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ronearoundblindly · 3 months

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ALSO from the kiss list: ransom and #45, 46, or 47???? ur ransom from the root of all ransom is so 😩😩🫠🫠��🫠

Ransom Drysdale x rich!Reader from The Root of All Ransom series

Out of Spite, one of my Valentine's Fics for 2024

Summary: Ransom's childhood home gets sold in his parents' divorce. The first time you see it is the last time he ever will.

Warnings for cursing and dirty memories from our boi. DEEP FEELS. If you've never read any RoAR, that's fine! You just need to know that Ransom is a filthy, bitter man who used to defile his parent's house any chance he got. Oh! And that Harlan did tell Linda (Ran's mom) about Richard's (Ran's dad) cheating. MINORS DNI. There's plenty for you on my Light Masterlist, but this one is not for you! WC 1746

He didn’t think he’d feel this way.

Everything is different but exactly the same.

Ransom can remember when this house was a happy place. Of course, it felt that way only when he was very young and really stupid. He actually thought his parents loved each other back then.

Fucking idiot.

He learned quickly though. Once he paid attention, that’s when he saw. His father didn’t look at his mother that way; Richard looked timid or indifferent, waiting for the money decisions he floated to be approved, waiting to make sure Linda hadn’t stumbled on some evidence of his indiscretions. Meanwhile, Linda…worked. That was it. She just worked.

A child sees that. Whether they are ready to or not, a child sees.

Ransom didn’t understood why that sort of relationship was so fucking infuriating—because if that’s your relationship, don’t have a fucking child,—but he saw.

Just like fashion and furniture and people, he can tell in one look what he doesn’t want.

He doesn’t want…whatever the fuck this was.

Ran drags his hand over the polished wood banister to lead you upstairs to his old bedroom. It’s now a gym, and in a month, who knows, because in his parents’ divorce, the house is getting sold. His dad has ten more days to move out.

Unsurprisingly, nothing has been packed yet. Richard pays someone else to do that, like he and Linda paid someone else (many other people) to raise Ransom.

He didn’t think he’d feel this way on the last occasion he’d ever be in this house.

He’s hated it a long, long time. He used every opportunity he could to taint and tarnish everything from floor to decor, invisible marks of defiance that his parents never saw, or if they saw, they never understood.

Ransom doesn’t lack respect completely; he just lacks respect for them.

And yeah, to be fair, there are less than a handful of people on the planet he’s found he can respect, but he is capable. They just aren’t worthy, and he doesn’t fucking care.

He thought he’d feel anger or bitterness. He thought he’d feel a sense of justice, maybe, because this veneer of unity is finally being stripped away. He thought, at very least, he’d feel a marked disappointment because they could have done better. His parents are capable of better. They just fucking weren’t.

He feels…nothing.

He feels nothing when you two walk past the railing where his prom date, Candace, almost took a short drop and a sudden stop because she’s an adrenaline junkie and wanted him to fuck her while she held on with nothing but her acrylics. Ransom had to fake coming because he was so distracted by the thought of having to clean up that bitch’s brain from the foyer.

He feels nothing as you two traverse the hall where he terrorized the nannies, throwing whatever he could get his grubby fucking paws on and aiming for them every time.

He was awful; why doesn’t he feel awful?

He still feels nothing when he flicks on the light at the southernmost room and sees…no trace of the first nineteen years of his life. Maybe he feels nothing because there is nothing?

Ran told his mother, point blank, that she could burn anything he left behind for all he cared, and at the time, he didn’t care one iota. Those memories were not worth one red penny to him. He derived more joy from knowing what he’d done here and left for them to clean up than he did from any of the actual stuff.

That’s the thing. Even if the stuff didn’t bring him joy, that was all he had for nineteen years. Possessions hold value to him because emotions didn’t fucking exist in this house, unless you count denial, arrogance, and willful ignorance.

He’s so caught up in his emptiness, he’s forgotten all about speaking during this little tour.

You follow him around, silently, from room to room in a too big house that unsuccessfully contained the egos of only three people. No one was fucking happy. No one wanted to be there. Everyone had to be there, for appearances.

You rest your arm on his shoulder and run your fingers through the short hair at his neck, but you don’t say anything. There’s nothing to say. He feels nothing.

And so you two head down to dinner with Richard, a bizarrely familial toast to the house before it’s on the market.

Ran’s father hasn’t cooked, mind you, because that would really be the cherry on the weird shit sundae. No, it’s a catered meal for three fucking people in a house owned by none of these three people.

However, if there’s one skill passed down through generations of Thrombeys and Drysdales alike, it’s ignoring anything going on around you that you don’t care about (and the not caring in the first place, so two skills). Ransom is a really skilled Thrombey and Drysdale.

He has no fucking idea what the conversation is about over the course—courses—of the meal, but he watches you in an awe that makes him feel sorta queazy. How can you still smile and nod at Richard? Ran reached his limit weeks ago, and you’re still barreling through what he can only imagine is the finest, superficial bullshittery the whole county has to offer.

Why?

Why are you here?

This place is not a fucking home.

Why are you putting up with this? Why put up with him, for fuck’s sake?

But the emptiness swallows that outrage as fast as his mind can churn it out.

“Ya know, I think I’ll take my plate in,” you say sweetly to his father, standing, so there’s no argument to stop you. “I never got to peek at the kitchen.”

The help part like the sea for you.

Richard chuckles, leaning back in his chair with his drink. “Not sure I ever really peeked in there myself,” he mutters.

“Please, allow me,” he hears you encourage from around the corner. “I’d like to look out the window.”

Ran mouths ‘window’ questioningly to Richard, who suddenly remembers that they redid the deck and added a pergola eight months ago. Ransom vaguely remembers his mother griping about contractors, but he didn’t listen to the details. He didn’t fucking care.

He’s up and heading for the kitchen before his father can offer to have dessert served outside.

Ransom, clearly in a mood, tells the caterers and wait staff fuck off to a different room when steps in. He has no clue if he knows them previous events. It doesn’t matter.

He’s engrossed, watching you rinse a plate in the sink, something so simple it hurts.

Because the kitchen, Ran thinks, is where you prove you can stand another person—you trust them with your food, they can know what you like, and you aren’t afraid of them in a small space with knives. This is the place where couples work together. They spend time getting things for each other, making things for each other, even when they don’t have to.

In that sense, this is not and never has been a kitchen. It’s a showroom, but tonight it showcases you.

He walks over and looks where you look. Beyond the reflective pane with your faces is a canopy of lights overlooking an open space the length of the house.

It’s beautiful, just one of many helpful additions made after he left. Some other family will get it now. Some other kid will enjoy it. For once, Ran wishes people he doesn’t know a happiness he never had. That’s new, too, that feeling.

Pride swells in Ransom. No one can take that from him.

He is not a good man, but he’s proud as fuck not to be his parents despite their indifference. It’s a miracle he isn’t exactly the same as Ol’ Dick in the dining room, alone, scared for what the future holds when the money runs out.

That was a near miss of fate, Ran remembers, because if he’d been backed into the same corner, if you hadn’t been there to offer a lifeline, he would have fought. He would have killed to survive.

That’s what he knew. That’s what he learned in this house. Fight. Kill. Show no emotion. It doesn’t matter anyway. Each man, woman, and child for themselves.

Richard and Linda live with the consequences of their actions; Ransom lives with the consequences of his parents.

He turns to you, a hand on your hip, and sees you warp you mouth in apology.

“Needed a break,” you admit quietly.

Ran snorts. “I hear that.”

“Just dessert and then home,” you hum. “No drinks outside, okay?”

Then it dawns on him. When he bought his current house, its true beauty was not being this one, but that’s not all anymore. Ran can make a house into a home. He can make himself into the home you deserve, the one he would have killed for.

This house may hold bad memories, but he can make new ones. Houses can be expanded, lit, and warmed. Space can be made to fit the needs of those using it.

His mind can do that, too. Ran can do that.

So, out of pure spite for the wretched monument all around him, he leans over with a smile and kisses you fiercely.

Such a simple thing. A new memory. One happy memory to bury in this dead place and leave forever.

He’ll go back to his home, with you, and get you water from the kitchen even if he doesn’t want any. He’ll watch you cook, and you’ll ask him to taste it or hand you things just a few feet away. You’ll sit in ‘his’ spot on the couch because the new place for him is with his head resting in your lap. He sees it all very clearly.

His parents were right about something: it doesn’t fucking matter. This house doesn’t have to matter to him. Only his real home should do that.

When dinner is over and you two shut yourselves into the Beamer, he looks back one final time.

He doesn’t have to care. He doesn’t have to feel anything. There will be empty spaces in his life, but that’s okay. That’s a consequence of living.

You voice Ransom’s innermost thoughts just before he turns the key in the ignition.

“Good fucking riddance.”

Jimmy Dobyne and a kiss in public ⬅️ ➡️ Steve Rogers and a kiss where it hurts

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @starkleila @tenaciousperfectionunknown @rogersbarber @spectre-posts @ellethespaceunicorn

#ro answers #valentine's day fanfic #the root of all ransom #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale angst #ransom drysdale fluff

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coffeebanana · 1 year

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huntlow for the ship game 👀

Well, I don't not ship them? ksjdbfkjdf I think they're my least favourite of the canonical toh ships though (i go lumity > raeda > huntlow). But they are cute! I think I might have been more invested if toh had gotten a full third season, but as the way thing turned out I just...didn't really get attached kajdfskf. Blame Disney for that one haha. I also don't read much toh fic so that probably plays a role. What made you ship it? - akjfbjbd genuinely just tumblr exposure. i don't think i was paying much attention to their canon interactions when i watched the first 2 seasons, then i just saw so much content about them on tumblr so i was kind of like "oh, this is a thing? i guess that's cool" 😂

(**spoilers for "for the future" below**)

What are your favorite things about the ship? - I think it's obvious that they derive such wholesome, genuine joy from watching each other do things that make them happy. Like... Hunter watching Willow with the plants when they first get back to the boiling isles in "for the future". Or in thanks to them, when Willow tells everyone to leave Hunter alone when he's in cosplay(or whatever she said exactly, i can't remember). I think that's really sweet. Love relationships like that where partners are so supportive of each other.

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship? - ok don't hate me for this but i think the least interesting thing that happened to them in "for the future" were the romantic developments. Like don't get me wrong, I loved their interactions. But...I was more interested in what those scenes did for their individual character arcs than the fact it "made them canon". Like. The line about reliable people needing someone to rely on made me cry (then again i was already in tears after the luz and camila scene before that so. took very little to break me again 😂)--that's such a good lesson for willow to learn. It's something I think I needed to learn at her age. It's something I still need to learn. And then for Hunter to be able to open up about how much he cares about her and his friends aksjdbfsbkd. But to me...the magic of that was more friendship than romance. Not that they don't have chemistry, just...if they had been 100% platonic I would have been just as happy. I think I'm just not that invested? kjadfbkj my apologies

Thanks for the ask!! 💜

Send me a ship and I'll answer three questions based on whether I ship them or not!

#toh #toh spoilers #for the future spoilers #huntlow

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cant-even-function · 3 months

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Exploring Fandom: Understanding a Community of Shared Passion

Fandom, often characterized as a community formed by individuals with similar interests, admiration, and support for a particular idol, music group, artist, or celebrity, is a vibrant and multifaceted phenomenon ( Vocabulary 2023). While it's commonly believed that fans merely spend money on music records, concert tickets, and related merchandise, often dismissed as frivolous expenditures, there's a deeper and more nuanced side to fandom that deserves attention.

Investing in Music Records and Concert Tickets: Frivolous or Not?

In the realm of fandom, spending money on music records, concert tickets, and associated products is frequently criticized as wasteful. However, as someone who has been a fan of a music group for five years, I believe that supporting idols monetarily isn't necessarily negative, and there are several reasons for this.

Firstly, purchasing concert tickets allows fans to create memorable experiences for themselves. My quote is "You only live once," and when idols have the opportunity to perform, it's essential to seize the moment and immerse oneself in unforgettable experiences. The joy and fulfillment derived from attending concerts make the expenditure worthwhile. Additionally, attending concerts provides individuals with the chance to connect with like-minded individuals, sharing their passion and forging friendships within the community. Ultimately, financially supporting idols through album purchases and concert attendance contributes to sustaining their careers, enabling them to produce quality work and shine on stage. This isn't merely a demonstration of support but also a way to acknowledge and appreciate the artists' contributions.

Spending money on music records and concert tickets isn't inherently frivolous. However, it's crucial to consider financial circumstances and personal motivations when making these decisions. Ultimately, true happiness and value lie not in spending money but in the memories and experiences we create through these activities.

The Bright Side of Fandom:

Contrary to popular belief, fans engage in more than just consumerism within their communities. Beneath the surface of fan culture lies a lesser-known aspect: acts of kindness and generosity. Many fandoms participate in charitable activities, channeling their passion towards meaningful contributions to society. These acts of kindness not only benefit the community but also strengthen the bond between fans and their idols.

For example, the fandom of Hanbin, a member of the band Tempest, donated more than 36 million VND to the "NUOI EM" Project, a lunch to support the dream of writing for poor children, another project is about adopting 60 animals under the name Hanbin and many other volunteer activities.

The Dark Side of Fandom: The Menace of Sasaeng Fans

Many people often idolize them too much and are even blacklisted by their artist management companies. Korea has a special name for such people "saseang fan". They are people who can do everything from stalking, violating privacy, and even threatening celebrities. It can be said that they have an obsession with intimacy when they think that their actions can make their idol pay attention to them. For example, a sasaeng fan angered the public when he shared a series of photos and videos of an NCT member's hotel room on Twitter. Not only was this the first time she did this, she violated the idol's privacy so much that the agency decided not to blur her face in the video as a warning. We can see that the crazy fans are really scared.

Shipping Idols: Harmless Fun or Disturbing Behavior?

In Korean entertainment, especially in the Kpop music industry, shipping culture has become an indispensable part of the fan community. Fans often associate couples of the opposite sex, and at the same time enjoy the intimate actions of the couples they ship. From creating videos synthesizing romantic moments, writing fanfics, scripts, comics, to creating many other forms, fans seem to constantly find ways to show their support and affection for couples. like.

However, it is worth noting that, in the process of pairing couples, many fans have crossed the boundary and become too extreme, even going into sensitive areas such as 18+ sex. Making inferences from friendship to same-sex love and writing untrue stories can lead to misunderstandings and disruption in the fan community as well as affect the idol. In some cases, shipping same-sex idol couples can lead to inappropriate and extreme actions from some fans, especially when they put the love between the idols into their true feelings. Surname. In general, shipping idols together may be part of fan culture, but needs to be done with awareness and respect for the individuality and privacy of the idols.

Representation and Identity

Fandoms today are more diverse than ever, with various fan groups representing unique perspectives and identities. For example, the TF-BOYS fandom boasts multiple representatives, each associated with a different color. This diversity can lead to conflicts over how characters and stories represent different identities and experiences. Even within the same music group, there may be competing fan groups, leading to tensions within concerts and events.

reference list:

fandom 2023, Vocabulary.com, viewed 4 February 2024, <https://www.vocabulary.com/dictionary/fandom>.

#mda20009 #fandom #week 4

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taimio · 5 months

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Unveiling the World of Fertilizers: A Beginner's Guide to Nurturing Plants

"Get the green thumb you've always wanted and learn about different "fertilizer types" with our easy-to-follow Beginner's Guide to Fertilizing Plants. In just a few steps, we teach you how to use the right "fertilizer types" to keep your garden blossoming all year round. Explore the world of organic and inorganic fertilizers, and uncover the secrets to boosting the health and vibrancy of your beloved plants. As beginners in the world of gardening, understanding the basics of "fertilizer types" can be the defining factor in successfully growing a lush, green garden. So, get your gardening gloves on, and delve into an enriching journey of plant feed, nurturing, and fertilizer application!" Exploring Fertilizer Types: A Starter's Guide for Plant Care When it comes to plant care, one essential aspect often overlooked is the choice of fertilizer. It's like giving your leafy friends a superpower boost! Now, let's embark on a journey to uncover the secrets of fertilizer types, starting with the ever-reliable organic option. Organic fertilizers, derived from natural sources like compost or manure, are a fantastic choice for environmentally conscious gardeners. They provide slow-release nutrients, fostering long-term soil health and reducing the risk of overfeeding. On the other hand, synthetic or chemical fertilizers can be a quick fix for nutrient deficiencies. These commercially produced wonders often come in granular or liquid form, delivering nutrients directly to the roots. However, caution is advised when using them, as they can be harsh on plants if not applied correctly. Remember to follow the package instructions and refrain from overzealous fertilizing. Now, let's dive into the world of numbers! Fertilizer labels usually display three digits, indicating the ratio of nitrogen (N), phosphorus (P), and potassium (K) respectively. Nitrogen promotes leafy growth, phosphorus supports root development, and potassium helps with overall plant health. Look for ratios that align with your plant's needs, such as a higher phosphorus content for flowering plants or a balanced ratio for general maintenance. But wait, there's more! Some fertilizers boast extra ingredients, like micronutrients or beneficial microbes. Micronutrients, including iron, zinc, and manganese, are crucial for plant health, even though they are required in smaller quantities. Beneficial microbes, like mycorrhizal fungi, work symbiotically with plant roots, enhancing nutrient uptake and overall resilience. So keep an eye out for these bonus features that can take your plant care game to the next level. Now, let's address the elephant in the room: *overfertilizing*. It's easy to get carried away, thinking more is always better. However, plants have their limits, just like we do with indulging in our favorite treats. Overfertilizing can lead to burning the roots and damaging the delicate balance of soil organisms. So, remember to follow the instructions and resist the temptation to shower your plants with excessive nutrients. In conclusion, understanding fertilizer types is a crucial step towards becoming a master plant caretaker. Whether you opt for organic or synthetic, pay attention to the N-P-K ratio and consider additional micronutrients and beneficial microbes. Take it easy, don't overdo it, and revel in the joy of watching your plants thrive. As Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, The creation of a thousand forests is in one acorn. So go ahead, nurture your little acorns and let the gardening adventures begin! Related Article: [Unlocking the Secrets of Soil Health: A Journey into the Microbial World](articlelink) Learn more about gardening with Taim.io!

