that it will not come forward a surprise if he hasn't set foot out in all these days, but Benedict bridgerton is neither whipped nor smitten, he is, as the poets would whisper, obsessed. It will be amusing to know who this mystery lady is, with her dazzling silver gown and piercing eyes, sharp enough as she carved the gentleman's heart out.

Benedict was a man for art and muse so forgive him if he got so obsessed with you, the real question was, how could he not ? You were the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen, clad in your most dazzling blue dress that he wanted nothing but to take off.

" She exaggerates." Anthony pouted, he shouldn't know that he had but he's been pouting a lot lately, it's called 'kateffect'

" No, you've been domesticated brother, just admit it, Kate has tamed you." Colin peppered, sprawling down next to Anthony who greeted him with the most glaring glare.

" Like you're any better." Anthony smirked, setting his gaze on Benedict who read the index again.

" Penelope doesn't know her name ? " Benedict worried his jaw, looking between his brothers.

" I take that back, Penelope didn't exaggerate, you're really very much obsessed." Anthony remarked, Colin nodded.

" Oi, she would've known your mystery lady's full name and history but—"

" Don't complete that, I'll duel you."

" In the middle of a ball ? " Benedict laughed, eyes amused, Colin turned a crimson red.

" Rather tempting—"

" Oi! " Anthony raised his brow, his mouth curving in disdain, as Colin staggered away, leaving Anthony praying to lord behind like he was any better.

" Oh dear." Benedict smiled when once alone, thumb caressing the index, as if it was the mystery lady in silver blue gown, accused of taking away the gentleman's heart.

" Who are you ? " He whispered.

" Ma'am, would you like something else ? " Mrs. Turner asked once you were seated on your dressing, playing with several glassy bottles with colourful scenty substances.

" In yesterday's masquerade ball, I was dancing with a Bridgerton—" Mrs. Turner tutted softly," He's Benedict bridgerton, i assume."

" Yes, indeed, the only bachelor bridgerton boy of age." Mrs. Turner pulled the corset strings and you gasped, feeling your internals squeeze in the process.

You smiled, thinking about the way Benedict looked at you, all stars in his eyes.

" I..it is not my place miss but as your well wisher, i would say.." she worried her jaw.

" It's okay Mrs. Turner, you should speak your mind." You assured her, feeling her fingers stop at your back as she looked at your reflection in the mirror.

" Benedict bridgerton's a rake, unlike any other gentleman... he's known to engage women with class and wits...artists, musicians, and other dimplomacy that are odd amongst our sex."

" Oh." You nodded, feeling stupid enough to think those were meant for you, like they were of real affection.

" I wouldn't want you any harm, after your father's death and your inheritance affairs, you couldn't afford another scandal, for a good match—"

" My virtue should stay intact ? " You raised your chin, examining the stain of rose on your lips.

" Your sister was a good girl madam, so are you." Mrs. Turner smiled, her eyes crinkling with deepest concerns.

Benedict's eyes were searching for you everywhere, he has been waiting for you since so long. Despite anxious mamas forcing introductions and dances, he was looking only for you.

" Miss Rose." Benedict turned to see his sister in law, smiling a smirk, followed by her husband in tow.

" You wound me Pen, it's Benedict bridgerton! " He laughed, much to Colin's dismay.

" Oh well your mystery lady is Miss Rose, daughter of late Duke of Blair field and lady bloom." Colin was one step away from clapping.

" Wow." Benedict's mouth curved in a delightful 'o'.

" Oh well they are rather scandalous, her sister was rumoured to be not a virgin which deceased all of her prospects of marriages, her mother is rather protective of her."

" Pen, did I tell you how you're my favourite sister ? " Benedict perked his gaze towards the entrance, hoping for you to bless him.

" Don't let Eloise hear that." Colin said, outstretching his arm that Penelope held as they swirled between the crowd, laughing.

" You shall not be unchaperoned." Your mother had a faraway look in her eyes, her hand was trembling and you surged the desire to just hold it.

" I understand, mama." You bowed your head once, trying to forget the trembling of her hands.

" Don't engage in gossips dearest, better keep to yourself and..." She forgot what she was saying, her lips trembling along, you looked at Mrs. Turner with a pleading gaze.

