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viviennevermillion · 2 years

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Pantalone's Backstory

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note: welcome to "I give my favorite character a very depressing backstory before we get one in canon". suffer with me. these are some headcanons I made up for what might have happened in pantalone's life. I cried writing this, I am in pain

contains: angst, general headcanons about his backstory, me making up stuff about his family tree, the ✨ baizhu ✨ conspiracy

warnings: mentions of death and illness of loved ones, exploitation by the rich, prostitution, terrible working conditions, miscarriage, descriptions of bullying and abuse (most of these things do not happen to pantalone himself but his family members)

P a n t a l o n e

Pantalone has been loved before but he's learnt that without money, love was not able to thrive nor last.

The first instance in which he notices this was his mother.

Pantalone was born into a rather poor family, with his dad being the one to bring home all the earnings for the family. They lived in a worn-down old house near the city and his dad owned a little restaurant that the locals would frequently visit.

When a wealthy business man opened a restaurant chain in the city, Pantalone's father was "in the way" and thus the man caused the little restaurant and its owner to go bankrupt. Left with a mountain of debt and no source of income to reasonably pay it off with, Pantalone's father along with the whole family was catapulted into poverty and having to fight for enough resources to keep all family members alive and healthy.

The business man eventually married Pantalone's mother after she had left the family to be with him. Pantalone was very young at the time and did not understand why his mother had just abandoned them. Why he couldn't have all the things they did. Why she turned him away when he showed up at their doorstep wanting to see her. Why he never got any special gifts like the other kids his age

While the other children would often come to school with brand new, shiny toys that their parents bought them for their birthday or other holidays, the most Pantalone had was wooden figures handmade by his dad. Which he appreciated of course. He knew his father could not afford anything else. The other kids however did not.

They'd often make fun of him for his second-hand clothing that came from cheap merchant stands or donations and for being poor and very thin. There were times Pantalone was malnourished because his family didn't always have enough food. The other kids would break the toys his dad made for him, calling them pathetic.

When Pantalone tried to fight back he was reprimanded by his teachers because "violence is not the answer" despite the fact that Pantalone was a very weak child who couldn't seriously injure anyone nor was he at fault for the conflicts that had occured.

When times were particularly bad, his father would have to beg for money on the streets. Pantalone remembers being 10 and coming to see his dad only to watch him be beaten up and spat at by the drunk heir to a wealthy family. Pantalone remembers asking his father what happened and him just trying to smile, pat his head an tell him not to worry about it. Pantalone remembers what he felt like when he knelt down beside his father to fish the Mora out of the dirt and puddles where the man had tossed his father's hat in which he collected the money people had given him.

When Pantalone was 14, his sister who was ten years older than him became pregnant from a man who had left her upon finding out about the baby.

Because she feared not having enough Mora to care for both herself and her son, Pantalone's sister turned to prostitution to be able to feed her kid once he was born, as no other workplace had agreed to hire her.

Due to complications with the pregnancy and the lack of necessary financial aid to pay for the medical support, Pantalone's sister lost her child before it was even born.

Not long after, she herself passed away in what was framed as "an unfortunate work accident".

Pantalone had held his sister's hand on the hospital bed during her final moments

Over and over again Pantalone had to watch the rich enjoy themselves at the expense of his family. He had to watch them bring ruin upon the people he cared about. He witnessed them pray to the gods and thank them for blessing them with the wealth they had. And all the while Pantalone asked himself why the gods hated him and his family. What his dad and his sister had done to deserve the hand they were dealt.

That's what Pantalone internalized. That the gods despised him and that he would despise the gods in return. That they deserved to be destroyed.

Pantalone's father eventually took on a mining job. The miners would gather precious gems in harsh conditions that would later be used to craft fine jewelry for the rich and entitled. His dad already suffered from health issues due to the bad work environment and often came home with injuries, but the job paid enough for him to be able to provide for his son somewhat properly.

But when his father was caught trying to steal some gems to free them from the poverty they lived in, he was forced to work for even longer each day in order to not be fined and forced into even more debt. While his father was at work for 13 hours each day, Pantalone would take care of the household.

In his youth he often took on simple jobs to help out his dad.

The terrible working conditions have left Pantalone's father in bad health conditions and he's also in a wheelchair now and cannot speak anymore after an accident while mining in the mountains.

Pantalone has learnt sign language to communicate with his father.

The reason why he and Dottore are rather close is because Pantalone provides the funding for Dottores experiments while Dottore uses his medical knowledge to make sure Pantalone's father is kept in stable condition and is able to live for longer than the doctors had expected him to.

After becoming the richest Fatui Harbinger, Pantalone had met his mother again on the street. The woman did not recognize him anymore as she hadn't seen him in decades and now she was ready to engage in idle chit-chat with the man she thought was a stranger. He had asked her questions about her life with the false, polite smile he always wore on his face and she'd happily answer them, bragging about her life that was filled with nothing she had ever truly earnt. Pantalone looked at her face and remembered how he rang her doorbell in the pouring rain when he was 6. How he saw her glimpse through the curtains and pretend that she wasn't home. How her husband eventually sent him away and threatened to call the authorities if Pantalone wouldn't leave their property.

Pantalone remembered everyone who had brought ruin upon him and his family. He abandoned his given name, became "Pantalone", bought out their businesses and sent them spiraling into financial debt just as they had once done with his father. He made sure their shadiest deals and their crimes would become public to remove any chance for them to exit the poverty they were now forced to live in. The tables had turned for Pantalone.

As for his mother's husband....well, the man eventually died under "mysterious circumstances" after Pantalone had hired an assassin to take care of the matter.

Pantalone's mother was now a rich widow and the wealth of her late husband belonged to her and the son she had with him. The golden child who was given every support he ever needed. Who grew up in luxury and was able to study medicine due to his parents' funding of his studies. Pantalone had never held a conversation with his half-brother, but the intel he had on him was enough for him to despise that pharmacist with every fiber of his being.

Now that he had taken care of the wealthy, the gods would be next.

#genshin impact #pantalone #pantalone headcanons

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usagi-zakura · 1 month

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Fandom sometimes needs to sit their ass down and chill... part 2

Decided to put this one in a separate post because its directed at a different fandom.

Hazbin Hotel.

No its not about expecting demons to be decent people this time...and its mainly criticism directed at the subreddit where some fans have decided to find a bunch of plot holes where there are none because they didn't actually watch the show...

Or something I've been seeing more of recently... people expecting this to be a direct adaptation of the Bible.

A question that keeps popping up is "How is Adam the first human soul in Heaven when he had a son who died before him??"

Referring of course to Abel, of Cain and Abel fame. God's favorite boi because he scarified meat instead of vegetables...so his brother got jealous and murdered him. Presumably Adam was still alive a this point as he went on to have another child.

Hazbin Hotel makes no mention of this... so there's no reason to belive it even happened. Hazbin Hotel borrows some characters from Abrahamic myths, but it has never advertised itself as a 1 to 1 adaptation of the Bible.

It would feel kinda awkward if Sera referred to Adam as "the second human soul in heaven after his kid who got brutally murdered by his own brother but we're not gonna talk about him ever because he's not important to the plot", that'd just be confusing to any fan who isn't familiar with that particular story. Making the bible required reading for an adult cartoon is a little weird.

Its easier to just ignore that story entirely if its not gonna be important to the plot.

Lilith isn't in the bible either.

Shocker I know... She was invented way later, maybe as a reason to explain why in Genesis 1 God creates man and woman at the same time but afterwards he creates Eve separately... Any mention of the name "Lilith" in the old testament doesn't seem to refer to a human, but is mentioned more like the name of a species... some scholars belive it was a bird, or possibly even some kind of demon that may or may not have been important to early Hebrews...or they borrowed the word from some other religion. Happened a lot back on the day.

I look at it more like Disney's Hercules. It borrows the names and general concept of the Greek Pantheon (but changes Hercules' name to the Roman one for some reason...) but does the story in a widly different way...I've never seen someone call out the lack of Hercules/Heracles's brother Iphicles as a huge plot hole in that film... yes he had a brother... or the fact that it features Zeus not as a massive perv with no respect for marriage, whether its his own or his great-granddaughter... Yea that's right... Harecles' mother was also Zeus' great-granddaughter... and that's not even the worst case of incest committed by the King of the Greek Gods...

Same with Hazbin. It borrows some of the characters, that doesn't mean they'll borrow the whole mythology... even if it sometimes would be interesting if they did.... they had 8 episodes... probably wouldn't have time to touch on Adam's messed up sons. Its too busy focusing on how bad both his marriages went.

My point is if you keep expecting creators do do something specific that they never promised they would...don't get mad at them when they don't do that thing... Its not their fault your expectations were wildly different from their plans.

#usagi rants #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel rant #though not directed at the actual show this time

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blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk · 9 months

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May I please request “That Would Be Enough” from Hamilton + Dagger or Peter? If I already made this request before, please lmk.

you didn't make this one yet, you're all good!

anyway if you'll excuse me I'm gonna go cry myself a sweater of tears over this =)

DISCLAIMER: This is a songfic to the song “That Would Be Enough” from Hamilton! I don’t own the song, don’t claim to, and am not profiting off this piece at all.

Look around, look around at how lucky we are to be alive right now look around, look around how long have you known? A month or so (Name), you should have told me I wrote to the general a month ago (no) I begged him to send you home you should have told me

As much as PETER knows it isn’t really your fault that the fact of your being pregnant came out the way they did, he’s feeling far too many things to settle.

Joy, because some small part of him always wanted children despite not knowing if he was capable of having any. Fear, because the two of you weren’t planning this, and this life of his is no life for raising a child. Anger, because he should have known about all of this sooner and been by your side before now. Pride, because… there’s no way he couldn’t be proud of himself and of you.

Worry, because how the hell is he going to take care of a child when his small family is only just scraping by? What kind of fucking father is someone like him going to be?

He left after an outburst that probably makes you question whether you actually want to have a child with him. And he hates that he reacted this way; now he has another thing to be afraid of, that you might think he’s upset that you’re pregnant.

He’s not. He’s just… scared. That’s a big thing to admit to you, and he doesn’t really want to do it.

It’s a good thing you know where to find him after giving him an hour or so to cool down a bit. He still finds himself jumping when you set a hand over his. “Peter.”

“’Ow long?” He can’t help that it comes out so harsh, like a snap at you. It’s a curse, that he feels like he doesn’t know how to exist any other way. “’Ow long y’ been… was I ever gonna find out? Y’ didn’t want me t’ know till now?”

The mere sensation of your fingers curling around his tells him that isn’t the case. “I wrote a letter to Joker, asking that he would give you a day or two off to come see me, because I had news for you. I put that letter right into the Baron’s hands, and he assured me he would… make sure it reached you all.”

Peter has to scoff at that. Their so-called father never would have given that letter to Joker, would he? The Baron has never been generous when it comes to letting them mingle with other people. Should the letter have reached its intended instead of the Baron’s fireplace would be a surprise. “Well, ‘e didn’t. Y’ shoulda told me before. Y’ shoulda come ‘ere ‘n’ told me. I…”

Can he even say it? He has to look away from you and mumble it. “… I wish I woulda known. I woulda been ‘appier knowin’ sooner.”

I’m not sorry I knew you’d fight until the war was won (the war’s not done) but you deserve a chance to meet your son look around, look around at how lucky we are to be alive right now will you relish being a poor man’s wife, unable to provide for your life? I relish being your wife

Even without looking, he knows your other hand is fidgeting with your dress. God, the two of you know each other far too well. “I didn’t mean for you to find out like this. Believe me, Peter, I wanted you to know. It’s just…”

Just like that, the noise of shifting fabric lets him know that you’ve put a hand over your stomach. Almost protectively, sounds like. It’s such a simple thing, but he wants to cry. You’re not really even showing yet, and you already want to keep this child safe.

“I thought this would be easier,” you sigh. Your head comes down on top of his, prompting him to lean closer. He’s not wound so tightly that he doesn’t want to be close to you. “You and the others are so busy. Whatever you’re trying to do, it won’t be over for a while. But… I thought if I sent for you… and then I got to tell you in private… maybe you would take a break. Maybe you would be more… careful.”

He lets out a scoff. Whether or not you understand what’s really going on is up for debate. Those words from you still make him feel warm. “Careful, precious?”

You shake your head, lightly so it doesn’t jostle him. “I just… worry, that’s all. You don’t sleep enough, you don’t eat enough, you work too hard…” Your face turns to press a kiss into his hair and immediately, he feels the tension start to bleed out of him. “I want you around to be a father to your son.”

“Dunno why y’d want that.” He wants to kick himself, that his first reaction is to say something bitter. That’s not right. He should thank you for saying that, he should express how ungodly happy it makes him that you want him alive and healthy. It makes him happier than anything that you want your child to know him. “Ain’t like I’ll really be able t’ take care’a y’ two.”

He leans against you; in an unconscious bid for security, stability, things he only ever feels when he’s in your embrace. “Look round f’r a minute, sweet’eart. Look where y’re at, ‘n’ w’o I am, ‘n’ wot I’m doin’. Y’ think I could give a family anythin’? Y’ really wanna stay wit’ someone… I… I ain’t gonna be able t’ buy clothes f’r a little one. Ain’t gonna ‘ave a real ‘ouse ‘r nothin’. Y’ really want our son t’ grow up in a fuckin’ circus?”

“Yes.” Your answer is instant, accompanied by pulling him into a hug. Tears prick at the edges of his eyes, and he thinks he sees some in yours as well. He knows, he knows you hate it when he talks about himself like that. “If it means he knows his father, and you know your son, then yes.”

look around, look around look at where you are look at where you started the fact that you’re alive is a miracle just stay alive; that would be enough and if this child shares a fraction of your smile or a fragment of your mind, look out, world that would be enough

He almost tries to fight at first, because dammit, he wants to be angry about this. Anyone in their right mind would be angry! Who are you to act like everything’s going to be alright just because his child will grow up having a father?

What about food? A home? Clothes and toys and an actual education? Even though you’re better off than he is, there’s so much that a child needs and should have. Wouldn’t you rather go have someone who can take care of you and the baby? He doesn’t understand. If it were his choice entirely, he’d take this stupid simple ring off his finger and give it to the next person who had some money, so that you and his child would stand a chance at being taken care of.

There are so many things he can’t do. Taking care of a family is just one more, and he’s never felt fear like this before.

“You look around for a minute, sweetheart.” Your voice jolts him out of his horrible, terrifying spiral. You even draw away from him briefly, grasping his cheeks in your hand and turning his face out to the fairgrounds. He loves his family, deeply, and they’re all doing the best he can, but he doesn’t see anything that’s any good for a child.

You apparently have a different opinion. “Do you know what I see when I look out there? I see the perfect place to raise our child. You told me you grew up on the streets, didn’t you? You and Wendy were alone until you found the others. You started out there, and look where you are now. We’ve still got our troubles, but every time I visit, I’m swallowed up by so much love it nearly drowns me. Not just from you and Wendy, but from the others. You all beat the odds. Every breath you take spites the world that was cruel to you, and you are a strong man, Peter.”

Here you turn his face back to you, so that you can give him a kiss. He softens himself the smallest bit, pressing into you desperately. He didn’t know how badly he needed the reminder that you chose him. That you see something good in him.

“Please don’t make this the hill you roll over and die on,” you whisper against his lips. “It doesn’t matter that you aren’t some wealthy nobleman. If that’s what I wanted, I would have gone after one. But I want you. And I want you to be my son’s father. I hope to God he’ll turn out to be even half the man you are.”

Your hands sift through his hair, and that’s the point where he can feel tears start to roll down his cheeks. It’s so much, it’s all so much.

“What’s that thing you always say…?” You press the tip of your nose to his. “We’ve got each other, so fuck the rest of the world. That’s enough.”

I don’t pretend to know the challenges you’re facing the worlds you keep erasing and creating in your mind but I’m not afraid I know who I married so long as you come home at the end of the day that would be enough

Peter doesn’t recognize his own breath when he takes it, shaky and out of control. He never cries. What the hell is wrong with him? There are so many thoughts racing through his mind, so many possible futures that could be ruined because of things that he does or doesn’t do, he can barely keep up.

The idea that he might love his child as much as a person is capable of love and something still goes wrong scares him more than anything. It’s not fair. He can see it happening, that he works as hard as he can and he still can’t provide for his family.

He can see you leaving him because he isn’t able to take care of you and the baby. He can see his son crying with hunger because there isn’t enough food. He can see the two of you on the street, somewhere he never wants to be again, with a little bundle in your arms that you’re struggling to keep warm. He can see the Baron, God fucking forbid, making an order and… he can’t… I can’t do this…

As always, you dull his thoughts with another kiss. He suddenly comes back to the present, and it dawns on him how tightly he’s holding you. His hands are probably making fingerprint bruises on your back, with his grip on you as if you’re a lifeline on a sinking ship.

He cries into the kiss and he doesn’t feel strong enough to let go of you. Even though you were just telling him how strong he is, he feels so weak.

“I’m scared,” he finally admits before looking up at you. He’s a mess, isn’t he? He’s a miserable little creature, so full of anger and fear that he can’t see past his own damn nose for it. You’re trying to comfort him, and instead of feeling any solace, his mind can’t stop jumping to the worst things that could happen. “Our son deserves the w’ole world, and I know I can’t give it to ‘im. I can’t even give it t’ y’. We’re jus’ one tiny slip away from fallin’ int’ somethin’ really, really bad. I’m scared. I’m so fuckin’ scared, (Name).”

Your hand in his hair again, brushing it away from his face with a long, slow stroke, is enough to keep his heart from beating out of his chest. He can’t believe it when you smile at him.

“I’m not, because I know the man I married. You don’t take good care of yourself, but you’ll take care of us.” You press your forehead to his. “As long as our child and I have you, everything will be fine.”

we don’t need a legacy we don’t need money if I could grant you peace of mind if you could let me inside your heart oh, let me be a part of the narrative in the story they will write someday let this moment be the first chapter where you decide to stay

Not being afraid in this situation doesn’t make sense to him. How? How can you be so sure? He’s not sure! How on God’s green Earth are you not the slightest bit frightened about what the future holds? Just because you have him? He has you and he’s terrified!

At last you reach down to take his hands, and he knows they feel so small in yours. But he can also feel, as you run your fingertips over them, his calluses and the little muscles that run through his wrists. He can feel you tracing the aches that he always has, the ones that are a result of working so hard.

He knows he works hard, because he feels it in every bone of his body. Is that why you’re not afraid? You think all his hard work means something?