#Fertilizer Types

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femdomliterature · 6 months

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FemLit 0067 - A rant about unobtainable fantasies

I'm not really in the mood to make a caption right now, so instead, I decided I would just write a normal post, like a normal human being, ranting about the fact that there are so many fantasies I just wish the real life me would be cruel enough to actually pursue.

I don't know if that post would worth anything to anyone, if it'd be sexy for any of you, but I don't care, this is me, talking about myself. That is the peak of what could possibly interest little ole' narcissistic me ^-^

Empathy is a weird thing for a sadist to deal with. Because on one hand, I truly do derive my pleasure from dragging people through hurt and pain and a certain amount of agony, but the extremely empathetic parts of me make it so I can't really enjoy the deeper parts of my sadism. The parts that want to break a boy, make him -really- beg me to stop, make him cry but not for the game of it, real, actual tears of endless torment, the kind that he would never sign up for, but still can't resist agreeing to.

I'll give an example -

I have no problem admitting that I'm a good looking woman, finding people that would fall on their knees for my attention is... I wouldn't say natural, or anything, but not really a challenge. If I wanted to manipulate a poor boy into his own demise, which I so desperately do, it would be something I could, potentially, achieve.

It would be a challenge, don't get me wrong. Getting a boy so desperately in love with me, that he would do absolutely anything for my time and attention, even things he so badly does not want to do... Like, the ultimate friendzoned simp. I could, so easily, wrap a guy around my little finger so tightly, that he would actually believe that when I say I want him locked in a chastity cage so he could save himself for me, for when I'm ready for a real, mature relationship with him, he would actually believe me. It might take some time, some convincing, but I'm great at convincing boys to do what I want them to do... Use just the right touch, the right words, the right smile... And that's all it takes, once the lock is shut, I wouldn't even have to keep the pretense going anymore.

Of course I will, because it's just that much more fun. I would still touch him, more than I ever did, when he takes me out to a movie, we could snuggle the whole time. When he takes me out to restaurants, my foot could find its way across his thighs. Soon enough, my requirements will go up. Steeply. If at first, a simple movie date would be enough, now it's shopping sprees, renting a yacht, flying us to Paris... I would make sure that whoever I would have picked for this special role would be someone with a very well paying job, because if there isn't a lot to take, than what's the point in even taking, really?

Soon enough, every time we would go out, it would end in the same way. He would beg and plea with me to take the cage off, because it has been months, or even years, since he last had a relief, and I would pretend to be offended, that he prefers carnal pleasures over the joy of our love. Of course, nothing would stop me from going out with other guys during that time, but I'm sure he'd understand... I mean, with other guys it's just sex... I'm waiting till I'm ready for something real... something deep with him... How could I possibly be ready for anything like that if I don't have a place to vent my immediate needs? I have sex *for us*, he should be grateful that I do it.

But eventually, I will unlock him. He would have to agree to be tied up, of course, because in his condition, how could I possibly trust him not to jump me as soon as he gets out? And... We can't possibly ruin what we have by him jumping the gun too fast, right? Our first time should be special, and special things are worth waiting for. So, I would tie him up to my bed, maybe he would be a little freaked out at first, seeing how good I am with the ropes, but whatever caution signs his brain would fire at him, I'm sure would be cast aside as soon as his cock springs free from the cage. And that's when I would unleash the demon inside of me. Hours, upon hours, and hours, of licking, sucking, kissing, tickling, stroking, rubbing against different parts of my body, anything I can think of to just bring that poor boy as close as possible to orgasm. Every time he gets close, I stop, telling him I just want to make it as good as possible for him. Undoubtedly, eventually he would snap. He would scream at me, or cry, or even maybe swear at me(wouldn't that be perfect?), and me? Of course I would be offended to the very bone of my being. Being so nice and sweet to him, just to get this kind of treatment? That's one hell of a way to get a lady out of her mood.

It's possible, that by this time, he would regret agreeing to wearing the cage. Even if it means losing me(hopefully, my claws ran so deep on his soul by that point that he would absolutely agree on his own accord to go back to chastity, but who knows?). It is possible that he would say he want out of the deal. He doesn't want to be with me, he just wants to be free. Of course if that ever happens, that only means he lost sight on what's truly important. He's thinking with his dick again, he's becoming just like any other guy. And I love and care for him too much to allow that to happen. The cage is there to help him, really. He should be grateful.

At some point in our relationship, I would decide we have to move in together, because there's no sense in him paying for two different apartments, and twice the bills, so instead, I'm just gonna move in to his place. I wouldn't even mind sharing a bed with him, as long as he agrees to certain ground rules. The chores are his domain, as they were before, only now, instead of having to clean up two apartments, he only has to clean up one. So, again, me being the benevolent friend that I am... Whenever I bring a guy home, he should disappear. I don't care if he has nowhere to go, for all I care, he should jump in the closet and wait until I'm done. His money pays for everything, even if it means he has to give up on his silly little hobbies. And most importantly, he should allow me to experiment.

Experiment means, that if, for example, I wake up one day feeling aggravated, and I just want to see what it's like to kick a ballsack, as payback for all the shit boys had put me through my entire life, he should allow me to do that. If it means that I want to see what would people say if he brings out his cockcage and tell them that I put him in it two years ago and he hasn't had an orgasm since, then he should do that. If it means that I want to see if a man's cum taste different when a man taste it than when I do, then he should let me share a load after I'm done blowing a stranger, and tell me how it tastes like...

Slowly, but surely, I would strip him of everything that made him who he was. His hobbies, his self-image, his self-respect. Everything. But the thing is, I'm not sure I'd be done then, either. When it's all said and done, and he doesn't have a dime in his bank account, and all his possessions are on my name, and I've led him through a living hell, then the only thing I would have left to take from him is, well, me.

How much of a heartbreak would it be, for a boy that has gone through SO MUCH just for the chance to be with me, a boy that was never into any of the things I've done to him, the only thing he wanted was for me to reciprocate his feelings, to finally have that confirmation that I have absolutely no interest in him, and I never had, and never will have. The only role he could ever play in my life is to be... this. Not even this, because so far I had to pretend, now I don't have to pretend anymore... Now I can stop caring completely. All the things he gone through so far would be child's play compares to what he would have to face going forward, and now, he wouldn't even have the hopes of getting anything else. Just... This, desperate, hopeless, endless hell. I would leave him the choice. He can go free, out into the world, with a broken body, an empty bank account, a locked up cock, and see what he can make of himself out there. Or he could stay in my care, and learn what it means when I could truly not give a single shit about his wellbeing.

Sometimes, my empathy blocks me from being, and living, and achieving my true potential.

Thank god for tumblr, where I can write longass fantasies, about what I would do to a boy, if I were the sociopath I sometimes wish I would have been.

#female led relationship #femlit

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yihrae · 9 months

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I had a dialogue with myself the other day about myself. I wanted to find out which parts of myself did I not know yet. Sometimes, talking to yourself is not very useful in learning more about yourself, especially when you already spend a lot of time with yourself. I didn't learn a lot.

I had my first day of school two days ago, and I will have my second day of school in around 5 hours. My first day went mostly smoothly, but I don't think I understood everything that was taught. I thought the way it was taught was okay but I still couldn't grasp it very well. I was okay with my classmates. I'm not very excited to work with all of them but I don't think they are excited to work with me either so it is okay.

I don't think I presented myself very excitingly. I attribute this to me trying to match the energy levels of the people around me. I feel as if I have to really click with someone on some level to come alive but I haven't really came alive yet so maybe that hasn't happened or maybe I am lazy.

Referring back to the dialogue I had with myself, I asked myself who I wanted to be. I realised I didn't actually want a lot from myself. In fact there was very little I desired from myself besides being able to make myself happy. Sometimes I think I want things from other people. I want other people to make me happy. While that sounds like a very selfish and entitled attitude, it's not uncommon. A lot of people want others to make them happy. A lot of children want their parents to pay attention to them to make them happy. A lot of friends want their other friends to spend time with them to make them happy. A lot of teammates want their teammates to perform well to win games to make them happy. Of course we don't express it all the time. I don't express it very much I think. I try not to at least. It would be rude if I told someone I want you to make me happy. But invariably everyone holds anyone to some expectation of some sort.

A lot of people say you should be the only one to make yourself happy. I think it's strange to say that. That means you shouldn't have any friends and you shouldn't derive any joy from being around your family. Of course you should make yourself a bit happy - you could buy coffee for yourself, you could spend times on hobbies you enjoy - essentially doing anything for yourself. But not all joy should be a direct result from your own efforts, that'd be a very sad and isolated life and it wouldn't make much sense to live that way because most humans need some form of social interaction. It's intrinsic, we were simply born that way.

So the task falls onto yourself to find people that can bring you that joy. Or for them to find you. Usually it's a mutually beneficial exchange: two people become friends or lovers or whatever and make each other happy. Sometimes it's not mutually beneficial. Maybe they make you happy but you don't make them happy. When people don't feel as if they are benefitting from an exchange usually they walk away.

I find it difficult to find these mutual exchanges. Not because I am antisocial or I've chosen to forsake society but perhaps because I am just not very good at finding them. Maybe I don't have a good eye when it comes to looking out for these sort of things.

Going to school yesterday reminded me a lot of Junior College. It didn't feel very special or exciting but it wasn't very dreadful either. The way I interacted with my classmates, my professors and the school itself is exactly the same. I wouldn't say that's a very good thing because I really disliked Junior College. I haven't joined a CCA yet so maybe that will make my experience better. I sound like I'm complaining a lot now and that I'm very miserable and that I'm wallowing in self pity but I promise it's not like that. I'm not any of the above I really am very grateful but I was bored and I couldn't fall asleep so I decided to do some writing.

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yanderedbdimagines · 3 years

Note

Fem survivor hiding in a locker, and Nightmare, Oni and the Shape can’t get in. I once had a bug a long while ago where the killers couldn’t search a locker. Got patched very quickly of course. I’d like to ask short scenarios about it where the Entity protects her for some reason after the killers saw the opportunity to try and kidnap their beloved for themselves. :P Perhaps to spite/punish the killers? Go wild, and thank you!

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Sure thing! And no thanks required at all! 😊 I personally would have laughed my butt off if that ever happened to me, whether killer or survivor. They only game breaking bug I ever had was being stuck on something in Haddonfield(can’t remember what). The killer couldn’t get to me either, and I had to disconnect after I had tried everything I could think of at the time, not wanting to ruin the game for the others. Good times…

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The Nightmare

You curse from underneath your gasping breath as a low chuckle reaches your ears, your heart hammering violently against your ribcage as you try to flatten yourself against the backwall of the locker.

He’s seen you get in here, and now you’re about to pay the price if you don’t time the trick Jane has taught you well enough. After all, the others have already been sacrificed, so no one could save you or distract him from the difficult situation you currently find yourself in.

You take a deep, shivery breath and ready yourself just as the killer’s footsteps reach close before trying to slam the doors open as quickly and as powerfully as you can, only for them not to budge in the slightest…

Freddy has heard the distinct thuds of your hands smashing against the wood just as he pulls against the handle, only to have a similar outcome roll out for him too, the sniggering quickly fading into a displeased grunt.

It’s silent for a second…

As you eventually were busy trying to think of another plan when the doors do open, as busy as the Nightmare was trying to pick the lock with a clawed finger. Metal scraping, screeching and ticking against metal brings you on your nerves as you stare at the lock, but you nearly jump out of your skin as the killer suddenly speaks to you with a tone of voice which nearly leaves you shaking in your boots.

“Please doll. It’s rude to stay in there and keep little ol’ Freddy out here waiting.~ Do come out and I’ll promise I’ll be on my best behavior.~”

You hear how he stops rummaging with the lock, listening to the knives running over the chipped paint instead before they tick against the metallic bars making up the outer skeleton of the red locker.

Of course, you’re not convinced.

But you’re not going to tell him that and decide to remain absolutely silent instead, hoping that he’d leave or disappear by some miraculous wonder.

If only it were that easy…

“Come now sweet cheeks.~ Don’t play coy with me. I know you’re still in there and if you don’t open up now I might do something the both of us will regret later. You don’t want that to happen, now do you?”

You think about it for a second before drawing a conclusion. You’re about to voice that out loud before the ground suddenly gives out from underneath you.

You yelp loudly as you find yourself falling into darkness, an angry yell from the Nightmare being heard from above soon after.

And before you could fully comprehend on what was going on, you found yourself face to face with concerned survivors who found you splayed out besides the main camp’s ever familiar stack of burning wood…

The Oni

A cold sweat overtakes your senses as you make yourself as small as you possibly could in the corner of the cramped locker and with wide eyes glued on the wooden doors, unblinking.

You don’t know where the other remaining survivor is. They might have escaped, but they also could have been killed or sacrificed at this point. Either way, you’re in heaps of trouble as you feel the vibrations of heavy footsteps marching briskly into your direction.

The locker budges as the Oni tries to tear the door open with his open hand, only to find it to be locked. It surprises the both of you…

Your heart is beating within your throat at this point as you remain to watch the doors like a hawk, not believing what’s happening right now before your thoughts flash over to the Entity, wondering what its intentions with you are.

Anyhow, you try to think of a plan to escape the Oni in case he does somehow manage to tear open the doors, your fingers brushing over the firecrackers that are bundled up in your pants left pocket. The ones you’ve found and picked up somewhere within the trial.

The said killer, on the other hand, is breathing even heavier than before as you hear his katana evaporate within the air as wisps of black smoke and embers before a large shadow peers through the rosters.

You choke on your breath as the Oni tries to pull open the doors through the help of his monstrous strength in addition to his full weight, the locker screeching and groaning in protest. Your attention is partly diverted as a familiar black mist suddenly coats the bottom of the locker before wrapping you into its cold embrace.

He keeps hanging on whilst shaking violently against the handles, a dark growl shivering the very air.

All you could do was to protect your ears from the loudness of his actions, fear gripping your heart at every clamorous sound and movement.

Yet, you can’t help but to pitch a gasp and a sob as a loud roar now pierces the surrounding area before something huge and bulky is being slammed against the locker’s entirety, feeling the indirect impact of it ripple throughout your frozen body. It is his Kanabo that he’s using out of frustration...

He’s pelting the locker with a barrage of strikes now, the screaming getting louder and louder with each powerful hit.

You close your eyes and shiver violently, scared that the Oni’s about to smash the locker wide open with you still in it.

However, a deafening silence soon overtook you, a heat now washing over your body and an orange light flickering from behind your closed eyelids.

You slowly open them, only to nearly jump up in joy as you come to stare at the flames which could only belong to one particular campfire…

The Shape

Your body is tormented by sweat and your lungs are burning like crazy as you rush straight into the dungeon’s nearest locker as a suicidal attempt to rid yourself from the man in the mask who’s hot on your trail.

The killer deliberately cornered you into the basement by cutting you off at a spot where you’d least expected him to be. And from there, you pretty much ran on raw panic and unadulterated fear as common sense was long since thrown out of the window as derived by your current course of action.

You’re breathing heavily as an all too familiar mask flashes through the splits of the roster, and close your eyes with a silent prayer falling from your lips and with your hands bawling the hem of your shirt into a tight bundle.

But… Nothing happens as you gradually open your eyes back up to the darkness of the world.

Your gaze is now set on the mask that has tilted to the side, seemingly in confusion. You quickly connected the dots afterwards, understanding that the locker’s suddenly been locked by the Entity for some reason just after you have ran into it.

You then hear his knife thwacking against the paint chipped wood before being recoiled by the effects of the impact.

Did he just try to stab the locker?

You feel your blood run cold as your hands start to tremble, realization kicking in…

In panic, you quickly hunch down, not wanting to be pierced by the sharp blade if it does manage to thrust its way through one of the doors like some sort of a magician’s sword and possibly ending your life that way as nasty consequence.

Another thwack follows, and then another.

Like a mindless animal stuck in a looped pattern, the Shape keeps on stabbing his favored kitchen knife against the locker over and over again, not even a single huff or growl of frustration being heard. He’s surprisingly silent, in fact, as he’s trying to cut his way into your awkward confinement…

Only short moments of complete silence are woven in between. Perhaps within those moments, he’s checking if the locker’s been unlocked due to his strange efforts.

You move your body into a sitting position, your hands now holding a flashlight as you closely keep your attention on both doors.

Your eyes quickly got diverted, however, as something cold creeps up your legs.

Michael freezes and his head dips the moment he feels something swirl past his ankles, now witnessing how black heavy smoke escapes through the cracks at the bottom of the locker.

He tilts his head yet again before his free hand reaches for the handle, managing to open the door normally this time, only to learn that you’ve disappeared into thin air…

His fingers twitch against the wooden hilt of his weapon…

#dbd #dead by daylight #reader #insert #kazan yamaoka #oni #michael myers #shape #freddy krueger #nightmare #yandere #dbd x reader

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love-toxin · 3 years

Text

king of the castle - kaeya

a/n: i had some other fics in progress but this concept had me in a chokehold the entire day. enjoy

warnings: female reader, dom/sub, hard dom kaeya, sadism, degradation, dirty talk, roleplay, spanking, whipping, impact/temperature play, choking/belt choking, bruises, unprotected sex, threats, jealousy, possessiveness, sibling rivalry, i guess you can call it a cuckholding kink, praise, pet names, aftercare

word count: 4.3k

"So you're gonna whore yourself out to my brother, huh?"

Kaeya slapped his open palm with the belt. The sound alone made you flinch, and he just seemed to revel in it rather than shy away.

"Answer me. You love Diluc? You want him instead of me?"

"K-Kaeya-"

He brought it down even harder this time, the leather leaving a harsh-looking splotch against his toned skin. Your punishment was growing closer with each one, but he didn't seem at all fazed. He seemed excited.

"Just tell me, sweetheart. I don't want to hurt you."

Liar. You could see it in his eyes--he had a lust for pain that overwhelmed all other warning signs in his brain. Kaeya was the definition of a sadist, his pleasure derived entirely from seeing you suffer, and he seemed to constantly be coming up with new ways to do so that would humiliate you even more than the last. He slid the leather down the raised flesh of his hand, and ripped a yelp from you when he smacked you on the inside of the thigh with it.