" Ma'am, we must make haste." She simply said, your mother spared a glance to you, her mouth tightening around the corners.

" You look beautiful child." She looked away, you pretended not to see the tear that glistented down her cheek.

After securing yourself in the carriage, with your dress squeezing the life out you, you finally breathed.

" I envy Gissele." You said softly, caressing the uneven glittering fake diamonds.

" She would say the same." Mary mumbled, she was Mrs. Turner's daughter who rather got scolded every often for being too blunt. You liked her alot.

" Oh wouldn't it be so wonderful to just lay in bed, reading a book and wearing simple soft dresses." You perked up at the idea of a life like that, a simple homely cottage, filled with warmth and sweetness and books.

" But the society has it's own fun, look at you, pretty dresses, pretty shoes, and all those prince charming lords." Mary took your fan and mimicked the motion, you smiled.

" Well you could always borrow a dress, have some fun." Your eyes glinted, Mary shaked her head.

" C'mon." You grabbed her wrist, shaking them, up and down profusely.

" No, mama will kill me ! "

" But the fun ?! No one would know, they haven't seen me, they don't know me."

" Well i can't pretend to be you, what would happen if somebody caught us."

" Don't then, be yourself ! Mary Turner."

" Sounds like a bad idea." Mary said, her smile deceived her.

" Lord Turner of Riverdales, be their relative, no one hardly pays attention."

" Whistledown does." Mary narrowed her eyes, you looked out to make sure you haven't yet reached.

" Well she called me a mystery woman who apparantly took a gentleman's heart."

" Oh Mr. Bridgerton's a known gentleman." You scoffed at that, Mary's brow knitted together as she studied you.

" What ? He's a rake." You brushed the tingling away, feeling the way Benedict's gaze lingered on you, the way he twirled you around like you were the only real thing, the way he flushed and stumbled through his words, attempting to know absolutely anything about you.

" I highly doubt that, never heard anything about him."

" Presumably he has a longing for accomplised women." You finger quoted it with a scowl that was too unladylike, Mary bursted into fits of giggles.

" What ? " You poked her, she shaked with her guffaw, chortling in her way.

" You fancy him." She said, chuckling the ' him' away, you frowned deeply, heart leaping at the ton that was gathered outside lady Danbury's exquisite ball.

" Utter rubbish. Do you still want to have fun ? " You asked, Mary smiled.

Benedict gaze perked up when you and Mary stumbled through the ball, Mary was almost shaking and you were sure her clothes didn't fit much to you, you felt your back prickling with burning gaze and you turned.

" Told you he's a rake. Don't be friendly to him." You whispered to Mary who was about to run when Benedict dropped his conversation with lord White, swaggering towards you.

" What if he recognises you ? " She mumbled and your lower lip trembled, but that's not possible, your mask obscured your whole face except your lips and eyes and certainly he hadn't painted you in his mind, afterall he shouldn't be that obsessed.

" My lady." He bowed, his gaze locking in yours as he kissed the hand Mary very reluctantly gave him, he was amused when Mary mumbled a hasty greeting, her manners mimicked.

" You look exquisite, more than the ball itself." He was clearly flattered when Mary blinked hard, looking at you for help.

You rolled your eyes when Benedict too, looked at you with a similar pleading as Mary.

" Forgive me my lord, my lady is tired—"

" We haven't been introduced i remember, Benedict bridgerton." He grinned, he actually freaking grinned as Mary glanced at you with the corner of her eye.

" Lady Mariam Turner." She blurted it quickly, looking at you for approval, " A pleasure." Mary smiled, you nodded.

" Forgive me Mr. Bridgerton." You cleared your throat, Benedict's gaze penetrated through you, he was setting you on fire and you couldn't do anything but to burn.

" My lady is tired, you must excuse us." You felt your throat dry, your whole body withering when Benedict narrowed his eyes, lingering specifically on your lips and treading down slowly.

" Indeed, I must not keep you." He cocked his head to Mary, humming along as you strode past him. You were sure he only whispered the ' not ' out of curtsy.

" That was bloody brilliant ! " You giggled while Mary shaked her head, clutching her bossom. Your footsteps echoing in the abandoned corridor, stiffling back your giggles.

" That was bloody scary and I can't breathe." Mary heaved, her breath easing when you patted her back.

