#should I say something about not condoning violence?
Text
Magic as a TV Show
(CWs: Child Abuse, Cults)
(Edit: Did some light editing, still a bit messy but should be fine now)
So, it's not a secret that I'm a big fan of Magic. It's my favorite T1 MV and one of my favorite Milgram MVs in general. Even before Purge March I'd re-watch it over and over again just because I liked it so much.
One of my favorite things about it is the way the visual language and symbolism develops over it's runtime, and with Purge March it's gotten ever better so lets talk about it!
Based on True Events
So, Magic is the very cheery TV Show that is based on the horrors going on backstage, and it's also aware of it's own fictional nature. It ends with the real Amane watching the show. It knows it's a world created by a 12 year old who wants to be Good.
This causes something interesting when viewing it's imagery. As Magic depiction of events can be both very literal and very metaphorical at the same time.
For example: Something that surprised most people (including myself) is the cat being real, and while it is representative of Something (which we will get to) it is very much an actual cat that was killed.
Magic plays with what is real and what is fictional very loosely, and while certain things Happen in the real world, you can't really separate the real from the fictional here. It's too interconnected with each other and the imagery would lose it's impact if you did separate them.
So with that established it's visual analysis time!
The Set
So Magic is set in one place for the majority of it's runtime. This set! Which resembles a lot of educational kid's tv programs, usually ones for preschool and under.
Here's are sets from an early season of Hi-5 and Imagination Movers to compare.
You can see the similarities, it's heavy on bright colors and wacky designs, the logo of the show is plastered Somewhere you can easily see, and only some of the props can actually be used!
These two examples are also very music based. Both of them being shows starring children's musical groups.
The animals here (except for the Cat which is in a Complicated situation) are probably representative of the audience. The other people of the cult being taught along with Amane.
Audience Participation is a big thing for shows like this, you'll see them perform with a bunch of children on the side cheering and dancing. It's a fun time for everyone!
Going back to the set, while the main set only has the colorful stage we do see a few props in Magic. You can see a Choir book right here so the group can sing.
A Whiteboard to teach.
A Donation box to show your generosity.
And...
A Game Show Stage to see if you understood the lesson.
Age Rating
I've talked...extensively before on how Pain is handled in Magic and while that post is outdated because I posted it right before Purge March a lot of it still stands to some extent.
Amane's pain in Magic is downplayed in Magic, it's nothing serious. Even though this pain is something Inflicted Onto Amane Physically by Gatacha.
I was going to talk a bit about corporeal punishment in Japan before realizing that this isn't even something that is considered a punishment. It's just a finger flick. This is something your older brother does to you cause he thinks its funny. It's the lightest possible kind of "punishment" there is.
This makes Amane's reaction to it seem silly. An Overreaction to something that isn't even that bad. She has cartoonish swirls and falls over dramatically. It's...Immature of her to react like this.
Even though we know these are injuries are much more serious than they are shown here. Magic doesn't portray them as serious, and also portrays Amane as Immature for acting like this.
Which points to something interesting, as I said this show resembles a preschool show and it's strange that twelve year old Amane Momose, almost a teenager Amane Momose, is existing in a world like this.
It gets even weirder when we consider that, while Amane most likely hasn't been exposed to much media her mind still conjures up a marching band in Purge March and she talks very "adult" in both her VDs and hates it when people treat her like a child.
Not only that, but Amane Momose in both Purge March And Magic is drawn visibly older than she actually is.
It's not the easiest to see because I can't find a good picture but you can see it in just the face shape. Outside of Magic and Purge March Amane's face is more squishy, with less defined cheeks and bigger, rounder eyes. While Magic and Purge March have her face be more defined and her eyes smaller and sharper. Making her look more like a young teenager rather than the seven year old. She's even called Big Sister Amane in Magic's credits.
If Amane Momose's mind is depicting her as older than she actually is, and Amane Momose outside of it acts very "adult" and hates it when people treat her like a child. Why then does Magic portray her actions as immature? Why is she put in the spot of a preschooler learning from their teachers?
Why is Amane Momose, in her mind, stuck in a preschool show?
Well, there's two layers to this.
First of all, Good preschool shows are usually very empathetic to the kids watching them and good preschool shows don't patronize or talk down to the viewers.
Even if the problem is seemingly irrational or nonsensical.
It's important to be empathetic with your viewers.
And to treat it their problems and issues with respect and understanding.
A concept that would be very appealing to Amane Momose, person who gets tortured for even showing a smidge of "impurity."
Second, why...wouldn't Amane Momose be portrayed as the preschooler learning here? She's the one constantly messing up, still not a good girl even though she should have learned by now. She's immature by the standards of her cult.
She's the perfect actor for this role, a girl that cannot be a good girl but wants to be.
Only if, only if, only if I could be a good girl
I hope, I hope everyone can be happy and smile
Forever, forever together would be a dream
The big sister that everyone can learn from, a character who has to learn from the older more experienced folk in the cast before becoming like them. The one who fails so that everyone else can learn.
This is the role Amane Momose has given herself.
Well...that and one other thing.
Cast
Will I ever get over the cat parallels?
The answer is no, but ignoring that, Amane has gotten two acting roles! The cat here is both the actual Purge March cat but is representative of Amane. As seen by how the injuries on the cat are her injuries in Magic and Purge March and how the cat gets directly paralleled with her in shots.
This cat is, for all intents and purposes, both The Cat and Amane.
This gives the scene where Amane helps the cat a neat double meaning. Amane is helping the cat but it's also symbolically her helping herself...and failing.
Because Your not supposed to escape your trial.
Amane: Both pain and illness are trials.
This is one of the worst things you can do.
Amane: According to our teachings, those who run from them are the worst evil there is. That’s one of the four great principles. No matter who you are, that cannot be forgiven.
Your especially not supposed to steal those trials away.
Amane: Oh – speaking of which, there is one among the prisoners right now. An evil existence that’s trying to steal people’s trials away from them.
The cat is Amane's sinful desires to escape pain and help people, because that's Bad Apparently. She is cast as both the sinner and the thing that tempts people to sin. The corruptive force and the one who falls for it.
If were talking TV: She's the one in those 90s PSA episodes who gets Wrapped up in a Bad Thing and also the person who's the gateway to the Bad Thing.
(Blueepink has a wonderful addition to one of my posts over here which elaborates on this and is what made me realize it in the first place. Go read it she talks about some fun animal symbolism in it!)
Amane does however redeem herself in the end. You can always learn to be better after all. Even if you are the Worst Girl.
But you can't get rid of the devil that easily, she had some help!
(You can't get rid of the devil that easily in general, but it's nice to imagine you could-)
Let's talk about the mascots!
And Crew
So as people have noted each mascot corresponds to one of the doctrines.
In Magic introduction order we have:
Gachata- ’Tis ordained, thou shall stay thine course, then perish
Yuri- ’Tis ordained, thou shall deliver unto those thou believest in
Gozake -’Tis ordained, thou shall discard vulgarity
Riyone- ’Tis ordained, thou shall follow thine destiny
(Fun fact: The doctrines are introduced opposite to how the mascots are introduced in Purge March. I don't know what this means but it certainly is interesting)
Like a lot of children's tv show groups, each mascot seems to be focused on a specific task/idea.
Gachata is Teaching
Yuri is Donations
Gozake is Choir
And Riyone is Complicated
Each design reflects this in one way or another. Gachata is a robot because robots are associated with being smart and logical. Yuri's clothes are patched up and he's wearing a bin making him look, well poor. Gozake is in priest's wear and has a Conductor's Baton and Riyone...
Well, she has bandage ears. But that's a weird design choice isn't it? Especially since the cult is so against medicine, or more accurately against escaping pain, that Wrapping a Handkerchief around a cat's leg is considered wrong.
Amane literally wants to kill Shidou Right Now for violating that rule...so why does Riyone have bandages?
The answer is she doesn't, this is Magic Exclusive Design Choice.
Here is the best picture of Riyone I Could get in Purge March.
These are not the same ears, their rounder and smaller and don't have the bandage holes at the end.
Do you know what else is weird about Riyone?
This sequence.
Because as Amane has stated in the T2 VD, your not supposed to run from pain.
So why is Riyone suggesting healing the cat's physical injury through prayer?
Especially since, presumably, the rule about pain is under her. She's the one representing it.
Well, this is Amane's fictional TV show. The one she's writing to bring herself comfort. Why Wouldn't she want Riyone to be a healer who could stop the pain?
You will note that this gives extra responsibility onto Amane for not following what is the obvious Good Action. Healing the Cat with Prayer would have Fixed everything but she had to go Too Far and needed to be taught a Lesson and now the cat is Gone.
Riyone is also paralleled with her mom.
This is probably due to the rule she's associated with, as that's the rule her mom punished Amane for breaking and the rule Amane punished her for breaking.
Amane has Not acknowledged that what was done to her was Wrong, she has just acknowledged the hypocrisy of the action. Riyone is portrayed as right for punishing her since it Is her doctrine she broke, while her mom is portrayed as wrong because she was not able to live up to her own standards.
This is probably why Riyone doesn't disappear in the end. As said above, Magic plays very fast and loose with what is real and what is metaphorical. Riyone represents her mom Yes but She's more representative of the rule, a rule that Amane still (wants to) believe in it.