"Clamming up, are we? I think that's enough of an answer."

Finally, he climbed up on the bed he'd shoved you into, his stance predatory as he crawled towards you slowly and nudged your legs apart. Not once did his grip loosen on his weapon of choice, though his pants slid just slightly down his lean hips from the lack of support, revealing even more of his stomach that sloped down into an illustrious 'v'. With a gloved hand, he reached up to grab a handful of your arm and yanked you over on to your stomach, his strength just an afterthought for him but a terrifying obstacle for you. Kaeya could throw you around however he wanted to, if he wanted to, and you were just a delicate little toy that would break once he decided to play a little too rough.

"Tell me all the things you like about him. One for each swat."

Kaeya grabbed your hips to hike them up, your knees lifting up to prop you into a face-down position. He liked you the most like this. Vulnerable.

Even better was when he yanked your bottoms down, flimsy as they were, and in his haste tore through the middle and tossed the shredded remnants aside. He spoke and you listened, he gave his orders and you obeyed--but this was something you couldn't do. Kaeya made you swear that you would never lie to him and you had kept to that, as much as he used it to manipulate you into doing whatever he wanted whenever he wanted it.

"I-I don't...I don't-"

The words just barely spilled over your lips even as you tried to push them out. It was just too hard, but Kaeya didn't care. You earned an even harder spank for that, right on the inside of your bare thigh where he knew you'd be the most sensitive.

"Speak up. Or else I'll mess up that pretty face of yours instead."

As if to hammer that point home, you felt the dig of his fingers into the back of your skull as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, and shoved your face deeper into the sheets of the bed. They were soft, fortunately, but it was so degrading that you just wanted to melt into the bed and disappear. You even felt the dark chuckle rumbling in his chest as he ground his hips up against you from behind, your top sliding up your back far enough that he could drag the expensive leather down your skin, from the top of your spine all the way to your cheeks that trembled when he landed a smack on one of them.

"You're pretty stubborn, aren't you? Is it really Diluc, then? It's not someone else, is it?"

With the belt gripped tight he swatted you again in the same place, the skin there already growing so hot you could feel it radiating off of you. But while your attention was drawn to the stinging pain that you knew was only going to get worse, the hand that had tangled itself in your hair had started trailing downwards, fingertips light and cool as he left little splotches of frost in his wake that melted just as quickly. Once he found that little spot between your legs, however, he didn't reserve the same gentleness and pressed the pad of a freezing cold thumb firmly against your clit. You cried out, squirmed, struggled to vocalize anything more than a gasp--but Kaeya held you in place, and his smirk burned into you from behind like a brand.

"Tell me, doll. You can't keep your little secrets from me anyways, so you may as well fess up."

He ground his thumb in harder the longer you went without speaking, but soon enough he switched to an easier method to have you talk--he pinched your clit between two of his fingers and squeezed, the tips even colder than before to the point that it made your mind blank for a moment or two. Just to add to the humiliation, he forced you up with his other hand and ordered you to take off your shirt, your chest on full display for him to watch your nipples pebble and your skin prickle at the cold chill that he was responsible for.

"Mondstadt? Liyue? Give me some clues. You're not trying to get in with the Fatui, are you?"

He laughed but not from joy, rather in a mocking way that mimicked a childhood bully or an egotistical villain. If you could see him from your position, you had no doubts that he was grinning in that devilish way when he had something he wanted in his grasp, but with a slight twist to your tingling little bud your thoughts snapped right back to the present. A soft groan slipped from you, and unbeknownst to you, it made his cock stir into an even harder arousal than he already had going. At this point he was in danger of popping a button off those tight pants.

"You just can't keep your legs closed, can you? I think they'd like you, actually. That redhead seemed to love watching you walk away, huh?"

Evidently his attention waned for the moment and he released his stifling grip on your clit, only so that he could drag his fingers up your slit and part your lips just enough to feel for the soft flesh beneath, his fingers quickly growing sticky as your juices leaked all down his hand and towards his wrist. Kaeya's most precious desire was his affinity for abusing the softest, most sensitive parts of you, and so you knew for certain that this uncharacteristic gentleness would soon make way for pain that you wouldn't recover easily from, both physically and emotionally.

"...No? Then what about the bard? You want him to write some love poems for you, princess?"

No matter how you answered it would be used against you--either Kaeya would take it the wrong way or he wouldn't believe you at all. So you kept your mouth shut and tried to bury your noises into the sheets below, his fingers lithe and skilled enough that he had the power to draw some rather unsavoury sounds from you if he really wanted to. And when he plunged two of them inside despite how tightly you squeezed around him, he exercised that power quite easily to the point that the shame burned your face all the way to the tips of your ears.

"How about this? You tell me exactly who it is you're trying to run away with, and I won't drop you naked into the nearest hillichurl camp."

The threat rolled off his tongue so easily as to be criminal. The icy chill that surrounded him already made you shiver, but the thought of him throwing you to the wolves both literally and figuratively turned your thoughts to panic. Perhaps he wouldn't really do something so horrific, but the way he talked you through the scenario with a smugness lacing his words certainly made it feel so, each sentence punctuated with a curl of those dastardly fingers into your sweet spots.

"No vision, no weapons, no defenses...how long do you think your precious little body will hold up? Five minutes? My bet's on five seconds."

To prove his point, he spread his digits inside you without warning and listened for the muffled keen that erupted from your throat, his efforts rewarded with a gush of slick, syrupy arousal that clung to your skin as he pulled away and left a trail behind. You expected him to wipe it off with little regard, but instead you heard a strange noise from behind, and turned your head out of curiosity to see him sucking your mess off of every finger. With his half-gloves thoroughly ruined he yanked those off too, and like a true sadist, he took the chance to savour your pathetic expressions and beat your ass again with the thickest part of his belt, a welt surely already rising to your skin as you cried out in pain.

"You think the Dark Knight Hero would save you then? Or would he take advantage of a shivering little crybaby who owes him her life in exchange?"

Another smack, and then another still, and you were certain that you wouldn't be able to sit properly for the next few days. Kaeya dragged you deeper and deeper into his fantasy, and it was only then that you truly worried that Diluc might somehow hear the two of you and come to investigate. Your thoughts even drifted to the scenario Kaeya proposed, about the possibility of Diluc taking what he was owed from you...about taking you away from Kaeya, who you should've known by now owned every piece of you. Even your thoughts, which he always seemed privy to--and now was no exception, his nails teasing down your spine so you'd have no choice but to pay attention.

"Why don't I just carve that into your skin for him, hm? 'Diluc's loyal whore', you want that on your back? What about your legs, where everyone can see?"

The moment his fingers crested over the hill of your poor, beaten behind, he whipped you again with the belt hard enough that you were already starting to bruise, and this time the tears finally spilled out when you'd been trying to hold them in. He rubbed one of his palms over the sore, swollen globes of your ass, the skin-to-skin contact soothing your aches with the chill and causing you to push back against his touch--and he just snickered and made a passing comment about your neediness, to which you responded by whimpering his name under your breath with a plea for mercy.

The wrong name. The name that didn't belong in your mouth, that caused your eyes to widen and a fresh set of tears to plummet down your cheeks as you hurried to try and backtrack. 'Diluc' this and 'Diluc' that, it wasn't your fault for stumbling over your words--but did he care?

Of course he didn't.

"...I knew it."

Kaeya's grip became hot and painful once again, a handprint stung into your skin as he slapped you with an open palm across the cheeks. It didn't look like he needed his tool anymore--because he leaned over to wrap it around your neck, the leather sliding hotly over your skin as he tightened the buckle to keep it in place. To keep you in place, exactly where he decided you should be.

"Does it hurt?"

With words failing you, you nodded your head as much as you could--the leather dug into your skin and you already felt as though you were going to suffocate, and your tears were a clear giveaway that the cocktail of both pain and pleasure was starting to overwhelm you.

"Good, you deserve to suffer a little bit for being a slut. Especially if it amuses me."

As he spoke he fiddled with the makeshift collar, the peg loosening two holes more until it sat more comfortably--and once he was finished you felt his lips against the back of your neck, his grip on the belt growing taut only when he felt you take a deep breath against his touch. Kaeya straightened back up and fiddled with something else this time, his pants sliding easily down his legs to free the beast he'd been restraining within, and with a sigh on his lips you jolted against something stiff prodding at your vulnerable little opening. He took his time in making a move, maybe to tease you or maybe for his own enjoyment, but he made sure to wet the tip generously with your slick, before sliding himself up your slit one last time and slowly spreading you open on his cock that was cool to the touch. Only about halfway in did he release the breath he'd sucked in through his teeth, and by then he had tugged on your leash hard enough for your head to tip back and your lips to part enough for him to steal a kiss from you.

"Filthy little cocktease...you don't have the right to be so tight. You'd think all your little boyfriends would've loosened you up-!"

He cut himself off with an unexpected gasp, his legs shaking almost unnoticed as he halted himself to steady his breathing. But once he had collected himself he was right back on top, your cheeks flush with new tears as he yanked on the belt hard enough to drag you back further on his cock. With one hand grasping at the sheets you brought the other up on instinct to grab at the collar, but even getting a finger underneath it was impossible as he started rocking his hips into you from behind and choking you with his belt in harmony with each thrust.

"I can't wait for him to see you when I'm finished. You think he'll give you a bath and clean your wounds, babydoll?"

All at once the air escaped from your lungs, but all you got to replace it were desperate coughs and foolish attempts to try and catch a breath. Meanwhile Kaeya pummeled you from behind regardless, his wicked glee only rising the longer he watched you struggle for air as he ripped every breath from your lungs with his thrusts. At the very least his preparation ensured a smooth drag of your walls around him, but the fact that your stomach churned as he reached depths further than he should didn't help in the least--especially when he moaned out his humiliating comments about how your body needed him so much it was sucking him in even deeper.

"Nah. He'll use you just the same as I will. He'll take advantage of you the second he gets the chance."

Somehow he seemed to have regained his composure, and returned to taunting you with a hand resting threateningly just above your hip, daring you to say something back so he could spank you again. But you clung to the spare moments of reprieve when his grip loosened on the belt, and you were afforded a quick breath of air before he pulled it taut again and yanked you back to meet his punishing thrusts. Slowly you were growing dizzier, and Kaeya's voice floated about your head like he was speaking right next to your ear.

"You wanna be Diluc's little slut? You want him to cum all over your cute face like I do?"

No, you wanted to say. You wanted to speak but he made it impossible, all you could do was take his hips bruising your behind and his feverish tugging as he choked you, your mind filled with nothing but the feeling of Kaeya making you his.

"He's nothing like me. He'll never satisfy you like I can."

With his voice reduced to a growl in his chest he yanked on your impromptu leash again, but this time it was to tip your head back far enough to kiss you again, and so he could taste your tongue on his before breaking off so messily he left a string of spit connecting your lips.

"Settle for your second best, then. As long as I get to fuck you, I don't care--he can have my sloppy seconds all he wants."

The force was unneeded at this point, your body to the point of collapsing on its own--but with the heel of his hand on the small of your back he shoved your hips down to the bed, using his own as leverage to keep you there while his thrusts grew even more erratic. Whatever else he had to say got jumbled up with whines and groans peppered in, and just when you felt your own consciousness start to slip away from you, he shoved a hand beneath your hip and searched until he found what he was looking for. With the pads of two of his fingers Kaeya rubbed up against your clit again, though this time was with skin cold enough that it shocked your system into an orgasm you weren't ready for.

Your mind whited out within moments, the heat in your belly swirling into a cool feeling that rose all the way up into your chest, and your fingers twitched and curled to bite into your palms with your nails while the rest of your body shuddered underneath him. Kaeya himself seemed to be reaping the rewards on his own end, your cunt spasming wildly around him and clenching him like a vice until he felt that same warmth wash over his body. Leaving himself to bask in the feeling until the very end, he pulled out just before it was too late and released his hold on the belt, instead replacing it around his cock to aim where he wanted. His cum jetted out in thin ropes as you anticipated, yet you still flinched weakly at every spurt that landed against your back, the cold chill of it still unusual enough to take you a bit by surprise.

Your focus continued to waver as you lay there prone, your body so worn out that he could do as he pleased without hassle. But a rush of warm shivers raced up and down your spine as Kaeya laved his tongue against your sweat-soaked flesh, each sticky glob of his love either licked up or sucked off of you until you were as you were before, mostly. Afterwards he unbuckled the belt from your neck, and it was then that the mood finally turned and he flipped you over on your back so you could catch his smile as he leaned over you.

"Nice to see you again, princess."

He dipped down to take another kiss, though this one was a hundred times softer and not liable to leave a bruise this time, his lips like the petals of a mist flower as he slowly broke away.

"C'mere, come cuddle with Kaeya, baby...you want some water? Your throat probably hurts after all that.."

His tone had come down too, so much gentler and with an obvious tinge of sympathy just above a whisper. As he settled back in bed and tucked you into his side, he brushed his fingers over the bruises already blooming across your throat, taking great care only to use the most sensitive touch as he cooled your skin down just enough to take some of the pain away.

"You made me feel so special, little one--you're such a precious little treasure, aren't you?"

The love in his voice and in the way he looked at you was a complete turnaround from a few minutes ago, but you were glad to cling to the change in your Kaeya--though your body was still working a little faster than your mind, and a few words fell from your lips before you could think twice about them.

"I-I don't...I don't like Diluc, Kaeya...I promise.."

You finally croaked out your reply and Kaeya was on you in seconds, his fingers running through your hair as he kissed the corner of your mouth, just where he could reach without straining you too hard in your vulnerable state. Under normal circumstances he liked to coddle you on occasion, and right now was no exception.

"I know you don't, honey. I know. You're such a good girl. You're my good little girl."

He brought his hand back up to rub the top of your head, and had you lift it up just enough for him to lay his arm underneath so you could use it as a pillow. And while you caught your breath and came down from such a shaky high, he took your chin into his hand and swiped his thumb over your bottom lip, his mouth parted in awe shifting into a genuine, toothy smile. He kissed you again, and this time you swore the world paused for just a moment.

"I love you more than the whole world. You're the little shooting star in my heart--you're my everything."

Kaeya touched you like you were glass, like you were a precious piece that he feared breaking, unlike the façade he'd put up just a while ago. This was your favourite part of the experience...Kaeya doting on you as he loved to do, and never wanting to let you out of arm's reach.

"You're Kaeya's little princess, understand? And since you were such a good girl, I'm gonna get you a present. Whatever you ask for."

Such an offer wasn't something you came by often, and at once your mind wandered to what you might ask of your lover as a reward for being his. But there was only one thing you wanted at the moment, and you murmured it just loud enough for him to hear and have a little chuckle about it.

"Wine? Well of course you can, but we won't count that as your gift. I'll go fetch us a nice, big bottle--you just wait right there for me."

As loathe as he was to leave you, and as much as you didn't want to watch him go, he heaved himself up off the bed and reached for his clothes, the uniform out of sorts and messy in a way that he didn't really care about at the moment. Leaving his coat be as it would only be a brisk walk, he buttoned his shirt up halfway and stepped into his boots, before turning and leaning over you one last time with a kiss to your forehead.

"I love you, my princess. Be right back."

With that you bid him a brief goodbye, and while you rested your weary bones he sauntered out the corridor and down the steps into the night air, a warm haze settled over Mondstadt in the late evening when most had gone to bed.

But there were few places that were still open and Angel's Share was one of them, the tavern so close that he pulled on the door within minutes and took a step into the soft chatter of the tavern. Only a spare few patrons still milled about, all having spent more than enough to be too inebriated to pay attention--and at the counter was an all-too-familiar redhead, washing a glass with little purpose while he caught his gaze as he walked in. Diluc said nothing even as he approached the counter, and just turned away with a soft grunt when he picked out the perfect wine to take back to you. No small talk needed. Neither of them wanted it anyways.

"While I'm here, I'll give this back."

As Diluc set the bottle on the counter, Kaeya couldn't miss the sudden flash of emotion in his eyes at what he'd set down in front of him. The letter with a very familiar seal stared back at the bartender, and he just couldn't help himself from digging it in just a bit more while he had the chance.

"Shame she didn't see it in time."

He would've had to be an idiot not to know exactly what it was when he found it tucked inside your coat pocket, the well-placed gift going totally unbeknownst to you as Kaeya snatched it up when the opportunity presented itself. He hadn't really planned on telling you his own feelings until later--but love always managed to find a way, didn't it?

"Don't worry. I'm sure she would've let you down gently."

"...I think you have somewhere to be, Kaeya."

Heat radiated off of Diluc, and it wasn't the normal aftereffect of his vision that most who possessed them experienced. He knew well enough when his brother was furious, if the way he turned his grimace towards the floor wasn't proof enough.

"I do, in fact. Have a splendid night."

With the bottle in hand, he spun on his heels and strolled right back out where he came, the open door making way for another breeze of pleasantly warm air through the stale musk of the tavern.

"...Oh, and before you go, there's something else."

He only just found the energy to lazily turn his head back over his shoulder, and was met with one of the most fiery glares he'd ever seen in his life, Diluc's hand that had come down on the counter setting the letter ablaze and reducing it to ash in his fist.

"Never come into my bar again."

With one last smirk, Kaeya let the door shut behind him as he stepped back out into a lovely Mondstadt evening, the sounds of glass shattering echoing his footsteps as he wandered back to the one he always knew he deserved.