" Lady Mariam Turner." You teased, bumping your hip as Mary looked at you, gasping scandalously.

" Shut up. I almost died." Mary pulled her dress that sticked to her skin, trying to fan in some air.

" Do you think he recognised me ? " Your cheeks blazed at the heat of the memory of him, his teasing glances and amused smiles.

" I...I think it was rather amusing that we were messing up, did you see how I trembled? " Mary shaked her hand, as you laughed at the display.

" No, my lady." You said, once your giggles subsided, " You were exquisite."

Mary wacked your arm, her smile unable to hide through the twitch of her lips.

" So, shall we go home ? "

" Would you mind waiting in the carriage ? "

" Don't tell me—" Mary glared, you pouted with puppy eyes.

" Please, you know it's my only way."

" Smoking is bad." Mary declared, " and for men." She added grimly, you nodded along, grabbing her wrist.

" Please, please, please."

" Only if you give back my clothes, i miss them." She touched the soft cotton of her clothes that you were wearing, you perked up eagerly.

You took joy at the puffs of smoke that ridiculed the air, the night chill freezing it into clouds of silvery mist.

Mary was dozing off in the carriage until it was time to go home, so early arrival doesn't raise any questions and your mother fast asleep, her trembling lipped questions saved for the next day.

" I thought your lady was tired." You almost dropped your cigar, jumping up the swing as it creaked at sudden outburst.

" Don't drop it, i don't have any with me." His smile was too big and smug for his face, his nonchalance dripped as he took the swing opposite of you. You stared, for some reason cigar still burning in intricate yellow blazing circles, dropping to ashes.

" Forgive me my lord—" you just remembered you were no longer in Mary's clothes.

" That's the only line you grasped so far ? " Benedict leaned on his swing, catching your wrist as he dragged you to sit.

You sat down with a thud, swing jiggling with your weight as you processed his smile.

" I..." You stammered, flushing in heat as he inhaled you in, you were back in your clothes, the one you were supposed to wear. And Mary was right, you couldn't breathe.

" I would say you look beautiful, in everything, in anything..or—" in nothing.

" I should leave." You throat itched.

" Stay." He was soft, almost a whine, a plead.

" Please don't tell anyone." You tried your best persuading smile, it worked on Gissele all the time, your lips pouting and eyes shining with stars.

Benedict's mouth curved in a smile, he clicked his tongue as he attempted to speak but he found he couldn't. A pause, then—

" You love tormenting me, don't you ? " Benedict took the burning cigar from you, locking your eyes with his own as he brought it to his mouth, a sound escaped him as his lips curved around the warmness that belonged to you, he inhaled deeply.

" I don't know what you're talking about." You tore away you eyes from the erotic display of smoking, he hummed in a dry scoff.

" Ofcourse, you wouldn't." He offered the Cigar back, every word coated with sarcasm.

The breeze was so cold that you shivered, moon hanging low in the night sky and every star stared back, Sirius, Rigel, and all of them.

" I never meant to offend you." You took the cigar back, his fingers brushed, a electrifying wave rippling inside you, like the way he held your hand and danced with you in the masquerade ball.

You noticed his flexing but said nothing, heart beating too fast to be sane and alive.

" Miss Rose—" you gasped, how could he know your name, "—have you ever been kissed ? "

" I...Benedict..lord." you clamped your mouth shut, lips suddenly struck by a bolt as they buzzed.

He leaned as you felt your back touching the rope of swing, his face too close... would he kiss you ? Would it be as electrifying as the rest of his touches ? Would you survive it or simply burn like a pheonix ?

" It's okay, we would alot when we get married. " He took away the cigar and dropped it as it was so close to burn your skin, smiling all the while. Was that a proposal ?

" Go home, it's getting cold, Mrs-yet-to-be bridgerton." And he pressed his lips against your forehead, his smile caressing your heart.

Rigel's note 🪩: while I loved this idea especially the hilarious ' Benedict gets what he wants....sex ' but I needed to base it, so it doesn't come as pervy and non con as it might, to make it comfortable enough to write on my part, I have tried to break it into parts, this part is generally meet up and getting obsession with y/n ( no use in fic ) and other will be courting and marriage bliss. Gif not mine.