For now at least.
Lighting
So I haven't mentioned the stage light yet even though it's a really important part of it, it's what sets off the chain of events that end in Winged Amane. It's the most real looking thing in this entire MV.
In a move I will find funny forever, this is one of the few things in Magic that doesn't seem to be connected to any specific real world event, object, or person. This stage light is most likely, purely a metaphor.
The way it disguise its nature is really interesting to me. Magic is so obviously fictional and fantasized that the real looking stage light stands out, especially since it hurts The Cat. It's unexpected and concerning, it feels out of place in this cheery world.
Except, I've mentioned it multiple times now that Magic plays fast and loose with the boundaries of fiction and reality. Magic is a show and it knows it. This Stage light was always apart of it's visual identity as a show.
This Stage light is the most obvious Show element out of everything. It's the lighting AND the inciting incident. An important backstage element and an important story element all wrapped up into one light.
This is also probably a reference to an early scene in the Truman Show.
The light falling is one of the first things that clues Truman to the nature of his world. It's the inciting incident because Truman starts noticing more strange things happening in his town, and an important backstage element, a star in the sky.
Plus, the stagelight was already breaking when we see it in Magic, we can see it flicker for a few seconds before falling.
It wasn't sabotaged with the intent to hurt. The light of this world is Literally Breaking. This image of stable happiness was never going to last forever and has probably been broken multiple times in the past.
It just so happened that The Cat was the one it fell on-top of this time.
Audience
I would go into more costuming or the storybook sequences in Magic if this post wasn't already so long. I think Magic is a deeply interesting MV and honestly it doesn't even feel like I'm scratching its surface sometimes.
I sometimes call it Amane Momose's self-insert hurt/comfort fix-it-fic because that really is what Magic is. It's her fix-it fic. Her TV series. Her maladaptive daydream that makes her feel like she still Has Something to hold onto.
Even I can say "I'm sorry"
Even I have hope
I swear! I'm going to be a good girl now! That's it!
This is actually something she shares a bit with Fuuta but if we talked about those parallels we would be here forever and it's also very much out of the scope of this post.
But, as I mentioned, we see Amane watching it at the end. She's an audience member for her own show, detached from all the silly, empathetic, understanding, fun events going on in that world.
Amane Momose is Very Aware that the world she wants isn't real.
But even so, that Want for it to be real is going to bleed into everything.
#milgram#amane momose#008#milgram amane#milgram meta#milgram analysis#cw child abuse#cw cults#I COULD GO ON ABOUT HOW PURGE MARCH TREATS ITS FICTION BUT THAT WOULD MAKE THIS SO LONG-#SOMETHING SOMETHING 'IN PURGE MARCH THE FICTION BLEEDS INTO REALITY!' SOMETHING#ITS INTERESTING BUT I WANT THIS OUT OF MY DRAFTS ITS BEEN HERE FOR A WEEK#ALSO I CONDONE THIS MURDER BTW I THINK SHE SHOULD OF KILLED EARLIER-#IM JUST SAYING THAT THE FICTIONAL AMANE IS INDICATIVE OF A DEEPER ISSUE HERE#LIKE THE ACT OF VIOLENCE IS SOMETHING SO CATHARTIC THAT AMANE CANT IMAGINE IT AS SOMETHING SHE DID-#im not writing the post in the tags here
50 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Eye of the Hurricane [9] - Engagement
A.N: Here’s the new chapter my loves! ❤️ Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️
Summary: A marriage decision leads to an honest conversation about expectations.
Word Count: 2700
Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, drinking. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.
Series Masterlist
For a couple of seconds, he gawked at you in complete silence before he managed to pull himself together.
“You—you’re saying yes?”
“I’m saying yes.”
“Seriously?”
“Please don’t ask me again because I have this feeling that I’ll change my mind if I think about it longer than a second,” you stated and he nodded fervently.
“Right,” he said. “Sure, I…wow. Okay, we’re—we’re getting married then.”
“Don’t say that either, I am not ready to hear it out loud,” you said with a sigh but before he could answer, a soft voice reached you both.
“Bucky?”
He closed his eyes shut for a moment as he scrunched up his face and you turned your head to look at the top of the stairs where a pretty girl in an oversized shirt –his shirt, if you had to guess— was leaning to the steel handrail.
“Hi,” she said. “Um, who are you?”
“His fiancée,” you stated, trying your hardest to ignore the pang of jealousy in your stomach and her eyes widened.
“Oh I didn’t—I didn’t know—”
“Neither did I when I woke up today,” you said with a click of your tongue. “Can you leave us please?”
“Sure!” she said as she rushed back to what you could only assume was the bedroom and Bucky shot you an apologetic look.
“Charm I’m sorry, if I knew…”
You walked past him, looking around the huge living room. Even you had to admit it looked incredibly beautiful and sleek, and the clear view of the city that you could see from the floor-to-ceiling windows was absolutely breathtaking. It was exactly what you would come up with if someone asked you what Bucky's apartment would look like; luxurious yet dark.
It didn’t mean you would tell him that though.
“I’m not moving in here by the way, this place is a dump,” you forced yourself to say, “If I wanted industrial interior, I’d buy myself a factory.”
“Right, sure—”
“That could be a fun project though,” you muttered more to yourself as the girl appeared at the top of the stairs again, and rushed downstairs, grabbing her coat off the rack.
“Sorry again,” she said without looking you in the eye and walked out of the apartment, and you heaved a deep sigh.
“None of this will be happening from now on by the way,” Bucky said in a haste and you rolled your eyes, then turned around to look at him.
“I don’t care about you enough to have that conversation with you,” you said. “I don’t give a fuck who you fuck, but you’re not going to make me look like an idiot in front of other people so when it inevitably happens, you’ll keep it a secret.”
“You don’t have to worry about that at all,” he said, his voice firm and you crossed your arms.
“So then,” you said. “I feel like we should both talk about the conditions before taking it to the families and the lawyers and everything.”
“I’m good with your conditions,” he said and you shot him a glare.
“You don’t even know my conditions.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
You kept your eyes on him, a slight frown pulling your brows together before you took a deep breath and took off your coat to throw it over the couch.
“Either way, I think we should talk about it,” you insisted and leaned on your hip. “So do you have actual booze in here or are you going to pull out a homemade barrel or something?”
He smiled slightly.
“Take a seat sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll bring the wine.”
“And put a shirt on!” you said as you made your way to the table, ignoring the way your heart skipped a beat. “This is a business deal, honestly. There has to be a dress code.”
*
When Bucky came to the table, he did in fact have his shirt on and he was carrying a bottle of wine with two glasses. He filled one and handed it to you, then filled his own and sat down. You took a sip, pleasantly surprised at the taste and lowered your glass, leaning back.
“Alright,” he said. “Tell me your conditions.”
You swirled the wine in your glass, deep in thought.
“Well first of all, we need to have a time table,” you said. “I don’t want to stay married to you for the rest of my life, and I’m pretty sure you share the sentiment.”
A small smile twitched the corners of his lips but he didn’t comment on it.
“But we can’t get a divorce as soon as I take over because that will lead to a lot of questions and I won’t have the time for distractions, the taking over process is chaotic enough,” you said. “I can’t be making any mistakes, especially considering I already have a rival.”
“Calling Ian a rival makes him sound more important than he actually is,” Bucky commented. “But I agree. We already know some of the families can disagree with this idea.”
“Stark?” you asked and he nodded.
“At least,” he said. “We have Steve and Sam’s support, my family and your family of course, but the rest…”
“You think Romanoff would disagree?”
Bucky thought for a moment.
“Probably, but I can talk to Nat I think,” he said. “She’d hear me out.”
“Barton?”
“Barton is not going to do anything Nat disagrees with,” he said. “If we have Nat, we have Clint.”
“So that leaves us Stark,” you said, pursing your lips. “Who talks to him, you or me?”
He shot you an apologetic look.
“I mean we may try to sell it as love but at the end of the day, everyone will think about the business side of things,” he said. “It could be better if your father talked to him actually. He already dislikes me enough, and we’re changing the power balance in the city by doing this.”
“Alright,” you said. “My dad could do that.”
“Next?”
“I want your word that I will be included in everything,” you said. “None of the bullshit the earlier generation pulled. I will be in every meeting and I will be included in every single decision.”
He nodded. “Yeah, figured as much.”
“I mean it Bucky,” you said, looking him in the eye. “We will be equals completely.”
“We will be,” he assured you. “I swear on my honor.”
“And I’m not changing my surname.”
He threw his head back. “Charm…”
“Out of question.”
“Charm if I’m going to get you into those meetings, you need to have my surname,” he insisted. “You know the rules. We need to give them an actual reason if you can’t be there as an heir.”
You thought for a moment and cleared your throat.
“Hyphenated it is,” you said. “I’ll keep mine and add yours.”
“It’d be better if—”
“I can’t take over my father’s territory if my last name is Barnes,” you pointed out. “I’ll use both, it’s fine.”
Bucky thought for a moment, then licked his lips and shrugged his shoulders.
“Fine,” he grumbled even though his tone signaled it was anything but fine. You sipped your wine, leaning back.
“Goes without saying that we won’t have any children in the meantime so should we even talk about it?”
“I think we should,” Bucky said, a small smile curling his lips. “Just in case.”