“Who cares about money or status or any of those things? I don’t. We don’t need it.” You give his hands a gentle squeeze. “All we need is you. We’ll have love, so that means everything else doesn’t matter. Love will get us through times of no money more than money would get us through times of no love. I wish I could make you see that… as long as we have each other, then we can figure everything else out. We don’t have much, but I know you won’t let us need for anything. And I’m not going to simply sit here and look pretty; I’m going to do what I can to help. Neither of us are alone, my love. Can’t you see that? Can’t you open up that big heart you pretend you don’t have, and feel that everything’s going to be okay?”

He tries to squeeze your hands back in kind. Another handful of breaths are pulled in through his lips, an attempt to steady himself. If he’s as strong as you say he is… and he knows that he’d push himself to work twice as hard to make sure he could provide for you and his child…

He doesn’t want to just leave you. He loves you so much. He loves his unborn child. He wants to be around to be your husband and to be his son’s father. Even if he’s scared right now. The thought of walking away because he doesn’t feel competent makes him angry with himself.

Did he really think you should go be with someone else? Doesn’t that just make him a coward who has no faith in himself? Isn’t he better than that?

“Please don’t leave.” Your voice is quiet, and he almost feels his heart break. The last thing he wanted was to push you away. “Let me be a part of your story, Peter. I love you, and I… I know we can make this work. Even if it might be hard sometimes. You need to believe in yourself, because… I believe in you. And if you can’t believe in yourself, then I’ll believe in you hard enough for the both of us.”

Peter lets his hand slip out of yours, and after a moment with his hand shaking, he reaches over to place a hand over your stomach. “… The three of us, darlin’. Believe enough f’r the three of us. I’m still fuckin’ scared outta my mind… but… I ain’t gonna leave y’. Ain’t no way. Y’re the firs’ person I ever really loved, ‘n’ I… I wanna meet my li’l boy. Or girl, or whatever the ‘ell they end up bein’. Y’re batty if y’ think I’m missin’ out on that jus’ ‘cause I’m…”

“It’s not bad that you’re scared. You’re balancing me out,” you laugh, and your hand comes to rest over his. Even though you can’t see it yet, you can feel your child starting to grow inside you. “I’ll believe for the three of us, and you can be afraid for the three of us. We’ve got each other ― that’s enough, isn’t it?”

If Peter closes his eyes and presses his palm just a bit more against your stomach, he thinks he can see a glimpse of another future. A good one.

“Yeah. ‘S more than enough, precious.”

and I could be enough and we could be enough that would be enough.

#pregnancy tw #onehellofashadynerd #Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Peter #reader insert #songfic #romantic #drama #domestic #hurt/comfort #fluff #UGHHHHHHH MY HEART!!!!#can't believe u made me write this with my own two hands lol #one hell of a queue

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marshmallowdarling · 2 years

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♡Bitter (JJBA - Lisa Lisa)

Another one from my Wattpad, it was something I randomly put together with no thought before hand, I just wanted a strong MILF character though I did change the ending so its not ass angsty. Hope you enjoy it Bubs! Mwah~

"Baby girl I'm not asking you again." The older woman flicks her dark brown hair and goes to grab a pack of cigarettes but she stops herself.

"Sure, I'll stop when you let me out." (Y/N)'s is just as irritated as Lisa Lisa, she had thrown her into a house out of no where to keep her 'safe' from attacks. "You and I both know there isn't going to be any attacks, you just don't want Joseph to-"

"Enough." One single word has enough bark, enough cold seeped into it that it strikes (Y/N) right in her soul.

It's not Lisa Lisa's fault, really it isn't, but after everything that happened, after everything with Caesar's death and her-

She stands up and grabs the packet before she unlocks the backdoor and slams it behind her.

-No, she can't think about him, he's long gone and she has a new lover to take care off. This one way more fragile than her other, if he was stronger and still met his demise then what would happen to (Y/N)?

Her long fingers gracefully twirl the cigarette before she sighs. "I forgot the lighter." Lisa Lisa whispers bitterly as she leans her head on the wall.

'Joseph, Oh Joseph why did you have to do what you did.' The thoughts of her son run through her mind.

Oh that memory its still as fresh as when it happened, the emotions, fury, anger, sorrow, disgust, are also as fresh along with the raging wound in her heart.

Joseph was just, well just being Joseph. He had flirted with (Y/N) teasing and complimenting the (H/C) female before he started to get touchy, touchy enough that Lisa Lisa was on guard, constantly keeping an eye on the both of them. A hand around her pudgy waist, an arm hooked with her's as they walked, those small pats on her shoulders. It drove Lisa Lisa insane, but he was her son so she let it go, but then Caesar's death struck and Joseph crumbled. He craved vengeance, justice to his deceased friend and then he tried to drag (Y/N) into it, even if he didn't their relationship was too close for the pillar men to look over.

Lisa Lisa was furious with Joseph, there was shouting and throwing of glass and other objects, hurtful words and swearing and smoke. Bitter bitter smoke that engulfed the room, seeping into your clothes and filling your lungs so much you can't breathe.

(Y/N) had been caught in the middle, again, like always, and Lisa Lisa just couldn't take it anymore. No more deaths, no more pain, no more memories of a person who should be alive. So she dragged her out of that god forsaken run down apartment and threw her into this small house on the edge of nowhere. It's a bit shabby but the sky blue outside and cozy interior made up for it all, thats what Lisa Lisa thought anyways, but (Y/N) was too busy trying to get out. To try and help her idiotic son and get herself kille-

Her cigarette crumbles in her hand, her grip tightening so much that the paper contorts in all sorts of ways and the filling spills out from multiple places.

She sighs before throwing the wasted stick away and walking back into the house. It's quiet, the small cozy feeling suddenly becoming claustrophobic to her as every seems so suffocating.

"Have a nice smoke?" It's rhetorical, sarcasm dripping from her tone as (Y/N) keeps her focus on one of the many books in the house. She's not reading it but if it keeps her from looking at Lisa Lisa its all she can do. She's the reason why Lisa Lisa is trying so hard to stop smoking, because she knows how much (Y/N) despises the bitter smoke that lingers on your skin and clothes no matter how much your scrub or wash.

She just strides over and plucks the book from her hands, (Y/N) goes to shout but she beats her to it. "Don't bring that boy-" Pictures of her son as a newborn, only a few minutes old, pass through her head, but she continues. "-Don't ever bring that boy up again. Do you understand me?"

Her blue eyes narrow but (Y/N) just snatches the book back and walks off.

"Maybe don't give me ways to push your buttons and I won't, Miss Lisa Lisa." She throws the book behind her and it lands with a loud thud at the woman's feet.

#yandere #soft!yandere #jjba #jjba Lisa Lisa #Yandere jjba #Yandere Lisa lisa #tw yandere #darling core #soft yandere #Yandere gxg #gxg #lesbian #lgbtq+#Yandere lesbian #lesbian jjba #lesbian Lisa lisa #chubby reader

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irrelevantwriter · 3 years

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Problem With You

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, unprotected vaginal sex, mention of bodily fluids, banter as foreplay, mental warfare, Rio being jealous...and admitting it (toxicity at its finest)

Word Count: 3.3K

Summary: Part 2. You decide you aren't going to let Rio affect you. Good luck with that.

A/N: You guys do not even understand how much I appreciate the love and support I’ve gotten for my Rio fic! Really, truly. Ya’ll know how to make a girl feel special and because of that, I wrote like a madwoman. Seriously. @likedovesinthewnd can attest to that fact lol. So here we have a part two for House Call. If you haven’t read that, I highly recommend you do. Only because I added some plot this time around. Ya girl is riding this Rio wave as far as it’ll take me, so strap in because a bitch is plottin’. I hope you guys like it. Feedback is that good shit. 💗

*Read Part 3 here

*Give and Take series masterlist

*Masterlist in bio.

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

You laughed to hide the expression of boredom you wore as you walked up the driveway to your house. Luke, your date, hovered behind you, an obvious look of hope in his green eyes.

It wasn’t happening.

“I had a really great time tonight.” He said with a sheepish smile, his boyish grin doing nothing for you.

“It was fun.” You lied, taking a step back to make your getaway.

Luke matched your movement as he started to lean in close, his intention clear. And unwanted.

“Hey, mama…”

The voice made you jump, forcing your date to move back and out of your space. You turned to your right to see Rio leaning against your parked car, legs crossed at the ankle and hands stuffed deep into the pockets of a black jacket. He was ominous looking. Mysterious, with that hint of danger that seemed to follow him everywhere. His dark eyes were trained solely on you, ignoring the other man just feet away.

“You know this guy?” Luke asked with an amateur bravado that made you want to cringe.

The men couldn’t have been more different. You knew of Luke from little league soccer. He was the father to one of the boy’s on your son’s team. He’d been divorced for a few years and had made his interest in you known once you and Paul had split. And after your rendezvous with Rio nearly two months ago, you were itching for something...anything that made you feel half as alive as you had that day.

It was not going well.

“Family friend.” You replied, gaze still captivated by the man in black.

Rio chuckled at your answer, but didn’t say anything to refute it.

“Are you-,” Luke started, addressing you with a concerned lilt to his voice.

“I’ll talk to you later. I’ve got some stuff to deal with.” You cut him off, leaving no room for argument.

Thankfully, he took the hint and nodded, pulling his car keys from his pocket. “I’ll call you.”

“Okay.” You said simply, desperately wanting him to leave you and Rio alone. The situation was beyond awkward for you. It was uncomfortable to have Rio present to view something so personal. And you could tell he was sizing Luke up, the smirk on his face saying exactly what he thought about your date for the evening.

Luke gave you and Rio one last wary glance before he was walking down your drive and to his parked car. You waited until he’d driven away before you faced Rio full on, eyebrow quirked up in annoyance.

“What’re you doing here?”

He didn’t answer you.

Instead, he straightened and began to walk in your direction, eyes appraising you and your dress. You stiffened your spine, unwilling to let him see you so flustered. That game was getting old. He would pounce on your nervousness, manipulate it to his advantage. You weren’t going to let that happen again.

In the weeks since you and Rio had slept together, he’d made his attraction for you obvious. The drop-offs were now moments for him to flirt, attempting to keep you in an anxiety-riddled state for his enjoyment. He liked to see you affected by his presence. You didn’t.

You’d regretted sleeping with him the moment it happened. You didn’t want to be involved in that aspect of his life when you were so entrenched in his business operations. It wasn’t a good look. And chances were, Rio wasn’t the type to take on a divorced mother of two from the suburbs. He led a very different life from yours. He was looking for someone to fill his needs in the moment. Nothing more, nothing less. But that’s not what you wanted. Least that’s what you told yourself.

At this point it was more about self preservation than anything else. And with Rio, your need to protect yourself was on high alert at all times. Be it your life or your dignity.

“Who was the guy?” He finally asked, his strides bringing him close enough for you to smell his cologne.

“Friend.”

“PTA or little league?” He taunted with a knowing smile.

You hated that you were that predictable. That he could read you so easily.

“Does it matter?” You snidely retorted, tightening your grasp around the black clutch gripped in your right hand.

“Nah, it doesn’t.” He replied smoothly, licking his lips...lips that you’d tasted...lips that you wanted to taste again. “We gotta talk.” He continued, face growing serious.

The shift in mood made dread knot your stomach. You swallowed thickly, eyes darting to the darkened houses and empty streets in your neighborhood.

“Inside.” You gestured behind you and turned away, leading him to your front door. You walked the steps up to your porch, not hearing him follow at first. You knew what the reason was. You’d worn a fairly modest black dress on your date with Luke. The garment hugged your figure with a high neck and long sleeves, the length stopping at your knees. The eye-catching feature of the dress was the back...or lack of. It was backless and it’d apparently gotten the attention of more than just your date tonight.

You struggled with your keys in the lock, feeling his gaze burn hot across your naked back. You shivered and sucked in a breath when you felt a delicate brush of a finger dance along your spine, his body heat now crowding you. His breath was warm against your neck, the suddenness of his actions making your head spin.

“S’cold out here. You’re shaking.” He rasped into your ear, finger still trailing in a sensual pattern against your flesh.

“It’s not the cold.” You said flatly, finally pushing open the door. You left him on the porch as you walked into the dimly lit house, setting your purse and keys on the bench in the foyer. You went straight to the kitchen, flicking on a light. The soft clicking of the door let you know he’d made his way inside after you.

You pulled two glass tumblers from the cabinet and then grabbed a bottle of whiskey that Paul had left behind. You poured the amber liquid into each glass, your mouth already preparing for the intense burn that would come with swallowing it down. You were in need of the liquid courage though.

“How’d you know my kids wouldn’t be here? You have my custody agreement memorized or something?” You asked as you sipped at the liquor, sliding the other glass towards Rio from across the kitchen island. The exact island he’d fucked you on weeks before.

You didn’t bother trying to hide your aggravation towards him. Ever since that day in your kitchen, he’d been difficult to ignore. He was a constant in your thoughts. Your dreams had only gotten more explicit, more intimate. It was irritating. You hadn’t felt right since. And it was all his fault.

“Something like that.” He said, eyeing the glass on the counter. He studied you for a long moment, as he was prone to do. He watched you gulp down the entirety of its contents, his mouth turned up in mirth.

“What’d you need to talk to me about?” You questioned, trying not to wince at the bitter taste that now sat on your tongue. The whiskey was already heating up your insides, coating them in a fine layer of confidence and nonchalance.

“How’d your date go?” He threw back, dodging your question as he finally picked up the glass and swirled its contents.

“Why?”

“I wanna know.”

He tossed the drink back in one go, his inked Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. It was a surprisingly erotic sight.

“You really wanna know about my date?” You asked incredulously, eyebrow once again raised at him in question.

“I don’t ask questions I don’t wanna know the answer to, darling. You know that.” He retorted with a testiness that made you momentarily retreat.

“It was fine.” You supplied with a shrug of your shoulders, unsure of what he was looking for. The date had actually been a disaster, but you weren’t going to divulge that to him.

He laughed. A real laugh with his head thrown back and chest vibrating.

It pissed you off.

“What the hell is your problem?” You gritted out between clenched teeth, the alcohol now rushing through your veins and fueling your rising anger.

Rio went silent. He straightened to his full height and edged past the island to stand in front of you. His face gave away nothing. No smirk. No narrowed eyes. No false sense of security with a charming smile. Nothing.

“Who says I got a problem?” He finally said, leaning into your face and making you lock eyes with his own.

Your gut reaction told you to look away, but you fought against it. Instead choosing to meet his intensity head on.

“You seem awfully interested in my personal life. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.” You taunted, fully expecting another round of laughter from him.

You should’ve known by now that Rio never did anything you expected. That’s what made him Rio.

“And if I was?” He challenged, not backing down from your accusations. He shifted closer, forcing you to lean back. “If I said I’d kill him for touching what’s mine. What would you do? Hmm?” He continued, eyes roaming your body as he spoke. His voice grew thicker, the desire now suddenly apparent and washing over you like molasses.

“You wouldn’t.” You whispered, feeling the ghost of his hands along your hips. The barely there touch made your body come alive with familiarity, the memory settling right between your thighs.

“I don’t make threats I don’t plan on acting on, baby. You know that.” He teased, throwing his own words back at you.

“I’m not yours.” You shook your head, tightening your hands into fists to keep them at your sides.

He laughed, though the sound held no real humor. “Yeah, you are.” He said with a nod, hand reaching around to drag along your back, making your eyes fall shut.

His touch felt so good. Intoxicating. Like your body knew who it’d been waiting for this entire time. You’d been a fool to think you could replace the feeling.

“What do you want?” You asked, exhaustion lacing your words. You felt like you asked him that same question every moment you were together. You knew the answer this time though. You were just hoping you were wrong.

“You.” He whispered, finger now caressing your cheek and pushing waywards strands of hair off your face.

You’d been expecting the response, but it still jolted you. Still made you fraught with worry and unease. You lashed out, pushing his hand away and putting distance between your bodies.

“You want me to quit my job. Leave my kids. To do what with you? Run away to wash money and run drugs?”

“Yeah.”

You studied his face for several silent seconds, searching for any traces of humor. There were none. He was serious. Unflinchingly honest in his desire to have you.

“Well, that’s not gonna happen. So you should probably go.”

You brushed off his words and moved past him and towards the entryway, ready to see him out. You didn’t get far. You made it to the other side of the island before a hand reached out for you and slammed you back against a firm chest. You gasped, unable to pull away as another hand attached to your other arm. They held you by your elbows, forcing your backside to press dangerously close to his front.

He’d moved quickly and without warning, nearly knocking you off your heels. You were both breathing heavy, both from the movement and the lust that threatened to spill over and bleed out all across your hardwood floors.

“You’re stubborn as shit.” Rio breathed into your ear, his grip tightening around your arms and forcing you to still.

“I’m smart.” You retorted, feeling yourself start to loosen in his hold. His chest was pressed tightly to your bare back, his crotch nestled almost perfectly against your ass. Your lower body shifted under the guise of pulling away, but you felt it. And so did he.

“Yeah, that too.” He whispered.

His face buried itself into your neck, lips covering the area with kisses. You arched into his touch, getting lost in the familiar sensations. His hands dropped from your arms and reached for the hem of your dress, pulling the fabric up your thighs.

It was happening again. The vortex that swallowed you up last time was back and it was making time simultaneously speed up and slow down. The outside world felt like it was at a stand still while you and Rio reintroduced your bodies to each other. The soft touches and gentle caresses morphed into hungry grasps and passionate clutches. His mouth worked over your neck and sucked, knowing exactly what that action did to you. You reached around and ran your nails over his scalp, feeling him shiver in response.

Your feet shuffled as he led you to your couch, pressing you into the back of it. You pushed your ass out and into him, feeling the length of him beyond your clothes. His hands tightened around your hips and then traveled under your dress. You gripped the cushions as he tore your panties away, the savagery of it making your thighs slide obnoxiously together. You moaned when his rough hands kneaded your ass, spreading the flesh to see what was waiting for him.

Through the fog your heard a distinct growl that reviberated from his chest and went straight to your throbbing sex, your walls desperately clenching around nothing. You bit your lip when you felt the head of him at your entrance, the heat from his flesh so overwhelming that your knees nearly buckled.

“Spread your legs, mama. Let me in.” He instructed, hand latching onto one of your shoulders for leverage.

You obeyed his command. You obeyed because that’s what you always did. You always ended up doing as he said. And that’s what scared you. Not the illegal shit or the risk of throwing your whole life away. It scared you with how complacent you could be to him. And you knew that eventually you’d give him the life he wanted from you.