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rin-sith · 2 months ago

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*That* scene in Six Hundred Strike is not about vengeance, it's about vulnerability ... because the Vengeance saga isn't about vengeance

To think all of this started because I was trying to determine why it feels so natural to read intimacy into the torture scene in Six Hundred Strike ... See, I'm personally not someone who reads an angle like this into things easily, but this time I found myself doing it too. And I just needed to know why.

It just made no sense for a while, because if you look at it superficially, it shouldn't make sense; it's a freaking torture scene. But I don't know, somehow, I must have felt that there was something there ... and I think I figured it out.

See, the reason why it feels so natural to read intimacy into this scene is because ... it actually is incredibly intimate. Not in an actually sexual way, but more so in a, "Imagine you were suddenly able to read someone's mind, and they yours" kind of intimacy.

It's really easy to just assume Six Hundred Strike is literally about vengeance, but it isn't. Now, please stick with me for a bit because we are going on a bit of a tangent here, but I promise we'll get back to this eventually.

The tangent I want to explore first is (as you've probably seen in the title) that the whole Vengeance saga is, ironically, about the unnecessity of vengeance and how destructive grudges and resentment can be. Think about it:

In Not Sorry For Loving You, Odysseus lets Calypso rant and then walks away without confronting her or accusing her, even telling her what she wants to hear one last time. I already discussed why Odysseus is an incredibly non-judgmental, non-resentful person in my Monster essay, and here is another excellent example of that.

Charybdis (I'm skipping Dangerous because he doesn't encounter any enemies there) is the first "monster" enemy he leaves alive since Polyphemus (Scylla doesn't count because he still "kills" for the sake of getting past her, even if it's in the form of sacrificing his men.) While one might argue that he had no choice since Charybdis is virtually impossible to kill, I think placing this encounter here might be an intentional choice especially since it differs greatly from the way that Charybdis is in the Odyssey. There has to be reason behind this change.

In Get In The Water (my beloved 🫶) we are explicitly shown that Odysseus offers Poseidon (the god who killed his whole fleet and is responsible for most of his suffering) forgiveness. The reason Odysseus has to torture him in the first place is Poseidon's own refusal of this mercy—he's literally torturing Poseidon in order to make him finally release the grudge because he has proven that this is the only way to actually get through to him. It actually shows perfectly that Poseidon's own inability to release his resentment became his downfall in the end, disproving his own "ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves" motto as his own ruthlessness bit him in the a** this time, as I talked about in this post.

... And there is no resentment or vengeance in Six Hundred Strike either.

On one hand, it's easy to assume phrases like "For every comrade, every one of my friends, almost all of whom were slaughtered by your hand" or "How does it feel to be helpless? How does it feel to know pain?" indicate resentment, but ... not really.

We already know that Odysseus doesn't want vengeance, or he wouldn't have tried to lead from the heart one song earlier.

And then make yourself aware of something else: Not once during any of their encounters is Odysseus actually accusing or resenting Poseidon for anything.

"Almost all of whom were slaughtered by your hand" is an objective fact. It's just true. Someone vengeful may have said "I'll make you pay for all of those you slaughtered" or "All of their deaths are your fault" ... Odysseus just says, "for every comrade". He doesn't specify what he's doing for his comrades ... and it sure as hell isn't that he's (trying to) cause Poseidon pain or harm for them (which would be vengeance.)

For every comrade, he is fighting Poseidon, in order to finally reach his goal. For every comrade, he's doing everything that he has to do in order to get home, and in order to end this feud.

And then we get to the torture scene and it's ... actually so incredibly freaking intimate. Because it's not actually about vengeance, it's not about accusing Poseidon, or making him pay, or suffer more than necessary. If Odysseus were speaking from a genuine vengeance angle, he'd probably sound more like, "You killed my friends, now you pay for it. You did this to me and now it is your time to suffer." But he doesn't.

The torture scene in Six Hundred Strike is actually ... just another, much more extreme, repeat of Odysseus' lines from Get In The Water (my beloved 🫶): "Aren't you tired, Poseidon? It's been ten years, how long will this go? We're both hurting from losses, so why not leave this here and just go home?"

Odysseus tried saying it nicely ... now he's stabbing him with his own trident, hoping, practically begging, that he finally listens and accepts. Just lets them both go home.