“Just in case?” you repeated and he rolled his eyes.
“It’ll be on the prenup just like everything else,” he reminded you. “And our families will see those prenups, so it’d be better if we covered it beforehand.”
You huffed out and waved a dismissive hand.
“Fine,” you said. “The usual, right? The first born is the heir…”
“The second born is the spare, yeah,” Bucky said. “Although, if you’re keeping your surname…”
“Our children would as well,” you finished his sentence for him and let out a dry laugh. “So then, is the firstborn yours or mine?”
“Maybe it’ll be twins,” he joked and you shook your head.
“We’ll say that the firstborn rules both until the second born is ready, and then divide my territory and yours accordingly,” you said and Bucky raised his brows.
“But until then, both territories?” he asked. “That’s a lot of pressure to put on one person.”
“That person doesn’t exist and will not exist,” you reminded him. “It’s just gonna be a hypothetical article in the prenup, that’s it.”
“And if we want a divorce—”
“When we have a divorce,” you corrected him and Bucky hummed.
“Any specific reque—”
“The weekend house,” you cut him off and he let out a small laugh.
“How long have you had your eye on it?”
“Oh, so long,” you said with a grin. “It’s really pretty.”
Bucky held up his hands, gesturing surrender. “It’s yours then."
“I mean I know I can’t just get it without giving something in return so how about you? What do you want in the divorce?”
“Nothing.”
You blinked a couple of times, gawking at him.
“You want nothing?” you asked him. “Bullshit. Say your price.”
“I don’t need anything.”
“You’re going to get me in the business and help me take over and you want nothing?” you insisted. “No fucking way. What is your game here?”
“I don’t have any.”
“Why are you doing this then?” you asked with a frown. “Seriously. What’s in it for you?”
“My reasons are my own.”
“Bucky…”
“But I do have one request now that you mention it,” he said and you nodded your head.
“Yeah tell me. What is it?”
“Throughout the time we stay married,” he said, taking a sip of his wine. “No sleeping with other people.”
“…I’m not going to sleep with you,” you managed to say after a pause and he shrugged his shoulders.
“We’re going into war with an outsider while pushing you to the top,” he said. “Any kind of issue in our marriage, including a whisper of a rumor could work against that. We need to present a united front to all the other families and our people. Can’t fight a war on that many fronts, you know that.”
As much as you hated to admit, as it turned out, Bucky was actually smart when it came to how things worked in business. You nibbled on your lip, trying to put your thoughts in order before sticking your nose in the air.
“That’s a two-way street,” you told him. “If I’m behaving like the perfect wife, you’re going to behave like the perfect husband.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Bucky, I’m serious,” you said, looking him in the eye. “Don’t go behind my back and make me kill your mistresses.”
“Don’t go behind my back and make me kill your boyfriends,” he replied and you took a deep breath, then downed your wine and stretched out your hand.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” you said and he chuckled, then reached out to take your hand into his, sending a pleasant warmth from your hand to your whole body.
“Likewise,” he said, his voice soft. “Let’s make you the queen, princess.”
*
You and Bucky decided to tell your family about your decision that weekend at their favorite restaurant. It would at least give you some time to get your story straight and you figured it would play into the lie; that you and Bucky had something for each other all along and once you got together you didn’t want to lose any time to get married.
Of course your closest friends were going to know about it, it would be impossible to keep it from Becca, Sarah, Steve and Sam because they’d had the first row to every single fight whenever you were within each other’s sight not to mention heard about how much you two disliked each other for years now.
But as far as anyone else was concerned, it was the happy ending to a decade long crush on both parts.
That night, you decided to stay in a hotel until the weekend. Not only did you not want to talk to Ian or your father, but it would also work in your favor; it was Bucky’s favorite hotel, it was in his territory and he would make sure to stay with you in the honeymoon suit every night until the weekend so you were pretty sure the rumors would reach your families way before you told them.
Your bodyguards were still on your father’s payroll after all.
You sipped your champagne, your feet propped up on the small coffee table across from the couch you were sitting on, the fluffy bathrobe wrapped tight around your body as you changed the channel on the TV but the knock on the door made you turn your head. Heaving a sigh, you pushed yourself off the bed and went to the door, then put a bright smile on your face and swung open the door.
“Finally!” you exclaimed, then gasped at the huge bouquet of roses Bucky was holding. “Oh my God!”
“Hi beautiful,” Bucky said with a smirk and you stole a look at both your father’s and Bucky’s men in the hallway, then turned to him.
“You shouldn’t have!” you giggled as you grabbed his arm to pull him into the suit, and closed the door behind him.
“Flowers are a nice touch,” you commented, the lovesick smile disappearing from your lips even if your heart did a happy flip and Bucky winked at you.
“I’m glad you like them,” he said as you took them from him, then walked to the open kitchen to pour water into the empty wine decanter before putting the flowers into it.
He leaned back to the kitchen island. “Did you talk to Becca yet?”
“Tomorrow,” you said. “I slept the whole day away today, barely did anything. Must be the stress after yesterday.”
“Is she serious with that girl by the way?” Bucky asked you. “Leila?”
“I’m not going to tell you anything about Becca.”
He tilted his head. “You and I are going to get married—”
“And she’s my best friend so she’s still above you on my loyalty list,” you pointed out. “Marriage is one thing, friendship is another.”
“Should I at least threaten the girl so that she doesn’t break her heart?” Bucky asked and you rolled your eyes.
“No, Leila is a sweetheart,” you said as you walked past him, then threw yourself on the couch to grab the remote. He followed you and rested his hands on the back of the couch you were sitting on, the closeness of his body making your stomach do a pleasant flip for some reason.
“So what are we watching?”
“We are not watching anything,” you said, trying to focus on the screen. “I’m watching The Bachelor.”
He let out a groan. “Seriously?”
“There’s another TV upstairs, go watch whatever you want to watch there,” you said, grabbing your champagne glass again and tilted your head back so that you could look at him, and Bucky shot you a mischievous grin.
“Marriage requires quality time together, Charm.”
“Who told you that lie?” you asked, turning your glances to the TV and he chuckled.
“Steve sent me an article about it today when I told him the news.”
“Not Sam?”
“No, Sam sent me the address of a great psychiatrist,” he said. “For couples therapy and marriage counseling.”
“That’s much more useful than an article,” you pointed out and he squeezed at your shoulder making your heart skip a beat.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he said as he walked to the hanging stairs and someone knocked on the door, making you frown and look at Bucky over your shoulder.
“Room service,” Bucky answered before you could ask. “I already know your favorite so I ordered for both of us.”
“How do you know my favorite?”
“I pay attention,” he said as he started climbing the stairs, unbuttoning his shirt. “Don’t open the door yet though, will you? Wouldn’t want my men to think I last five minutes.”
“I’m sure that would be an improvement for you,” you said with a scoff and he tsk tsked.
“If you want to see just how wrong you are, all you gotta do is ask nicely princess.”
“That will never happen!” you called out and slipped a little on the couch when you heard him close the bathroom door, then heaved a sigh.
“Great,” you muttered to yourself as the water started running. “My honeymoon should be so much fun.”
Chapter 10
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#mob!bucky barnes#mob!bucky barnes x reader#mob!bucky x reader#mob bucky barnes x reader#mob bucky#mob bucky barnes#mob bucky x reader#mob boss!bucky#mafia!bucky barnes x reader#mafia bucky x reader#mafia!bucky barnes#mafia!bucky#mafia bucky barnes#mob!bucky#mob boss bucky barnes#mob!au#mob au
312 notes
·
View notes
Note
Maybe don't say you want to eat all Zionists if you don't want to be told not to do that idk :/
(Also not that you'll care but political Zionism and the version of Zionism that just says 'Jews should be able to visit or live in the Levant since it once was our home and if nowhere else is safe for us, there at least should be' are different and saying they're deserving of equal condemnation and violence or that those people should die is kinda fucked of you)
(Also also you shouldn't get to choose who lives or who dies regardless of how bad of people they are according to you. Like idk how to explain to you that you shouldn't think the right to be alive is conditional.)
As a Muslim i obviously cannot condone eating ppl since its not halal and especially fascist lil piggies are sure to be extra haram and yucky :)). Idgaf about some version of zionism that existed at some point and meant something positive when there is a real version out there that is fucking fascist and responsible for the death of hundreds of thousands of people. N literally no one ever forbade Jewish ppl from visiting or living in the Levant. Youll be surprised to find that there were in fact many Jewish ppl living in Palestine prior to 1948, many of them immigrants from other countries. Also nice fucking job at equating Jewish ppl w zionists ya 7mar. Idgaf about what you think the rights of ppl should be that are indulging a fascist and genocidal ideology, if you dont wanna be eaten by the wolf dont be zionist, its That easy❤. And its absolutely hysterical how you fall in line w the ppl who cry that Jewish ppl are safe nowhere else, like maybe that should be fixed instead of shipping everyone off, away from the places that have been their homes for centuries, plus the fact that you are the same ppl bitching about how "israel" is surrounded by murderous Arabs who wanna toss all the Jewish ppl in the sea. Like make up your mind, cuz that doesnt sound safe to me.