A strangled moan fell from your lips as he began to push forward. He felt larger this way. Felt as if he could reach all the way into your chest if he wanted to. You pushed back for more when he teased you, sliding back out and refastening his hold on you.

In the next moment he was fully embedded inside of you, pulsing with such a need that you could do nothing but tighten around him. He appreciated the sentiment. You cried out in what sounded like agony, but was in fact an unbearable amount of pleasure that felt nearly spiritual.

His hips slammed into yours with wild abandon. You steadied yourself along the couch, feeling the piece of furniture slide across the floor with every thrust. In this position he had full access to you, and he utilized it. He roamed your body freely and without permission, making you beg for more. You couldn’t see him. And that was just fine because you could feel him. You could feel every hard line and groove. Every brush of his fingertips and bruising kiss. You could feel it all.

“Fuck...I-,” You gasped as you circled your clit, feeling him hit so deep that you were forced onto your tiptoes in your heels. “I’m gonna cum.”

Your confession earned harder, slower strokes. They made you see stars. And within seconds your entire body was spasming with waves of pleasure akin to electrical shocks. The force of it was almost painful. Sounds that you didn’t recognize flew past your lips as you trapped him inside of you and rode out the blissful high.

His hand moved from your shoulder to the back of your head, readying himself for his own release. You went limp after such a powerful climax and he took that as his cue to continue. His pace was forceful, low grunts permeating the air as he fucked into you. His fingers dug into your thighs in that way that made you feel owned. You clenched your inner muscles around him, coaxing him further into euphoria’s waiting arms.

“Shit,” He hissed, his hips beginning to stutter as he finally came.

You accepted every thick drop that now coated your walls. You couldn’t describe the feeling of fullness you felt with his cum settling into your womb and his twitching length still nestled tightly against your walls. But for as wrong as everything else felt with Rio, this...this felt right.

His low chuckle broke the silence as he retreated from your body slowly. You missed the sensation almost immediately.

You stood on shaky legs and pulled your dress down, seeing the shredded lace that had been your panties in a pile near your feet. You kicked off your heels, a relieved sigh leaving your lips at the action.

“I’m gonna be gone for a bit.” Rio announced suddenly, reaching up to lazily scratch at the facial hair that lined his jaw. He’d redressed, now looking like a poised professional and not someone who’d just cum inside you.

Mild panic seized your chest, but you schooled your features, attempting to play it cool.

“Gotta get back to your other life?” You retorted, choosing to be a smart ass rather than show any real concern for the man who’d just fucked you in another area in your home. Another space where your family gathered desecrated by your sins.

“Nah, this is it for me, darling.” He said with a shake of his head and lick of his lips. “Just gotta handle some things.”

“That’s not vague at all.”

He stepped to you, once again pressing you into the couch. Only this time you were facing him, breathing in the same whiskey-tinted air as he invaded your space.

“You know what your problem is?” He rasped, voice rough enough to send a tingle down your spine.

“You.” You jabbed. The liquor was working. Your lips were loosened and your attitude was running the show. You’d be lucky if Rio decided to ignore your childish behavior.

He angled your chin up to him, leaning in as if he was going to kiss you. He hadn’t yet that evening. And you found yourself yearning for it. His fingers slid over your lips and trailed down your neck, gently grasping your throat. He didn’t apply pressure, but the innuendo was there. It thrilled you in a way you hadn’t been expecting.

“You worry too much.” He said, eyeing your lips the entire time.

You licked them in response, having nothing to say for once. He wasn't wrong.

“Everything stays the same. Mick will be at the drop-offs. He’ll stay close if you need anything.” He explained, his hand floating down your collarbone and over your breast to settle on your waist.

“And you?” You dared to ask, hoping he wouldn’t see your question as anything more than a professional query.

“Like I said, I got some things to handle. I’ll be in touch.” He deflected. “And don’t miss me too much, yeah?” He said with a charming smile, choosing to grip your hip and squeeze.

You scoffed at his words, crossing your arms and watching him leave without another word. You tried not to let the new information he’d shared bother you. He didn’t say how long he’d be away, but you had a feeling it was going to be for more than a few days.

The notion made you uneasy.

While Rio’s presence unnerved you, his looming absence made a lump form in your throat. You didn’t have the energy to analyze what that meant. It was going to be back to business. And in a way you were grateful for the reset. He’d come back and things would go back to an employee-boss relationship. Back to normal.

Right?

#rio #rio good girls #good girls rio #rio imagine #rio x reader #rio x you #rio fanfiction #rio fanfic #nbc good girls #good girls nbc

1K notes · View notes

bakugosbratx · 3 years

Note

omg could you do a dark villain Shoto x fem reader smut?

NSFW 18+ The Pawn— AU Villian! Shoto Todoroki x Fem! Reader

Warning: 18+ content. Unprotected sexual intercourse, alternate universe, toxic relationship, stolkholm syndrome, fluff, angst, gaslighting, manipulation, kidnapping, murder of family, punishment, bdsm, power play, yandere tendencies, etc.

Words: 2,410

Check out my other works here

A/N: Thank you so much for your request! I am so sorry it took me forever to do it. But I hope it meets what you’re looking for. This is my first time writing for Shoto so I apologize in advance.

Tags: @awilddreamerwrites @peachsenpie @milkthistletea @quietlegends @idfkwtfgof

“Any last words?” Shoto questions with a demeaning scowl of disgust, his index finger becoming restless on the pistol’s trigger. The barrel of the gun is resting on the man’s temple while he pleads for mercy.

“I’ll have your money by next week, I swear!” The man cried.

“You said that last time. To be quite frank, I’m not really fond of your lying, Y/L/N.” Shoto admits, cocking the gun so it can fire. The terrified man’s eyes grew wide as tears stream down his face.

“Shoto,” his breath hitches, “p-please. I have a family to take care of. A wife and two children. Please.”

Horrific muffled screams filled the kitchen where your family reside as the gunshot went off. Blood leaked from your father’s bullet wound onto the floor beneath him. You all were forced to watch, tied up and helpless. Shoto even had his crew gag you so your words would not disturb his business meeting. He hates interruptions.

“Disgusting.” Shoto complains, referencing to some of the blood covering his face. Igniting his left side, he sets your father’s corpse on fire. The smell of burning flesh filled your snot filled nostrils as more whimpers escaped your cloth covered lips. This caught Shoto’s attention.

“You,” he calls out as he makes his way towards your tied up body. He picks you up with ease, throwing you over his muscular shoulder. “Are coming with me.”

Your muffled remarks were no use as well as your kicks. You are terrified and not sure why Shoto, Japan’s notorious killer, is doing in your household right now, but you know it’s not good.

“Sir,” one of the men stopped you two as Shoto is making his way towards the exit. He pauses his motion, waiting for the man’s question. “What do you want us to do with the other two? Heroes will be here any moment.”

Shoto pondered the man’s words for a moment. You are silently pleading that he will just let them go, but that was not even a thought in his mind. “Leave them be.”

“But sir—“

“The house will be burnt to ash in any given moment,” he activates his left side for emphasis, “if you want to stay alive, I suggest you gather up the others and get a move on.”

The man nodded and Shoto begins walking out of the house. You struggle in his grasp, but Shoto remains undisturbed by your antics. Throwing you into the back of a van, he slams the double doors. Now all you are left with is your thoughts.

This doesn’t seem real. It truly can’t be. Your family is being massacred and there is not a thing you can do about it. You can even hear their muzzled screams as your house goes up in flames. Still, you are useless as the van starts and drives far away from the crime scene.

Shoto Todoroki is Japan’s worse nightmare. Numerous accounts of murder, abuse of power, kidnapping, anything terrible had Shoto’s name on it. No one knows much about the villain’s personal life except for his heroic father with a bad temper. Some say it is his fault for the way his son turned out and Shoto would agree, but Shoto’s crimes will not be taken from him. No, they are all his doing and he is proud of it.

“Y/N,” Shoto called, making you snap out of your thoughts. You turn to meet the man that now claims you as his. “Are you alright, love? You hardly touched your food.”

“Oh, I’m fine.” You mumbled, giving a soft smile. Bringing the ramen noodle soup to your lips, you forced yourself to eat the food. Your stomach is in shambles as the thoughts from that night came back. There are still many unanswered questions and unknown puzzle pieces, but that is a life you need to forget about. You are Shoto’s now. You have no choice but to be his.

Shoto studied your features. If there is one thing Shoto is not is dumb. He is observant. Just one wrong look and you are in deep trouble. Considering you have been living with Shoto for over a year now, you have grown accustomed to his ways. You have learned to appease him in anyway to make you happy. Especially if it is going to keep you alive.

“You know I don’t appreciate when you lie to me.” Shoto nonchalantly reminds you, noticing how quickly you swallow when the words flow out off his tongue.

“I-I’m not lying, Shoto. Honestly.” You stammered, hoping he would not notice the fear trickling in your eyes. He did, though. Shoto noticed everything about you. One of the many things you despised about him.

The rest of super was ate in silence. As you have learned, this is never a good sign. When Shoto is quiet, he’s plotting. Usually, it’s your punishment. You can see it in his eyes and the subtle touches he does to you. All to make you feel uneasy. Just like he can read you, you are learning to read him just the same.

Once dinner was over, he gathered the dirty dinning wear and washed them. You remained in your chair until you are granted permission to stand up. Your heart is racing with anticipation. What is Shoto plotting? Especially for something as simple as lying.

“Y/N,” Shoto paused to make sure your attention was his. The hairs on the back of your neck are standing straight along with your body stiffening. You hear him walking towards you, his one cold hand and other warm one rest on your shoulders. “Go upstairs to our shared bedroom.”

“Y-Yes, Shoto.” You mumbled, scurrying up the steps like the good behave girl he taught you to be. If only your filthy little mouth could stop lying.

Shoto is quick to follow after your trembling body. His presence is swallowing you whole as he march up the stairs behind you. Your clammy palm turns the golden doorknob into the master bedroom. You immediately turn around, groping your butt in fear for what may happen to it.

Shoto shuts the door behind him, leaning against it with his arms folded. His face held its usual unamused look as he glares at you.

“I’m giving you one last chance to be honest with me, Y/N.”

“I-I have been honest a-all along, Shoto.” You argued. Shoto’s glare intensified.

“You were thinking about your family again, weren’t you?”

“What? No, I-“

“You’re just like your father.” Shoto scornfully chuckled, strolling towards you. His right hand folded around your neck, giving it a nice squeeze as he whispered in your ear, “and you know how much I truly despise your father.”

His hot breath seemed to linger on the shell of your ear. Your eyes harden as they meet his. His icy hand seemed to make this choking experience even worse. You would get frostbite if it gets any colder, but something in you snapped. You have not fought back in months. You became the submissive girl Shoto desperately wanted you to be yet you are still in the same position as many times before.

“You’re one to talk.” You choked out. The hold on your neck became stronger, circulation being lost to your organs. You are pushed onto the bed, Shoto’s muscular form on top of you.

“Don’t you ever compare me to that monster again, understand me?” Shoto growls as he watch you struggle beneath him. You started to turn pale as your body loses its natural color from lack of air flow. His hatred from his father and yours is taking over as you slowly start to become unconscious. He finally lets go.

You cough, grasping for air. It felt like there was not enough in there to supply your deprived body. Especially with Shoto’s suffocating presence on top of you.

“You have some real nerve talking to me like that, Y/N. When will you learn that your family is the true bad guys in the situation, not me. They screwed me over and I came for what they owed me. You’re just a pawn.”

“You’re lying..” You mumbled out in disbelief. Shoto’s devious grin just grew wider at the tears in your eyes.

“I’m not like your father.” Shoto spats, venom dripping from every wretched word. Your heart is aching and this only fuels the fire.

“Fuck you.” You hissed, warm tears streaming down your face. Shoto only chuckled at your mere offense.

“I plan on it.”

Your look of disgust was ignored as Shoto’s lips trailed from your neck to your lips. You forced yourself to kiss back. You always do. You two had sex plenty of times and sadly, you enjoyed it, but when it’s used for punishment or after he has tears down any sheer ounce of self esteem you possessed it is quite difficult to get in the mood.

“Why do you keep me here?” You finally breathe out as your lips disconnect. Shoto furrowed his eyebrows together.

“Because your family is dead.”

“I know that!” You exclaimed. Shoto is very intelligent, but someone who is also literal. He does not always catch onto what you’re actually trying to ask. “I mean, if I’m just some pawn, why keep me here? Why not let me have the same fate as my family?”

Shoto stayed silent. He pondered how he should answer this. He just started touching you outside of the bedroom a couple months ago. It even took him a long time to have sexual intercourse with you. He knows he could have killed you off. He is sure of it. You have been a pain in his ass since he collected you for payment yet you’re still here.

“I don’t know.” Shoto answered, truthfully.

You sigh. You are not sure what answer you were expecting, but knowing where this is leading does not make you feel any better about yourself. You just feel more used.

Silence over fell you two. Shoto is in deep thought as so are you. You are worried that your days are numbered now, but Shoto was not even thinking about that. He is more thinking of himself and how he can’t murder you. He actually likes having you around. He may never say it and his facial features will never show it, but with you by his side, his frozen heart starts to thaw. Just by your simple glimpses and touches.

Part of him hated you for that.

“Shoto,” you whisper, catching his attention. You made yourself look away. You have so many conflicting thoughts. Shoto is all you have now and in all honesty, you have grown not to hate the guy. You love the soft touches and the way he keeps you warm at night. He is so observant of the slightest of things. That’s more than your family has ever given you.

Your right hand cupped his cheek. He seemed slightly tense by the action, but he instantly fell into your touch. Your thumb grazed his cheek.

“I-I,” you meet his gaze, “I enjoy your company.” You admit. Shoto kept silent, but your words meant something to him. You both are not good with this kind of stuff. You were never taught it. This is the closest thing you two will ever get to ‘I love you.’

Your lips connected once again. During the process, each one of your articles of clothing was discarded to the ground below. Shoto kissed down your exposed breast, stomach, and finally stopped at your pussy. He swiped his tongue between your folds sending chills down your spine along with needy moans escaping your parted lips.

“Shoto, please.“ You whined, wanting him to make you soaked already, but you are on Shoto’s terms. He gets to decide everything.

Luckily, he did not make you wait long as tongue swirled on your sensitive clit. Your legs rested on his shoulders as he devoured you. Small groans is all Shoto could do as his tongue explored every inch of your pussy. Not a spot was missed nor would he allow there to be. Your clit was being the most spoiled. Your entrance was then meet shortly after. You did your best to conceal your sweet melodies of pleasure, but Shoto is not allowing you to do so.

“You have a voice for a reason. Use it.” He orders in a low growl amongst your cunt.

“Shoto,” you sob, “I’m about to cum. Please.”

You arched your back as your cunt was about to release. Shoto sped up the pace, helping you meet your climax even sooner. On que, you sing sweet little melodies of moans as you release into the man’s mouth. Every drop was swallowed by him.

Shoto stood up, grabbing your hips to pull you closer to the edge of the bed. “Keep your eyes on me at all times. Understood?”

You nod, eagerly. “Yes, Shoto.”

Shoto aligned his erection with your weeping entrance. Shortly after, your walls are hugging his length as it dives deeper and deeper into you. Each thrust loosened you even more and he kept a steady pace. You gripped the expensive European satin bedsheets as you babbled incoherent words and phrases. You kept your eyes locked on Shoto the whole time just like he ordered.

“Shoto.” You finally moan aloud as his dick is inside of you.

“Yeah, you like that, baby?” He groans. Your crying cunt was dripping with your slick onto the fabric of the bed and on Shoto’s cock.

“Yes.” You manage to blurt out as you gasp for more. His cock felt amazing no matter how much you wanted to hate him for it. This is one of the ways he shows affection. You learned to accept that.

Shoto’s hands find their way to your bouncing titties. The difference between temperatures sent your body into overdrive. He loved seeing the lewd faces you make as he used his power to pleasure you. Shoto’s dick did not stop thrusting into you through this process either though it is twitching.

Pre-cum leaks into your cunt. Shoto removes his hands from your breast as he picks up the pace. His knees start to buckle beneath him as cum flows from his cock. Every drop is milked from him until he pulls outs.

This is his way of saying ‘I love you.’

©bakugosbratx

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translations-by-aiimee · 3 years

Text

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 22

Original Title: 二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 22 - This Venerable One's Shizun is Getting Angry

When Chu Wanning heard this, he was so angry that he could barely keep himself from retracting Tianwen and slashing the Chen couple. But he couldn't open his eyes to confront them. Once he opened his eyes, the barrier would be broken. The Return to Truth barrier could only trap a ghost once. If his interrogation was interrupted, he wouldn't be able to listen to any more of Luo Xianxian's story.

All he could do was contain his overwhelming rage and continue listening to Luo Xianxian.

After she died, her soul entered the underworld, unaware and confused.

The only thing that she could make out was a woman wearing red and green robes with facial features that resembled the Master of Ceremonies Ghost enshrined in a temple. The Master of Ceremonies Ghost stood in front of her and asked her in a soft voice: "You and Chen Bohuan couldn't share a bed in life. Would you like to share the same grave in death?"

She hurriedly agreed: "Yes. . . Yes please!"

"Then I can let him come join you right away. What do you think?"

Luo Xianxian wanted to blurt out a yes, rushing to agree, but suddenly remembered something and froze. "Am I dead?"

"Yes. I am the Master of the Underworld Ghost. I can give you the destiny you deserve and fulfill your long-cherished wish."

Luo Xianxian was startled: "Then, if he comes to join me, will he. . . also die?"

"Yes. However, if loves persists in the afterlife, life and death are irrelevant. What difference does it make?"

Chu Wanning heard this, he thought to himself that he had been right; this Master of Ceremonies Ghost would persuade others to make a wish so that she could reap the benefits. This immortal was truly diabolical.

Although Luo Xianxian died unjustly, she hadn't yet become a malevolent ghost, so she repeatedly shook his head: "No. It wasn't his fault. You can't kill him."

The Master of Ceremonies Ghost smiled compassionately: "And what did you get in return for this kindness?" It didn't force Luo Xianxian to do anything. As an immortal being, they could persuade someone to make a bad wish, but they couldn't force them. Its figure gradually faded away, its voice becoming hazier and hazier.

"Return to the world in seven days. During those seven days, go and see how the Chen family is faring. After that, I'll ask you again if you still have no regrets about your decision."

Seven days later, the day arrived.

Luo Xianxian's soul returned to a conscious form and returned to the world of the living.