And the thing is, this time, he isn't just saying "we're both hurting from losses" ... All you have to do is repeat to yourself Odysseus' entire monologue that he unleashes while he's stabbing him in a calmer, gentler tone and you'll see that what he is actually yelling out at Poseidon are all of the reasons why he is hurting. Sharing with him all of the pain that he probably hasn't shared with anyone ... ever.

"How does it feel to be helpless? How does it feel to know pain?" -> How does it feel to be vulnerable? I've felt vulnerable for so long without anyone to talk to or because no one truly understood me or what I'm going through.

"I watched my friends die in horror, crying as they were all slain. I heard their final moments, calling their captain in vain." -> This is why I am hurting. These are my losses.

"Look what you turned me into. Look what we've become." -> Look what I could be if I actually followed your lessons. Is this what you really want? Why can't you understand the harm that this is causing both of us?

"All of the pain that I've been through ... haven't I suffered enough?" -> Aren't you tired, Poseidon? It's been ten years, how long will this go? We're both hurting from losses, so why not leave this here and just go home?"

"You didn't stop when I begged you." -> I asked you to "Stop this, please" mere minutes ago. You didn't stop. That's why I'm doing this.

"(You) told me to close my heart. You said the world is dark. Didn't you say that ruthlessness is mercy?" -> I'm doing what you said you wanted me to do. Do you really want this? Do you really believe this? Can something like this really be mercy?

The first time I heard this, I firmly believed that Odysseus was actually crying during this part, and honestly, I believe that to this day. The canon visuals don't show us his face and I want to almost say that's intentional.

This whole scene is about vulnerability. Forced vulnerability, in a lot of ways, but raw, real vulnerability nonetheless.

This isn't just a torture scene; it's actually one of the most intimate scenes we've ever seen Odysseus share with anyone on screen. Seldom do we see him this honest in front of others (the vulnerable scene with Circe at the end of There Are Other Ways is the only other example I can think of.) Otherwise, all of his honest, raw songs are his solo songs (Monster, Just A Man, ...)

But here, Odysseus is essentially using the symbol of Poseidon's invulnerability—his trident—to force him into the most vulnerable position that he's probably been in centuries, if not ever ... and at the same time, he is being incredibly vulnerable himself. He's opening up to Poseidon in a kind of absolute way that we have actually never seen him open up to anyone.

... If that is not intimacy in its rawest, most painful, uncomfortable, and yet cathartic forms, I don't know what is.

As if that weren't sad enough... The saddest part about all of this is actually Poseidon's "Monster!" ... Because it tells us without a doubt that he is actually incapable of receiving or understanding those words from Get In The Water (my beloved 🫶). He is incapable of understanding vulnerability. All he can see is the "monstrous" act that accompanies it because that is something he knows and recognizes.

Although I believe, in the end, Odysseus did get through to him, and did get him to drop the grudge, I believe it happened on a kind of subconscious level rather than genuine acknowledgment or agreement. It's further proof of how Odysseus is capable of growth while Poseidon isn't (yet.)

Poseidon remains stuck in his ways, in his "ruthlessness" philosophy, because he isn't ready to acknowledge its flawed nature, essentially making it his own cage that prevents him from growing or moving forward. Meanwhile, Odysseus is walking away, walking ahead.

... Part of me almost wants to claim that he started begging Odysseus to stop so quickly not because of the physical pain, but because of his words. Because the vulnerability forced on him was hurting in a way that physical injuries, even from his own trident, never could. Because deep down, very deep down, he must've ... "felt" what Odysseus wanted him to understand and feel anyway.

Remember how I compared this type of intimacy to the sudden ability to read someone's mind before? I chose this analogy for a reason. What is intimacy if not using the very source of a god's invulnerability, essentially putting yourself into his divine shoes, doing what you know he would do to you ... in order to force him to connect to your mortal feelings and pains, even if he can still not truly understand them?

Here is where we see, for the first time, maybe ever, what even Odysseus and Athena couldn't do (yet), and the core reason why their partnership broke apart: a mortal and a divine genuinely understood each other's perspectives ... saw themselves in the other, even if only for a moment.

Given all that ... there is absolutely nothing I can say against kicking my feet and giggling excitedly over this scene.

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