Lastly whats kinda fucked is your cognitive function and ability to think for yourself, clearly. Israeli politicians and Zionists in the West literally calling to wipe Gazans off the face of the earth, using the same language Nazis did. Idk ya might wanna readjust your priorities a bit. Now you better climb a tree or smt bc the wolf is imprinted on your scent and its coming for youuu 🐺
#lol#lmao even#10000 wiped out and you got the audacity whime about the term zionism#travel back in time and off ben gurion amd theodor herzl if its such a big concern for you#whos oomf is this#pls reclaim your garbage chold
422 notes
·
View notes
Note
Can we get some headcaons for the dateables with a MC who was really aggressive during their highschool years but has completely mellowed out and the only way that they find out is when a family member or friend of MC just brings up as random moment where they just broke someone’s leg cuz they were bullying someone, or something along the lines of that? ^O^
Thanks for the request and about 3 months later, I hope you'll like it, anon. Also I read it as MC breaking someone's leg because that someone was the one bullying (so a kind of righteous violence), so I added that in there. I went ahead and added Luke since this can be a pretty platonic ask.
Finding out chill MC used to be aggressive headcanons (the dateables + Luke)
(a little suggestive for Diavolo, Barbatos, and Solomon)
Word Count: +1,200
Diavolo
Laughs because he can’t imagine you doing that now, but also because you’re full of surprises. That’s new information, and he’s delighted by it. “You’ve changed so much since then, haven’t you? Haha. How amusing. Tell me more.”
He’ll try to get every little detail he can squeeze out, chatting with your friend or family member for hours if you allow him to. He just wants to learn more about your past.
He might not be as entertained if you hurt someone much weaker than you, though. Part of the appeal of the act is your ability to dominate and overcome. Still, he’s not preoccupied by the morality of you hurting another person – especially if you felt justified doing it.
He finds it so endearing, thinking about younger you picking fights. Even if you broke someone’s bones, which he wouldn’t normally condone, he finds it oddly adorable. A feisty human willing to fight for something, what’s not to love?
This man crushes on Lucifer – and that includes his angel era. I think it’s safe to say he has a thing for an aggressive streak.
Again, let’s be real. The thought of your aggression is a bit of a turn on, and he wouldn’t mind experiencing that side of you. When he gets you alone, he might try to tease and provoke you. “Should I be grateful you don’t ever try to punish me?” / “Would you mind showing me a bit more of that defiance? That is, maybe you could rough me up a bit. I know you’ve changed, but come on, indulge me. I’m the prince of the Devildom, I’ll be fine. Please?”
Barbatos
His face will change for a brief second – so brief that you might miss it if you aren’t watching him. A polite smile will return to his lips, and he’ll ask you calmly for confirmation. “Oh? Is that true?”
Honestly, he’s more surprised – well, actually, impressed – that it never popped up on your records than he is about discovering that information. Suddenly, you appear all the more interesting.
Barbatos would pet your head gently, as if he’s trying to praise you for learning to mellow out. He’ll tease, “Should I be keeping a closer eye on you?”
I wouldn’t put it past him to bring it up every once in a while, when you inevitably get a bit angry – just because he finds it amusing. “Feeling fiery today?” / “Hmm? So, you do have a bit of aggression left in you.” / “Shall I help calm that temper of yours?” He’ll probably run his fingertips along your face and neck with a soft, expecting smile.
He’s definitely trying to get you riled up so that you might take any suppressed hostility out on him. He’ll be so good for you – even if you bring out the whip. He likes seeing a different side of you.
However, he won’t tease you if it seems that you’re ashamed of your past aggression. He understands being ashamed of parts of his past, so he wouldn’t want to hurt you by bringing it up again.
Luke
He’s worried and completely blindsided.
What do you mean his supplemental parent best friend used to get in fights? He’ll probably accuse your friend or family member of lying to him because he just can’t imagine you hurting someone. You’ll have to admit it for him to believe them. “Really? MC, how could you break someone’s leg?! That’s terrible!”
He’s the only one who finds no amusement in this at all. Even if you hurt someone for a reason you believed in, he still has trouble accepting it. It doesn’t matter if you were young and hasty. There’s a naïve part of him that doesn’t want to condone violence in any manner.
It takes him a while to come to terms with it, and in the meantime, he acts a bit weird and probably avoids you. Inevitably, it takes him thinking about what he might do if someone tried to hurt his loved ones to understand that part of your past. He argues with demons all the time on behalf of his values and loved ones – and maybe if he was stronger, he would get into physical fights, too.
He’ll probably run to find you once that realization hits him and apologize for not understanding. He’ll hug you. “I’m sorry, MC. I think I get it now. I know you’re a good person. I’m happy that you are who you are.”
Simeon
His brows furrow, he shuts his eyes, and he brings the back of his finger to his lips. He’s trying to imagine it – drawing on every time he ever saw you get irritated or angry.
He just tilts his head and nods. He’s surprised to hear it, but it’s not especially shocking. “Yes, I suppose that tracks.” Aggression can mellow, but sparks of it don’t completely disappear – small signs of a steady flame leftover from a raging fire long extinguished.
He doesn’t pry too much, but if you felt that what you did was right at the time, he won’t judge you for it. And let’s be honest, he would accept that part of you even if you regret your past haste to quarrel and get physical. The shift away from fighting – is proof enough that you’ve learned and grown.
A part of him deeply respects your ability to fight for something you believe in. (Not to get too angsty, but) Simeon sometimes wishes he had that kind of strength, especially back then.
Learning about this side of you makes Simeon more curious about your past. He’ll wait until he gets you alone and take your hands. “There’s a lot we don’t know about each other. Perhaps it’s selfish, but I’d like to learn everything about you.”
He wants to know every iteration of you, unpack every layer. He wants to appreciate your transformation into the person you are now. He wants his affection to encompass your whole existence. For that, he would be willing to be completely understood in return.
Solomon
Thinks it’s the funniest thing in the world. He’ll immediately laugh and ask all about it. He won’t even ask you; he’ll ask the friend or family member. If you’re all in the same room, he’ll turn to them and practically beg them to give him every detail. If you’re talking on a call or something, he’ll interrupt your call just to ask. He needs to know everything.
While he’s at it, he might as well prod them for any other juicy information he can get about your past. There’s a part of him that falls to pieces thinking about how someone else saw sides of you that he will never see for himself. He knows that’s foolish, but he’s still going to get whatever information he can from that friend/family member.
Honestly, he strikes me as someone who likes seeing people get a little angry and fierce – especially aggression for a just cause. He thinks it’s kinda hot.
“I could show you how to handle some of those violent urges.” He’d seductively stress the words “handle” and “urges.” Yes, he’s trying to flirt, but he’s also serious. You think this man hasn’t developed a multitude of ways to cope with his anger and aggression? I think Solomon has spent decades in his past constantly seething. Like Simeon, he understands that it can come back – that as much as you mellow out, the passion that causes that kind of aggression remains. If you ever need it, he’s willing to help you channel it.
“If you’re ever in an aggressive mood again, you could always take it out on me.” Shameless.
A/N: Don't forget that the February poll will still be up for a few days. Vote and/or add your input if you want. (And check out that depraved poll fic from January if you haven't yet.)
#anon#requests#ask#gn!mc#obey me headcanons#diavolo#barbatos#luke#simeon#solomon#obey me dateables#obey me#obey me diavolo#obey me barbatos#obey me luke#obey me simeon#obey me solomon
236 notes
·
View notes
Text
Yandere! Feitan Portor General Profile
Yandere! Feitan Portor x fem! reader
Tw: kidnapping, violence, murder, mentions of torture, mentions of Feitan carving his initial into you, mentions of masturbation, stalking, jealousy, threats, Feitan tortures a man in front of you, I stand by the (semi) soft creepy yandere Feitan agenda and I will not be swayed otherwise, this got super long I'm so sorry, I'm also delirious as I'm writing it so hopefully it makes coherent sense/is consistent, fem reader, MDNI
I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!
DARLING PROFILE:
Empathetic
In general, Feitan finds his attention drawn by a darling who is almost the complete opposite of himself.
He wants someone sweet and caring, all soft and squishy and warm. He’s never found this particularly attractive before meeting his darling, but there’s something oddly endearing about the way they’re always trying to help those around them, fruitlessly asking them to vent about their feelings, to use them as a supportive shoulder.
It makes him scoff, rolling his eyes and wondering at how impossibly naive his darling can be, but even he can’t deny how nice it is to have someone by his side, a human presence that’s steady and calm and understanding. It makes him feel good, a warm sensation bottling up in his chest and threatening to explode out, and although he’ll never really come clean with how he feels for you (at least, he never will verbally), a darling who can kind of read his rather emotionless face would be a very, very big attraction for him.
He just wants a darling who can understand him, even if his rational brain loathes the idea. An empathetic darling is sure to draw his attention, if only because he’ll be mildly revolted and intrigued by how they can be so selfless and so foolish.
Submissive
Feitan doesn’t want a feisty darling.
He doesn’t enjoy having to tame his lovers, and although he’s never really had a lover, he gravitates towards someone who is more naturally submissive and willing to follow direction.
He already feels powerless enough in the situation, frustrated that he doesn’t really have any say in how he feels. It scares him, quite honestly, if only because he doesn’t like how easily and quickly he’s jumping to conclusions where his darling is concerned, more than willing to jump through any hoop necessary in order to get what he wants, in order to make sure his darling is safe and isolated from every other man on Earth.