Following the old road, she eagerly walked towards the Chen house to see her husband for the last time.

Unexpectedly, the Chen house was decorated with lights, and outside the courtyard, there were fireworks. Bridal flowers were decorating the halls. and a big "double happiness" banner was hanging in front of the main hall. Madam Chen was radiant, not appearing sickly in the slightest. She was smiling and instructing the servants to wrap the bouquets with red silk.

Who. . . was having a wedding?

Who. . . were the bride and groom?

Who. . . no one was engaged, what was going on?

Who. . .

She walked through the busy crowd, listening to the sound of people in the world of the living.

"Congratulations, Madam Chen. Your son is getting engaged to the daughter of the county magistrate. When's the wedding?"

"Madam Chen, you're so fortunate."

"Yao Qianjin is truly the lucky star of the Chen family and they aren't even official yet. Madam Chen, you look so much healthier already."

"Your son and Yao Qianjin are a match made in heaven. I'm so jealous, hahahaha."

Her son. . . Her son. . .

Which son?

Which one was marrying the daughter of the Yao family?

She shuttled back and forth across the familiar front yard, growing more and more frantic, looking for that familiar figure in the midst of all the laughter.

Then she found him.

In front of the peony flowers in the back hall, Chen Bohuan stood with his hands behind his back with a haggard face and sunken cheeks. However, he was dressed in red. Even though it wasn't a traditional wedding outfit, it was a Caidie Town custom. When a prospective son-in-law comes to propose marriage, he should wear this type of red gown.

Was he. . . going to propose. . .?

The decorations in the whole house, the strings of gold and silver beads, was it all. . . was it all from Chen Bohuan, her husband, as a dowry for the daughter of the Yao family?

She suddenly recalled the time when they got married.

There was nothing but two people that shared one heart - nothing else.

There was no master of ceremonies, no bridesmaids, and no dowry. The Chen family weren't wealthy at that time and didn't even own a decent set of jewelry. He went into the yard and picked a delicate orange blossom from under the orange tree they had planted together and carefully tucked it behind her ear.

She asked him: "Does it look good?"

He said it looked beautiful. After a moment of silence, he stroked her hair with some sadness and told her: "You deserve so much better than this."

Luo Xianxian smiled and pursed his lips, saying that it didn't matter.

Chen Bohuan told her that when he married her three years later, he would hold a lively wedding banquet. He would invite people from all over the world. He would have her make a grand entrance on a large sedan chair. He would give her gold and silver to wear, and the dowry gifts would fill the entire main hall.

Those vows still echoed in her ears. Now, all those promises have come true, the hall filled with gifts and guests.

He was getting married, just not to her.

A monstrous flame of anger and sorrow surged through her. Luo Xianxian screamed, trying to tear at the hanging red silk in the room.

But she was a ghost; she couldn't touch anything.

Chen Bohuan seemed to vaguely notice something. He turned around, staring at the silk moving despite there being no wind. His eyes were dull and hollow.

His little sister came over, a white jade hairpin clipped on the side of her bun. She didn't know who she was secretly mourning by wearing it.

She said: "Big brother, go to the kitchen to eat something. You haven't had a proper meal in days. You have to hurry up and go to the county magistrate's house later to propose. Your body won't hold up."

Chen Bohuan suddenly asked without thinking: "Sister, did you hear someone crying?"

". . . What? No, brother, I think you're still. . ." She gritted her teeth and didn't finish her thought. Chen Bohuan still stared at the fluttering silk sheets.

"How is my mother? Is she happy? Has her illness been cured?"

". . . Brother."

". . . I'm glad she's feeling better." Chen Bohuan stood there, muttering to himself. "I already lost Luo Xianxian, I couldn't live without my mother."

"Brother, go eat something. . ."

Luo Xianxian wailed. She yelled and bawled with her head in her hands.

Don't go. . . don't go. . . please don't go. . .

Chen Bohuan said: ". . . Alright."

The tired figure disappeared around the corner.

Luo Xianxian stood alone in a daze, large tears rolling down her face. Suddenly, she heard the brothers of the Chen family who killed her approaching. The second eldest brother and the younger brother were whispering to each other.

"Mother is finally happy. Finally, things are going our way."

"Right? She pretended to be sick for half and year. Now that that cursed bitch is gone, how could she not be thrilled?"

The younger brother tsked and said, "How come she died? We wanted to force her out, not kill her. Was she really so stupid that she couldn't even find someone to help her?"

"Who knows. She was weak, just like her rotten father. It's not our fault that she died. Even though mother pretended to be sick to get rid of her, our family has its own struggles. Think about it, when the options county magistrate’s daughter and some pauper girl, only a fool would choose the latter. Besides, even if Yao Qianjin is a brat, she's got enough money to go around."

"Yes, she's so dumb. She didn't want to live so she let herself freeze to death. No one could've saved her."

The words drifted to her ears.

After Luo Xianxian died, she finally understood the so-called "Divine Fate". She was completely broke and couldn't compare to the county magistrate's daughter who was so noble and honourable.

Only a fool would choose the pauper girl.

She finally snapped.

She returned to the Master of Ceremonies' temple full of hatred and resentment.

She died there. Unlike how weak and helpless she was when she died, she returned with overwhelming hostility.

She used to be such a kind person, but now, all the hatred and evil that had been built inside her while she was alive came flooding out. She roared, her eyes turning red, her soul trembling.

She said: "I, Luo Xianxian, would like to give up my soul and follow the path of wickedness. I only ask you to avenge me! I want the Chen family - I don't want you to kill them!!! I want. . . I want to let my beastly mother-in-law kill her sons by her own hand! All her sons!!! I want Chen Bohuan to go to hell with me!!! Let him be buried with me!!! Do it for me!!! I hate them! I hate them!!!!"

The eyes of the clay sculpture on the shrine shifted and the corners of its mouth slowly raised.

A hollow voice echoed through the temple.

"I have heard your prayers. It will be as you wish. As an evil spirit - kill all those that you resent -"

A piercing blood-red light flashed, and Luo Xianxian couldn't remember anything after that.

However, Chu Wanning already what happened next. After that, the Master of Ceremonies Ghost manipulated Luo Xianxian's spirit to possess Madam Chen and force her to kill each member of the Chen family.

The red coffin on the top of the mountain, the reason why Chen Bohuan was dug up, naturally, was because the Master of Ceremonies Ghost was fulfilling Luo Xianxian's greatest wish - "Let Chen Bohuan and I be buried together." Moreover, it deliberately placed the coffin on the property of Chen Bohuan and his new wife as an act of spiteful revenge.

As for the floral scent in Chen Bohuan's coffin, it was the scent of the butterfly fragrance powder that Luo Xianxian had worn before her death. The resentment and fragrance in the coffin were both extremely strong because Luo Xianxian's soul was resting alongside Chen Bohuan inside it.

Luo Xianxian had no family. According to the customs, if a person like that dies, their bones should be cremated instead of buried. Therefore, she had no physical body and could only be contained within the coffin by the Master of Ceremonies Ghost. That's why, when Chu Wanning opened the coffin with his willow vine, Luo Xianxian had escaped the coffin's containment. Her soul flew away, and it was difficult to recapture. It was a situation of "a closed coffin being heavy with resentment but an open coffin being light".

But during the illusion, why did other people have dead bodies as their partners but Chen Bohuan only had a paper-mache ghost bride?

Chu Wanning thought for a moment and figured out this much:

The Master of Ceremonies Ghost didn't break its promise. The paper-mache bride was the "physical body" that it gave Luo Xianxian. It was a vessel so that Luo Xianxian could be buried with Chen Bohuan.

Everything was clear.

Chu Wanning looked at the weak and helpless girl in the barrier. He wanted to say something but didn't know what to say.

Elder Yuheng wasn't particularly good at comforting words. He couldn't think of anything, so he stayed silent, not having anything he could say.

The girl stood in the vast darkness with her soft round eyes open.

Chu Wanning looked at her eyes and couldn't bear it. He wanted to leave. He didn't want to take another look. He was about to open his eyes and leave the Return to Truth barrier.

Then the girl suddenly spoke.

"Lord Yama. I. . . I have something else I want to tell you."

Chu Wanning: ". . . Alright."

The girl suddenly lowered her head, covered her eyes, and cried. She said softly, "Lord Yama, I don't know what I did after that. But, I. . . I really didn't want to kill my husband. I didn't want to be an evil spirit. I really. . ."

"I didn't steal the oranges. I really am Chen Bohuan's wife. And I truly, truly didn't want to hurt anyone either."

"I truly didn't want anyone to get hurt. Please believe me."

Her voice choked and trembled, her words breaking.

"I. . . didn't lie. . ."

I didn't lie.

Why is it that, in this life, almost no one believed me?

She sobbed and screamed. Chu Wanning's voice sounded low in the darkness. He didn't say much, but he said it with conviction.

"Okay."

Luo Xianxian was shocked.

Chu Wanning said: "I believe you."

Luo Xianxian wiped her tears with her hands indiscriminately but couldn't hold them back. Hiding her tearful face, she lowered her head and bowed her head in his direction in the darkness.

Chu Wanning opened his eyes.

After he opened his eyes, he didn't say anything.

Time in the barrier wasn't the same as in reality. He had stayed there for a long time but, for the people waiting outside, it had only been a moment. Mo Ran hadn't returned yet. The few remaining people in the Chen family were still looking at him with bated breath.

Chu Wanning withdrew Tianwen and said to Madam Chen: "I'll avenge you. You can find peace."

Madam Chen froze and opened her blood-red eyes, and suddenly fell to the ground with a thud, knocked out cold.

Chu Wanning raised his head again. His eyes swept across Chen's face then landed on the youngest son. His voice didn't waver, and it was still frighteningly cold.

"I'll ask one last time." He said each word slowly and decisively. "Did you really not recognize whose voice that was?"

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#2ha novel #2ha translation #2ha #the husky and his white cat shizun translation #the husky and his white cat shizun #chinese bl #chinese novel #english translation #bl novel #danmei novel #danmei #mo ran #chu wanning #ranwan

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doveypink · 3 years

Text

come and find me [technoblade imagine]

summary: techno faces the consequences of your death. word count: 5.4k warnings: mentions of death, violence. a/n: this is a sequel to the one i left behind; read that first![ tag list: @shu5h @sylum @zefrenchturtle ]

Time is a tricky thing. It is insistent, always rushing forward without fail and unforgiving to those swept away in its tide. On occasion, though, time is a gentle monster; it takes you in its arms and kisses your head, lays you gently in the waves, and carries you to shore.

Time was not so kind to Technoblade.

Following the death of his friend, the archer, time became his enemy. Each day thereafter was a living hell full of tsunamis and stormy seas that bellowed within. The voices in his head used to sound like a low hum, the soft slap of waves in the back of his mind. Now, they were as loud as ever; if he didn’t catch himself in time, Techno would be overcome by the crashing waves and the tumultuous ocean inside his head.

“You have that look again,” Phil said softly from across the room. Techno’s eyes jumped to meet Phil’s, no longer burning holes into the wooden planks of the floor.

“You keep saying that like I know what it means,” Techno griped, instantly feeling sorry at the sight of Phil’s frown. The older man sighed and stepped towards his friend, taking a seat next to him.

“I know it’s difficult right now. That’s an understatement, clearly, but you saw what happened with Wilbur and I,” Phil explained, a cloudy look in his eyes. “It’s not easy to be asked to do something like that. All we can do is hope that it was for the best and carry on.”

The voices swarmed more powerfully in Techno’s head. He knew it was wrong to feel so angry at Phil for trying to comfort him, but it didn’t seem fair. Wilbur was Phil’s son, yes, but their bond was nothing like the one Techno had with his friend. The rage, the emptiness, the carelessness that Technoblade was experiencing reached heights that no person could begin to understand. The pain was his alone to carry.

Phil took note of Techno’s silence and gave his arm a gentle pat. “I’m here if you ever need anything,” he said. The man stood and padded out of the room to leave Techno on his own, his gaze turned back to the wooden planks.

Techno often wondered about you at times like this, when he found himself boiling in his own rage without someone to level him. Funnily enough, you weren’t much different from him in your anger; you would grit your teeth and quietly stare at some spot in the corner or keep your hands busy with anything you could find until you would tire yourself out. He wished he could see you now or hear your voice to remind him to calm down. He knew you were still around as a ghost, but your presence didn’t ease him as it once did. Nowadays, the thought of you only filled him with guilt, and his heart felt hollow without you around. It was hard to even look you in the eyes anymore.

“Techno?”

As if summoned by his own thoughts, you appeared in the window of the cabin. Your hands were cupped against the glass as you peered in comically, your eyes squinted as you struggled to see through the foggy glass. Techno glanced at you and sighed, rising from his chair to let you in; he tried ignoring you once, but it resulted in you attempting to climb through his window, so he always welcomed you in. Technoblade swung the door open and you jumped into view, cheerful as ever.

“Techno! I’ve been looking for you!”

“Looking for me?” the man wondered, crossing his arms. “I’m always here.”

“I know, I just got a little lost again,” you said sheepishly, wringing your hands. Techno stepped aside to let you in, foolishly wondering for a moment if he should let you borrow his cloak to keep warm. It would change nothing, of course; you were a ghost, the cold didn’t bother you. It was funny in some awful, convoluted way how often Techno forgot that you were dead. As a ghost, you would come and go at random, yet your presence hung over him like storm clouds. You were everywhere, bouncing around behind his eyes and throughout the cabin: all the books on the shelves you never read, the letters with your handwriting strewn across the desk, the scratches in the floorboards from when you dragged your chair. They were reminders of you, as if he could possibly forget.

“Don’t you have the compass Phil gave you?” Techno asked, referring to an enchanted compass which directed you to the cabin. Phil had given it to you during your last visit, much to Techno’s disapproval; he hated seeing you like this. It’s like you were a new person entirely, a stranger that wore your skin, but your soul had been exchanged for something else. He wasn’t sure who you were anymore, and every voice in his head argued that this was his own fault.

“I gave it to Ranboo,” you replied, fiddling with your sleeve. “He needs it more than I do, doesn’t he?”

“It was a gift for you,” Techno griped. “You can’t just give it away. Who knows what people could do if they had a direct line to us? Too many know where we are as it is.”

“I thought you wouldn’t mind. Ranboo basically lives here now.”

“Well, you were wrong.” Despite the warmth of the cabin, a chill seemed to run through the room as Techno stared coldly at his friend. He wasn’t sure why this angered him so much; realistically, he knew that what you had done was a smart idea. Ranboo lived just nearby Techno and Phil’s cabin, and with his memory issues, it wasn’t safe for him to wander aimlessly through the cold. Still, something about the way you could give such a tool away hurt him more than he cared to admit. He didn’t even want you around—he could hardly stand having to look at your ashen skin, and hearing your voice made his heart shake with grief—so why did he care?

You frowned, taking a small step forward to place a hand on your friend’s shoulder. Techno flinched at the contact, alarmed by the deadly cold that seeped through his cape. Up close, you could feel it: Techno was alive, yet the dark chill of death seemed to bound itself to him like a shadow. This was your influence; the bitterness that you rarely saw in him during your living days was an arrow, and you were its target.

“I know you don’t want me here. I can see it,” you said. Techno’s eyes widened slightly as you continued. “You look at me like—like I’m a stranger, but you’re searching for someone else. I know you can’t help it and neither can I, but I want to be that person so bad. I want to be what I’m supposed to be, but I don’t know how. I just miss feeling normal. I miss you.”

Techno swallowed thickly, averting his eyes. “I don’t think I can help you,” he admitted, taking a step towards the cabin door. He felt the cold air press against the wood and pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. “Whatever reassurance you need, I can’t give that to you. And you can’t come here haunting the place until I do, either. I don’t need ghosts.”

“But you… You’ll still let me visit, won’t you?” You asked quietly.

The man seemed taken aback by your question. He seemed to consider it for a moment before responding, his voice not quite as frostbitten as moments earlier: “You can always visit.”

It was strange how suddenly Techno seemed like himself again. The winter froze him over, encasing all the warmth you could recall from when you were alive, but now the ice shuddered and cracked. The guilt that he had grown accustomed to merged with a longing he had been afraid to feel; he missed you, he missed every second that you weren’t around, and he hated himself for it. It was a selfish thought to want you here when he was the one who tore you away from the life you once clung to. It was selfish to want something good when all he seemed to do was snuff out any glimpse of light that came his way.

You smiled, albeit dolefully, and glanced around the room. You noticed a sheen of silver hanging on the wall and, propped against the wall, was a quiver of arrows—the same weapon you had found in the rubble of L’Manburg. The item you had once cherished no longer served a purpose to you, so you gifted them to Technoblade on your first visit postmortem. It surprised you that he accepted the gift in the first place, given that he seemed completely unnerved with your presence, so it was odd to see it displayed on the wall where all could see. It reminded you of an urn, a tangible indication of someone lost.

You weren’t sure how you felt by the sight of the item; were you meant to be flattered? Offended? The experiences that followed your death were far more puzzling than the ones you had in your life. When you were alive, you developed how to think and feel through socializing—your life was nurtured, guided along by those you met. In death, however, you were isolated. Techno already said it: he didn’t need ghosts, no one did. No living person wanted to face the dead because they were busy with the troubles of their lives, and rightfully so. Still, it was lonely to be dead. There was nothing that could teach you how to live in shadow, nobody to hold your hand and tell you that you would be alright. Death stole you right when you thought you would have survived to see the day, made a fool by hope, and your only friend was left to see the sun rise without you. This was it, this was the cruel joke nature played on the wanderers of the earth: to live and watch those you love die, or to die and watch those you love live.

Your gaze was pulled from the sharp curve of steel and you headed to the door. “I should leave you, now. I didn’t mean to…” Uncertainty crossed your features and you gestured your hands through the air to fill in the blank.

Techno seemed to understand, nodding as he reached to open the door for you. It was a quiet goodbye as you slipped into the snow, only turning back to wave at your friend as his cabin shrank in your view. The man stood in the doorway until you were a speck in the distance, a stir in his heart which rushed through him like a cold breeze. You would return.

* * * * *

“What do you know about necromancy, Phil?”

The older man looked up from his book. His eyes narrowed at his pink friend and held a look of disapproval. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”

Techno frowned, crossing his arms. “What? I barely said anything.”

“You don’t have to,” Phil sighed, snapping his book shut. “It’s not a good idea to bring them back, especially if they haven’t told you that they want to come back. You don’t know what it could do.”

“But you do. You can help.”