#yandere kaeya alberich #yandere kaeya x reader #yandere kaeya alberich x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere lemon #love-toxin #4k

560 notes · View notes

saintobio · 3 years

Note

hi saint! thanks u so much for this amazing chapter! my sunday mornings are always a blast thanks to sn <3

few things i’d like to say about the chapter!

i love how interesting the trajectory of both y/n and gen’s characters seem to be set up. i totally see gen finding out about satoru’s affair and confronting y/n about it, and i see y/n (most likely) defending her marriage and reiterating that her decision not to go through with the divorce was her (y/n’s) decision alone. also, one other thing i noticed about y/n is how unabashedly, truly happy she was in the one or so week (if i’m not mistaken) that satoru was on bereavement leave and was pampering her. like this is seriously the happiest i’ve seen her, and i just think it’s beautiful

also about gen again, i can’t decide if i want an older sister like her or if i aspire to be like her (see the conflict is really getting to me lmaoo) but this chapter made me think about how realistically, i might not get along with gen so much 🥲 my sag ass thinks she’s too serious but at the same time my cap stellium admires her work ethic 😩 that said, i guess i’m saying this bc i truly appreciate how her presence in the story is making me reflect and think skdhkslssl (introspection in fanfics are the best!), so yeahh i’m definitely excited to see how this all plays out 👀

i love how you’ve fleshed out eula’s desperation esp in the last part, when she realizes that y/n’s pregnancy is both something she despises but also thanks, due to how it’s taking the spotlight away from nana’s death. also! the part where she thinks about how yuuta, her own son, is privy to her crime… that part gave me some serious i’m-contemplating-getting-rid-of-my-son vibes and damn that would def be something to see

and finally, about sera. ngl i was almost so close to thinking that perhaps she gave the tea out of good intention but damn. also i’ve seen some people speculate that eula might be involved? that twist would be insane, but not unexpected. but now i just feel bad for her siblings. everything was going well for them. now their sister might not have the opportunity again to get another job as high-paying as the one she just lost (since i remember you mentioned the pay was rather high)

Anonymous said

Something tells me that gojo is gonna read the text conversation between yn and toji and go haywire poor baby but overall thank you so much for ur hardwork and providing us peasants with such a masterpiece XD

Also Gen is just perfect example of a big sister maybe too perfect because if it were me I'd do the same. Well thanks once again hope u have a nice day.

Anonymous said

mad props to Gojo for his paternal instincts kicking in at the right time

I've gone back and read chapter 7 and 8 and it's still too surreal how much Gojo has evolved as a partner, as a man and above all, as an expecting father

Whatever storm's about to come, I think Gojo can weather it just fine. He has come this far, and he would go to any lengths to ensure the safety and happiness of his y/n and his child

Even if he has to separate from them

It's amazing how a 15-ish chapter fanfiction is able to gauge this many emotions from me, far more than any typical classic romance ever would

Thank you once more, Saint. Your masterpiece brought joy to our lives

Anonymous said

OSMDVSVEHSNDVDVDKLAMSHD

LISTENMNMMM

WHAT IIFFFF Eula got Sera to attempt murder, we know she's capable,

Like,listen eula wasn't exactly happy about the whole baby thing AND if they did have a miscarriage it would derive even less attention towards Nana's death.

Also sera may be evil but she isn't some gotham city villain who would poison a pregnant woman who's baby's father was her ex boyfriend whom broke up with her because he loves his wife more than he did his mistress... yuh

Also, eula wach your back, unlike you I'm real and I can have dreams that I control. Dreams in which you live a miserable and utterly depressing life whilst those around get everything they've ever wanted in life. Dreams in which you die a slow and painful death and noone attends your funeral. Btw, I'll be laughing over your dead body.

I'm getting way in over my head....

long live the queen 👑 (saint)

Anonymous said

They’re so lovey dovey now. It’s so cute 🥰 oh how far this two have come 🤧

Daddy Satoru is gettin’ real (been waiting for this shi— 😆). I’m so glad to see him even more whipped for his wife now that they’re having a baby 😍😍 Totally different reaction from when a certain someone trid to baby trap him 👀

I just know someone’s gonna ruin it for them 🥺 but for now lemme just savor every bit of sweetness they have for each other 😌😌😌

I almost believed that the miss im-so-poor finally moved on but then I got sus because the spoiler showed her getting escorted out for doing shit. Damn girl, you really wanna dig your own grave huh. You’re quite near the core of the earth now! But guess what, we ain’t stoppin’ ya anymore (Keep diggin’!) since you don’t listen anyway. JUST. DON’T. HURT. THE LI’L FAM.

I gotta say I TOTALLY appreciate the fluff! I’m all 💖💞💕💗💓💝❤️💜 😍🥰 and I Just can’t move on from how cute they were. Thank you so so so much! That was so worth the wait. 💜

Anonymous said

I LOVE GEN OMG. SISTER OF THE YEAR. Why do I feel like YN’s dad is also doing some undercover research to make sure his daughters alright. Family goals. God I feel so bad for YN still shouldering such a burden.

I read through the character asks and was also surprised by how many good moments YN and Gojo had. I was thinking he was all like “😡😑😤” throughout the majority of the marriage. When did that one scenario from a character ask where he comforted her on her period happen? Also, after YN would be cute (trying on lingerie) or a perfect wife, what would Gojos internal dialogue be? Like I remember him saying it’s hard to hate YN when she’s the perfect wife so it’s not like he can be so boldly cold and rude to her right after she did something sweet for him. But I also don’t think he would’ve been the type to show his thanks upfront as he was still with Sera.

Anonymous said

TYSM FOR WRITING OMG!! I’m so glad you feel a bit better now.

It’s amazing how ur slowly redeeming Gojo after what he did and I can really see his character growth. I wanted to ask if YN still has doubts on how Gojo will be as a parent or whether they should raise a child together. Ik she 100% already loves her baby but considering she didn’t want to bring a baby into the chaos that is/was their marriage, does she have any reservations? Gojo has shown growth but I can’t forget his track record of being unstable despite his very recent reliability. I love YN for being understanding and love that she very frankly said Gojo doesn’t deserve her but is she being too trusting too fast?

Anonymous said

I hope you’re well rested and less mentally drained than u were a week ago. Please take care of yourself and don’t feel pressured to write when u don’t feel ready to. I loved the recent chapter!! There’s some parts that really stood out to me even though I’m sure they were lighthearted.

“Satoru as a husband was generous at throwing I love you’s and you wondered if he had always been like that around other women. Was he?”

I’m ngl as a jealous bitch this low key got me 😭 That character ask where he details one of the happiest moments in their relationship and then later in the chapter when he mention he truthfully loved her before too.

Did Gojo do the same thing to Sera or would he be as open and loving if she was pregnant? (Before all the crazy shit she did and before he fell in love with YN) like was he actually this snuggly with Sera too. It makes my blood boil but realistically he probably was💀

Honestly, up until this chapter I just thought that Gojo was mistaking rebelling against his father and his need for any attention as love for Sera

@ethru said

oml istg i wanted to kill sera. i understand your frustrations, but you arent allowed to try to kill my baby just because you cant have one with satoru.

this chapter was soooo good saint, thank you for releasing it the day before my birthday. ive been so excited for it.

is toji going to try to make y/n actually mrs zenin?

i think gojo might start to get mad about toji. they definitley dont like eachother, so gojo definitley doesnt want toji to win her over.

also, is the mc going to try to forgive and forget? i agree with gen; its all happening too fast. the couple has to acknowledge so many problems, theyre ignoring what the cause is of all this stress. i think they really need to talk.

ahhhh thank you again saint for sucessfully ingraining gojo in my mind. one last question. are you going to update sn regularly or are you still taking breaks.

<3 ru

Anonymous said

Saint I have no thoughts for this chapter, there are so many things I want to say but I don’t know how to put it into words. You have left me speechless this entire chapter, you so really have a way with words. Therefore I have some questions:

What would sera gain from killing mc baby?

Why is Eula so concerned if noya is cheating on her when she a cheater herself 🙄

How did toji feel or react to mc pregnancy?

Will yuta go over the edge one day and just snap about what his mother did?

What is gen planning or how will she act when she finds out everything?

Thank you for the chapter and I’m excited to see where it goes

- 🧚‍♀️ anon

Anonymous said

observation moment! on top of gen gathering her sources, gojo spoke openly during his confrontation with sera about their previous relationship (and let's not lie a lot of the workers were probably already sus + there's mei mei)

is this how news of his infidelity breaks out 🧐

also the fact that sera only broke after gojo told her she was disgusting? at first i interpreted this as her nonchalance over the attempted foeticide and only caring for the realization that gojo really did want nothing to do with her anymore

BUT NOW!! i understand it as her breaking after failing to compartmentalize the weight of her actions? (hence her saying "i didn't mean it") i hope his words snaps her out of her delusion

saint istg the way u got me interpreting text here

Anonymous said

Everyone saying it might be Naoya who told sera to kill the baby but I bet it was Eula. Naoya was already uncomfortable knowing that Eula killed grandma so I don’t think he’ll be comfy telling and convincing someone to kill a kid 😭 (then again I could never tell what’s going on in that boy’s head so-) I think Eula probably talked to sera and convinced her to do it. She’d probably buttered Sera up and told her things like “you and I are the same, we were both mistresses and well, look at me? he left his wife and married me” and that’ll just sink into her head and she’ll think well, she’s right, she was his mistress and now he’s his wife, I can still have a chance and she’d think who better yet than Eula to give her advice on how to get Satoru back? She’s been through what she has, she must know what to do.

@japanesevenom said

Saint.. holy shit wow I don’t want spam you so I’ll try to keep it short preceding anything else is an overwhelming amount of praise for you! I don’t even know where to begin but you certainly live up to your name saint

first of all I’m so I’m love with husband!gojo second is that chamomile thing actually true that’s so scary I never knew and third will gojo take any new pictures of his wife soon? How will the family photos turn out oh my god do they do Christmas cards with a family photo on the front

Anonymous said

Okay this may be me reading into things far too much, but is there a reason you changed the summary for the story? Or has it always been this was… maybe im legit not very observant. I remember reading it for the first time and it used to say “with a marriage set in place, the sacred bond is doomed with a wife who wants to make the relationship work and a husband who’s ready to ruin it all. Unbeknown to him, a tragic fate already lies within the pages of your romance book.” Emphasis on the “your romance book”. 😩

And when I re read it this week because I was rereading the story all over again I noticed it says “with a marriage set in place, the sacred bond is doomed with a wife who wants to make the relationship work and a husband who’s ready to ruin it all. Unbeknown to him, a tragic fate already lies within the pages of his romance book.” Emphasis on the “his romance book”🤔

Lol I’m legit trying to decode those last three words….🕵️‍♀️

But also realize that it might just be nothing

….help

@anime-nymph said

I sense.... an incredibly loud and dark and storm cloud forming. It's being created by your sn readers and each lightning strike is coming straight for Sera.

And the lack of Naoya presence was suspicious this go around... I really hope he had nothing to do with Sera's actions this chapter :((

Anonymous said

honestly i feel like eula was the one who initiated the chamomile tea?

that vile woman would do anything to wrong satoru, make him fail and disappoint his father just so she could get the attention.

but then again, there's naoya. maybe he set-up both sera and eula to make crimes and mistakes so that karma would even be more delicious.

Anonymous said

Hi Saint I hoped you enjoyed your break I just read chapter 15 and I am shookth right I loved to fluffy moment between Gojo and MC and not going to lie Eula scares me if she already killed Nana who knows what else she is capable (I don't know if this counts as a spoiler) and the part with Gen and her husband I understand where she is coming from but I feel like she and her husband are going to reveal Gojo infidelity at the wrong time or where everything is going good for Mc and Gojo and then bam but if I remember you said that the climax is going to be entense if I am correct. But the part with Gojo and Mc eating dinner 💕💓😁😊 and the Mc think of her smexy times with Gojo to 😏🤭 and I have 4 questions 1. are we going to get more smexy time between Gojo and the Mc? 2. Is Sukuna,Utahime,and Yuji going to appear later on in SN season 2? 3. Is Sera going to try and hurt the MC even further or has she finally opened up her eyes? 4. Is the finale going to make us cry Saint I don't know how much more angst I can handle 😭😢 I just want MC and Gojo to have more babies and be happy. I am really glad to have you back Saint I and if you need a break we understand your health comes first make sure you drink plenty of water,getting a good meal in, and getting plenty of rest and don't listen to those rude people they are just jealous of your amazing writing skills☺😁

Anonymous said

I really don't like sera but I can't help but feel sympathy for her :,) I'm so worrieddd to what will happen to her and her siblings/family now that she got fired.

Also I'm also scared and worried to what will happen next HAHAHSHSH while reading the part where satoru confront sera I was like "You're too loud!! Keep it down a little! Noooo! Shhhh!!!!" especially now that gen(really trying to be a great sister) is looking for satoru's potential affairs.

Aaaachkkk I'm so nervous yet excited for the next updateeee.

Pls always remember to take care of yourself and always take your time, no need to be pressured and stressed💓.

Anonymous said

Really hoping Gen will back down a bit on whatever she’s planning (despite her good intentions) bc A) her sister is a grown ass woman who can handle her own B) it’s a complicated situation already, no need to add more people in the mix! And C) it’ll most likely damage their sister relationship and that’s the last thing both of them want!

in conclusion; WHY IS COMMUNICATION SO HARD IN THIS FICCCCCCCCC 🧍🏻‍♀️😳😖 no one here has ever been truthful or avoids communication/self control/minding ya damn business like the plague

Anonymous said

Honestly I never felt so much second hand embarrassment for a fictional character

I get it sera you “love” Satoru, but trying to kill an innocent soul because of your selfish needs is just unacceptable st least for me. She has fallen to the lowest of lows I can’t even pity her anymore

I can now safely say that I hate sera a lot

I get it coming from a problematic family with little to no money and having to carry the burden of the bread winner is really hard and bad but here’s the thing:

Strike 1: taking her anger and her problems out on her family, blaming her mother especially for all the hardships and bad luck she has

Strike 2: involving herself into a marriage damaging the wife leaving the word respect for herself and the wife out of her dictionary

Strike 3: Trying to blame an innocent person for her hardships and the relationship problems with Satoru, disrespecting her in the process and even kind of threatening her? (Bora Bora arc when sera said that she will have satoru’s baby and him)

Strike 4: looking down on people who are in the same economic situation as her just cause she got to taste some of the rich people thing, but also judging MC for her “behaviour” sometimes implying that she is nothing but her money meaning she’s also looking down on her as a person.

Strike 5: She tried to kill an innocent soul. Ok I get it relationship problems but please sera for the love of god a child hasn’t done anything to you.

For the last strike I’m gonna take the version of sera doing it intentionally because of the jealousy and realisation that her and Gojo probably won’t be able to be together ever again. Of course there is a possibility of her not knowing the effects of chamomile in pregnant women but only time will tell. Personally I believe her calm and collected behaviour was sus.👀

Will we get to see her POV and thoughts about the pregnancy?

Anyway Sera PLEASE I BEG YOU DO BETTER and leave Gojo and MC alone. You’re a beautiful woman as much (as I hate her I have to admit that) and I’m sure you can find a man (a rich one too) to marry and build a life (just make sure this time he’s not married).

Saint great chapter as always now go rest 💕

@osamuah said

Hi Saint! First and foremost: thank you for this weeks character interviews. The fact that you were still providing SN content, despite being on your “break” is a true testament of your selflessness, and it does not go under-appreciated. The asks were so much fun to read, and every notification I received from your blog made my day so much sweeter— so thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I just wanted to ask as well: did these questions help at all with your character/world building? Did you find the questions to be inspiring to you? Was there a particular character/type of question that was your favorite to answer? I really hope you came back from your break feeling refreshed and inspired and that these questions weren’t an extra burden. You really are amazing, Saint<3

Anonymous said

to sera

You are the most pathetic excuse of a human being I have ever seen. I hate you with the strength of a 1000 stars, and I genuinely hope that you die the most painful and slow death imaginable. Your very existence disgusts me and everybody who had the misfortune of ever resting their eyes on God's greatest mistake (I'm talking about you, in case I didn't get through your thick skull), and all of us want you to end your meaningless, parasitic existence, and for your hideous corpse to be sent far away. The only purpose your pitiful life has is to feed off the money, time, and resources of the people around you, without contributing a single joy or doing something useful. I almost feel sorry for you, as the very idea of that kind of painful cum stain of an existence brings a tear to my eye. If only you weren't a constant annoyance to everyone around you, narcissistic and the least likeable person in your city. So, with that in mind, you should stick the nearest fork into the nearest outlet. Maybe someone will give a shit about you for a week and forget about you a month later.

@yeahgrrr said

finished reading sn 15 !! I’M SCREAMINGGGG the domestic scenes oh my god they’re so cute i’m gonna cry this is amazing gojo is so sweet :( or maybe i’m just to forgiving (marupok)

sera tho… idk if i should feel bad that she got layed off her job since she had financial problems too but this is consequences of her actions

sera is scary but i think eula is more scary, i feel like she would be brave enough to interfere in gojo and y/n’s relationship and even mess with the baby

thank u for the update u are amazing

@moonlightmyg said

saint you've done it again ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ another chapter, another masterpiece . ugh can i just say how much i love gen ? she's so incredibly smart, planning ahead for yn and looking for any implications of infidelity ; yn wasnt wrong when she said gen was made for business ! i, a strong team toji member if i do say so my self, must admit that gojo's character development is so refreshing after our 14 chapters of straight angst no breaks :D and the precautions he's taking for yn and the baby ? absolutely adorable . now that yn's def off the market and divorce isnt something on the table anymore ,, lemme slide toji my number ˘³˘

HEY LOVESSS <33 I’M SORRY I COULDN’T RESPOND TO EACH OF U BC I’VE BEEN SO BUSY 😢😢😢 BUT THANKS FOR ALL OF THESE. IT WAS NICE TO GET HEAR UR THOUGHTS AND FEEDBACK !!

#saintobio.asks #series: sincerely not #long compliation ahead

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franniebanana · 3 years

Text

CQL Rewatch - Ep 23

Seriously, how useless are these two right now? The puppets all dropped dead around them, yet none of them run up to help Wei Wuxian. I think we saw Lan Wangji running, but he just had dramatic close-up shots for the first few minutes as well. Like, stop looking dumbfounded and stop just providing facial reactions to things, and get up there! Act like you're in a war, gdi! They're reacting to seeing Wen Ruohan stabbed, which I chose not to cap for obvious reasons.