He likes knowing that his darling will do what he tells them to; it builds a layer of trust that makes Feitan go feral, and for every ounce of trust his darling gives him, he’ll try to return it as full heartedly as he can. He likes that he’s fully in control of his darling, and particularly if they were to be submissive in more… intimate aspects of the relationship, he’d be absolutely smitten.
He just wants his darling to revere him and believe his word as the word of God, and the moment that happens?
He’s only falling deeper into obsession, his desperation for them growing with every beat of his heart, getting harder and harder to swallow until he gives up, jumping head first into every swirling, dark, lecherous desire he harbors.
Soft
Of course, Feitan’s darling doesn’t have to have a softer body, but he can’t deny that there’s something enticing about a darling who is physically quite soft. Whether that’s rounder features, a plumper figure, or even a soft, demure voice, it all entrances Feitan.
His darling is something of a dream to him, because he’s never really believed that someone that stereotypically weak could ever really survive in this world. He likes how his darling feels, the touches he sneaks late at night when they’re sleeping sending sparks up his spine and serving as fuel for when he’s unbearably horny, his hand around his cock not nearly enough.
He’s prone to fantasizing about his darling, slipping into daydreams of his they’d feel in his lap, how they’d look with their ass up and face pressed into the mattress, how they’d feel so good wrapped around him. He just thinks it’s oddly endearing, and a darling who fits these characteristics would help initially draw his eye - he just thinks they’re pretty, a polar opposite to him, even going so far as to playing into some of his more protective traits.
Of course, he’d rather die than admit any of it, but he’s interally a bit soft for his darling - they’re just alluring in an almost primal way he can’t describe, but he can’t fight it. He can’t fight anything when it comes to his darling, as it turns out, and soon Feitan will decide that he doesn’t care.
After all, once his darling steps into his life and stays there, nothing at all matters - how can it, when he’s decided that they’re his, his woman to keep and admire and touch and fuck?
(It will take him a very, very long time to get comfortable with either of the last two options, but the desire and sentiment is still there, if the frequent raging erections he gets as a result of his darling is any indicator.)
Talkative
This trait is one of the things Feitan loves and hates most about his darling.
He enjoys listening to them talk; he himself isn’t particularly fond of conversation, nor is he particularly talkative towards his darling in general. And so, a partner who is capable of filling the silence between them sometimes is something that makes Feitan grateful, if only because hearing the sound of their voice makes his breath hitch.
And when they talk to him, all their attention aimed solely at him?
Well, how can Feitan not be flattered, not feel a bit prideful that they’re spending their time directing all their focus and thoughts around whatever small question he prompted them with? He just likes listening to his darling go on and on, even if the topic doesn’t interest him much. However, the downside of this trait is that it creates a rather ugly combination with his tendency to grow jealous.
If his darling is talkative with everyone, it’s sure to extend towards the men they meet, who just stare at them like they’re a slab of meat waiting to be devoured, all of them eager to get their hands on them and destroy what Feitan has claimed as his own. It’s infuriating, if only because it means that they’re interacting with others, putting themselves into a position where they could develop feelings for another man or be put into harm’s way or overhead something they shouldn’t have or any number of things.
It becomes a massive liability, and one that Feitan is so, so very aware of. It irritates him, and as much as he loves when his darling is chatting with him, he’s not so approving when they're with others.
And so, it’s really in his darling’s best interest to reign in the conversations with anyone else - unless they want to see their blood splattered all over the walls, hear their cries, feel Feitan’s red soaked fingers grasp onto their arms and force them to see the results of their chattiness. It’s in their best interest, and they’ll learn that soon enough. Hopefully.
GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:
Distant
There’s a part of Feitan that genuinely hates you for making him feel the way he does. The constant pounding of his heart when you’re merely mentioned, the throb in his chest when he’s gone too long without seeing you, the nervous twitch of his fingers when he thinks about what you’re doing, what other man you’re thinking about…
He hates how paranoid you’ve made him, how so much of his time and energy goes into you. It’s your fault that he’s always distracted, that he’s not able to fully focus on his work anymore because he’s only able to think of you you you. It’s frustrating, and honestly it initially wards Feitan off from getting any closer to you - he doesn’t like the way he feels around you (that’s not true, but he needs it to be), so he’ll stay away and ignore you. Maybe that’ll get you to stop smiling at him so kindly, to quit asking him how his day was, to stop looking so pretty while you hum and make yourself dinner.
As time passes, slowly this hatred diminishes (or at least dulls), instead replaced with a desperate, pathetic need to be around you; he just can’t keep himself away from you, no matter how hard he tries. It’s demoralizing, embarrassing beyond belief that someone like you could get his emotions so twisted, but it’s reality.
He tries to fight it at first, believing himself to be above such stupid human emotion – he doesn’t need you, he’s a criminal and has never needed love or anything of the sort. And yet, each and every time he tells himself to not trail behind you as you walk to the grocery store, his resolve holds out for roughly five minutes. By then, there’s unwelcome thoughts drifting through his mind about what you’re doing, whether you’re talking to anyone, if you’ve managed to trip like you always do and scrape your knee.
(There’s even a small, very small part of him that wonders whether you’re buying foods that are nutritious for you, or whether you’re doing your usual junk food spree. A thought pops up in the back of his head: him beside you in the store, scoffing as you place chips into the cart. He’d replace them with fruit, mumbling something about you being so stupid, only to see you smile at him and thank him, telling him how grateful you are to have him watching over you. His cheeks feel hot at that, and he buries his face deeper into his jacket, grumbling under his breath.)
He’ll try to stop himself from circling back to you, but each and every time he finds some excuse of why he should be watching you, of how you aren’t really capable of taking care of yourself without his watchful gaze. It’s patronizing, more than anything, but eventually he’ll stop trying to fight it, submitting entirely and allowing himself the concealed pleasure of watching your horribly mundane life.
He’ll need to be around you, constantly, but he’s still not willing to let his emotional guard down. No, you’ve done enough damage just simply existing - you absolutely cannot know how deeply he feels for you, how wrapped around your pinky finger you have him. Not only would it eliminate any semblance of leverage he holds against you (in order to stay above you, that is), it also showcases just how far the extent of his feelings for you run.
And frankly, the thought terrifies Feitan – he’s never felt so strongly for anyone before, not even in the context of hatred or pleasure at their suffering. He’s in over his head, wading through waters he's always scoffed at and dismissed, and suddenly he’s finding himself nearly drowning, head always buried just under the surface.
So he steels himself, grabbing onto any shred of control and power he can against you – he grabs on and clutches on, strong fingers frantically staying attached so that he doesn’t get blown away and truly drown. And even in the beginning of your captivity, Feitan won’t change the way he’s so detached. He’s purposefully putting distance between the two of you so that he can remain in control of the situation, in control of you, and – most importantly, and most concerningly – in control of himself.
Because frankly, Feitan doesn’t trust himself around you. He doesn’t trust the way his body just does things, how any rational thought leaves his brain the moment your eyes meet, how fingers are already lifting up a bit to reach out touch you, to brush away stray pieces of your hair when you’re within a few feet of him.
The biggest way he maintains this control is by not giving you a whole lot of attention, aside from one stark, grave exception: his dark eyes are constantly watching you. He’s always just sort of staring, his expression blank as he observes you, motionless and still. It’s unnerving, terrifying you initially and only slightly calming down as time passes, but Feitan doesn’t care much.
He doesn’t necessarily want to interact with you, but just watching you allows him to be in your space, to be beside you, to smell you and listen to your breathing. You’re kept in one large room most of the time, and he’ll often sit in the chair in the corner and just stare. He’s not talking much, not trying to touch you or hurt you, but you almost wish he would sometimes.
He just doesn’t understand what about you it is that attracts him so deeply, that’s morphed him into this lovesick fool, and while he initially tries to understand, eventually Feitan gives up, because does it really matter?
Does it really matter how he became obsessed with you when you’re locked up in his spare bedroom, duct tape covering your mouth and an expressionless, frozen Feitan watching you with his heart practically bursting out of his chest? Does it really matter if he pinpoints exactly when he developed his love for you when you’re looking at him with those pretty tears in your eyes, whispering out a thanks as he sets the tray of food down in front of you?
It really doesn’t, now that his feelings for you are formed and solidified, now that they can’t be changed or reversed. So while he’ll never be the most accessible and sympathetic to your feelings, rest assured that Feitan really does love you in some fucked up way - he’s just unorthodox, incapable of properly expressing himself to you.
But actions speak louder than words, right? He’s always thought so.
Obsessive
Because Feitan is relatively quiet and secretive when it comes to his feelings towards you, it’s difficult for you to really pick up on this aspect of him. You’re unlikely to ever truly understand just how much he feels for you, the sheer depth of emotions you cause him.
He won’t ever tell you what’s going on behind that expressionless facade of his. He doesn’t tell you how oddly adorable you are when you’re sleeping in the early mornings, curled up in the corner of your room with your eyes shut and lips slightly parted, looking so soft and sweet and weak.
He’ll never make you aware of how his breath hitches ever so slightly when you make eye contact with him, even if it’s shaky and you look away too quickly, his spine tingling because fuck, your attention feels good.