“I don’t want to help. And besides, the methods I’ve tried haven’t been successful, I know from the attempts with Wilbur. It didn’t change anything. You have to give this a rest, it's been weeks since you slept.”

“Well you’ve done more research, haven’t you?” Techno took a seat across from Phil and leaned in. “There’s gotta be something you didn’t try or somebody who knows enough.”

Phil hesitated and looked down at his hands. “I don’t want you to do this, but… You could speak with Dream.”

The younger man stiffened, trying to mask his displeasure. “What for?”

“I heard that he was doing research of his own. I don’t know what his method is or if it even works, but I don’t trust it. He wants to make himself a god, so it can’t be without its consequences.”

“Godship always comes with consequences. I’ll take my chances.”

“Are you really prepared for that?” Phil looked his friend in the eyes. “It’s too much of a risk to try—”

“I know that,” Techno snapped, rising from his chair. “And I know what I want. I want them back. I want Dream to be sorry that he ever hurt them. I want to—” Techno stopped himself from continuing his enraged rant. He wanted to feel whole again, he thought. He wanted to wake up and feel safe knowing you were in the next room over. He wanted to argue with you over nothing and know that you would forgive him nonetheless. He wanted to wake up early after a long day of travel and watch the sunrise with you, to see the whole world light up in your eyes. The emptiness he was stranded with was from your absence, he knew this now. You were the sun to his moon, but you were forever hidden under the horizon, casting him into the shade.

Phil’s frown deepened. He spoke softly, carefully. “I know you’re hurting, but you need to think this through. Is this really what you want?”

Techno refused to meet the older man’s gaze. You were gone because of him, and you would come back for him. He wasn’t going to let this go quietly. “Yes,” he said finally. The icy air whipped through the house as he opened the cabin door and slammed it shut, a mission in his mind.

* * * * *

The journey to the prison was an expectedly silent one. Few people were to be seen as Technoblade wandered through the country—whether out of fear for the man or some other reason, he couldn’t be sure. Regardless, he trudged down the paths he used to know, eventually coming upon the evil-looking building. The massive walls loomed over him, the shadows stretching across the grass in sharp lines. After taking a quick glance of the perimeter, Techno proceeded to the entrance of the prison.

Upon entering, he was faced with a portal and a switch off to his right. The man glanced around once before slapping the button, waiting for a guard to come by. There was a brief period of silence, then a disembodied voice: “Hello?”

“Hello,” Techno echoed, unsure of where to look. “How do I, uh, get in?”

“Just step through the portal and I’ll get to you in a second,” the guard replied. Techno followed his instructions and stepped in the portal, a feeling like water rippling against his skin. Techno emerged from the other side to see a desk and a podium in front of it with a large book sat upon it. Behind the counter of the desk was the prison guard, Sam.

“Hello, Technoblade. Step up to the podium, I’ll need you to read that book aloud to me and sign, then I have to ask you a few questions.”

The piglin stood directly in front of the podium, peering down at the book. He read out the protocols, frowning at the mention of being locked in the prison should the security be threatened. Techno signed his name on the book anyway, handing it to the guard.

“Thank you. Can I ask when you last visited the prison?”

“Never,” Techno replied. “Shouldn’t that be obvious?”

“It’s just an extra security measure,” Sam explained. “Some of our visitors may have a lapse in memory. Now, what’s your relationship with the prisoner?”

The other man considered the question for a moment until he settled on a suitable answer. “Ex-colleague.”

“Alright, and where is your place of residence?”

“Up north, in the arctic.”

“Good, good. Follow me to your locker, I’ll need you to place everything inside the chest. Once you’re done, press that button on the side to get the key.”

Techno followed the guard’s instructions, feeling slightly uneasy with the lack of protection in his inventory. He retrieved the key, feeling the weight of the metal in his palm, then deposited it into an ender chest. The guard was waiting patiently outside the locker room. “Follow me and do exactly as I say,” he ordered, leading Techno through the prison.

Sam guided Techno through a series of security checks and exercises to minimize his strength through potions. The piglin felt slightly lightheaded from the various trials and journeys through halls full of water and lava. Eventually, the pair of men reached the entrance of the maximum security cell, which looked empty save for the switches on the far wall.

“Stand on that platform right there,” Sam instructed, gesturing towards a number of tiles placed before a large screen of lava. Techno stepped onto the tiles, glancing over his shoulder to watch the guard fiddle with the controls. “The lava will stop in a minute or two. Just stay where you are and be careful when the platform moves,” Sam warned, keeping a firm gaze on the piglin.

Techno grunted a reply, waiting patiently until the barrier of lava parted like a curtain before a play. Between the bright orange drapery, he saw Dream come into view. The prisoner stood silently in the corner of his cell, his dull green eyes bearing a blank expression. There was a pink scar across the bridge of his nose, one Techno realized he received from you. His blond hair was long and unkept, a shadow of stubble on his chin—a blatant difference from the composed appearance he once possessed.

The platform shifted forward, rolling Techno straight towards the cell. A barricade stretched between the walls and the visitor crossed his arms in waiting. Finally, the space between the men opened, and the piglin took a step into the cell. Behind him, the wall of lava fell again, trapping the pair within the confines of the obsidian.

The prisoner inched forward from the corner. “I was beginning to think you’d never visit,” Dream said.

“I hadn’t planned on it,” the pig-man replied, glancing around at the mostly-bare walls of the cell. There was a clock on the wall set to the wrong time, a cauldron of water, and a desk with writing utensils in the corner. No other possessions decorated the cell.

“Hm. What made you change your mind?”

Techno’s eyes met the prisoner. “I need your help.”

Dream chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “The blood god needs my help? With what, may I ask?”

“I know what you can do,” Techno stated, drawing closer to the prisoner. “I know you can raise people from the dead.”

The blond man scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “So that’s what you want? You need me to bring back your friend?”

“Exactly. And you’ll do it.”

Dream hummed, considering the other man’s words before he finally responded. “No, I don’t think I will.” Dream leaned against the wall, looking bored. “You have nothing for me. And besides, I’m not sure you’re prepared to bring back the archer. It’d be pointless.”

“Don’t underestimate me,” Techno growled, annoyed with the prisoner’s lack of cooperation. “You know I’m a dedicated man.”

“And that’s exactly why you can’t bring them back. You don’t have the guts to do it.”

Techno rushed forward and grabbed Dream by the collar, teeth bared as he glared at the man. “Careful there, Dream. You don’t want to provoke your ticket out of here.”

Dream laughed unflinchingly in the god’s face. “Right, and what can you do? Kill me and lose your only chance to have them back? You’re not an idiot, and neither am I. We both know exactly how this would go down if you set me free.”

“I wouldn’t kill you, but I can easily make you regret living,” Techno spat, gritting his teeth. “You’re going to bring them back.”

“No,” Dream scoffed, seemingly unfazed by the other man’s threats. “You think you know exactly what you want, don’t you? I’m not sure you understand how traumatic it would be for them to come back, Techno. Don’t you get it? They’d wake up and feel disgusted by you. You killed them. You could have saved them, but you were too weak to even try. Besides,” he continued, lowering his voice, “I think they look much better rotting in the dirt.”

Techno shoves the prisoner against the wall, chest heaving with anger and guilt. The voices were like white noise in his mind, screeching for blood as his heart pounded. Dream slid to the floor and laughed maniacally; the sound made Techno’s head pound with the dull pain of an oncoming headache. There was no mask to hide the deranged look in the prisoner’s eyes as he held his stomach and howled with cruel pleasure. “They’re dead,” Dream gasped between laughter. “They’re dead and it’s all your fault!”

It was a mistake to have gone to the prison for answers, and Techno felt foolish for his actions as he called for Sam to let him out. Dream remained slumped against the wall, his shoulders shaking with an awful cackle that faded as Techno disappeared from the cell.

Technoblade could hardly recall the journey back to his cabin. Once he was out of the prison, he bounded through the war torn country, red hot fury searing in his veins. The voices wanted blood; they screeched and clamored inside the cage of his skull, raging into white noise that struck Techno like an arrow to the heart. Flashes of memories he had tried to suppress came rushing back—the crack of fireworks resounding in his ears. The smell of burnt flesh. Blood staining him from head to toe. He stumbled through the hills and snow, clamoring up the short set of stairs and through the cabin door. His head was pounding so awfully that the man became nauseous, collapsing to his knees as he dug his fingers into his scalp. It wasn’t until a hand came to rest on his shoulder that Techno finally managed to look up. His eyes burned and, with a start, he realized that he had been crying.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, mate. I’ve got you. You’re okay, take a deep breath,” Phil assured him, a firm grip stabilizing his piglin friend. Technoblade took in short, stuttering breaths, before Phil patted his shoulder and told him to take it easy. He made another attempt, inhaling slowly, then exhaling, repeating the motion until he was calm enough to speak.

“He won’t do it. He doesn’t want me to—He won’t.” Despite how hard he tried, Techno couldn’t stop the tremor in his voice. He hated this, he hated the vulnerability of it all. There was no space in his heart for the amount of pain he had been suppressing, and it was finally overflowing. He wished you were here. He wished so badly that he wasn’t such a fool.

Phil, conscious of his friend’s needs, pulled his hand away. “You know, someone was hoping to see you today.”

Techno looked up, watching Phil move aside to bring you into his line of sight. He hadn’t even noticed you were there in the midst of his agony, but the cold followed you as you drew closer. You were silent until you knelt down, reaching a hand out to your friend. “Come with me?” You asked gently, giving him a chance to refuse.

Techno looked down at your outstretched hand, examining the creases in your ashen skin. After a moment of consideration, he took it, hyper aware of your freezing touch. You led your friend out of the cabin, carefully guiding him to a destination you had yet to announce. Techno was curious as to what you were up to, but he didn’t have the energy to speak, especially not to you. There was so much he wanted to say, but the words were stuck in his throat. He wanted to apologize to you, to tell you how sorry he was for what he did to you, for the eternity you had been stranded with. There weren’t enough words in the world to admit how sorry he really was.

The pair of you traveled away from the cabin, through a forest of evergreens blanketed in snow; you walked past white foxes scurrying between bushes and birds fluttering overhead; you hopped over fallen trees and climbed a hill, finally stopping once you reached its peak. “We’re here,” you announced.

Techno stood at your side and admired the view: the sun was beginning to fall, clinging to the horizon. The entire land was bathed in golden hues, causing the snow to sparkle in the warm glow. With this light, your skin seemed to regain its warmth, a refreshing contrast to the ashen look of death which Techno had grown used to. He watched you gaze wordlessly at the sky before breaking the silence. “Why are we here?”

You admired the sight for a moment longer, then, gesturing for Techno to copy your motions, you took a seat in the snow. “Do you remember how we met?” you began.

Techno was surprised by your question, answering quietly. “Of course. I, uh, kidnapped you. Sorry for that,” he mumbled.

Letting out a soft laugh, you continued. “Right. But I’ve been remembering more, actually. It used to be fuzzy—it still is, sometimes, the details—but it’s easier to recall. I mainly remember the good things, but the gaps are starting to fill in.”

The man swallowed nervously. “So… Where are you going with this?”

Your eyes became downcast. “I’ve realized a lot of things. I can sort through my emotions now and it’s been weighing on me just how much you meant to me, how much you still mean to me—and I know you must feel the same way.

“I can remember so much of my life now. I remember feeling some bit of relief when you captured me because I didn’t have to be with Dream—I was free for the first time in my life, and I didn’t even know it. I remember the training, the battles, the betrayals, the exile, but more than anything, I remember you. It’s like a part of me was missing for so long before I met you, and I had grown used to it. I tried to fill it with other things, with other people, but that space was made for you. Once I had you, I was balanced—I had spent the first half of my life trying to find you, so I couldn’t stand to be away from you. I had to have you, always, filling the gap. It seemed wrong to live any other way.

“I can see now where the fault was in my logic. You told me the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, right? A pair of lovers are separated when Eurydice dies, stranded to the Underworld. Orpheus travels to her and all he has to do to bring her back to the living realm is to walk the path to earth without looking behind him to see her. They reach the end, and at the last second, Orpheus looks back. His love is fated to death, and he must live on without her, singing a sorrowful tune to the earth. When I first heard that story, I couldn’t understand why he would do such a thing. I thought it was from a sense of doubt, or maybe he was just a fool, but now I know better. Orpheus wasn’t looking back because he was doubtful—he knew exactly what the consequences were. He looked back because he couldn’t accept her death once, but this time, he could do it. That’s the hidden truth that no one ever tells you: love is letting go.”

You turned your head to look Techno in the eyes. “Do you remember what I told you before I tried to kill Dream?”

The man nodded slowly. “You told me not to look back,” he breathed.

Nodding, you spoke again. “Exactly. Now, I need you to listen to me again,” you asked. “I need you to look back.”

Techno’s eyes became misty. “I don’t—I don’t think I know how,” he admitted.

“Neither did Orpheus,” you explained, taking the larger man’s hands in yours. “He lived the rest of his life mourning Eurydice through his music, but look at the world now. Don’t you see how beautiful it is? He sacrificed everything to see this. Orpheus did the hardest thing he could possibly do because it was the right thing.”

“What about the gaps?” Techno wondered. “How am I supposed to fill the gap without you?”

Looking down at the calloused hands in yours, you shook your head. “There’s always going to be pieces of you that can never be replaced—they’re not meant to be filled with something else. But there will be other things to love, other things to care about, and that’s how you move on. You pick up what’s left of your heart and put it back together as you go.”

The man looked at you, sorrow and adoration pooling in his eyes. “Will you stay? Will you be there when I carry myself back?” He asked, his voice small and trembling with apprehension.

Your cold hands were firm in his. “Always.”

In the west, the sun sank lower over the edge of the earth. The light grew fainter as orange, magenta, and hints of violet eased their way into the sky above. Clouds stretched on lazily, dragging against the atmosphere like heavy brush strokes on a canvas. Techno tugged on your hand when you got lost in the view. “We should head back before it gets too dark,” he said. You nodded and followed him through the snow, guided by the tracks you left from earlier. It would take him time, you were sure of that, and he would struggle as he always did when it came to his feelings. And you would be by his side, even then.

* * * * *

“I’m thinking of making it bigger, maybe add some glass panes to the top. What do you think?” Ranboo wondered, showing you the plans for his new house.

“Hm… No glass, just the stone here and there,” you replied, pointing at the drawings he laid out in front of you.

Ranboo was still living near Techno, sprucing up his old shed of a house into something more permanent. The tall boy stood proudly in front of his land, tugging at his coat. “Yeah, actually, that does sound nice.”

You knelt down behind Ranboo, scooping a handful of snow into your palm and carefully shaping it into a ball. “You know what else is nice?” You wondered innocently.

Ranboo responded absentmindedly with “Huh?”

With an evil grin, you shouted, “This!”

The snowball launched out of your hand as you threw it directly at the back of the half-enderman’s head. Ranboo jumped, shrieking in surprise as he wiped the back of his head. Spinning on his heel, he gave you a mischievous look before gathering snow in his own hands. “Oh, you’ve done it now,” he drawled, narrowly missing you as the snowball flew past your head. You took off into a run, laughing with your tall friend chasing behind you, snow flying left and right as you battled.

From his porch, Techno stood and watched the pair of you playing around, a faint smile on his face. He could see it now, more clearly than ever before: life, all around you, even in death. It was a strange irony, but an honest one. You were different than the person he once knew, but despite everything, your laugh never changed. Every version of you was real and true—you had simply taken a different shape.

The piglin turned to head back inside, but not before pausing as a spark of red caught his sight. There, standing alone at the corner of the stairs, was a bright red carnation. How it managed to grow in the cold, and so close to the cabin, was a mystery. Still, it was a rare beauty, strong in spite of the world it was born into. Techno looked from the flower back to you, an echo in his heart. You would be there—always.

The cabin door shut behind him, and there was no cold to follow.

#technoblade imagine #technoblade x reader #c: technoblade #dove writes #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #dream smp imagines #dream smp x reader #mcyt techno #mcytblr #techno imagine #techno x reader #c!techno x reader #c!techno imagine

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plan-d-to-i · 3 years

Note

1-people forget that in the universe MXTX created it is stated that YZY's situation is not normal, it is a patriarcal society so wives don't keept their names nor do whatever the fuck they want and they certainly don't humiliate their husband without even being told off, she's uniquely horrible and JFM is uniquely spineless. i always think JFM did love and worried about WWX but that last interaction he threw him under the bus to appease JC so his last memory would cement that he did love him

2- bc he didn't have more time to keep trying to make him understand and i always wonder how things with JC could have been fixed, easiest would be having had the balls to get rid off YZY early but if he divorced her (or got her killed lol) would JC have been different? or would he resent him even more for not protecting his mother? idk i feel like JFM was cursed from the moment he accepted to marry her and i can't help feeling bad for him

LOVE THIS. So I agree w like 99.9999% only my feelings over JFM change every five minutes. I never hate him but I vacillate wildly between i feel like he could've done more and ig he was himself a trapped in that situation so it's unfair to hold him fully accountable.

Madam Yu is an undeniably violently abusive woman who has married a kind, non-confrontational man. Most of JFM's flaws are only seen as 'flaws' instead of qualities because they framed as ineffective against someone as rank as her. I wouldn't even say he's spineless, because he does cancel YanLi's engagement for fear that it will make her as unhappy as his own marriage made him & effectively stands against his wife's demand on top of also passing on a very beneficial alliance w Jin Clan. (In fact Jin GuangShan is way more reluctant at the thought of taking this news to Madam Jin.)

Abusive relationships have their own dynamics so it's hard watching from the outside how JFM's resignation to his circumstances and avoidance are ineffective against, someone like YZY who materializes like a storm cloud to rain her venom down on everyone, especially WWX. Because WWX is not only bearing the scars piled on his back from YZY's whippings/'discipline' but he's trapped in a perpetual balancing act between JFM, YZY, jc and to an extent Yanli. He has to make JFM proud/see the value in keeping him around & at least in the beginning of his stay with the Jiangs we know he always tries to eat/take less than he needs, but he can't be so good & talented that jc feels threatened or set Madam Yu off. At the same time Yanli rewards him with soup and affection when he takes the fall for jc his first day there. This definitely establishes a pattern wherein WWX sees his usefulness within the Jiang sect in diverting punishment for the failings of those around him, especially jc, to himself. She also repeatedly asks him to just accept jc’s shifty behavior as a representative of his affection... bc she's a huge fucking enabler, which probably doesn’t bode well for how she’s come to interpret affection.