So even though I knew the story from the book, I still think this moment is pretty cool when they reveal that it's Jin Guangyao who has stabbed Wen Ruohan literally and figuratively in the back. The last time we saw him, poor Nie Mingjue was getting the crap beat out of him by Jin Guangyao, so seeing this here--like, ooh! Double-double-cross! Triple-cross!! It's fun to see a twist that doesn't make you groan! Because, of course, you want to root for Jin Guangyao because he's a bastard and has always been looked down on everyone. Now you see that he was not a villain at all, and he was actually helping the good guys by double-crossing Wen Ruohan! Of course, we know he really is a villain and all, but most of that really doesn't come until later in the story haha.

I do enjoy the light parallels here between Lan Xichen and his brother. We see both of them willing to give their best friends the benefit of the doubt and protect them from those who are less willing, let's say. And both of them are even willing to stand up to other people they know and trust. Nie Mingjue is one of Lan Xichen's closest friends, and we see Lan Wangji stand up to his own uncle. If you're looking at CQL without the romance angle (which, why would you?), this parallel is a bit more striking. You basically have two sets of bosom friends. Obviously one set crumbles at the end, but there are definitely a lot of parallels and comparisons to make. And sorry, for a show that couldn't have any gay characters, they sure made it seem like Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao had a thing for each other (even though neither of them is gay in the book, mind you). A weird sort of change--I don't even ship them, but their early scenes seemed very shippy. Maybe it's my American lens, I don't know.

But speaking of weird changes, allow me to go on a tangent. Wen Qing's role expansion doesn't bother me, not really. I kind of say it does, but it's not really the expansion that gets to me. It's the fact that she was going to be a love interest for Wei Wuxian that bothers me. Wei Wuxian is gay. He's gay. Lan Wangji is also gay--if not gayer. Her being a love interest for either one of them means they are no longer gay. Bi, maybe, but what that would have done was erase their canon sexuality. It would have also turned their relationship into that horribly tropey brothers-in-arms or whatever name you want to give it--basically JUST FRIENDS who want to defend each other's honor. You can certainly read CQL that way, but if you are, I don't think you're paying attention to Wang Yibo's performance at all. And if you're not paying attention to the second lead, then why are you watching this show at all? So, changing their sexuality changes the whole show (which already is so tropey, from what I understand) into something so derivative, I wouldn't even want to bother watching it. One of the things I think you take away from CQL is Lan Wangji's, frankly, undying love for Wei Wuxian. If he goes and has a fling with Wen Qing at any point, that cheapens his character dramatically in my opinion. Lots of people can say this better than me, and probably have, but I'm very grateful to those passionate fans (and to Xiao Zhan and Wang Yibo) for helping to change the script from the original drafts, which were frankly no better than a junky harlequin romance, having Wen Qing passed around like a piece of meat, which is so far from her character in the novel, and definitely a disservice to her.

Not gonna lie, it's adorable to think that Jiang Yanli and Lan Wangji have been talking over the past few days, maybe having tea together, while Wei Wuxian is in a coma. I feel Lan Wangji was a very calming presence for Jiang Yanli, because she was probably very worried and fretful over Wei Wuxian. I like the idea of him playing the guqin for Wei Wuxian, and then having tea and a quiet chat with Jiang Yanli before leaving. Also very cute that Wei Wuxian is half-heartedly trying to badmouth Lan Wangji, by calling him boring and uninteresting, but he can't even get through the sentence without smiling to himself. Obviously he's loving the idea that Lan Wangji has been at his side every day, worrying over him and slowly doing his part to nurse him back to health.

I love his expression here: shock and relief and joy, all mixed together upon seeing that Wei Wuxian has woken up. Obviously he knew he'd wake up eventually, but he didn't expect it so soon and I don't think he expected his heart to be in his throat and to be so indescribably happy to see Wei Wuxian awake.

Wei Wuxian, of course, can't really meet his eyes, and Jiang Yanli makes a swift exit (she knows what's up--these boys need to talk). And Lan Wangji just has love in his eyes: Heart-guang Jun. I mean, imagine how he must be feeling right now. He had just gotten Wei Wuxian back from what seemed like certain death, finally reconciled, and then Wei Wuxian is in a coma! He must have been terrified of losing him again. It's probably all he can do right now to not hug Wei Wuxian.

I seriously love everything about this scene. I love the colors, the cinematography, the longing glances Wei Wuxian gives Lan Wangji, the way Lan Wangji quietly scolds him while still playing the guqin because he's a professional. But really, I just find this scene very pretty and moving and emotional. I enjoy seeing Lan Wangji getting to take care of him and even more that Wei Wuxian lets him and puts up with it. I think most of us are quick to retort a good old, "I'm fine" when asked how we are, but in this case, Wei Wuxian is not fine, and he has no ground to stand on if he's trying to prove that. It's hard for Wei Wuxian at this point, though, to really lean on anyone, even Lan Wangji who is his best friend. He certainly can't lean on Jiang Cheng for reasons I don't think I need to go into again. He kind of leans on Yanli, but at the same time, he can't (and doesn't wish to) burdon her either. Lan Wangji is really the one person he should be able to lean on and seek comfort from, but he feels awkward and uncomfortable, because of the dark spiritual energy and giving up the sword, and Lan Wangji's crusade to help him.

"Who is good and who is evil?" Wei Wuxian is struggling with a moral dilemma: is it right to round up the Wens and kill them/hold them captive? The Wens did horrible things, after all, and this is the reality of war. Of course, we've just seen Lan Xichen struggling with it as well. Why capture the women and children and elderly, who have nothing to do with the war? He's only met with the fact that it's not just the male cultivators who are dangerous. Still, his mind is only placated by the lie that the people will just be interrogated and sent to a labor camp--then cut to the blood on the floor. So Wei Wuxian is not only struggling with what the Jin Clan and other clans are doing, but he's also thinking about his own deeds--how many people did he kill? How many did he brutally murder in the name of revenge? Because of the things he's done, is he good or evil? Is good and evil so black and white? Does it just depend on whose lens you're viewing it through?

Lan Wangji looks at Wei Wuxian with all of this knowledge and doesn't know what to think. He's afraid of what Wei Wuxian has become, afraid he'll end up like Wen Ruohan--he's afraid of losing him entirely. But the situation is not black and white, and good and evil is not so easily defined. You can only know once you know that person's heart, and Wei Wuxian isn't really letting Lan Wangji in anymore. He's trying to convince him with his words, but that is simply not good enough.

I think if Lan Wangji hadn't stopped him here, Wei Wuxian would have played that flute and tried to end all of the Jin "hunting party" (sorry, that was a little dark). His emotions were already high after the conversation with Lan Wangji on the cliff, and we've already seen him feeling disturbed by how the Wens are being chased and rounded up. I, for one, wouldn't have complained if Jin Zixuan's cousin bit the dust earlier. I think his name is Jin Zixun. Is that it? See, even I don't remember him.

I love how even though they are far apart, this scene still feels very intimate. It's very moving, and the music and the cinematography help to cultivate that feeling. I like how Wei Wuxian perks up when he hears Lan Wangji pluck the first few notes, and Lan Wangji does the same when he hears the sound of Wei Wuxian's flute. I feel like they are spiritually connected here as they play this haunting duet. And I think it's a connection they haven't felt for a long time. There has been so much tension between them for so long, and this scene feels like a big sigh from both of them. While I still feel like there is tension present, there is a bit of a release here--at least, that's how I feel as a viewer.

Ah, yes, the awkward period where Jiang Cheng has become leader of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, wants to control Wei Wuxian, but doesn't know how. He's new at this, so I can't blame him for being a bit awkward as he figures out what he's supposed to be doing. As a young man, he basically nagged Wei Wuxian for doing inappropriate things, but now when Wei Wuxian misbehaves, Jiang Cheng is in part responsible for that behavior. At some point or another, the two of them grew up. Wei Wuxian's misbehavior isn't precocious anymore--it's serious and it has consequences, and just as in Gusu, Jiang Cheng sees that those actions are a reflection of the Jiang Clan. Only now, they aren't just a reflection of the clan, they're also a reflection of Jiang Cheng, himself, and his leadership (or lack thereof).

And speaking of awkward...Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji have some...unresolved...stuff to deal with. But God forbid they actually talk right now. How can they? They're at this stuffy banquet that neither one of them want to be at. I feel for them both. Wei Wuxian is hurt because he thinks Lan Wangji doesn't trust him. Lan Wangji feels terrible because he wants to help Wei Wuxian, but the latter won't really let him in and allow him to do so. I feel myself just on pins and needles during these scenes with all these glances, but at the same time, I love it because DRAMA and ANGST! And they're just so in love lolol.

Nie Mingjue has to be that guy that always wants a certain table. The waiter leads him over and says, "Is this table okay?" expecting the answer to be yes, but nope--not Nie Mingjue. He'll request a different table. XD

I love this little conversation--it's like they're both measuring each other up. I think they each have a healthy distrust of the other. Although Wei Wuxian has always been kind to Jin Guangyao, I don't think that discounts the whole demonic cultivation thing in his mind. He knows Wei Wuxian is smart and clever and, most importantly, capable. And as for Wei Wuxian, I don't think the ease in which Jin Guangyao manipulated Wen Ruohan is lost on him.Essentially the downfall of this great cultivator and enemy of all the other clans was due to one man: Jin Guangyao. I think Wei Wuxian is thinking the same thing I am: he's extremely clever, devious, and potentially dangerous if you get on his bad side. His rise to power within the Jin Clan is kind of amazing. His estranged father admits to Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen that Jin Guangyao is his son, his station has improved drastically in a short amount of time. He sure as hell is dangerous.

Jiang Yanli can hardly contain her excitement when Jin Guangshan brings up her former engagement to his son. Just kidding, of course. I'm kind of horrified for her that he's bringing this up now in front of all these people. It feels very much like he's pressuring not only her, but also his son to get engaged again. First of all, Jiang Fengmian and Jin Guangshan agreed at the time to let the children decide whether they wanted to get married or not. Second, if you're going to talk about this, at least do it in private! Third, this is not letting the kids decide. God, this would be humiliating! And I also totally expected Jiang Cheng to speak for his sister here, so I'm glad he didn't do that. It's really none of his business either.

Lol! The weird cutoff here! Who's speaking??? I don't know!!! I mean, obviously, it's Wei Wuxian, but it's like they don't expect us to recognize his voice hahahahaha.

Other episodes: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | Or just check out the #CQL Rewatch hashtag

#wangxian #wei wuxian #lan wangji #theuntameddaily #cql #the untamed #jiang cheng #jiang yanli #wen qing #jin guangyao #lan xichen #ep 23 #cql rewatch

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kuroopaisen · 4 years

Text

imitheos. (oikawa tooru)

➵ oikawa barely recognises the god he used to be.

wc: 3.8k

warnings: gn!reader, greek god au, melancholia? angst? is that something to warn people about?

a/n: so this got away from me, and ended up half a character study, but,,, @kacchand (sorry for tagging this one but i couldn’t tag @kacchand-archive aa) thank you so much for the warm, lovely things you’ve said to me ever since stumbling across my blog, and for complimenting my oikawa specifically. it’s those sorts of compliments that makes me feel all soft!

Oikawa Tooru. He’s still not sure of the name. He never chooses them himself; they come to him, quite naturally, each time he assumes a new form. Each time he knits himself a backstory, he wonders what this life will bring. If it will be better than the last.

He hasn’t always been Oikawa Tooru. He’s been many other forms littered throughout history, recycling the same ego. And before each of those, he was Apollo.

Apollo had been a god amongst gods, deity of so much and so many. He could absolve men of guilt, gift mortals with the power of prophecy, balance their lives in his hands as he commanded the fate of their crops. Even the gods feared him, loved him, revered him.

But he is no longer Apollo. He is a whisper of him, a half-forgotten shadow.

His old name is everywhere. Rocket ships, theatres, philosophical concepts. He’s watched countless effigies to his old self shoot themselves into the sky, chasing a distance once thought unreachable. They always seem to take the light with them, blazing into the darkness.

But Apollo is just a name, now. Everything he used to symbolise seems to pass through him like white smoke.

It’s so hard to find the light in this endless winter.

Archery is just a niche hobby, now. Wars are won through other means.

Disease and the means to combat it are far past his sphere of influence now. Both continue to take on new and frightening forms that even he couldn’t conjure.

There is no space in this world for prophecy anymore. Such things are considered untruths, the trade of hackneyed swindlers masquerading as fortune tellers.

But poetry. Poetry refuses to die.

Sunday afternoon. The sky is already dark. Slam poetry night at a dingy little coffee shop. He’s sat in his usual spot, a dark corner that grants him a clear view of the makeshift stage at the back of the shop. It’s the best spot to melt away into, to become a true observer.

He’s not sure why he’s come here. The coffee itself isn’t particularly good, nor is the atmosphere of the place much to his liking. It’s a little dingy, reliant on weak oil lamps for light. He knows that it’s supposed to give off a retro vibe, but he thinks it just makes it miserable. There’s the smell of musk too, permeated through both wood and cushion.

But something is drawing him to this place. Something, beating against the fabric of the universe, is telling him that this is where he’s supposed to be.

He still doesn’t know why.

You smile at him from across the room, giving him a small wave. You usually work Sunday afternoons, right until close. He isn’t sure of your name, and usually, he wouldn’t care.

But every Sunday, you seem to take it upon yourself to fulfil his orders. Once upon a time, he would’ve been sure that it was his charm that induced you to do so; mortals often found it hard to resist the gods, after all. But he’s not so sure he can still claim that allure.

“You’re becoming a bit of a regular,” you smile, setting his drink down in front of him. Something made with honey, but he’s not sure what. He never pays much attention when he orders.

Oikawa raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“You’re always here on Sundays,” you nod, daring to meet his gaze. “But you’ve never performed yourself.”

Oikawa smiles. One person, at the very least, has noticed his existence. That’s as powerful as a prayer these days.

“I take it you’re a fan,” you remark, eyes scanning his face.

Oikawa nods. “You could say that.”

You smile. It’s small, and he wonders if it’s merely a nicety. “Of slam poetry in particular, or…”

Ah. Yes.

He wants to say it’s because he’s tired of typical poetry. Tired of all its embellishments and platitudes. Slam poetry is newer, younger, angrier. There’s a rawness to it, a rage that speaks to something more visceral in him. Pretty words are not enough anymore.

It’s an offering of something else, of a yearning he still struggles to place. It’s a call for something better, for change, for vindication.

But he won’t bore you with that. You’re just a waiter, making small talk to be polite.

“My preferences change often,” he shrugs.

He appraises you for a moment, clad in a button-up shirt and dress trousers, a charmingly small apron wrapped around your waist. He’s not paid you much mind before; maybe because he’s been looking too hard.

He once thought that this café was drawing him towards a modern muse, an echo of Melpomene. Or perhaps Erato? But it hadn’t been that at all. It had been a call to draw him to you.

For what, he can’t say. But this small moment, this little recognition in the back of a dingy coffee shop on a dour Sunday afternoon in the midst of winter, is the closest he’s felt to worship in aeons.

He fears, for a moment, that you might be Daphne. Or maybe Marpessa. He’s already lost another Hyacinth; not to death, but to the rhythm of life. The pull of a world to which Oikawa couldn’t follow. How long had it been since Hajime left?

Oikawa can’t say.

But he’s been so lonely. So faded.

Whoever you are, whoever you were, does not matter.

What matters is that you’re the first person in a very long time who can see him.

☉ ☉ ☉

“Back again,” you smile. Another drink with honey is placed in front of him. It’s the only thing he’s been ordering for the past few weeks.

He nods, looking up at you with a smile. He knows it’s dead behind the eyes, but he’s trying. He hopes, quietly, that the darkness will mask it.

“You must really enjoy the poetry,” you remark, looking over your shoulder.

One girl has just finished, face flushed with both nervousness and pride. She is young, perhaps barely seventeen, but with the fury of someone who knows too much about the horrors of the world. She’d done quite well by Oikawa’s account. He hadn’t derived much joy from it, but she certainly has potential.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, taking a sip of his drink.

“Do you prefer more…” You pause, brow furrowed as you search for the words. “Traditional poetry?”

Oikawa shakes his head.

Perhaps his tastes would err more to the modern, if he knew more about it. But the fact of the matter is that he simply doesn’t have a clue. Too much time spent with volleyball preoccupying most of his thoughts, and very little time keeping up with the artistic scene of the last decade and a half.

He can’t speak as an expert. But he can speak as the god who invented poetry, who gave mortals the means with which to express their magnitudes. A gift, he’d said. To turn the human experience into something beautiful. But was it for them, or for him?

“The anger is sincere,” he muses, “And they all seem to have poured their soul into their poems.”

You nod, smiling at him. “I wish I was that creative, at their age.”

He looks at you. You look about the same age he should be; twenty-something, maybe? Young, perhaps still in university.

You’ve been spending your breaks with him for a few weeks now.

He doesn’t mind; in fact, he enjoys the company. And, you seem to care about what he has to say, which certainly fluffs his ego.

Why you would care so much about an odd, discreet man sitting in a dark corner of a coffee shop is beyond him.

But he wants to know why. Know more about you. What you love. What you desire.

“What do you want to do with your life?”

The question is sudden, perhaps a bit invasive. It flies from his lips before he has time to reassess it, to craft it into something a bit less intense. He fears, for a moment, that it might scare you – that it might be a bit too much.

But you laugh, tilting your head at him. “That’s a bit of a big question, don’t you think?”

He smiles. “You must have some idea.”

You sigh, shrugging. “I’m not sure, to be honest. I need to survive university before I can start worrying about that sort of stuff.”

He hums.

“What about you?” You ask, polite smile gracing your lips.

He bites the inside of his cheek, his brows creasing. “Not sure.”

He might have dreamed of greatness a while ago. He would’ve chased volleyball, brilliant and vibrant as he was.

Who would have thought that Apollo would find his heart in something so coarse as sport? For a moment, however brief, he’d felt like he might be able to shrug off this immortal shackle. To exist for himself, and not as a mere echo reliant on mortal belief. To maybe, finally, have a chance to live as he wanted to, dictated by his own desires.

That last spark of vibrant humanity had spluttered out the day they lost that one fateful match.