You’ll never know why his foot is tapping lightly when you’re eating in front of him, the way those annoying nerves eat away at his stomach while he subconsciously wonders if you think he looks attractive today. (He’d trimmed his hair a bit, feeling it was too long and interfering with his work - do you like it? Did you notice? He’d hesitated a bit with the scissors earlier, brows slightly furrowing, dark eyes glancing at your sleeping form.)
He’s very cryptic, and this tendency to keep you out of the loop of his personal thoughts and feelings can cast a shadow on his more obsessive tendencies. That is, before he’s stolen you away from the world, Feitan did an extensive amount of research into you. He does nothing on a whim - he’s a calculating man, and once he’d finally come to terms with the fact that his feelings for you weren’t going to disappear, he was scouring every resource possible to garner your information.
He’s got access to all kinds of personal knowledge about you - your search history, for example. It’s a bit unexpected, if Feitan’s being honest - you’re much darker than he’d expected, the things you read about making him quirk a brow, his interest in you only deepening because hmm, seems the little sheep may be a bit of a wolf inside.
He’s getting Shalnark to hack into the camera of your phone and computer, the stream of footage easy to access as he cleans his tools, blood washing away as you smile and laugh at some comedy you’re watching.
It’s stupid and at first he pretends to find your laugh annoying. But then he sees the way your cheeks get all full and round as you smile, your eyes crinkling up, even the way you wheeze slightly when it’s really funny.
(Briefly, he wonders whether you’d find his dry sense of humor entertaining.)
He’s got photographs of you from his time spent trailing you, and though they’re a bit blurry and not as focused as he’d like, they’re still something nice to pin to his wall, keeping his favorites beside his bed. He’s never had trouble sleeping, but something about looking at you as he drifts into slumber makes him rest more soundly, wake up more refreshed.
Once you’ve been trapped with him for long enough, however, Feitan’s front of careful indifference to you will slowly begin cracking. You’ll never see fully through him, but you’ll catch the way the corners of his lips twitch up ever so slightly when you snuggle into the blanket he gives you one day, noticing how you’ve been shivering incessantly at night.
(He won’t tell you the blanket was freshly stolen, that he’d made sure to take one with the softest, thickest material he could find, and even in your favorite color. It’s just a coincidence, so don’t read into it.)
You’ll realize he’s slowly inched closer to you the longer you watch the television program Feitan turned on earlier, your spot on the couch feeling smaller and smaller as Feitan’s hip eventually brushes yours, neither of you acknowledging what’s happening.
(You’ll never know how badly he wants to reach out and touch you, to freely run his hand up and down your thigh, so trace your collarbones, to feel just how soft your body is.)
It all makes him feel weak, pathetic, disgusting, but Feitan can’t help it. There’s something magnetic about you, and he can’t pull himself away. His pride won’t allow him to fully succumb to the thoughts and desires about you that are constantly swirling through his mind, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there, that they aren’t bothering him constantly. He’s secretive, and maybe it’s for the best that you don’t know how many nights he’s spent with his fingers wrapped around his cock, his pale cheeks rosy as he imagines the way you’d like tied up with hickeys he made spanning the insides of your thighs.
Perhaps it’s best that you don’t know how often he’s (begrudgingly) held the extra pillow on his bed close to his chest, dark eyes staring up at the ceiling as he tightens his arms around it.
(No, he wasn’t imagining it was you – he’s a touch starved man, and everyone has urges, right? It’s just coincidence that the pillow casing is one he stole from you, that he never washes it because it smells like you, that he nearly loses his mind when he almost gets a drop of blood from a victim on it.)
It makes it much easier to scare you into what he wants when you don’t know - you’re much more complainant this way, malleable, willing, and Feitan likes it that way. Sure, having you fall in love would be ideal, getting your obedience through a genuine desire to please him, but at least this way he can keep a piece of his pride intact.
This way, you’ll never realize the power you have over him - how he’d be willing to wipe out entire towns for you if you so much as mention it. You’ll never understand just how he needs to have you - to have you for what, you don’t know, but you can sense the odd sort of desperation coming off of him.
You can feel it in the way his fingers grip you just a bit too tight, the way his eyes linger on you just a tad too long, the way the smallest, most embarrassing little whimper falls from his lips when your hand touches his.
He’s good at hiding it, but everyone makes mistakes - just don’t pry too hard, because Feitan still needs to be the one in control, and you’ll quickly find yourself learning much, much more about the short man than you’ve ever wanted to know. Namely, that the only thing worse than him staring at you is him ignoring you.
Protective
Although, it will take you a very long time to see this side of him. Initially, Feitan’s feelings towards you are that of mild interest, mild disgust, and mild indifference.
Mild interest because he had, of course, noticed that you were pretty, what with your soft lips and doe eyes, your figure and the lilt of your voice. Indifference, because Fietan was sure there were a thousand other people just like you on Earth. And disgust, because you were so visibly weak and unable to fend for yourself, like an animal waiting to be slaughtered.
And yet, the more time he spends around you (maybe a long job has him centered in the same city for a few weeks, and you work at the little store he gets his meals from, or some other service job that brings you in contact regularly), the more complex these feelings become. His interest becomes peaked because you’re not just pretty, but also entertaining to talk to, handling his dry jabs well and even daring to throw back some jokes of your own. (He never laughed, of course, but a wry smile sat underneath his jacket.)
He’s still a bit indifferent, but not when you’re helping other customers or smiling down at your phone. (Were you texting someone? Your fingers were moving, implying typing – what were they saying that was making you giggle like that? What could he say that would make you giggle? Why does he care?)
But the starkest, quickest change of heart that Fietan experiences in how he feels about your strength and abilities. Of course, you are weak. Even if you can use nen, even if you know the basics of self defense – Feitan is sure that he could kill you in the blink of an eye, cleanly, easily. (He’s sure because he’s thought of doing it before – never seriously, just a fleeting thought, something that only briefly passed through his mind when he was still resistant to his attraction towards you – it was promptly expelled after that familiar sinking, uncomfortable feeling started up in his gut, but still.)
You’re embarrassingly weak, really, and as much as he tries to make himself ignore it or to simply stop caring about it, he can’t get it out of his head. He can’t seem to stop imagining you getting hurt, doing something stupid or careless and tarnishing that pretty skin of yours.
He can’t seem to stop imagining the way you’d take a corner too fast and slip on your own feet, tumbling to the ground and ending up with a sprained ankle or a scrape across your knee.
He’ll be sharpening a blade, blood stains caked onto the metal, and suddenly a flash of what your blood would look like staining the material makes him freeze for a moment, black eyes just a tad bit wider, the muscles in his arms and legs taut because there’s something sickening about the thought, something malicious and just carnally wrong.
He can’t help but imagine how you’d fare against someone like his coworkers, whose strength is difficult to handle even for an experienced nen user. How would someone like you fare against someone like Uvogin? Someone like Shizuku? Hell, even someone like Kortopi?
(Upon first meeting Hisoka, a very sudden and very intrusive image of the clown slicing a card clean through your throat flashed through his mind, and he’d nearly reached forward and ripped out the taller man’s heart at the thought, a purely instinctual response that left him more shell-shocked than he’d care to admit.)
He knows you wouldn’t stand a chance, and while he doesn’t want it to bother him, it does. It does, as much as he tries to forget the mental images or assure himself that you deserve getting injured for being so weak and helpless. But he can’t just sit still and let it pass by, if it were to ever happen - and so, Feitan’s protective tendencies begin manifesting.
They’re small, for the most part; making sure to keep his torture tools as far away from you as possible, just so that there’s no chance of you accidentally tripping or running into one or being stupid and getting any ideas.
He’s making sure that you’re under his watch as often as possible, becoming your second shadow and stalking you every free moment he can spare, just in case someone unsavory crosses your path.
He’s making sure that all your locks are working every night, compulsively checking them even though he knows they’re still good.
He keeps his protective tendencies under wraps, making sure that they’re subtle and just ambiguous enough that you won’t pick up on his intentions. Because while there’s something appealing about you knowing that he wants you to be safe, he would rather you not find out just how extensively he watches you, just how much he cares about your wellbeing, deciding that it’s yet another potential opportunity for you to manipulate him.
And of course, he’s embarrassed - he briefly considers requesting help watching you from a Troupe member or two, only for when he’s aware for long periods of times on individual jobs, but eventually he chickens out, too scared to have to explain why he wants Pakunoda to keep an eye on you.
He’s not embarrassed of you, per se, but rather the extent to which you affect him. And even once he’s stolen you away (an action which has roots in his paranoia for your safety), those protective tendencies are still firmly in place. He’s not a good cook, but he still tries to provide you with somewhat healthy foods, even if they’re undercooked and limp, bland and just overall unappealing.
He’s by no means an interior designer, but he’s getting you a somewhat soft, thick blanket, making sure the one pillow you have isn’t covered in stains or lumpy. It’s all subtle, nearly unnoticeable things that you’d have to be very perceptive to catch onto - but to Feitan it’s all important, because while he may still resent you for turning him into a lovesick fool, he’ll be damned if he lets you starve or be uncomfortable.
It’s stupid and he knows it, grumbling to himself the entire time he’s doing something to prevent hurting you, but it’ll always get done - and if you were to ever notice it, to thank him? Feitan would deny your allegations, telling you to shut up and eat your food, all the while the tips of his ears turn pink and his heart flutters because you noticed.