As for YZY she's the only one who paints herself a victim, when it's clear she's the instigator of the conflicts!!!! She’s literally the bad guy, boss, fly in the ointment etc. There's a lot of gaslighting in her interactions with JFM so I'm confused as to why people think that of everyone she's the reliable narrator or some poor sad victim of an uninterested husband??? She clearly does as she pleases in Lotus Pier, yells at JFM in front of Servants, accuses him of fathering a child with his friend's wife, she whips the head disciple for imagined infractions with a spiritual weapon! and pretty much just chills w her ladies when she isn't busy spewing venom wherever she goes. WITH NO REPRECUSSIONS. If JFM had been a woman and YZY the man I'm sure all her cringe stans would be frothing at the mouth to drag her(yzy) to hell by the balls.

People love to accuse JFM of favoritism towards WWX or showing him more affection. To me it's clear that for JMF, WWX is simply an extension of his father/friend & ultimately a subordinate in the Jiang household. JFM clearly cares about jc, it's not his fault that jc doesn't get it, and it's not his fault that YZY is always poisoning their relationship. JFM for his part is still trying to guide jc towards how he's meant to occupy his future position as Clan leader, quite gently too considering jiang cheng was berating WWX for saving their allies... I’m sure if anything JFM hoped WWX’s morality and sense of right and wrong would rub off a bit on jc & why wouldn't you want someone immensely talented and loyal and devoted to the well being of your son and family around?? JFM did a nice thing getting WWX off the streets but that doesn’t mean he also didn’t think WWX could be a good friend to jc who when WWX is first brought to Lotus Pier has ZERO friends, and was likely to remain with zero friends considering his personality. Only someone like WWX who is forced by circumstances, & his kind nature & gratitude to the Jiangs would be in a position to befriend him. So I think it's laughable to say JFM favors WWS when WWX was the sacrificial lamb friend/pet JFM gifted his son. Not to mention that the only person who says JFM doesn't properly value jc is again YZY. Ofc jc takes to like a duck to water because he's cut from the same cloth as his rancid mother and it's much easier to blame WWX for all his failings and misfortunes than to take a good hard look at himself or ever take responsibility for anything. jc doesn't do self reflection. There isn't any scenario where jc would have been a good person. He's lacking basic human empathy. His view of the world has him as its center. He can only relate to things as they concern and affect him and he doesn't even possess a modicum of honor that might keep such selfish impulses at bay.

To conclude, I totally agree. JFM cursed himself the moment he let himself be coerced by YZY and her Clan into marrying a person whose character and values he knew ran so deeply counter to his and his Clan's own. Sure enough under the control of jiang cheng, the original spirit in which Jiang clan was established is gone. It's a place devoid of warmth that people are scared to visit lest they be confronted w the screams of people being flayed alive.

#mdzs #jiang cheng #jiang family #yu ziyuan #madam yu #jiang yanli #the jiangs suck #WHY DID I MAKE THIS SO LONG FFFFF #I tried to edit it down 138431 times #this was edited 2000 times #I obviously consider YZY to be the shittiest shit to ever be shit on the face of the earth #and I think this is v JFM favorable at least it's meant to be but as always I cast a lot of shade all the way around

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elentiyawhitethorn · 3 years

Note

Prompt- Rhys gets sick and feyre becomes mother hen👀

Sick Day

Fluff//1865 words

Cassian grinned. “I told Mor she shouldn’t do it. It wasn’t my fault.”

“Sure you did, Cass.”

“Don’t sound so skeptical! I am your general, one of the highest ranking officers in your court, My Lady. I would never lie to you.”

Feyre smacked Cassian on the arm. “Don’t you have something better to do? Like, I don’t know, harass somebody else?”

He gave a wide smile. “Why would I do that when you’re right here?”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “Gods, you-”

A loud cough cut Feyre off.

Feyre glanced at the ceiling as if she could see her mate through it. She could, in fact, sense where he was. “Do you think he’s okay?”

A tired sigh left Cassian. “I am so sick of listening to you to worry about each other every time the other one blinks funny. It was a cough, Feyre.”

Feyre bit her lip. “Okay.”

Nyx cooing distracted Feyre’s anxious thoughts and she turned to her baby. He was sitting in Cassian’s lap. For some unfathomable reason, Nyx found Cassian hilarious, and he would sit on his uncle’s lap and giggle at the sound of his voice. Or at least, Feyre hoped it was the sound of his voice. Should Feyre find her newborn actually knew what Cassian was saying, the male would be flayed alive.

“Hi, honey,” Feyre cooed back, waggling her fingers at her son.

Cassian snorted. “You’ve gotten so gooey.”

Feyre scowled. “Me? Never. That’s just Rhys.”

“I’ll admit, Rhys is more of a softie than you are, but you’re not the bitch you used to be.”

Feyre gasped. She picked up Nyx and held him close. “Don’t say such things! He’s only a baby.” Then she covered Nyx’s ears and added, “And for the record, I am still a bitch. Don’t forget it.”

Cassian cracked a smile. “If you say so.”

Before he could say anything more, another cough sounded upstairs.

Feyre handed Nyx hurriedly to Cassian, who just rolled his eyes. “Go on, check on Rhysie pie. Gods forbid he has allergies.”

“I would punch you if you weren’t holding my son.” With that, Feyre winnowed into her and her mate’s bedroom.

Rhys was lying in bed. The room was dark enough that Feyre couldn’t tell what his facial expression was right now, but she could sense his discomfort through the bond.

“What’s wrong, Rhys?” breathed Feyre, rushing to his side.

“Lord, you’re fussy today.” Rhys had been going for a sarcastic tone, but it came out raspy and weak.

Feyre crossed her arms. “Let’s skip all the bullshit about how you’re feeling well and refuse to say anything. What’s wrong?”

Scowling, though possibly more at the situation than at Feyre, Rhys silently opened his mental shields. And Feyre was met with affliction.

She was overcome by the sensation of gut-wrenching pains and full-body soreness. Her throat was sore and her hands were clammy. Feyre felt dizzy, nauseated, likely about to fall over-

Feyre pulled out of Rhys’ mind quickly. “You’re sick.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Rhys groaned. “You should go. Don’t want you to get it.”

Feyre snorted. “For one thing, I can just summon a shield around my body in protection. Rather simple.” Feyre did indeed erect a body wrap of sorts, made of magic. Then she added, “And anyway, I love you almost enough that I’d deal with that just to be with you.”

Rhys’ lips twitched slightly. “Almost?”

Feyre smiled back. “We have to think about the Court. Wouldn’t want both the High Lord and Lady out of action. It would be chaotic.”

Rhys laughed, a brittle sound.

“I’ll be right back,” Feyre said.

“Where are you going?”

She pulled the blanket up farther on her mate as his sweating turned to shivers. “I’m going to ask Cass to watch Nyx today. I don’t want him to catch it.”

“Good idea,” Rhys mumbled, his eyelids fluttering.

Feyre winnowed back. Cassian glanced up amusedly. “Did our precious High Lord get something in his throat?”

Feyre scowled. “He’s ill.”

“How ill?” Cassian asked, not buying it.

In response, Feyre entered his mind and sent over the feelings she’d experienced when she crossed Rhys’ shields.

“Fuck,” Cassian exclaimed. “Give a male a little warning next time.”

“Careful,” Feyre scolded. “You’re holding my son.”

Cassian righted himself. “He’s actually sick. Gods, I don’t think that’s happened since last century.”

A stray snort escaped the dignified high lady. “You old bastards. I was wondering how you would feel about watching Nyx today? He’s so young; I don’t know how he would handle catching what Rhys has.”

“Oh, of course.” Cass smirked and turned to Nyx. “I have some busy things to do today, little male. How would you feel about helping?”

Feyre knew this was absolute bullshit; Cassian wasn’t totally useless but he sure as hell didn’t have “busy things.”

But Nyx burbled excitedly. One of his little hands reached for a lock of Cassian’s hair and tugged, his tiny wings flapping slightly.

“It’s settled then. Your son will be learning how to run the Night Court today.”

“Right. Because that’s what you’re in charge of,” Feyre responded drying, but she couldn’t help smiling at Nyx.

Cassian grinned. “See you. Try not to get sick or I might have to keep Nyx forever.”

Feyre smiled. “Right.”

They exchanged farewells and Cassian turned toward the door of their manor. “Oh, and don’t break anything,” Feyre called after him. “And don’t break my son.”

Cassian didn’t even turn back; he just flipped Feyre off over his shoulder, holding the baby in one hand. Feyre smiled, but she wasn’t actually concerned. For all his goofing about, Cassian could be surprisingly responsible, and she knew he would take care of Nyx well. Satisfied her child was in good hands and safe from infection, she walked over to the other room.

After dismissing the staff for the day (pay still included, of course), Feyre made for the kitchen. She used her magic to light a fire under the stove and she placed a pot on top. Even with her abilities, she normally wasn’t lazy enough to use them for everything, but she wanted this going as quickly as possible.

Worried about Rhys, Feyre used her magic once more to speed along the chopping. After dumping the vegetables in the broth she’d put in, she winnowed back upstairs.

Rhys was semi-conscious, exhausted but too pained to reach sleep. “Rhys, wake up.”

Rhys moaned. “Piss off.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you stay like this. You’re too uncomfortable to sleep well, Rhys.” Feyre helped him sit up, countering all of his protests with promises of soup.

“You don’t need to make soup all by yourself just for me.”

A huff of breath left Feyre’s lips. “I kept my family alive for years. I know how to make soup.”

Rhys sighed in resignation. “It’s not really that bad.”

“You say that like you wouldn’t be calling five healers over and praying to the gods I don’t die if our positions were switched.”

“Fair enough. We can both be rather protective of each other. But-”

“No buts,” Feyre said firmly. “I’ll be right back with soup. Drink this in the meantime. You need lots of fluids.” She waved her hand, summoning a glass of water on their nightstand.

Rhys sighed but reached for it, which was enough for Feyre. She left the room.

Soup was ready five minutes later. Her magic had really sped up the process; she was impatient and wanting to be with her mate, who she heard coughing again. As soon as she could, Feyre made her way back upstairs.

“Hey, babe.”

Feyre snorted and made a tray appear on him lap. She set the bowl down. “Hey.”

The glass of water was still mostly full, but Rhys had taken a couple sips. Appeased, Feyre moved to the other side of the bed and sat down next to her mate.

Rhys sighed, but reached for the spoon.

As he slowly took little spoonfuls, Feyre placed her hand on his forehead, and found him without a fever. A good sign.

She began gently rubbing his back. He was cold, and Feyre let warmth deep through her fingers, courtesy of the Autumn Court’s fire in very small quantities.

Rhys sighed in content. “Maybe I should get sick every day.”

“If it’s the only way to get you to rest, I suppose that wouldn’t be too bad,” Feyre replied, smiling. Her hands kept moving on his back. “I heard last century was the last time you got sick?”

Rhys swallowed another spoonful. “I vomited on Keir.”

Feyre took a minute to process this. “You did what?”

Rhys grimaced. “I wasn’t feeling well, but I thought I’d be okay to make the trip. I clearly wasn’t.”

Feyre burst into laughter. “Oh my gods.”

“Stop that,” Rhys demanded. “You’re not supposed to make fun of me while I’m not feeling well.” His features transformed into a pout.

Feyre couldn’t stop a grin from making its way to her face. “No wonder Keir doesn’t like you.”

Rhys tried to scowl, but he smiled faintly. “I’ll admit, he was a bit more civil to me before that. Only a bit, though.”

Feyre positively cackled. “This is why I love you.”

“Because I accidentally projectile vomit on people I don’t like?”

“Precisely,” Feyre said.

More broth, as well as a small carrot, was swallowed. Rhys sighed pathetically and Feyre just watched him, still massaging his back, trying not to worry too much.

Sickness in Fae was rare, and it usually didn’t last for long, due to their strong immune systems. He must have caught it from somewhere, and Feyre decided to warn her friends later to be careful. Everyone would be fine, but having all her friends sick would be a hassle, to say the least. At least Nyx was safe; Cassian would definitely be staying away from others today. He wouldn’t admit it, but he could be overly fussy too.

Rhys slurped the rest of the broth out of the bowl, holding it up to his face, while Feyre chuckled at him. Then she sent the empty bowl away with a wave of her hand. “Time to rest, Rhys.”

Rhys just pouted at her. “I’m not tired.”

“Liar. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Rhys reluctantly let Feyre help him lie back against the pillow. Several moments later, they were both situated: Rhys was absolutely covered in blankets to fight off the chills and Feyre’s arms were around him, her magic still warming his body.

Feyre entered his mind and sent comforting thoughts over, as well as urges to rest. It didn’t take long before he was snoring.

Holding her mate, comforting him through even a mild ailment, couldn’t have felt more right. Feyre desperately wanted him to heal, and soon he would, but for now she was content to listen to him breathe and inhale his familiar scent.

As Feyre herself drifted off, she just hoped she could convince Rhys to let her in his mind and show her Keir’s expression after being vomited on. Because that was something she wanted to see.

———

Tag List:

@feysand-loml

@aelin-bitch-queen

@story-scribbler

@live-the-fangirl-life

@midsizewitch

@infernoqueen19

#feysand #acotar #sick day #my writing

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pub-lius · 3 years

Text

ACTUALLY Hardcore Facts About Alexander Hamilton

Alright, take two.

I've already typed this entire thing out once, so this is likely going to be a lot more lazy than anything else I will ever post, so :).

Sources: Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow; John Laurens and the American Revolution by Gregory D. Massy; The Federalist by Alexander Hamilton; George Washington's Indispensible Men by Authur S. Lefkowitz; Lafayette by Harlow Giles Unger; Who Was Alexander Hamilton? by Pam Pollack and Meg Belviso

Hamilton wished for a war when he was like a baby. So if you know Hamilton, you know that one line where Hamilton says "As a kid of the Carribean, I wished for a war, I knew that I was poor, I knew it was the only way to rISE UP-" in Right Hand Man. Well, that line is based off of a letter Hamilton sent to his childhood bestie, Edward Stevens: "...Ned, my ambition is [so] prevalent that I... would willingly risk my life, tho' not my character, to exalt my station... I'm no philosopher, you see, and may be jus[t]ly said to build castles in the air... I shall conclude by saying I wish there was a war. Alex. Hamilton." Okay, dude, calm down, you're like two years old. I think he was actually like 14-16, but for dramatic purposes we'll say he was an actual infant (do I sound like Chernow?). But I hate how much this letter foreshadows. It's like he jinxed himself, its almost embarrassing.

Hamilton ran a business at 14. Now if you've ever been fourteen and you were like "i think i feel like running a business" literally shut up no one asked. I think this is impressive. When Hamilton was at least 14, the guys the owned Beekman and Cruger (it had a different name by this time but this one sounds cooler) just dipped and left Hamilton in charge. This was actually a pretty good decision, since Hamilton managed it well. There was also this one time where Hamilton told a whole captain of a ship who didn't perform up to standard, "Reflect continually on the unfortunate voyage you have just made and endeavor to make up for the considerable loss therefrom accruing to your owners." This man was so arrogant I wish I had his confidence. Yeah that was cool ig, but if I met teenage-Hamilton, I'd literally hate him.

Hamilton saved the president of his college. Ever the dramatic, Hamilton had a thing for suppressing mobs (though he was pretty much never successful). There was this one time at King's College where a mob formed to "talk" with the president of the university, Dr. Myles Cooper (by "talk" i mean make him into a tory bird). And, according to Who Was Alexander Hamilton? (this book gives me so much joy), "Alexander vowed to protect him [aww]... He stood up to the crowd, telling them that violence would only hurt their cause. He couldn't stop the crowd, but he delayed them long enough for Dr. Myles Cooper to escape in his nightgown," (Pollack and Belviso 27-29). This is a really sweet description of it, but Hamilton was probably calling the mob a bunch of insults and stuff, judging by how he later handled riots. Also, Cooper thought Hamilton was rallying the mob, so he was a complete jerk to Hamilton, but rightfully. Everyone, bully Hamilton. He's short and dead like an idiot.

Hamilton was really cool on the battlefield, don't @ me. Now, despite being a clumsy little gremlin and an absolute dork, Hamilton was a pretty good leader, and I guess veterans deserve to be recognized for their victories or whatever. At the battle of Princeton, one of my favorites, Hamilton had very big, cool guns, and did some cool stuff. "Returning to the final phase of the battle of Princeton, British infantry took refuge inside Nassau Hall, the building that housed the College of New Jersey. American artillery commanded by Capt. Alexander Hamilton [ya boy] was brought to bear on the college building... Washington was on the scene and noticed this young artillery officer who skillfully commanded his gun battery. The general would soon invite Hamilton to become one of his aides-de-camp," (Lefkowitz 92). Wow so cool moving on to Yorktown.

When the Americans were building their fortifications, two British fortifications were in the way. So rude. Consequently, Washington sent The Gay Trio, Lafayette, Laurens, and Hamilton, to uh, silence them. Hamilton pulled off a successful sneak attack, and won the battle swiftly, leading to the American victory in the battle of Yorktown, and therefore the war. "...Colonel Hamilton['s] well known talents and gallantry were on this occasion most conspicuous and serviceable. Our obligations to him, to Colonel Gimat [stan], to Colonel Laurens, and to each and all the officers are above expression..." -Major General Marquis de Lafayette. Lafayette is so nice I would marry him if he was alive and single and legal and not old as hell. Like omg he gave credit to everyone but himself that's so nice I'm such a simp for Lafayette. Anyway, Hamilton was cool too ig.

Hamilton caused the evacuation of Philadelphia like an iDIOT. So, after Brandywine (British victory), Washington sent Hamilton on a foraging mission in Vally Forge to get flour, horseshoes, and tomahawks (not quite as exciting as Yorktown). Well, our clumsy ginger rat got caught, and wrote to the president of Congress, John Hancock, "If Congress have not yet left Philadelphia, they ought to do it immediately without fail, for the enemy have the means of throwing a party [party rockers in the house tonight] this night into the city. I have just now crossed the valley-ford [Valley Forge], in doing which a party of the enemy came down & fired upon us."

Surprise, this turned out not to be the entire goddamn British army, it was just a few scouts sooo... let's just say Philadelphia wasn't happy. "Our Removal from Philad. Was owning to information that General Howe was crossing Schuylkill [River]... However tho' this Intelligence was from one of the General's family (Alexander Hamilton) it was not well founded & we wish we had not left Philad.," -James Duane. Yeeeaaahhh, that's awkward. Not the best way to get your name known in the capital, I must say.