He had wanted to chase his own dreams, the tangible passions he’d discovered as a mortal. He hadn’t wanted to be this, a pathetic half-god that was fading into the grey. But that was the trappings of his dying godhood – a life half-lived, a dream unfulfilled. Where would he be, if he had been able to take on the world as Oikawa Tooru?

Happier, he supposes. Though, he can’t be sure. Because maybe this early evening, grey and cold and bitter, almost tastes like happiness. Almost. And he knows why.

☉ ☉ ☉

There’s a glow to him. He doesn’t notice it; he’s been brighter in the past, blindingly radiant. He was once considered the most beautiful of the gods for a reason.

But to you, this distant, peculiar man is beautiful. There’s something of a fallen giant to him; is he the sort of person whose glory days has long since passed? Had he been a high school hero maybe?

There’s something else to him, too. Something strange. Something esoteric.

You don’t quite know how to explain it.

It’s like he’s asking – no, begging someone to acknowledge him. To breathe new life into him.

And for all his strange, aggressive indifference, there’s a little flame in him. One that seems like it’s been burning for centuries, too stubborn to flicker out.

You haven’t missed how it’s getting brighter.

He only comes in on Sundays, staying from three until eight. If his prolonged presence bothers your co-workers, they don’t mention it.

Perhaps it’s silly to be so fascinated by a complete stranger, especially one that simply sits in a corner and watches. Perhaps it is even sillier to spend your breaks with him. But it’s as if you can’t help yourself; something pulls you towards him, even if you don’t understand it.

“What about the Greeks?” You ask one evening, sitting next to him in his booth.

His smile is bemused at best. “What about them?”

“Well… they’re classics,” you muse, “Are you a fan, or…?”

“Homer can suck my dick,” Oikawa grumbles. He never quite forgave that man for the unflattering portrait of his godliness.

You laugh. There’s an echo of a lyre in it. He wonders, for a moment, what you might look like with a laurel woven through your hair, smiling on a Pierian coast in the height of a blistering summer.

He doesn’t let his mind wander too far.

“I’m not really one for poetry,” you murmur, looking down at your hands.

“Is that so?” Oikawa smiles, taking a sip of his coffee. It’s lukewarm after sitting on the table for so long, but he doesn’t mind.

You shake your head. “I find it difficult to wrap my head around. It makes me feel kind of stupid.”

He nods. He used to understand poetry so well – in the darkest of nights, it was often the only thing he understood. It used to be laced with his very being, threaded through his body like veins. But now, it just fills him with bitterness.

“I like the classics, though,” you smile softly, playing with your fingers. “There’s something about the simplicity and straightforwardness of the language that appeal to me. And, I don’t know…” You bite your lip. “Some emotions seem to transcend time and culture. And some of the classics are so… raw. So… human.”

‘Human.’ He gazes at you, that word in particular playing over in his mind. There’s some truth in the classics, he supposes. Something in them that echoes across the centuries. But he’s been around far too long to care for patterns and parallels.

“Sorry,” you blush, smoothing your apron. “I must be boring you.”

“Not at all.” Oikawa shakes his head, leaning towards you. He takes another sip of his coffee. It’s cold now. “So, you’re a history buff, then?”

Maybe you are Clio, after all.

You shrug. “Only ancient history, really. But I haven’t read as much about it as I should’ve.”

“Are you a fan of the myths?” He asks, a playful lilt to his voice. He knows you won’t get the joke, but he doesn’t mind.

“Some,” you nod. “Why?”

“Know any about Apollo?”

“Apollo?” You smile. His old name sounds like a melody on your lips. “As in the god?”

“Sure.” Who else could he mean?

You pause for a moment, pressing your lips together. It’s a beautiful silence.

“Have you read Plato’s Symposium, by any chance?” You ask, gaze meeting his.

He nods. He doesn’t mind Plato; the man had been grateful for the gift of music, after all.

“There’s a story in it I really like,” you murmur, eyes turning towards the roof. “Well, it’s more of a myth, but… it’s the one about soulmates.”

“Oh?”

“Do you know it?”

“Vaguely.” Of course he knows it. He just wants to hear it retold in your voice.

“Well, alright,” you clear your throat, sitting up a little straighter. “There were three kinds of humans, descended from the sun, the earth and the moon. All had four arms and four legs, two faces, et cetera. But, the gods felt they were too unruly and powerful. By Zeus’ count, this was unacceptable, and he wanted to humble them.”

Oikawa hopes his expression is neutral enough. How is Zeus? Is he still around?

“Instead of simply destroying them, he split them in two,” you continue. “And that made us miserable.”

Your use of the word ‘us’ intrigues him, but he wants to save his questions for later.

“But, Apollo took pity on us,” you smile. “He decided to patch us up, and shape us into, well… the form we have today. The story goes that our navel is where he sewed our broken skin together. But he turned our heads around to what had once been our back, so we’d have to look at that mark as a reminder of our punishment and how incomplete we are.”

It does not matter to him if there is any truth in this story. Regardless, it certainly sounds like the folly of the gods.

“Once we were split, the two halves were flung to the far ends of the earth. From then on, each of us yearns with both body and soul to be reunited with our other half.” Your voice is so lyrical, so comforting. It is, perhaps, the closest thing to music he’s heard in a while. “Those of us who are lucky enough to find them supposedly know no greater joy. We’ll never feel so understood, so complete. Most of us though, will never know that joy.”

Perhaps the gods didn’t deserve the reverence they got. Perhaps they really had been tyrants, all along. But then again, there was little love between gods and mortals; if anything, worship was simply a reflection of the fears the divine inspired.

A new question itches at the back of his mind.

“Do you believe in life after death?” He asks.

You blink at him, eyes wide and round. “Well, I… I don’t know, really.”

He knows it’s a heavy question. He knows that he didn’t prepare you for it, and that it’s only tenuously connected to the conversation at hand. But, he always found that people were at their most honest when they were caught off guard.

“I don’t like thinking about it,” you admit, looking down at your hands. “It makes me all existential.”

Oikawa nods. Most humans react like this.

The relationship between mortals and death has always fascinated him. Fear, loathing, regret. It’s all bundled together. Sometimes, there is comfort. Sometimes, there is a sense of calm. But it is never easy to face the unknown, after such a brief stint of being alive.

It’s something he cannot understand in this existence of his that stretches itself thin across the millenniums.

What is death to a god? He imagines it must be something like relief.

☉ ☉ ☉

“Do you write yourself?” It’s a little question, one he knows was coming.

He doesn’t know how to answer.

You sit next to him in the lamplight, eyes sparkling as they always do. If he was more human, maybe he would compare them to the stars. Or perhaps the ocean after a storm. But he is not human, much less a poet.

How does he say that he’s never needed to? That his patronage, his presence alone was enough to inspire those classics you so dearly love? That he himself has never put lyrics to the human experience?

He has always been a god. There is no beauty to his experience; only in those small pockets of human intimacy he’s been granted across the centuries. There is no beauty to the life of a god – only fire, and fury, and hubris. Even his body is unlike yours; he has no heart, and he bleeds ichor.

“Not really,” he shrugs. It’s all he can say.

“‘Not really’ implies that you write at least a little,” you smile, leaning towards him.

He shakes his head. “I didn’t really have time to do something like that.” He pauses for a moment. Should he tell you? Should he reveal more of himself than is maybe wise? “I played volleyball in high school.”

“Oh, really?” You ask, tilting your head at him.

“I was good, too,” he sighs, brow furrowing. “But my team never made it to nationals.”

“Oh.” You look genuinely sad. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugs. There’s little else to do.

“I wanted to go further,” he admits. The lamplight casts a long shadow on his face, each feature soft and delicate as marble.

Each form, each reiteration, wants more.

So much of what he’s done this time doesn’t echo the traditional Apollonian figure. There is no art, this time. No song.

There was drama in sport, but it was different. It had filled him with a passion he’d never felt before, beating in his chest just like a heart would. It provided that rush of adrenaline, the brutal awareness of the importance of just one moment. Eternity stretches on forever for a god, but a game must end. Perhaps, in some way, death is very much the same.

He wants that closure. That passion for the now.

Now, more than ever before, he wants to be mortal. To lose himself in the storm that is being human – he wants it all. He wants to let go of the god he no longer is.

Where does Apollo end? Where does Oikawa Tooru begin?

☉ ☉ ☉

Time is passing again. Each day is over before it’s even begun, slipping through his fingers like a lucid dream. A heartbeat that isn’t his own thrums in his ears, quick and loud and frantic.

And yet, he finds himself outside the coffee shop, standing on the curb. You’re next to him, hands dug deep in your pockets. He’s arrived earlier than usual, catching you right at the beginning of your shift.

There’s something he wants – no, needs to say. Something that can’t wait.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, looking up at the sky. It’s pale, a shade found in-between blue and grey. A perfect winter sky, one you might find on a postcard trying to capture the beauty of the season.

Something is pressing on his chest, heavy and immovable. It feels like a goodbye.

“What for?” You laugh. It really is a delightful sound.

Where to begin? You couldn’t possibly comprehend it. Nor would you believe him. If he speaks too frankly, you may not remember him fondly.

“For the coffee,” he says.

There’s more he wants to say. Something about how, maybe, in another life, there could have been something more between the two of you. Something quite beautiful.

But he knows it’s wiser not to speak that into being. If you feel even a modicum of these emotions, then silence would be an act of kindness.

“Are you… going somewhere?” You ask, all signs of levity gone from your face. He regrets speaking at all now.

“Something like that,” he murmurs. It’s the closest he can get to the truth.

A long silence ensues. Oikawa doesn’t know if he should try to fill it; perhaps he should just let it sit for a while? To enjoy this little moment with you, standing with you in front of a dingy coffee shop on a dour Sunday night in the midst of winter.

Because this moment cannot last. Because nothing can.

“Well,” you clear your throat, eyes lingering on his face, as if you’re committing each detail to memory.

He smiles at you. He’s not aware of it, but it’s almost blinding. It brings a warmth to his face that you’ve never seen before, a warmth that makes him so striking, so beautiful, that you know you won’t be able to find the words to praise it.

“I hope I’ll see you again,” you murmur. It’s the best you can manage, keeping your feelings in your heart as best you can.

“Me too.”

He means it.

It’s time to go. Where, he’s not sure. But, with all the courage he could muster, he turns his back to you, making his way down the street.

There’s a space in his heart for fear. But it’s empty. Whatever’s coming, whatever’s about to change – he’s ready for it.

He welcomes it.

☉ ☉ ☉

He opens his eyes. He’s tangled in blankets; his own, or someone else’s?

One thought.

My name is Oikawa Tooru.

In the haze of a Sunday morning, he knows nothing else. His eyes flick to the blinds as they flutter with the wind that whispers through his window.

The light floods in.

It’s finally spring.

#oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa toru x reader #haikyuu x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa x you #oikawa imagine #oikawa tooru imagine #haikyuucreations #this was a labour of love #it's different from my usual style but i enjoyed it

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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years

Text

About the 3E exam Lore post

The 3E exam sadly only appears once in the entire series of the novels and doesn’t really appear in the game as it is depicted in the novels. The purpose of the exam is to determine your dragon ‘resonance’. How much of a kinship do you feel with dragons is a measure of how much you can understand their minds, their writing and their culture. It makes you an asset in the study of dragons.

Those who don’t resonate well are pretty much useless to the college so that’s why if you don’t pass, you cannot gain entry in to the college.

Fingel explains it really well so I’ll just translate what he says:

"Anyway, the abbreviation for Ability Evaluation Exam is EEEI the correct spelling is Extraction Evaluation Exarn, which originally meant Bloodline Evaluation Exam. It is mainly used to identify the students' dragon blood lineage. Dragon blood descendants have a fairly obvious resonance for 'dragon language', and both the Dragon Emperor and the Dragon King have the ability to 'speak the language', that is, within his ability, what he says will become a rule that 'Language' is a tool for the dragons to use their abilities." Fingal rambled to explain to Lu Mingfei, "Some students have a good percentage of dragon blood, but inherited all the 'garbage genes' of the dragon race, the ability will be insufficient, so after the EEE will be downgraded, really unqualified will be ordered to withdraw from school."

In short: Just because you have a high percentage of dragonblood doesn’t mean you’ll score high on the test. You have to have the ‘right genes’, ones that will give you strong abilities to use ‘Yanling’ or dragon language. The language is key to their power, not their scales, wings or tails.

In the chapter Reunion: There’s several references to ‘voices’, ‘speaking’, ‘calling’, and ‘understanding’. That means that Tigre inherently and instinctively understands dragon speech and knows what it’s from. Just like when Toyama showed him the cards of the language of several people (Korean, Chinese, Japanese and English) and he could automatically read it, people who score high on the 3E exam don’t have to be taught dragon language, they can inherently and instinctively understand it.

Finger continues to explain

"Once the dragon blood ratio reaches a certain level, you’re not really human anymore. This bloodline will give you abilities beyond the ordinary, but it will also give you a great sense of alienation. Only contact between dragons and dragonkind can eliminate this sense of alienation. So the high purity of the dragon blood will make the descendants naturally gather together. This is genetically determined. The dragon race is relying on the 'blood of mourning', this ability to gather hybrids from around the world. Usually once the dragon blood descendants understand their identity, it will feel like the soul is awakening from the depths ...... "

In the chapter Reunion you see this when Tigre remembers when he when he looked into the eyes of Chu Zihang. Chu Zihang’s golden eyes can awaken the blood in hybrids and naturally cause them to submit to him briefly. That’s why when Tigre looked into Zihang’s eyes, he recognized him, not as food, but as a ‘brother’ someone who was kin with him. His eyes dispelled that sense of alienation. He didn’t know who Chu Zihang was. He just naturally recognized him because he has the genes that can do that. He also understands that he’s finally with his own kind in Reunion and it feels like he’s being called to ‘family’. The question ‘who am I’ that plagued him all his life is ‘blood mourning’ or ‘Blood Cry’.

"Master brother do you know how many lines of dragon text have been deciphered so far? There are only 76 sentences," Fingal said sagely, "The last person in history who knew the grammar of the Dragon was Nicholas Flamel, who

This Master Scribe is the only master alchemist in the historical record who made the 'Sage's Stone' because he bought a handwritten copy of alchemy when he was copying an old book, and what was recorded in that book, was the Dragon Text grammar. After he learned the secrets of the dragon language, he did not pass it on to others, but summarized 76 obscure incantations, which were passed down to us, and that is the number of dragon languages we can currently decipher.".

“The content of the examination is also this 76 sentences. The number of questions derived from the examination is also very limited, about 200 questions."

"The test is very simple, when you enter the examination room, they will only give you a blank sheet of paper and a pencil, will not give you any hints. But they will play a recording of the dragon text in a very low volume, and if you don't pay attention, you will think it is simply a mosquito humming. But for the dragon blood, these dragon incantations will resonate directly with their spirit and will seem unusually clear, you just have to follow the sound you hear and record it with Korean notes. There are 12 questions in total, those who answer 6 correctly pass, those who answer 8 correctly can directly take the advanced course, and those who answer 10 correctly are 'S' level students!"

"You're really of dragon blood, some hums are like thunder in your head, I used to be 'A' level, I just felt a deafening chanting sound in my head at that time."

In the Chapter Reunion, you saw this. Tigre heard the music and, even though the sound of the dragon voices was very low, the dragon voices soon became all he COULD hear. It was like a thunderous roaring or a chorus of voices. Until he stopped hearing the music completely and could only hear these voices.

"No matter what the other candidates do, you should not be distracted, but listen with all your might to a low water-like sound under the cover of the music, that is the dragon text incantation, for those who have resonance, that incantation will go directly into the depths of the mind, as if someone is speaking in the mind.”

Describing his own experience, Fingel said.

"It was as if a hole had opened in my brain and someone had poured in clear water from there, and space became like a myriad of silk threads that suddenly erupted out and pierced through time, and there was a woman crying at the end of time." Fingal said, "I don't know how, I felt very sad and sad all of a sudden, and I cried myself, so naturally I wrote the answer out."

Crying is a typical response. Tigre also burst into sorrow and tears but for him it was mixed with joy. He realized how lonely he was but also how happy he was at the same time and he couldn’t stop crying.

@a-chaotic-dumbass

@rurifangirl

@natsumi-yamiko

#Dragon Raja #Lore discussion

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mor-beck-more-problems · 3 years

Text

Souls of Mischief || Morgan & Caoimhe

TIMING: the recent past

LOCATION: UMWC

PARTIES: @evebrennan & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Two adjuncts square up against the new dean. Is it really a UMWC faculty meeting if everything goes according to plan?

CONTAINS: N/A

Since the dean of the arts and sciences college had gotten his face eaten and the volmugger dean who unofficially replaced him had been sliced and diced, the faculty meeting had to be postponed until summer. With all the deaths and disappearances from the last year, the faculty was able to squeeze comfortably into one of the small lecture halls from the early days of the school, pre AC. They were twenty minutes in and Morgan’s nose was starting to pick up the sour smell of human sweat filling the room. As she slumped deeper into her chair, she found herself thinking that maybe the volmugger dean hadn’t been so bad after all. At least his meeting probably would have been over by now.

She turned to the woman next to her. “Do you ever wish for a fire scare or a cryptid attack during these, or is that just a me thing?”

Humans were captivating for their creativity, and Caoimhe had never encountered anything as terribly uncreative as a routine meeting. Death by powerpoints, a man droning on about grading rubrics and research coming out of New York City. Somewhere in there was a hopeful message about Summer classes and plans for the Fall, but the man’s tone never changed. She felt liable to crawl out of her own skin should it go on for much longer, shifting restlessly in her seat. Typically, in a room so full, there would always be someone to whom Caoimhe was drawn. It was true, meetings sucked the creativity out of everything.

She was halfway through a list of ways she could get out of it, varying from a simple bathroom excuse to complete university meltdown, when a voice piped up from beside her. Ah, better. “Only every meeting. We could make it happen. Any of the above. I prefer bothering them with increasingly outrageous questions until they give up and let us go, personally.” She wondered how long it would take to get him going. If she could get him to give up before the PowerPoint was done. “Ten bucks says if we team up, we could be out of here before he can bring up the next slide.”