You noticed the way he takes extra precautions for you, the way he thinks of you and your wellbeing, even having the gall to thank him for it…
Don’t bring it up again or he’ll grow angry, but the pride sitting in his chest at your words is enough for him. It’s enough for him to know you see him, that you’re paying attention to him, that you appreciate all he does for you - it’s enough for now, at least.
DEALING WITH RIVALS:
Feitan is, unfortunately, a bit prone to jealousy – as someone who is aware that he isn’t the best option out there for you, the acknowledgement that there is a multitude of other men that deserve you more and could likely land you never fails to get past him.
He’s so, so aware of the fact that you likely don’t like him, that stalking you and planning to kidnap you likely doesn’t earn him any favors. He knows he’s fairly quiet, and while it’s mostly a fear of mildly embarrassing himself that bars him from actually interacting with you, it only pushes Feitan to worry that you only see him as a strange, unfamiliar man.
It’s likely that you think of him as nothing more than an acquaintance, a man who doesn’t seem to want anything to do with you. And so, the minute that another person tries to flirt with you, to look at you and think of you and speak with you, the insecurities over how you perceive him are blooming in his chest, growing and blossoming into full blown panic, because what if you fall for another man?
Of course, Feitan has absolutely no problem eliminating the threat, even enjoying taking the life of such a worthless man, but he can’t help the way fear grips his heart, cold and stabbing and brutal, because while he may be icy and difficult to approach, a stone face that leaves little emotion o be seen, Feitan wants you so fucking badly, to the point that it genuinely hurts.
And while he isn’t all that soft towards the beginning of his obsession (and really, even once you’ve been ‘living’ with him for a while as well), he does honestly want for you to return the feelings, to love him and care for him, to want to be with him and enjoy your new life by his side. Ideally, he wants you to fall for him, to see him and smile, to have your soft skin pressed against his rougher, more callused skin, your hands cupped in a firm embrace, a soft hug, a kiss against the lips and short, whispered words of trust and acceptance.
Of course, it’s makes him feel so damn pathetic each time he gets caught in a daydream where you’re smiling and laughing with him, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and telling him he’s handsome, but try as he may, he just can’t allow another man to steal the opportunity to make you theirs.
He wants to be the only one in your life, the only man you see and think of and talk to, and quite honestly Feitan will succeed – his profession is death after all, and he’s a master at stalking his prey, locating their weaknesses, seamlessly killing and annihilating his target before they even have a chance to fight back.
And so, once his jealousy is triggered, the poor man’s fate has already been decided. Feitan’s never been particularly merciful, and where you’re concerned, this trait only grows - it feels good to kill whoever dared to speak with you, like some sort of cathartic release of all the emotions he’s been bottling up, all the anger and desperation and self-loathing and yearning trapped in his chest.
It feels good, euphoric in a way he can’t describe, and so he’s quick to jump on any man posing a potential threat to your status as single and ripe for Feitan to claim. He’s a trained killer, after all, and who is he to waste away a perfectly good target?
When the man in the black dress shirt approaches you in the grocery store, Feitan’s eyes narrow. The shorter man had been trailing you all day, watching you go about your weekly errands, and the tri-annual trip to the grocery store had been your last stop. You’d managed to evade any male attention today, a fact that had Feitan simultaneously sighing in relief and growling in anger.
And yet, here you are, dressed in a rather provocative set of leggings that have Feitan’s eyes absolutely glued to your supple ass, matched with a slouchy, oversized sweatshirt. You’re cute, he begrudgingly admits, and it seems the stranger agrees.
Feitan’s standing in the next aisle over, staring through the holes in the shelving to see the way you tap your chin and scan the aisles of bread, searching for the perfect loaf. You don’t seem to have noticed the man slowly walking up to you, his eyes visibly scanning up and down your body. Feitan scowls, black brows drawing tightly together as he debates what to do.
On the one hand, there’s not much he can do - you’re in a public grocery store, and he doesn’t particularly want you to notice his presence. And yet, he can’t just let this man approach you, speak to you, look at you, now can he? He grits his teeth, steeling himself to just watch for now, and jump in if the time is right, if he feels the man goes too far. The man clears his throat, making you jump and look over at him, the suave smile he sends you making your own smile falter a bit.
Which bread’s best? He’s asking you, and you answer quickly, naming your favorite brand and which style you like best - Feitan’s scowl only deepens when he realizes you’re telling him the truth.
The man nods along, before his smirk turns smarmy, one eyebrow cocked up as he asks which rolls are best then? I’m thinking they’re yours.
You blanch at that, disgust written across your face as you awkwardly laugh and inch away, but Feitan sees none of that - how can he, when he’s already moving, already grabbing the man by the neck and sprinting down the aisle and around the corner, all too fast for you to see with the naked eye?
You’re confused, unsure of how the man just suddenly disappeared, but his comment left you shellshocked and lost at what to do, so you quickly grab a random loaf and anxiously push your cart away, trying to put distance between you and wherever the man had ended up.
Meanwhile, Feitan’s got the man held against the back wall of the grocery store, fingers wrapped around his neck and a cold, menacing look in his eye.
Bastard, he grits out, tightening his grip and feeling the way the man panics and scratches at his fingers, trying to rip them away.
Disgusting, she is mine, didn’t your mother teach don’t touch what’s not yours? Feitan’s shocked he hasn’t just slaughtered the man yet, but there’s something in his heart telling him to prolong this out, to let the man suffer, to make this as slow and torturous as possible. He wants the man to bleed, to scream and sob and beg for his mercy, for being stupid enough to even try to seduce you.
Feitan’s angry enough that his breathing is uneven, his muscles occasionally flexing without his permission, the rage simmering in his veins nearly potent. He can’t stop replaying the sight of your disgusted and uncomfortable look, the fact that this scum caused you to feel such an emotion making his skin feel hot, his fingers eager to steal the man’s life.
He smiles as the man wheezes, the lack of oxygen making his face slowly take on a purple hue. What’s wrong? Can’t breath?
He squeezes once, harshly, roughly, and the man splutters, spit dribbling down his chin and getting onto Feitan’s wrist. He scoffs. Filthy, disgusting. Die.
And then the man is being stabbed with his sword, not once, not twice, but again and again and again, until holes and wounds decorate the planes of his chest, blood flowing down in rivers onto the dirty concrete floor.
The man is dead within a matter of seconds, but it’s not enough for Feitan. He’s quick to throw the body to the ground, kicking and stomping and mutilating the body until its unrecognizable. He’s still breathing hard, his fingers shaking, and he finishes it off with a spit at what was once the man’s face, a scowl thrown his way.
Pathetic, he says, dark eyes closing for a few moments as he looks to sense your familiar presence, already on your walk back towards your apartment. Feitan gives one last, firm kick, before taking off, the urge to have his eyes on you once more making him rush even quicker than normal. He’ll spend the rest of the evening watching you, like always, but this time he’ll pay more attention to your face.
You’ve never looked at him the way you looked at that man, all scared and revolted.
You’ve never tried to get away from Feitan, never ran or panicked or anything of the sort. Pride swells in his chest at the knowledge that you like the dark haired man more than that mangled corpse; you’d choose Fietan over him, he’s sure.
And as you slip under your covers, a soft look on your face as you drift to sleep, Feitan can’t help but slide open the window, slipping into the bedroom and coming up to stand beside your unconscious form.
Would you choose him over other men?
If given the choice, would you want him?
He’d always choose you, his heart always coming back to you no matter what he does or how he hates it - and one day, he’s hopeful you’ll feel the same. One day, you’ll be just as stupidly, pathetically, frantically in love as he is.
He sighs, the corner of his mouth twitching up. Someday, you’ll be all his.
TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:
It takes Feitan a long time to resort to kidnapping you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, but rather that it’s never been a priority for him. He’s reclusive, and because it takes him so long to sort out his feelings for you, stealing you away was certainly not at the forefront of his mind.
It takes him so long to even admit to himself that he cares for you, and that process alone takes anywhere from a month to three months, and only then does the stalking begin. Only then is he allowing the feelings for really grow, to fester and brew in his chest until he’s insatiable, desperate to see you and be in your presence. It takes him so long to warm up to you that he just simply doesn’t have the time or forethought to consider taking you for himself - that is, until his protective tendencies begin coming into play. Once he starts actively caring about your safety and wellbeing, little thoughts begin springing up in the back of his mind. He’s chastising you mentally for staying up late, the hands on the clock moving past hours he’s comfortable with.
He doesn’t like when you lay in your bed scrolling through that damn phone of yours, the bright light bad for your eyes and making you delay sleeping for as long as possible. It makes him angry (if not hypocritical, seeing as he himself only gets roughly four hours of sleep per night), and before he can even stop himself he’s thinking of how he’d make you fall asleep if he was with you, prying that phone out of your hands and telling you to sleep now.
He doesn’t like when you walk home alone at night, as if you’re practically asking to be mugged or assaulted or killed, which is why he has to follow you, begrudgingly hiding in the shadows and trailing you as you meander back to your apartment.
You’re stupid, is what you are, and as time passes, Feitan becomes more and more shocked at how lightly you take your own life - how can one single person be so careless? How can you be willing to eat food so close to the expiration date, or look both ways at the sidewalk just once? You’re helpless, truly, and it pisses Feitan off.