Hamilton was possibly bisexual, and this is hardcore because I say so. Now, I'll add more quotes to this later, but basically heres my interpretation of the historical evidence and whatnot. Basically, Hamilton was a really closed off, cynical guy, since like everyone he ever loved died or left him pretty much, and he wasn't really the type to make and keep close friends; "...how little dependence is to be placed on treaties, which have no other sanction than the obligations of good faith, and which oppose general considerations of peace and justice to the impulse of any immediate interest or passion," (Federalist 64); It is a known fact in human nature, that its affections are commonly weak in proportion to the distance or diffusiveness of the object," (Federalist 73). Um, Mr. Hamilton? You're projecting your trauma on the government again.

Also, despite working with him for like twenty years, Hamilton really never got close to Washington, like at all. He even said to Laurens, "I have no friendship for him and have professed none," in regards to Washington, which is kind of mean. But he ALSO told Laurens:

"Cold in my professions, warm in my friendships, I wish, my dear Laurens, it m[ight] be in my power by action rather than words [to] convince you that I love you. I shall only tell you that till you bade us adieu, I hardly knew the value you had taught my heart to set upon you. Indeed, my friend, it was not well done. You know the opinion I entertain of mankind and how much it is my desire to preserve myself free from particular attachments and to keep my happiness independent of the caprice of others. You s[hould] not have taken advantage of my sensibility to ste[al] into my affections without my consent."

*mocking Hamilton* its YOUR fault that i love you and it was RUDE that you FORCED me to love you how DARE you you SUCK i love you uwu.

Also, at the top of that letter, someone mysterious (probably Hamilton's son) wrote, "I must not publish the whole of this," and Massey still thinks Hamilton was straight.

But yeah, that's about it. I had originally written more at the beginning, but I unfortunately lost the original draft, so I'll just settle for this. I hope you enjoyed, though, and maybe learned something or found a quote you needed or something. I did more research than I wanted to in one sitting for this, so appreciate it or I'll cry. Thanks love you <3

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somehow-progressing · 3 years

Text

WTNV 182 / 132 Connection

So this isn't the first time Cecil's mother and trees have been connected.

In 132, exactly fifty episodes previously, her bedtime story was about a boy who turned into a tree.

I reviewed this episode to look for connections and..

Oh, boy.

So, first off, the boy's interest in science obviously reminded me of Carlos, right? But then the similarities stop there.

And start leading towards Cecil.

(The rest under the cut)

We now know that there was a time where Cecil's father was in the picture, although it may have been when Cecil was very, very young. The family dynamic in 132's story matches his exactly: a mother, a father, a sister, the youngest son.

My first thought was, "Well, this can't be a parallel to Cecil's family. They're far too loving, which doesn't match up with what we know of Cecil's mother at all." But then I looked closer.

The boy's parents are verbally insistent that they love him, to the point where it comes off as "I'm your parent so I have to love you, it's my job to do everything for you." Putting pressure, and a sense of guilt, on the child while never actually living up to their word.

"He knew he would never need his father to give his life for him. He just wanted his father to show concern for his health. He knew he would never need his mother to give away all of her belongings for him. He just wanted his mother to show interest in his curiosity." - 132, Bedtime Story

His parent's love is very idealistic, while not being one that they actually show or.. Possibly, feel. They don't show concern for his health, or value his interests. He's their son, but he's not anything more.

"My mom seems really proud of me too! She hid from me for three days! Like, the longest ever! And she’s covered all the mirrors in my house. I’m not sure why, but I think it must be because of pride. Being proud does all sorts of things… to a… um… to a person." - 33, Cassettes

Cecil's own experiences parallel this. He interprets her love through ideals, to fill the void of it in actuality. When you're a child, you think that a parent is supposed to be loving. They're supposed to care. When they don't, or they leave you alone in your house, or they ignore you, or they tell you not to cry after you've been injured because "you don't even exist," your brain doesn't know how to process it. Like he did with his memory loss in 182, Cecil tries to rationalize it. Mother abandoned me because she's proud, because she cares about me- because she's my mother and she has to.

The boy's relationship with his sister parallels Cecil's as well.

"His sister would tell him, “I hate you, brother.” But their parents would instruct her to be nice and so she would say sarcastically, “I love you, brother. I would climb the tallest mountain for you." - 132, Bedtime Story

"He knew his sister really loved him. He knew he would never need his sister to climb a mountain for him. He just wanted his sister to believe him that mountains were real." - 132, Bedtime Story

As mentioned in Ghost Stories, Cecil has had a very difficult relationship with his sister.

"See, my mother disappeared when I was only 14. Abby had just started school, but she had to drop out to return home and raise me, and I thought that Mom would be back at any moment, like maybe she was away on business. Our out for a walk. Or just hiding.

But Mom did not come back, not for my entire childhood. And I was petulant and subversive, and Abby was reserved and controlling and she blamed me for having dropped out of school and I blamed her for just… not being Mom.

But in our adulthood, my mother did return home, sick and sorry to two children who barely spoke to each other in the morning." - Ghost Stories

Which would match up with the sister's animosity with him.

The difference here is that, out of the entire family, the boy knows that his sister actually loves him. And in Cecil's life, his sister is the only one he has made amends with. No matter how she treated him in the past, they are part of the same family once again. (As of 182, at least.)

Here, a direct parallel to Cecil is established. This boy's life mirrors his own.

Now, here's where it gets interesting.

Just as Cecil enters the tree, the boy is transformed into one

"He spent a lot of time in those next several months watching his family, their grief at his loss. His parents’ happiness at his sister’s education." - 132, Bedtime Story

There has been a lot of theorizing that Cecil's mother may have been covering the mirrors and leaving flowers because she was mourning Cecil, and not just his father.

"What was it your mother said before she left home when you were a teenager? Did she tell you she was an oracle?" - 171, Go to The Mirror?

It's entirely possible that Cecil's mother knew what would happen after she left, or had enough of an idea to subconsciously work it into a bedtime story.

It's possible that this is a glimpse of a timeline where Cecil really didn't survive entering the tree. His parents mourn, and his sister is allowed to pursue the education she wanted. (Which, in all honesty, a pretty cruel burden to place on Cecil's shoulders. It's not his fault that their mother disappeared, leaving Abby to take care of him.)

Next, we watch the boy slowly lose his humanity as his awareness widens outside of himself.

"Time slowed for him, and his knowledge grew so vast and so expansive, human triumphs and pains became only a small sliver of his interest. There were much larger systems to comprehend than humanity." - 132, Bedtime Story

Cecil is canonically one of the people in Night Vale that time slowed down for. Like Earl, he has been stuck at a certain age for a long, long time.

"He had forgotten what he used to be." - 132, Bedtime Story

Cecil has canonically lost large parts of his past. He no longer remembers them.

"Later that spring, the woman and the man and the child brought a picnic and some games, and the tree was happy, but could not comprehend why. Nor did the tree intend to. The tree was simply happy, and this was a feeling that existed. Years later, the family wore black again and cried. And the tree felt sad, but it did not connect this feeling to any kind of narrative. It was simply sad, and this was a feeling that existed." - 132, Bedtime Story

The boy tree is becoming incredibly distanced from his family. (A woman, man, and child, just like Abby, Steve, and Janice.)

"You know, Cecil and I first met at one of these things. Seems like we should have met earlier than that. I had dated his sister for a while. But Cecil’s busy, he- he serves his community. He really gives himself to his community. Who do you live for, you know? Who do you give yourself to? Those are questions we should all be asking ourselves." - Steve in 100, Toast

Steve confirmed that Cecil was distant from his family and the people around him before Carlos came along, burying himself in his job.

And then an angel cuts down the tree.

"Over a few days, the tree and the fruits and the separated stump died. But the tree retained everything. As its body was planted into boards, as its twigs were ground into mulch, the tree felt the knowledge of each seed it had planted across the valley, each creature it had nourished with its fruits, and each piece of lumber built into a home for generations of humans to come.

The tree felt its branches burned in a fireplace, and it rose up as smoke and dissipated into carbon across the sky, coming down in trillions of molecules to build more soil, more trees, more creatures. The boy could truly learn everything now, cell by cell." - 132, Bedtime Story

Cecil has given himself to his community. This boy, this tree, has been divided and used up as a resource, to serve the community in which he lived. Not to mention the fact that Cassettes Cecil died before becoming the Voice, like this boy/tree was cut down before he could serve/understand his community.

"Cecil, sweet Cecil. Whose life lies directly on the fault lines of this broken reality." - Huntokar in 109, Huntokar

Patching together:

- this quote from Huntokar that gives off the impression of Cecil as the glue keeping the fractures together, and

- the way that Leonard Burton, a deceased Voice, is brought back the moment that Cecil left town, filling the vacant spot, and

- the way that Night Vale fell apart when its citizens rejected their reality, and began to be patched back together along with the narration of their Voice

It all leads to:

The Voice of Night Vale is a significant, needed position.

It’s possible that he holds the fractured town together, in a way, his words reminding the citizens to keep their will and hold onto what is in front of them. (In the case that the cold light is the Smiling God, this gives it a motive. If it takes out Cecil, the town is left vulnerable for it to devour.)

Just like the tree, Cecil is used by his town.

His mother knew that he would become the Voice one day- it was prophesized. That’s the reason he was given the tape recorder, that’s the reason she told this story.

We still don’t know what was in the book in the table.

Then, this very interesting quote from 182:

“I’ve been in this job for a long time. Probably longer than I’ve been alive. I mean: you’ve been alive.”

He says the truth for a moment, then backs up because that doesn’t make sense to him. Coupled the way his mother’s story parallels Cecil’s, with boy becoming the tree, becoming a resource that serves the town and seeing all of it (similar to how Cecil knows what’s happening in the town and what its citizens are thinking without leaving his studio. See: every traffic report and episodes likes A Story About Them.) and Cecil mentioning the odd nature of his job in 182..

I think we’re about to learn exactly what it means to be the Voice.

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wannabemobwife · 3 years

Text

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas - Chapter 15

Chapter 15: Sacrifice

Dad!Mob!Tom x Mom!Mob!Reader

Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader, Rosie Holland x Henry Osterfield

Warnings: Blood, Language, Kidnapping, Typos

Words: 5.5K

Chapter 15: Sacrifice

Words: 5.5K You and Tom didn’t know how to react. You wanted to scream and cry but inside you knew that wouldn’t solve anything. Causing a fit would only give Carter the satisfaction he was looking for. To break the Holland family. Your only daughter had just been taken from you and being held for ransom by some miscreant.

Every time you got a call about Parker and Rosie hurt or missing, you wonder what would’ve happened if you left the mob and took them with you a long time ago. Leading you down a long path of misery and regret.

You didn’t want to take Tom away from his kids but, you never wanted this life for them. You had an image of your idyllic family when you were young, dreaming of your husband coming home everyday after work to your kids, two boys and one girl. Sometimes life doesn’t plan how you wanted it to but, the love you had found is irreplaceable.

Not marrying Tom would have had it’s advantages of not constantly looking over your shoulder. Or scared to death he will come home bruised and beaten or worse, not come home at all. A lifetime without pain but one without your best friend. Tom was the person you wanted to share everything with. He was the one who would let you vent about the stupidest little things. Usually something annoying the kids did, you were the main person with them from ages 0-14. Dealing with everything from runny noses to school projects.

You and Tom knew you could survive anything as long as you continued to love each other but everything that was happening at that moment was new feat. There weren’t guarantees that you would get Rosie back. Praying she wouldn’t come home in a body bag. Thoughts like these always plagued your mind. Especially when Parker was in the hospital after being almost beaten to death.

Losing Rosie was too much, too much you didn’t even want to think about it. If she didn’t come home, you didn’t know where you could go from there. Everything will have lost its meaning. The things you once adored, would offer no importance, including Tom. Your future together seemed bleak if he couldn’t do the one thing he always said he would, protect his family.

You were another story. Sure you didn’t appreciate waking up in a hospital bed. Being blinded by the white lights after some horrific accident but it was you. You knew you were strong and could take care of yourself. But when it came to your kids, all bets were off.

The main focus of everyone was finding Rosie safe. Parker and Haz came back home with an unconscious Henry in Haz’s arms. But no sign of Rosie. Tom was adamant to find out why Carter was targeting Parker.

“Parker what did you do? Carter Wilson is the one who took Rosie,” Tom asked Parker as he walked in along with Haz.

“Who’s Carter Wilson?” Parker questioned.

“Angus Wilson’s son. I ask again, what did you do?” badgered Tom.

“The night of the heist.—“ Parker started but was cut off.

“What heist? My heist? The one on at my casino? That was you?”

“Yeah, we are off topic. We can talk about it later…. So that night I went to tell Wilson I was quitting and then he started running his mouth about how he was the one who killed Charlotte and caused your and mom’s helicopter crash. I couldn’t take it anymore and I snapped,” Parker explained.

“Don’t tell me you killed him,” Tom announced as he shot daggers at Parker.

“I did. You don’t understand. I couldn’t let him get away with everything,” Parker mumbled, Tom’s disappoint washed over him like a wave.

“Holy fuck. Parker how could you be so stupid? Now this guy is out for your head. And he has Rosie.”

“I know dad. I KNOW. I have to fix this,” Parker vocalized.

“No, Parker. You’ve done enough. I can’t lose both my kids. Your mother won’t be able to handle it either. All we can do is treat her kidnapping with money and offer a ransom,” Tom bellowed.

“Dad I’m going,” Parker barked.

“No you are not,” Tom snapped back.

“Why not? A few days ago you couldn’t even look at me. I doubt you’d miss me if I was gone….We can’t just let her die. This is my fault. I caused this. Let me fix it. Let me save Rosie,” Parker pleaded.

“We won’t. She’s not going to die,” Tom asserted.

“If you show up, to wherever she is, without me, he’ll kill her on the spot.” Parker barked. Tom noticed how you turned white as sheet at the mention of ‘death’ and Rosie’s name in the same sentence. Tom begged to comfort you, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good if Tom couldn’t bring Rosie home.

“Y/N, why don’t you go lie down. I promise I’ll get her back, darling,” Tom mentioned as he saw you look broken hearted. Just staring into an imaginary abyss.

“Tom, don’t make promises you can’t keep. Parker, please listen to you dad for once. He’s right, we, I can’t lose both you and Rosie,” you sniffled. Your eyes stained red from crying yourself dry.

“What choice do we have? How are you going to get her back? He made it very clear he only wants one thing, me,” Parker shouted, tried of Tom not trying hard enough.

“END OF DISCUSSION!!! Now go to your room,” Tom growled.

“But dad!” Parker shouted

“No buts. I won’t hear anymore of this,” Tom concluded. “Let the grown ups handle it. I’m sorry Parker but, I won’t lose anyone else.” Tom finished, pushing Parker out of his office and closing the door. Maybe Parker inadvertently kidnapped Rosie, by going after Wilson but Tom had to finish. He needed to prove to himself and you that he could protect his family.

Rosie had no recollection of how she got there. She was sitting tied to chair, wrists and ankles bound, in a huge room with cold crisp air prickling her skin, giving her goosebumps. Her head pounded in her ears, throbbing too much to let her close her eyes.

“Rosie, darling. Wake up. I have big plans for you my dear,” Carter said, gliding over to Rosie tied in a chair, tearing the burlap sack off of her head.

He put two fingers on her chin, to force her to make eye contact. Rosie had been beaten and battered. Her skin stained red from tight ropes around her wrists and ankles. Tears had stopped coming, having cried all of them.

Rosie had given up hope that anyone was coming. She didn’t know if Henry was alive, last seeing him lying an alley.

“Please let me go. I don’t have what you want,” Rosie said, refusing to open her eyes and come face to face with her assailant. “Oh, I know that. But you will help me get him,” spoke Carter, revealing his face.

“If you’re talking about my dad. You’ll never take him alive. He’ll kill you before you even get the chance to load your gun,” Rosie asserted.

“No, I mean the Holland you share a birthday with,” Carter laughed off.

“What do you want with Parker?” Rosie questioned.

“You’ll see soon enough,” Carter finished, covering her face once more with a bag.

Back at the mansion, night had fallen and Tom and Harrison along with several other soldiers were held up in Tom’s office developing a rescue plan. Tom had been doing everything in his power, mostly throwing vast amounts of money to Carter as ransom.

Tom was frustrated that he couldn’t do anything. Not knowing Rosie’s location or Carter’s demands, besides giving up his son, Tom’s hands were tied. More like amputated with a machete, Tom felt helpless.

“Tom, another video from Carter just came through,” Haz informed Tom, playing the video on his computer.

“I don’t even want to look at it. Just tell me if she’s dead or not,” Tom whispered, rubbing his eyes. It was a video of Carter torturing Rosie. Tom wished he could trade places with her. If he could he would in heartbreak.

“I don’t know what more persuasion I can give you. I already have you daughter, now hand him over. Or poor, pretty Rosie over here is going to have a hard time breathing,” Carter reckoned.

“Ohhh, Rosie,” Carter motioned. “Your daddy’s watching. Why don’t you smile pretty for him.”

“Dad, please. Please save me.” Rosie pleaded before her head was plunged in a bucket of frigid water. Carter held her down long enough to where her lungs started to fill up with water but she didn’t stop breathing.

Her pulled her head out forcibly. Rosie came up, gasping for air. She coughed up all the inhaled water. Carter repeated this process three times, each time broke Tom’s heart even more.

Carter needed to show him he meant business.“You have until midnight to bring me Parker. This is your finally warning. Rosie we will learn how much you family truly loves you,” Carter concluded shutting off the video.

“Haz, I have a plan. It involves everyone. I need you to stay here and take care of Y/N. Even if I don’t come back, make sure she is okay. Don’t let her cry over me too much and tell her I love her one more time,” Tom pleaded, he didn’t want to leave you. But sometimes people don’t have a choice.

“Tom, tell her yourself. You’ll be here to take care of her. I’m sure of it. Along with everyone else, okay? But while you are gone I promise to keep her safe.”

“Always looking on the bright side, huh?” Tom quipped.

“I think I got it from Henry. Takes a lot to bring that kid down. Even in this life,” Haz chuckled.

He knew not having Rosie anymore would break him though. Harrison remembers how mopey Henry was when he and Rosie broke up. Refusing to do his chores and waking up late on purpose for school so he wouldn’t have to go.

Haz had never a found a love like that. One where you would put yourself in harms way just so the other wouldn’t even feel and inch of pain. The kind of love, he knew Tom and you had and only hoped Rosie and Henry had.

He couldn’t imagine if Henry had to experience the same type of pain Parker did. Losing Charlotte broke Parker, he was never the same after.