Morgan quirked her eyes with interest. Generally, the most she got out of someone was a little indulgent smile (so funny, Morgan; you and your little quips) or a grimace of agreement, because solidarity was the only thing that made these meetings bearable. No one really talked back, much less turned around and offered something back. Morgan scooted closer to the woman.

“Are you serious? Because I can’t tell if you’re serious, and if you’re not serious, I’m going to be really embarrassed when I ask that guy to explain why he chose the font he did for this thrilling presentation and no one jumps in to one up me.” She sat up a little straighter, tilting her head in a show of false interest at the presentation. “If we do make this work, we should give ourselves something nice. As a treat, you know?”

Oh, there was hope for the meeting yet. Caoimhe sat up, finding a grin that didn’t match the less-than-lively meeting topic in the least. She showed more interest in a matter of moments than she had for the entirety of the meeting up to that point, and she couldn’t even be bothered to care. It was so rare that anyone was willing to play along. Most meetings were spent tapping her toes against carpet, or filling quickly sketched staff lines in the margins of her notes. Some part of her felt she should pay attention, given she was new and working on a good first impression, but the meeting was unbearably boring, and there was someone present who was perfectly willing to cause some trouble.

“I don’t joke around when it comes to...joking around.” She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head around a laugh, turning back to the front. Displayed was a slide reading “2021 Changes,” and she was certain they’d been covering changes for at least thirty minutes. Freedom was imminent. “My vote is ice cream.”

Her vote was anything that wasn’t another staff meeting. She raised her hand, “Excuse me, sorry. I just couldn’t help but notice you’re using the Geometric theme by Slides. It’s an excellent choice, very clean. May I ask why Geometric instead of, say, Plum, or Spearmint?”

It took the New Dean several seconds to realize someone else was talking. He blinked behind his tortoiseshell glasses at Caoimhe, then at his presentation, then back again. “This...was recommended to me by my assistant.” He laughed affably. “And if you’ll observe, as we move on to the next section of the faculty code of conduct, the hexagons make for a very convenient grouping of text, so you can differentiate between the point and the rationale…” He fumbled with his clicker and brought the next slide up.

“Oh, actually, I have a question about that formatting!” Morgan called. “The color contrast you picked is interesting, but I was wondering why you deviated from black and white. And why the font? It’s not so great for those of us in the back or with visual impairments. Which, I dunno, considering our disciplines is probably a lot of us, right?”

A few women sitting nearby sniggered.

“Obviously I can’t speak for anyone else, but everything you’re saying reads like gibberish to me. And I feel like my professional enrichment is being underserved.”

Ah, the next slide. Caoimhe was only allowed a moment of defeat before her partner in crime piped up, and the Dean’s initial laughter faded into a look of disbelief. The energy in the room changed. People were shifting in their chairs, interest piqued. Caoimhe could see a few burying their heads in the crook of their elbow, or covering their laughter with a hand over their mouths. She had a feeling she was going to like UMWC. Not if every meeting derailed so easily, not if she’d always have someone so perfectly willing to try.

“Oh, my deepest apologies.” There was a pause, then, while the Dean twisted the clicker in his hands and considered his next course of action. Caoimhe could see the red creeping into his cheeks, and she might’ve felt bad for him, if she wasn’t enjoying herself so much.

“There’s actually a site to help with contrast, as well as outlines of the best fonts to use in presentations. For example, Garamond fonts look very professional, yet are still easy to read.” Caoimhe grinned, “I can send an email, even carbon copy your assistant, if you’d like.”

Morgan turned to Caoimhe as if noticing her for the first time. “Oh, my gosh! Could you? That sounds so amazing and helpful. Barbara--” She waved down a woman two rows up. “You had a student who was color-blind and dyslexic last semester, right? Did you ever figure out what the best format and coloring was for him?”

“No, that was me!” Another woman, Stephanie Shannon, called. Stephanie liked to be an authority on things. It made it easier to correct everyone else. And so, when Morgan happened to call the wrong woman, of course she had to be corrected. Stephanie launched into a long anecdote about her student and the research she did, and which websites were not at all helpful, and so on.

The New Dean tapped his microphone. “If we could turn back to business--”

“I believe Doctor Shannon is still speaking,” Morgan said, unable to hide the glee in her voice.

“Thank you, Professor Beck,” Stephanie said, genuinely touched.

Morgan leaned back in her seat and turned to Caoimhe. “So, the real question is whether we want to see if his face is going to get any redder or if we want to pretend to go to the ladies’ room and never come back.”

Chaos ensued and Caoimhe barely managed to conceal a smile behind her hand. The careful structure of the meeting falling to pieces around them was almost enough to make her stay, but it was still a meeting, and she was willing to bet Doctor Shannon had about as much to say as the Dean did. The deed was done. If she stayed in her spot another moment longer, her laughter would give her away.

A quick excuse and she was tumbling into the hallway, the sound of continued arguing cutting off abruptly as the door shut in her wake. The amount of joy she derived from the dean’s expression as she ducked out was near pathological.

“Professor Beck, was it?” Caoimhe had grown well-accustomed to starting over, to finding her footing in new environments. There was always a nook into which she could burrow herself, even if it was a box-strewn hotel room rented by the week. She preferred it when it looked like this. Like university hallways and bookshelves, drifting notes from a piano in a practice room, and sometimes people. They were always the hardest. They had interests, opinions, smiles and laughter of their own. It was easy to leave behind a bookshelf or a piano. It wasn’t always easy to leave behind people, the rare friend. Professor Beck had jumped in with the same glee Caoimhe had, and she already found herself thinking about what it would mean to leave. “I’m stealing you for every meeting. I’m sorry, it’s just the way it’s going to be.”

Morgan followed her new friend out. People seldom questioned women leaving in pairs, and she’d just earned some much needed goodwill. When the doors to the lecture room closed behind her, she finally let herself laugh, more pleased with herself than she’d been in a long time.

“Why yes,” she said, bowing dramatically. “Morgan Beck, at your service. I am great at distractions, petty theft, and driving away unwanted attention. My knowledge of literature isn’t so bad either.” She laughed again and sidled up to the other woman. “I would be honored, thrilled even, to be your partner in crime for the next meeting. But first, I definitely want to know who I have the honor of being in cahoots with, and if I can steal you for my meetings too.” It had been a while since she’d had a reason to feel happy at work. Since she’d had a real friend she could do shallow simple things with. There was no keeping the supernatural from coming to her door no matter where she went, but a moment of good, a little bubble of fun and nothing now and then, could be worth a lot.

“Oh, Morgan!” Caoimhe stood up a little straighter, grinning. “English professor Morgan? Likes the Cranberries Morgan?” She gave her own bow, “It’s Caoimhe, Music professor, new in town. Also great at distractions, and car sing alongs like you wouldn’t believe.” Suddenly, White Crest didn’t feel quite so daunting. It felt just that little bit more like somewhere she could settle, if she ever found herself in a capacity to do so. Perhaps there was something to the fog, to the way it felt disconnected in a way no other town had managed. Perhaps there was something to letting herself have friendships in the in-between.

There was muffled arguing from behind the door, and Caoimhe descended into another laugh, moving further down the hallway. There’d been some mention of a treat in reward of success, and the rapidly derailing meeting behind them was definitely a success. “Now, as much fun as that was, I’ve already enlisted you as my arm wrestling champion, how could I possibly expect even more of you?”

“Yes! That’s me! And you’re Vivaldi and Britney Spears Caoimhe?” Morgan gaped. She followed Caoimhe down the hall, shoes skittering in a cascade of delight as she avoided the oncoming faculty approaching the door. “Oh, you’re amazing! You’re like the first cool person my age here and you actually give a shit about your students and teaching and you sing in the car too? Do you also sing karaoke? I just--feel like you’re one swooping in here and making everything here a whole lot better. Let me get you something, a drink, or lunch or whatever people with sudden free-time do.” She caught up to herself, hearing the echo of her own rambling and her unchecked enthusiasm in the hall. “Or, um, a rain check. Obviously. But, you really do seem great and this place isn’t kind to great people, especially when they’re isolated. And, you know, selfishly, I really do appreciate having a partner in crime. There’s only so much mischief you can get up to when it’s you against the world.”

“Okay, okay correction.” Caoimhe matched the same excited rambling coming from Morgan. She talked with her hands. Her mother would grab them sometimes, pin them to a table and say her name sharp, but with a smile tugging at the edges of her lips. Caoimhe never did make an effort to fix it. “It’s you and me against the world now, so just jot that one down. Or...at the very least boring staff meetings. We can work up to the whole world part, but I’m dedicated.”

She tucked her thumbs into the pockets of her slacks. She liked the sound of Vivaldi and Britney Spears Caoimhe, and cool person, and lunch between classes. Of someone who seemed just as excited to wreak havoc as she was, who cared about her students, who liked karaoke, and oh. That one wouldn’t be the best idea, but the rest! Caoimhe would happily get behind the rest. “Yes to karaoke sometimes, no to the rain check.” She parsed through the onslaught to address one item at a time, quick and with just as much enthusiasm as the questions had been asked. “You seem great, I don’t rain check great. But reverse it, let me get you a drink, or lunch, or something.”

Morgan couldn’t fight the way she brightened up at Caoimhe’s assurances. “Okay! Then--” Shoot. She didn’t eat out anymore. Or enjoy most food. “Coffee? I know it’s hot and terrible outside, but we can get something iced. I know where the best places in town are.” And she could actually taste a quad shot latte. “I’ll let you pay this time, but only because it contractually obligates a second outing when I get to pay. And the sky’s the limit there, because while we adjuncts might get shit for pay, I get some very generous supplemented by my unspeakably wonderful future-wife.” She slipped her hands into her own skirt pockets and elbowed Caoimhe, grinning. “I like the sound of that, though: you and me against the department and really boring faculty meetings. Today the arts college, tomorrow the school, and then who knows?”

#souls of mischief #wr caoimhe #wr chatzy #wr caoimhe chatzy

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xxkellsvixen19xx · 3 years

Text

Spotlight: Life Of A Troubled Celebrity Heartthrob Ch 5.1

Word Count: 7,019 *Between Both Parts

Colson woke up first as moonlight beat down on his face. He sat up and stretched his lean body. When he had planned this trip he hadn't anticipated falling asleep on the boat. He looked at Y/N and didn't have the heart to wake her but she slowly opened her eyes when he stirred.

"What time is it?" She rubbed her eyes and yawned.

"It's just a little after midnight. We should get back it's a bit cold out here." He threw the blanket over Y/N. "You can go back to sleep while I drive us back."

"I think I'll come and keep you company." She stifled another yawn.

"If you insist. I won't complain." He kissed her long and hard.

"I wish we could stay this way forever." He sighed as he held her face in his hands.

"No you don't. You would probably get bored in a few minutes." She joked.

"Spend the night with me." His face was illuminated by the moonlight, piercing blue eyes pleading with her. He didn't want this night to end. All he wanted was to spend more time with her. Not in a sick perverted way but he just wanted to be close to her-to hold her and never let her go.

"Colson I-"

"All I want to do is hold you okay? No second base..unless you want-"

"Don't push it Baker." She laughed and swatted his shoulder.

"Okay let me get you out of here. Stay here it's warmer okay?" He straightened the thick blanket over her. Then went over to start the engine and steered the boat back to the estate. She snuggled under the warm blanket and dozed off.

"Sorry to wake you sweets but we're here. I would carry you out of the boat but we would both end up in the water." He laughed as she squinted up at him.

"Okay." She said her voice horse and her head still groggy.

Y/N stumbled across the gangplank, Colson laughed as he scooped her into his arms and carried her into the house. He took the steps up to his room, kicked the door open and laid her down gently on the soft bed. She even tried to protest when he removed her shoes but he pushed insisted.

"Colson that isn't necessary. I can do that myself. I'm not an invalid." She was wide awake now.

"Your feet are stone cold Bambi! Should I run you a bath?" He rubbed her feet but his efforts were futile.

"Hmmm, I think I'd love to soak in a warm bath right now." She rolled her neck and stretched out her body. Colson couldn't help but stare and was glad Y/N couldn't read his thoughts right now, because they were anything but clean.

"Am I allowed to join you? I'm cold too." He said as he stood and made his way to the bathroom.

"Sure why not? I'm sure the jacuzzi is big enough for both of us.." Y/N taunted him. She leaned back on the bed a naughty smile on her face. She couldn't understand where her sudden boldness came from? It was probably because she was sleeping on her feet and her brain wasn't functioning in its full capacity. I mean who takes a bath after 1:00am??

"Careful what you wish for Bambi.." He wagged his finger at her. "I just might call your bluff sweets." He ran the bath water and added some strawberry scented bubble-bath. He walked back to the bedroom and found Y/N undressing.

"Oh! Sorry-I didn't-you should have-" He sputtered, his hands flew to cover his crimson face. Y/N threw her head back and laughed.

"Really Baker! Is this your first time to see a girl half-naked?" She threw her play-suit in his face as she walked past him and into the bathroom. Colson caught it before it hit the floor and stood there confused. He didn't want to misinterpret anything but that action right there, seemed like an invitation to him. Maybe it was time for him to test the waters..literally.

Y/N had left the bathroom wide open..another sign. He proceeded cautiously through the door, there was no going back after this. Y/N was lying in the tub with her hair tied up in a messy bun, her eyes closed as if she was asleep. Colson stood at the door and removed his clothes silently. He slipped into the jacuzzi and sat opposite Y/N and waited for some sort of reaction from her.

"Took you long enough to get here Baker. I almost fell asleep waiting for you." She said drowsily. Her eyes remained closed.

"You're hungry? I've asked Alison, the housekeeper, to bring us something. We can eat once we're done."

"Hmmm." Replied.

Food was the last thing on his mind right now. He wanted to eat something that was sitting right in front of him-in fact he wanted to devour her-to ravish her until they were totally spent. But with a lot of difficulty, he restrained himself and told himself good things come to those who wait.

"You need help staying awake sweets?" He slid over to her side and pulled her towards him.

"What did you have in mind?" Her eyes flew open and he saw the desire ignited in them. Now was the time he would make his move. The look in her eyes gave him the green light and told him everything he needed to know.

"A few things.." He brushed his lips lightly against hers and heard her inhale sharply. He teased her with feather-light kisses until her breathing was ragged. Then he kissed her thoroughly, his tongue touching every inch of her mouth.

They were interrupted by a loud knock on the door. They sprang apart but made no move to answer the door. Colson's arctic orbs burned into Y/N's brown ones and no words needed to be said. He stepped out of the tub and wrapped a fluffy bath towel around her body, their nakedness no longer an obstacle. She was swept of her feet and carried into the bedroom and laid on the bed. Colson hovered over her as if seeking permission to continue. She pulled him closer and their lips melted into each other again-but the incessant knocking was a mood-killer.

"You probably should get that." Y/N whispered into his lips as he looked down at her, frustration contorting his features. He let out a low angry growl and hopped off the bed to answer the door. Y/N felt sorry for whoever was standing on the other-side.

"Jax! What is it? It's almost two in the morning!" Colson scowled as he open the door just a crack.

" Anyway-you requested food so I offered to bring it up-" He motioned to the food cart, "plus there is an urgent matter that need your immediate attention..before it hits the press in a few hours. Byron and Andre are waiting downstairs"

"Let me get dressed. I'll be right down. Leave the cart outside I'll get it just now." Colson shut the door and got dressed quickly.

"Is everything okay?" Y/N pulled the covers over her and sat up.

"Yeah-you can eat and I'll join you in a bit." He wheeled the food into the room and kissed her on the forehead before dashing out.

Y/N jumped out of bed and went to rummage through Colson's closet, in search of a T-shirt or PJs that would fit her. She came so close-again-but she wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed. She stood in the closet and noticed they was woman's clothing neatly stacked in a shelf, while the dresses and jackets were hanging on the rails.

Y/N's heart sank as she fingered the clothing. The clothes seemed fairly new and were about her size. Probably they belonged to one of his many girlfriends and he had forgotten to hide them away or he had meant for them to remain here. She gave herself a mental shake, grabbed a pair of pink PJs and slipped them on, even it meant taking a risk of him being upset with her.

"Thank you floozy, for leaving your clothes in Colson's closet." She muttered to herself, as she dived under the covers, her appetite gone. What did she expect anyway? Of course he had a constant stream of girls sleeping over and she was probably just another statistic. But she still wanted him. Even as the silent tears slid down her face and onto the therapeutic pillow, her heart still yearned for him, for his touch, for his presence and a whole lot more.

It wasn't long before she nodded off to sleep.

********************************************

"What do you mean I signed the wrong document?? Don't I pay you to make sure that never happens??" Colson flipped over the glass table in a rage. Andre loosened his tie and cowered in the corner, beads of sweat scattered on his forehead.

"Look Colson, why don't we all take five? Let's step outside so you can get a bit of fresh air and collect our thoughts?" Byron put his hand on Colson's shoulder and he shrugged it off, before storming into the cool night-or morning rather.

Dawn was breaking and while Colson loved to watch the sunrise, he didn't derive any joy from it today. It had turned from a beautiful day to a nightmare-his worst nightmare. He sat by the poolside and hung his head in his hands. How was he going to get out of this mess? Most importantly how was he going to explain it to Y/N? Yet again he had got her entwined in his drama. He ripped of his t-shirt and dove into the water, did laps back and forth until he was spent. The sun was peeping threw the clouds when he jumped out and collapsed onto the well manicured lawn.

Byron stood over him and handed him a towel and a robe after he had dried himself. Alison had begun to serve breakfast out on the patio and Jax was barking orders to the bodyguards. Security was on high alert as per Colson's instructions. Y/N would need a bodyguard as well, once the story got out.

"I'm going to go break the news to Y/N before she hears it from someone else. Please don't come anywhere near my room until I say so. If anyone so much as knocks..there will be hell to pay." Colson stormed back into the house and ran up the stairs to his room. Y/N was still sound asleep when he jumped in behind her. He put his arms around her and held her like it was the last time. After what he had to tell her he was sure she would never want to see him again, because it would throw her world into absolute chaos.