Parker made his way to the guest room, where Henry was recuperating after his concussion. Henry was the only person he could talk to. Everyone would just brush him off and not even give him the chance to make amends. Parker knew Rosie was tangled up in this because of him.

“Henry, I need to talk to you. You awake?” Parker whispered through the door.

“Come in,” Henry responded, Parker surprised he heard him.

“Hey, mate. How ya feeling?” Parker asked, walking into the room very stealthily.

“Shitty physically, shitty emotionally. I let them take her. I should’ve protected her,” Henry lamented, trying to not let the tears that pricked at his eyes fall.

“It’s in the past now. All we can do is try and get her back,” Parker assured. There isn’t really time to dwell on past events. Especially zeros time for what ifs.

“How? You’re being watched like a hawk. We all are.” Henry questioned, but if he knew his best friend at all. Nothing ever stopped him.

“I have a plan,” Parker concluded, explaining everything.

You had been resting in your room, ever since Tom banished you from his office. You understood he was just trying to protect you but it only drove you more insane. Not knowing everything, all the uncertainty was eating you alive.

You sat up in bed trying to fall asleep or at least let your mind stray away from everything long enough to close your eyes. You perked up as Tom walked into the closet, not giving you so much as a glance.

“Tom, are you coming to bed?” You asked as Tom came in your room for a change of clothes.

“I’m afraid not, love. I’ll say good night here. Night sweetheart. I’ll bring her home, please don’t worry,” Tom explained, kissing your forehead.

“If you say so. Good night.” Tom noticed how broken you seemed.

He desperately wanted to hold you and comfort you but he knew it wouldn’t do any good until he brought Rosie home. If he didn’t, he was uncertain of where that left you and him. But he couldn’t let these grim thoughts plague his mind.

Not even 20 minutes later, Parker walked through your door. Right as you were about to shut your eyes. “Mom, I just want to apologize for how I was acting earlier. I’m just scared we won’t get her back.”

“Baby, it’s ok. I am too. But you have to understand, I can’t lose you too.… Wait? Why are you dressed? No. Honey, I know what you are going to do but you can’t,” you cautioned, noticing Parker’s outfit.

“Mom, I can’t let Rosie die knowing I could’ve done something to stop it. I can’t let you stop me.” He said, backing up towards the door to your room.

“Parker, don’t do this. No. No, no no.” you barked as he shut the doors and locked them from the outside.

“I’m sorry mom, I really am. I’ll miss you.” Parker emitted through the shut doors.

“Open these doors, now! Parker get back here! PARKERRRR!!! TOMMMMM!!!” You screamed. They really locked you in your fucking room. Those bastards.

“This is fucking ridiculous. Someone let me out.” You shouted, banging on the door from the inside.

Parker and Henry made their way downstairs, first stopping in the gun room to load up on ammo. Henry had never shot a gun before, well not as much as Parker. Henry was more of the getaway driver. Parker grabbed the keys of the Rolls Royce, even if it was a rescue mission, it will be done in style.

In the garage they were greeted with Tom, loading up the trunk.

“Dad what are you doing here?” Parker asked, hoping he won’t be berated for sneaking out for the hundredth time.

“The same thing you are, going to get Rosie. Thanks for the distraction by the way, would’ve never been able to get passed your mother. How did you convince her?” Tom question, a little surprised that he was able to get passed you.

“I locked her in her room,” Parker mumbled, knowing it shouldn’t have done it but what choice did he have.

“Pfft, oh god. That’s one way to do it,” Tom chuckled at the thought of you locked in your room, like you were in a time out.

“Alright, boys. We have one mission, get Rosie and get out. I won’t be coming with bad news okay?”

“Understood. The Wilsons have taken too much from me. I won’t let them take my sister too.”

“Well said, makes me feel like we are in a movie.” Henry mocked, Parker’s statement.

“Everyone in the car. Seatbelts.” Tom announced as everyone hoped in.

Both Parker and Henry looked at him with an expression of ‘Are you kidding me?’

“What? I’m still concerned for your safety,” Tom concluded pulling out of the estate and embarking to the address Rosie was at.

All the while everyone was risking their lives, you were trapped in your god damm room. The nerve Parker had. You knew it had an influence from Tom.

“I know someone is out there. You can at least answer.” You whispered, voice hoarse from yelling. Yet no one answered, making you believe you were utterly alone.

After a few minutes a voice spoke, “Hi Y/N/N.” It was the voice of Haz.

Over the years you had grown very close to Haz. You would even call him your best friend. He was there for all the big moments. The birth of the twins, someone had to drive you to the hospital and when Tom proposed to you. And of course he was here now. When you needed someone the most.

All you could think about were worst case scenarios. Concerning Rosie, Parker, Tom, even Henry. Everyone had left you alone, you couldn’t even make them stay. The fear of losing them was too much.

“Haz, how could you let them do this to me?” You cried as tears streamed down your face.

“I’m sorry. I had to respect Tom’s wishes,” Haz murmured.

“You didn’t even go, but you let your son. Tom and Parker left with Henry to risk their lives and need to be there…I have to be there. I can’t lose all of them…Haz, I can’t…. I can’t breathe,” you exasperated. The air in then room growing more thin as you hyperventilated.

“Oh my god, I’m coming in. Are you okay?… What the—?” Harrison immediately unlocked the door to come to your aide. Worried he’d find you passed out or something.

Quite the opposite, you were standing there dressed in all black, with a pistol in your hands pointing at the only person standing in your way.

“I need to know where they went,” you said, cocking the gun, directly pointed at his chest.

“Y/N, don’t.” Haz whispered, throwing his hands up in surrender.

“I’m sorry Haz. I really am. But I can’t let Parker do this. Where’d they go?” You asked with an unchanging expression.

“Some warehouse on Adams Ave and 3rd Street. That’s all I know.” Haz said, closing his eyes, knowing Tom will have his head for letting you trick him.

“That’ll do. Thank you. I really don’t want you to follow me,” You mumbled, realizing what you had to do.

“Just get it over with.” Haz commented, holding his hands out to be bounded.

“I’m sorry but this is going to hurt me more than it hurts you,” you apologized as you tied his ankles to chair legs.

“I seriously doubt that. Please make sure Henry gets home safe. Wait, where’d you get these handcuffs,” Haz said as he was bounded to the chair. He soon realized what he was bound with. The hot pink fluffy handcuffs around his wrists were meant to only be used by you and Tom.

“Umm, you don’t want to know and I promise I will.”

“Gross, Y/N. Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Harrison made a face of pure disgust.

“I could say the same to you. Wait, Tom probably hid all the keys. Can I?” You said as you shoved a clean sock as a gag. So he couldn’t scream.

“Take them and go,” he concluded as you pulled the gag out and told you where his car keys were.

“Thank you. I’ll be back with everyone. I promise,” You said, pressing you lips to his cheek before you placed the gag between his teeth.

You quickly hopped into Haz’s jeep and jetted off. Trying to get there, soon enough to stop Tom, Parker and Henry.

At the Carter’s warehouse, Rosie couldn’t shake the taste of blood on her tongue. Carter had gotten a few licks in. A harsh slap to her right cheek, leaving a faint imprint. She couldn’t even soothe it, still restrained rather harshly. The ropes digging into her skin.

“You better hope they get here. And love you as much as they claim they do. Are you sure they didn’t forget about you. For your safe return, I’m asking big. Your brother needs to turn himself over to me,” Carter exclaimed. Rosie tensed at Carter’s ask. She can’t and wouldn’t let Parker die for her. Her face said it all. An expression of pure worry washed over her.

“Ah, there it is. That look. Deep down you know he isn’t coming. You’re more expendable than the golden boy of the Hollands and you’ve known it for years. Save your breath sweetheart. You are an afterthought, just like me,” Carter grinned.

“You’re wrong. I know they are looking for me. Once they find me, there will be no place on earth you can hide,” Rosie spat. Carter continued spewing lies about her and her family.

“I know what it’s like to be the forgotten child. Believe it or not but I had an older brother, Jacob. My father’s pride and joy and when he died, the mob could only be passed to me. My father resented me for taking Jacob’s place, I wasn’t my dad’s first choice neither his second or third or fourth for fucks sake. Hated that daft man. Kind of mad your brother beat me to kill, didn’t get the satisfaction of seeing the life slowly drain from his eyes,” Carter lamented, spilling his darkest thoughts to Rosie.

“You’re psychotic. You shouldn’t have been treated that way but it’s not too late. If you hated your dad so much, why are you after my brother for killing him. Seems like he did you a favor,” Rosie quipped.

“What kind of son would I be if I didn’t avenge his death? I stepped up and the moment Angus died, I became the leader. The same will happen to you,” Carter questioned.

“I have no idea what you are talking about. I’m just the daughter, maybe the forgotten child but not a killer.”

“I’ll wait and see. We are the same Rosie. Sooner or later, once I kill your brother you will be the new Holland to take on the mantle. Don’t you get it, we are the same.”

“You’re wrong. I don’t need validation from my family, I’m glad I don’t have the burden of living like this,” Rosie responded. Not letting him see that his words were piercing her heart.

“Maybe you don’t need it, but you’d appreciate it. All those times of living in the shadows of everyone else. Never being the first choice. ALWAYS BEING SECOND!!! Aren’t you fucking tired? I sure as hell am and there is hell to be paid from all this.” Carter shouted, causing Rosie to thrash in her restraints

“What are you suggesting?”

“Join me. You talk about not wanting this life, but deep down you are mad at the world you weren’t picked first. Like if we were still in grade school lined up against the gym wall waiting to be picked for dodgeball. You have anger, I can feel it. Use it. Let it fuel your vendetta, Rosie you’ll never get a better offer. Don’t let this be another regret,” Carter requested.

“I’d rather die than join you,” Rosie spat at him.

“If your brother doesn’t show up that can be arranged. You see, I’m a man of my word. Hopefully your brother is too,” Carter concluded, leaving the room.

Rosie couldn’t let him see it, but she was crawling her skin. Begging to get away from that heinous man and back in Henry arms.

‘Oh, Henry’ she thought to herself. The last she of him was when she was abducted. Knocked out alongside her. For all she knew he could be dead, cadaverous lying lifeless somewhere. A few tears slipped out as she let those grim thoughts plague her mind.

Rosie owed everything to Henry. Life without him meant nothing at all. He was there when she needed him most but not right at that moment.

Little did she know, Tom, Parker and Henry were all outside of planning how to bring her home safely. “Ok. We don’t know how many people are in there. But since it’s a warehouse Rosie is probably being held in the main garage. Nobody splits up. Henry you have to stay out here. If Rosie comes out, drive off,” Tom explained.

“What? No. I’m going in there.” Henry questioned, a little annoyed they didn’t want them in there. Sure he had never held a gun before or had to deal with a hostage situation, but he wanted to be in there.

“Henry, your dad needs you and Rosie needs you. She needs you if we both don’t make it. She needs you always. Just promise me, you will treat my daughter well,” Tom uttered.

“I will, sir. Parker, when you're giving that bastard hell, don’t give him a shitty threat. I’ll be waiting for all of you. Now go get our girl.” Henry said, realizing that staying outside was for the best.

Tom and Parker slowly, make their way in the warehouse. Quietly to not alert any lurking guards.

“Parker, I don’t know what we’re walking into. I don’t say it enough but, I love you son. Take care of your mother for me if anything happens?” Tom pleaded.

“I love you too, dad. I will, I promise. But nothing is going to happen,” Parker assured Tom.

“I’ll lead the way. Make sure you stay behind me.” Tom whispered, holding two fingers up.

“Psst, dad,” Parker faltered as Tom was throwing him hand signals.

“Parker, I know you haven’t really been in a shoot out, but shut up.”

“I don’t know what that means…Dad stop, I don’t know.”

“Seriously. It means, I go right, you go left and also shut up.”

“Shut up, two fingers means—“ Parker mocked, becoming oblivious to his position. He was standing right in front of an open hallway.

“Parker, shh…. Get back.” Tom whisper-screamed.

“Oh shit.” Tom mentally face palmed as Parker walking right into open sight giving away their position.

Carter’s men immediately pulled out their guns after noticing Parker jump back behind the corner. Tom and Parker both start firing, covering each other. Bullets strike the two assailants, killing them.

“Like I said, I’m leading—“ Tom said, before being disarmed.

“DAD!!” Parker screams as Tom’s gun is knocked out of his hand and one of Carter’s men wrap his hands around Tom’s neck.

“Shoot him.” Tom managed to croak out as his voice grew more hoarse, by his wind pipe being crushed.

“What?” Parker questioned.

“I said shoot him. SHOOT HIM!” Tom’s voice coming out more as a whisper scream.

Parker aimed his gun at the henchman, closing his eyes. He didn’t want to hit Tom. One shot fired, flooring the thug. The hands around Tom’s neck became limp and Tom coughed to catch his breath.

“You closed your eyes!” Tom wheezed, allowing air to once fill his lungs again.

“What? No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did. You could’ve killed me.”

“I didn’t want to hit you,” Parker explained.

“And closing your eyes, impeding your eyesight would prevent that?” Tom thundered sarcastically.

“Ok, if I’m right, they are keeping Rosie past they corridor and there are about three guards right there. I need to save my bullets. But we can take these guys right?” Tom mentioned.

“I guess so,” Parker hesitated.

“Here I’ll make it a fair fight.” Tom said, holding his gun up from around the corner. He fired blind and all you heard was a thud.

Parker was beyond impressed, his jaw slacked open. “How? Hooowww?”

“Parker, close your mouth. Fists up,” Tom replied, throwing the first punch. Barely making a dent in the man’s chiseled face. More punches were thrown by both Parker and Tom. Tom managed to get one of the assailants in a head lock and with the twist of his wrist, snapped his neck.

Parker tried the same but failed epically, “Damm they make that look so easy in the movies.”

“Alright. I’ll stay here to cover you. Go get your sister,” Tom chuckled. Parker just nodded and went through the corridor, finding Rosie centered in a great room tied to a chair. He approached her slowly, trying to stay quiet.

“No, please. No more torture. Just kill me already,” Rosie pleaded with her eyes shut, trying to stop tears from coming.

“Rosie it’s me,” Parker whispered, placing a hand on her cheek.

“Parker,” Rosie exclaimed. All the hope that had dissipated coming back. She was saved.

“Yeah, its okay. We got you now. You’re safe,” Parker assured her. All her bruises and cuts made his heart clench. She wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him.

“Oh, look who finally showed up. Glad you’re somewhat honorable, giving yourself to save your dear sister. The deal was you for her,” Carter jeered coming out of the shadows.

“He’s right. I have to do this,” Parker asserted, going to walk toward him but Rosie grabbed his wrist.

“No you don’t,” Tom yelled, running up to protect Rosie.

“Parker come on,” Rosie begged.

“Are you a man of your word or a sad pathetic little boy?” Carter snickered.

“I’m sorry guys,” Parker pleaded. What choice did he have? Give himself up or have his family be constantly hunted.

“You aren’t taking him.” Tom shouted about to pull out his gun but Carter beat him to it. Shooting him in the left shoulder.

“Daaadddd!” Rosie yelled, dropping to Tom’s level.

“I’m okay, Rosie. I’m okay,” Tom explained, hissing from the pain. His shirt becoming bloodied.

“Come on, I could see you coming from a mile away,” Carter smirked.

“Well did you see this?” Parker said, sending a bullet through his abdomen. Blooded seeped all through his white shirt, the blood loss made him stumble as he fled.

“Rosie, there’s a car outside. Take dad,” Parker disclosed.

“Parker, no. You have to come with is.” Rosie pleaded, tears threatening to fall.

“I’m right behind you. I have to know he is dead. And you have to get dad home.”

“I won’t leave without you. I promise.”

“I’ll be out soon. Go,” Parker motioned. Rosie held Tom close to her body, holding him up as she made her way to the exit.

“Carter, you’re not getting away that easy.” Parker called out, running to the back of the warehouse in search of Carter.

“Come to finish the job? Missing that clean, one shot kill. What was it, execution style?” Carter joshed, coughing as blood filled his mouth.

“Exactly what I’m doing. This bullet was never meant for you but you came after me and my family,” Parker lamented.

“Parker, they’ll never be safe…. The blood you have spilled has marked them for life. They will always be leverage for the man who killed half of London’s mob scene…. Always a pretty penny for your head.” Carter said with labored breaths.

“Shut up, I can protect them,” Parker barked, soon realizing Carter was right.

“They only way you can protect them… is by leaving them.” And with that all life and breath had left Carter. Parker’s thoughts kept coming one after the other. They wouldn’t stop. All the knew was that Rosie was now safe and so was Tom.

Rosie opened the doors to be greeted with her loving boyfriend, Henry. They exchanged a few words, before he attended to Tom.

“Henry,” Rosie whispered, a smile streaked across her face.

“Rosie,” Henry returned, the same smile appeared as he stared at her with pure adoration.

“Tom. Are you okay?” Henry asked, noticing Rosie was carrying him.

“I’m fine. Can we save this love fest for later?” Tom mocked as he clutched his arm.

Not even a minute later, you came running up to the warehouse. You heart stop as you saw a bloodied Tom, “TOM! Oh my god Tom.”

“Y/N?... Baby I’m okay its just a graze.” Tom was surprised to see you here, because he specially left Haz in charge of watching you.

“Owww. What was that for?” He questioned as you punched him in the arm.

“That’s for locking me in my fucking room,” you remarked.

Next what you did, surprised all of them. Who knew anger and adoration were such close emotions. You pressed your lips to his chapped ones. He was surprised by act of love, but relished in your kiss.

“And that’s because I’m so happy to see you,” you whispered, breaking away from a gentle kiss.

“I promise I’ll never leave again. I’m sorry.” Tom whispered against your forehead as the pressed a gentle kiss.

“Rosie, where’s Parker?” you questioned, realizing your family wasn’t whole. You felt your heart sink to your stomach.

“I d-d -don’t know. He was right behind us.” Rosie stammered.

“Henry, I’m going back in. To get him.” Rosie asserted.

“Rosie, please don’t leave me again,” Henry begged.

“He came to save me. Someone has to do the same for him,” Rosie assured.

“I’m going with you,” Henry agreed.

BOOM

As they were running back to the big metal doors, a loud explosion rang through the streets. The building before their eyes burst into flames, before they had the chance to enter. It was engulfed in flames, along with everyone else.

You felt as though your heart stopped and you began to fall to your knees. Buckling under the grief. Tom caught you in his arms as you fell. No one could survive an explosion like that. Not even Parker.

A/n: I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Two chapters left, then the sequel series.

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