"Hmm..you're cold." She protested, still half-asleep.

"Sorry baby I had an early morning swim.. I just need to hold you right now. Is that okay?" He snuggled closer to her and tightened his hold. The talk would have to wait until she was well-rested. He made sure to switch off both their phones earlier on so he was safe for now.

"Hmm..You okay?" She asked.

"Yeah-please go back to sleep baby." He kissed her hair.

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

"Andre please explain to me again how you messed up the paperwork? You always so articulate and careful. What went wrong this time? Your wife giving you problems man?" Byron paced up and down Colson's study, where he, Andre and Jax were having a closed door meeting.

"I had printed out the revised contract for him and Y/N to sign right? Then my sister-in-law asked me to process her papers for a marriage contract so I could submit them to the courts, then she could get her marriage licence. But I know someone that can take a shortcut and-somehow I mixed up the documents so-Colson and Y/N signed-in actual fact-not only a marriage contract but a marriage certificate. I don't know how I missed it..probably it was in between their documents and they mistakenly signed it. Well..it was my mistake but I then went on to submit it to court now-" Andre sighed and gulped down his third glass of whiskey, forgetting that it was only a little after 6:00am.

"Now some douche from the marriage office got his dirty hands on the documents and is blackmailing us for freakin' $5mil. Thanks for that Andre. Thanks a lot!" Byron spat. He pulled at his hair in agitation and threw deathly daggers at Andre.

"Look I know I messed up okay?? I'm probably going to be out of a job when Colson walks back down those stairs..I'm so screwed." Andre sank back into the couch and covered his face with a cushion. "Plus that guy has given us until noon to pay up or else.. "

"He's leaking it to the highest bidder." Byron finished off distastefully.

"How are we going to fix this Byron?" Andre sat on the edge of his seat.

"Unfortunately, you have hit a very sensitive spot..Colson is rather fond of Y/N and has developed a strong attachment to her. He doesn't know it yet but I think he's actually in love with her." Byron put his hands in his pockets and stared at the carpet thoughtfully.

"Yeah. I noticed.." Andre pursed his lips. "I'm finished aren't I?"

"Yeah." Byron nodded.

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

"Morning sweets." Colson leaned over and kissed Y/N on her forehead. "You sleep enough?"

"Ye-ah, I guess..we had a pretty late night." She sat up and stretched out her arms. "Sorry for wearing these PJs-I needed something to wear." She said sheepishly.

"What?? No need to apologize sweets, they're yours." He smiled.

"Mine?"

"Yeah-" He shifted nervously," Look Y/N there's something I need to tell you." He swallowed hard not being able to meet her eyes.

"Y/N? Wow-this has to be serious then." She pushed her back and propped herself on the headboard. "I'm listening.."

Colson explained the mess up that Andre had got them into. Y/N's face went from confusion to shock. After Colson was done she sat quietly, staring into space.

"So..what you're trying to tell me is that we're married??!"

"Yes." He finally met her bewildered expression. "We can get an annulment-"

"No! I don't want that on my record." She raised her hand.

"Tell me what you want me to do? I know apologizing is pointless but I really am sorry Y/N." Colson held her hands and looked intently at her. The remorse clearly displayed on his handsome face.

"Say something baby. Please?" She still hadn't responded to his question and it was beginning to scare him.

"I'm sorry..I need to go home." She hoped off the bed using the other end, wanting to escape. The walls felt like they were caving in and she found it hard to breath. She had to put some distance between them so she could think straight. How could she be married to Colson Baker? Married??

"Y/N! Wait!" She slammed the bathroom door in his face and locked it. "Can we talk about this?" He leaned his head against the door.

"Please sweets? Can you allow me to fix this? We're in this together remember?" The door suddenly flew open and she stood there, tears streaming down her face. It tore his heart into a million pieces seeing her like that.

"How are you going to fix this Colson?! Huh?! Please tell me??!" She cried out and started to punch his chest. He grabbed her wrists and crushed her against his chest.

"I'm really sorry okay? I'm going to fix this. Trust me okay?" He cooed as he smoothed her hair with his hands. "It's killing me to see you like this-I can't-" His voice broke and he buried his face in her neck.

They sank to the bathroom floor still in each others arms. Y/N's cries were now sniffles and her head was lying on Colson's shoulder. This was a perfect disaster. How would he even fix it? Where would he begin?

"You want to get out of here?" He broke the silence.

"Yes. Please take me as far as possible. I don't think I'll be able to handle any of this right now." She pleaded with him, her eyes still brimming with tears. He stood up and held out his hand to her and she grabbed on it as she got up.

"You can take a quick bath while I take care of our travel arrangements. Don't worry about packing clothes or anything like that-all I want is you." He kissed her gently on her lips and left her in the bathroom.

She took a quick shower and dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. There was breakfast waiting for her at the corner table, so she wolfed down a slice of toast and cheese, washed down with a glass of orange juice. When she went downstairs in search of Colson she heard loud voices coming from the poolside.

"You're fired!" Colson shouted to Andre.

"Colson it was a mistake-" Andre tried to reason.

"One that is going to ruin an innocent girls life!" Colson shot back. "Just leave! Get out of my face!"

"Wait!" Y/N called out as Andre made his way to leave.

"Y/N, please stay out of this. Let me handle it okay?" Colson walked over to her and held her shoulders.

"Andre stays." She challenged.

"What? He's responsible for-"

"He stays." She said firmly.

"No he can't-" Colson protested.

"As your wife, I say he stays." His eyes softened, he dropped his hands and stepped back to look at her.

Everyone else stared at the exchange in awe. Andre breathed a sigh of relief and wiped his face with the back of his hand. He really needed this job, he was the sole breadwinner in his family. He had a lot of people that depended on him.

"Fine." Colson said with clenched teeth. "But you will owe me big time Bambi."

"Can we leave now before the circus begins?" She said.

"Yeah-Jax we're good?" Colson asked visibly relaxed.

"Sure thing boss." Jax replied.

"Great. Now I can go and give my wife a real honeymoon. We might even have to consummate the marriage. What do you think Bambi??" Colson put his arm around Y/N and gave her a knowing look.

"Don't push it sweetie." She rolled her eyes but her heart was hammering wildly against her chest. How was she going to handle being totally alone with the sexy, irresistible Colson Baker?

*********************************************

"Who's this?" Colson barked into the phone.

"Is that the way to greet you best friend?" Slim chuckled softly.

"Hey, how's it going dude? You alright?" Colson sat on the edge of the bed.

"I would be alright if you got me out of here. Today preferably. Otherwise..I might be tempted to bribe one of the nurses to-"

"Slim you know this is for your own good. You almost died man! I can't have that on my conscious again." Colson ran his fingers through his hair and sighed audibly. Slim needed to stay in rehab, but he didn't seem to understand that. This could be his only hope of staying alive, he had too many close calls so far.

"Listen, if you don't get me out of here this very minute then you're going to force me to do something that we will both regret. You more than me though-because you have so much more to lose." Slim said aggressively, "don't push me Col."

"That sounds like a threat?" Colson scowled. "You know better than to do that." He tut-tutted.

"Really?? How's that sweet doe-eyed obsession of yours? I wouldn't mind-" Slim taunted.

"Leave Y/N out of this okay! Touch her and you're finished. You will never work in this country again." Colson stood and gripped the phone tighter. His anger emanating through the phone.

"She might be sweeter than Dani...Now Dani was wild in the sack man, I can understand why you were hooked on her..it's a pity she had to die.." He mocked.

"You are the reason she's dead!" Colson shot back.

"Oh no, no, no. Don't give me all the credit man. You are as much to blame." Slim said deadly calm.

"Go to hell!" Colson cut the call and smashed his iPhone against the wall.

Slim had pushed him too far this time and he was going to pay dearly. How did someone claim to be your friend and then do something that contradicts the statement? How could he threaten Y/N, the only person that he had shown any remote interest since Dani?

"Hey Col, everything okay?" Byron entered the room with caution.

"I want Slim gone. I don't care how you do it but I want him gone." Colson punched his hand with force. "He dares to threaten me? Threaten Y/N?? After everything I've done for him and this is what….I want him gone." He said through gritted teeth.

"Okay," Byron sat down slowly, "I won't even ask, you can tell me whenever you're ready... But the jewelers are here, they're waiting in the study." He stood up again and turned at the door. "You can come down when you've-calmed down."

Colson went to freshen up and went to fetch Y/N from her room. He knocked softly and couldn't help but smile, when she opened the door for him. He dipped his head and kissed her softly on the lips and deepened the kiss as he felt her respond. He pushed her back onto the bed as he sought solace from the only place he knew. Sensing his need she poured herself into him and gave as good as she got. Colson finally broke off the kiss reluctantly, their breathing heavy and their eyes hazy.

"I really don't want to do this sweets, but..we have to go downstairs." He sighed and pushed back Y/N's unruly hair, "the jeweler is here and I'd like you to pick out your ring or rings, whatever you prefer is fine."

"Colson..you don't have to do this. This isn't even a proper marriage." Y/N protested.

"I know sweets but if we're going to do this then I suggest we play the part to the T. otherwise no one will believe our little story." He said as he sat at the edge of the bed.

"I thought we weren't giving in to the blackmailer's demands?" she sat up and tried to salvage her hair. She grabbed the brush on the dresser and swept it through her hair.

"We're not, we're going to beat him at his own game." Colson watched her, mesmerized.

"You okay there Baker? Would you like a spin?" She waved the brush in his face and laughed.

"Would you..brush my hair? No one's ever done that-well besides my stylist." He shrugged.

"Sure..if you really want me to.. I might as well start performing my wifely duties." The brush felt so good as it swept though his hair, he couldn't help but groan in appreciation.

"That feels so good." He closed his eyes and leaned into her. His hands went round her waist and before he could venture any further there was a loud knock.

"We're coming down in a minute-go-away!" Colson called out, his hands still wrapped around Y/N.

"We should go babe, its a quarter to eleven." Y/N didn't realize the slip but he did.

"Don't ever stop," he said.

"What?" she frowned.

"Don't ever stop calling me that," he pecked her lips and stood up. Y/N nodded dumbly, unsure how to respond.

"Let's go Bambi," he pulled her hand and led her downstairs.

The study was already occupied with the jewelers, Jax and Byron. Colson walked in and looked around, not at all pleased.

"Right this is what's going to happen-I want every one out, including you two," he pointed at the jewelers, "this moment is between my wife and I, no one else. We will let you know on how much to bill us once we've decided. I don't want her to feel pressured or uncomfortable so get," he pointed towards the door.

Everyone shuffled out wordlessly and Y/N turned to Colson with a frown.

"Was that necessary Baker?" she folded her arms.

"Yes," he simply said, "shall we begin Mrs Baker?" he pulled out a chair for her.

"Thank you Mr Baker," she smiled at him as she sat down.

"If you keep looking at me like that then I'm going to be forced to kiss you until you breathless," he stared into her big brown eyes.

"I dare you," she whispered, her heart racing.

Colson didn't need to be urged on any further; he pulled Y/N off the chair and brushed his lips over hers, torturously slowly and softly. Y/N strained her lips towards him in an effort to deepen the kiss and appease the havoc that simple act was causing in her body.

"I think we have to stop now-otherwise I won't be able to control myself," he leaned his forehead on hers.

"Okay," she replied, in barely a whisper.

"I know I promised to keep my distance..but I can't Bambi..you make it so hard..especially when you look at me like that," he gulped, "with such intensity-such innocence, I don't want to taint you," he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Colson..there's something I need to tell you.." Y/N diverted her gaze from him.

"Please don't say you want to leave-" he looked at her, in anguish.

"No that's not it," she shook hear head vehemently.

"Then what is it?" he turned her chin up and searched her face for answers.

"I'm not a virgin," she removed his hands from her face and went to sit down on the chaise, at the far end of the room.

Colson stood there, his hard-drive still trying to process the information that she had just laid on him. She wasn't a virgin? But that was good right? But why did she seem so sad, instead of relieved? Was she perhaps raped? Abused? He would make them pay, whoever it was they would pay, he would find them and make them pay, he thought. Y/N took his delayed response as a bad sign. She should have told him sooner, then maybe he wouldn't look so disappointed.

"Y/N, look at me," he sat next to her and held her hands, "I don't care okay? That's irrelevant sweets."

"What?" She frowned slightly.

"Sorry-that came out wrong-let me re-phrase okay?" he gave her a lopsided grin, "It doesn't matter to me okay? I know you have a past and it's nothing to be ashamed of sweets. Mine is probably ten times worse than yours," he laughed. "This doesn't change the way I feel about you okay?"

"I thought you would be disappointed," she said with despair.

"Never," he cupped her face in his hands.

"But you don't know the full story-" she protested.

"And I don't need to okay? When you're ready to tell me then you will-but for now please choose a ring baby?" They laughed and lightened the tension.

She finally settled on a simple ring in platinum with a ruby and a double row of round brilliant diamonds. They had matching wedding bands in white gold, encrusted with white diamonds. They instinctively exchanged weddings bands and smiled at each other, as they slipped the rings on each others fingers.

"You're mine now," he said before he kissed her softly.

"Does it work both ways," she countered as her heart fluttered.

"Try getting a divorce and you will see exactly how it works," he smiled at her as he held up his iPhone and took multiple shots of their rings and entwined hands. They started goofing around with the camera and took more funny photos and Colson posted the best ones on his social media; until Byron knocked on the door.

"Colson it's almost noon and the pressure is on.. you're good to go?" Byron peered through the door.

"We're more than good By, check my latest tweet," he scrolled through his phone showing Byron the photos and social media posts., "it already has over 20,000 views in less than ten minutes.

#shesaidyes #ilikeditsoiputaringonit #relationshipgoals #itsofficial #mrsandmrsbaker

"Well, this is very convincing! Hey, even I'm falling for it," Byron chuckled, "you guys have great chemistry so it will be easy for the media to eat it up."

"The only person I want to eat it is the blackmailer," Colson said as he slipped his phone into his pocket.

"Andre managed to trap him. We have managed to trace the call and he's on his way to pick him up-with the cops of course," Byron said with satisfaction.

"At least Andre did something right for a change," Colson scoffed.

"Babe, can I go and call my mom now? I promised to call her ages ago and I'm sure she's in hysterics by now.." Y/N put her hands on Colson's chest and Byron raised an eyebrow.

"Sweets, I can't apologize enough about all this-" he held her face.

"Don't- it's not your fault okay?" she kissed him again.

"I'll be up in a moment, let me finish up here okay?" Colson kissed her forehead and she left.

"So..Babe??" Byron laughed, "I got a feeling this isn't pretend anymore.."

"Shut up," Colson said, "when are you going to release the press statement? Is my jet ready? I need to get to New York for that charity benefit tonight."

"Yeah, I'm on it. We can leave for New York, whenever you're ready," Byron said.

"Great, I want to leave now. Can you ask Jax to pick up Y/N's friends and meet us at the airstrip? I'll go and make sure my bags are packed." Colson's phone rang as he made to leave.

"Baker," he said.

"So I guess congratulations are in order bro?" Slim said.

"What do you want??" Colson stiffened.

"Hey bro! Chill out! Why are you all up tight?? You just got married man! Loosen up," Slim laughed.

"You're kidding right? You have some nerve-"

"Dude, you need to chill okay? Are we still going to the charity benefit?" Slim asked.

Colson sighed as he raked his hair. "You bust out of rehab didn't you?"

"You know me too well Col," Slim cackled.

*********************************************

"I still can't decide what to wear!" Liv said, exasperated. She had gone through the closet about a million times and was even more confused than before.

"Don't worry, Michelle will be here soon," Y/N looked up from her phone.

"So has your Mom calmed down yet?" Lisa asked as she plopped herself onto the bed.

"No, she's freaking out for days!" Y/N frowned. Ever since they announced their marriage her mother was inundated with calls and was being hounded by the media again. Mrs Y/M/L/N was upset that Y/N got married without telling her and felt like she was way in over her head. She had even demanded Y/N catch the first flight home but she was adamant about staying with Colson. For now they had agreed to disagree.

"Hallooo there Mrs Baker!!" Ashleigh barged into the room and launched herself onto Y/N, causing them to fall off the bed.

"You could have just said hi like a normal person," Y/N giggled as Ashleigh straddled her.

"I leave you alone for a couple of days and you come back as Colson Baker's freakin' wife!" Ashleigh pretended to strangle her, "Oh-my-days! Will you look at the size of the rock on that ring???!"

"It's beautiful isn't it?" Y/N twisted the ring on her finger.

"Thanks for the heads up by the way," Ashleigh scowled.

"Sorry Ash, it just happened," Y/N said, out of breath, "Let me up!" she protested.

"Such things just don't happen-oh hey there Lisa! Liv!" she hugged them.

"Right, everyone in the sitting room now, we don't have much time," Michelle bust open the door and commanded everyone to start getting ready, "Y/N you're up first, Colson will be coming for you soon."

"Oh, I thought I was going with everyone else.." Y/N said.

"Not a chance, you're Colson's wife now so it's a whole new ball game. Congratulations by the way," Michelle smiled, "you need to get your make up done so you can stay in here. Let me just grab my bag, I'll be right back."

Michelle had chosen a Chanel emerald embroidered fishtail maxi dress. It accentuated all Y/N's curves, a low-cut back exposed her smooth tanned skin; fashioned from a luxurious velvet and lace material with hand embroidery all over the dress. The fishtail design and mermaid hem created a perfect silhouette. Her hair was swept up into a neat bubble-bun and a smokey-eye look for her make-up, her lipstick was a matte in crimson.

"You clean up nice Mrs Baker," Michelle admired her handiwork and handed Y/N a matching clutch purse.

"Good job as always! I can't even recognize myself," Y/N twirled around.

"Colson will not be able to keep his hands off you tonight, hope you're on birth control," Michelle joked and they laughed. There was a soft knock on the door and Michelle opened it on her way out, "hey Col, she's all yours."

Tagged: @kellysimagines

#machine gun kelly #colson baker #mgk #machine gun kelly x reader #machine gun kelly imagine #colson baker x reader #colson baker imagine #fan fiction

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