It makes him mad, if only because he’s trying so much harder than you are to keep you safe, and isn’t it unfair to him? Isn’t it awfully inconsiderate of you to make him spend so much time looking after you, doing everything for you because you’re so damn incapable? It’s a negative view and Feitan doesn’t really blame you, only convincing himself he does in order to make him feel better. It’s an excuse to help him feel like he isn’t as attached as he really is, a way to help alleviate some of the embarrassment he has regarding his feelings for you.
It’s pathetic, he thinks, but then something happens - something bad, something Fietan had hoped never would. Somehow, an enemy of the Troupe had discovered you. Maybe he was too preoccupied by keeping his eyes on you that he missed the stranger’s presence, unknowingly leading them directly to you.
Sweet, weak, defenseless you.
Time is frozen for Feitan as he returns from Troupe work, slinking to your apartment and letting himself in the front door, knowing that although it’s horribly late, you’re surely freshly asleep - except, the door is already ajar, and Feitan feels his blood run cold. There’s someone here. It doesn’t matter if they’re a friend or enemy to you - why the fuck is there another person in your home at such an ungodly hour?
The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and for a moment Feitan feels pure, absolute panic - you’re incapable of warding someone off, especially if you’re asleep, and although he feel sense your presence, there’s a distinct aura coming from your bedroom that isn’t yours. He’s quick to rush in, dark eyes narrowing when he sees the figure over your bed, a man hunched over and about to touch you -
His sword is slicing through the man’s neck before he can even blink, head dropping to the ground with a dull thud and blood pooling where it lands. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, brows pinched together and his grip on the sword hilt tight.
His gaze flicks to where you’re still sleeping peacefully, utterly unaware of the man standing beside your bed and the lifeless corpse bleeding out onto your floor. He’s got no choice, really - there’s something ugly stirring in his chest, something big and bad and painful, and he’s reaching out and scooping you into his arms all too quickly.
The man surely was after Feitan - he’d looked at him with recognition, and Feitan can only swallow and tighten his grip on you ever so tightly, hopping out your window and taking off into the night, the makeshift home he’d been residing in lately eventually coming upon the horizon.
The whole event spurs Feitan to believe that relocation is really the best option - his enemies are aware of you now, and who’s to say more won’t come knocking? How does he know you won’t be targeted again, those with vendettas against the Troupe knowing that someone weak and such an Achilles Heel like you would be the perfect revenge?
He doesn’t, and so although he’s grimacing and slightly worried to have you under the same roof, he sets you down on the hard mattress, giving you a few glances before closing the door, sighing to himself and hoping you wake up soon.
Feitan, once you’ve been stolen away, is mostly just an enigma to you.
He’s so painfully unexpressive, so difficult to interact with that you’ll be left to wonder just why he stole you away, why he even bothered to take you when he seems so utterly disinterested in you. He doesn’t talk to you - outside of a few clipped, short commands, he’ll hardly ever let you hear his voice.
Particularly in the beginning of your captivity, he would listen to your crying and begging to be released silently, his eyes slightly narrowed before a small, curt stop filled the room.
He’s never given you any sort of an explanation for why you woke up in his home one day, even when you ask him over and over again. He’ll only look at you, dark eyes fixed on your face, before telling you to go to sleep, you need sleep and promptly shutting and locking the bedroom door. He’s entirely unwilling to really interact with you in any meaningful way - except, it’s not because he hates you, or because he’s simply biding his time to kill you.
You may think that, fear swimming through your veins every time you see him, but it couldn’t be further from the truth - he’s not interacting with you much because there’s a part of Feitan that’s honestly afraid to. It makes him feel stupid and pitiful, but every time he tries to ask you a question or tell you something, the words just sort of die in his throat, his tongue frozen in his mouth even as he tries to move, tries to interact and get you to just look at him, dammit.
Honestly, he’s embarrassed to speak to you - he’s been watching you for so long, acting as your shadow and seeing you so natural and perfect and raw, and he’s grown used to having a front row seat without having to do anything. He’s not used to you being able to see him or hear him or even know he’s there at all. It’s scary to have you be aware of him, placing him in an uncomfortable position where he can no longer simply watch you or long for you from afar - no, now, as much as he hates to admit it, he cares about your opinion.
He cares about how you view him, how you perceive him, what you think about him. He wants you to think he’s funny when he tells cutting jokes, and generous when he gives you bowls of semi-cold soup. He wants you to find him attractive, catching your eyes settling on his body or your fingers running through his ebony locks.
He wants your opinion to be favorable, but despite how strong this desire is, the fear that you’ll find him weird outweighs it. He knows it’s stupid, but he’s terrified that you’ll think he’s strange, a freak, some sort of monster if he talks with you. He’s scared he’ll say something wrong, something to scare you or offend you, and while he may be a mass murderer and an atrocious man, there’s something about the way your eyes would get all glassy and teary, face contorting into disgust as you physically recoil from him that makes his gut wrench, a small frown tugging at the corner of his lips.
He’s too awkward and nervous to speak with you - and so, he resorts instead to the staring, to the watching, to the observing. It’s what he knows best, after all, considering that was how most of his time was spent before kidnapping you. This is better; he has control in this situation, and he won’t accidentally slip and say something that bears too much truth, that lets you in on too much of what’s going on in his head.
There’s less room for error if he relegates himself to minimal verbal and physical interaction, and while he aches to reach out and touch you, to feel the softness of your cheeks or the texture of your hair, he’s restraining himself. Just the mere thought of your skin against his gets him shivering, but it’s quite easy to overwhelm him; he’s not used to being the recipient of your attention, and while it feels good to have you looking at him and attempting to start conversations, it can get to be too much for him very quickly.
It’s easy enough to answer trivial questions; things like what the food is that he placed in front of you (doesn’t matter, it’s good is all he’ll answer with) or inquiries into why he wears that same massive coat all the time (warm and my favorite color).
Those are easy enough, not breaching too close to anything personal or anything that you could use against him. But the more complex questions, or - once the Stockholm Syndrome eventually kicks in and you’re so lonely you’ll happily converse with your kidnapper - compliments?
As soon as the words slip from your lips, a simple your eyes are pretty or a I hope you sleep well makes him stiffen up a bit, lips parting ever so slightly under that cowl of his, before he’s quickly darting out the door and slamming it shut behind him. He has to take a few moments to collect himself, his ears and cheeks feeling hot because god, you were looking right at him, and you’d even said his name.
(He spends the rest of the night in the basement, compulsively cleaning and recleaning his torture tools over and over, trying to distract himself from replaying your compliments over and over in his head, ingraining the sound of your voice and the tingling warmth he felt into his brain. Everything is sparkling clean by the time he’s done, a few hours having passed, and yet he’s spent the whole time thinking of you, letting you plague his thoughts like you always do.)
He just can’t handle having all of your attention on him like that, and although he gets better at it and more used to it as time goes on, he’ll still be very skittish. He’s like a feral cat; he’ll stalk and watch, staring at you with beady eyes from the corner of the room while you try and act natural, only to scamper away when you try to reach out and pet.
You’ll be starved for human contact as his captee, but aside from the lack of any sort of touch, you’ll find that being stuck with him is actually not too bad - he feeds you a decent diet, and lets you live in the spare bedroom of his home. He’d even cleaned everything up before you arrived, a preemptive measure he underwent one night when he couldn’t sleep, both his dreams and thoughts revolving around you.
(There’s still bits of dust and a spider or two in the corner of the ceiling, but everything smells not terribly musty, and you don’t notice any mysterious stains on the sheets, so it could be worse, right?)
He leaves you to your own devices more often than not, just on the condition that he can be present, whether you’re reading a book or sleeping or doodling with some art supplies he stole for you a while back. He’s not too demanding, but eventually the Stockholm Syndrome will get to you - you will eventually start wishing he’d do more than just look, even when he comes home with blood speckling his jacket.
You’ll grow to wish he would sit just a bit closer to you, so that you could feel his body warmth or a brush of his skin against your own. You’ll hate yourself for endearing your captor, but you don’t have much of a choice - Feitan, while terrifying and absolutely capable of killing you in more ways than you can count, is strangely sweet in his own way, even if it takes you a while to notice it.
He’s not buying you flowers or declaring his undying love to you, but he is leaving small, insignificant gifts on your nightstand, maybe a small pastry that you love, or even a small, pretty little jewel he managed to snatch away from the goods Chrollo said were communal among the Troupe from the latest heist. He won’t ever say anything about them, and if you bring it up to him he’ll either ignore you or deny their existence, but he likes leaving them there as a token, as some way of quelling the intense desire to please you that wells in his chest.
It’s the only route he can allow himself to take, because that way he doesn’t have to confront you, only looking at your sleeping face. You always look so peaceful and pretty this way, all the lines of stress and worry smoothing away - you look how you used to, before he stole you away, back when his infatuation first started.
And as he gently, carefully, hesitantly sits down beside your sleeping form on the mattress, he can’t help but gulp harshly and slowly, ever so slowly, reach out and rest his palm on your leg, the sheets separating your skin. He’ll keep his hand there for a while, dark eyes appraising your form under the covers, before exhaling shakily and standing back up, making sure the jade he’d brought back for you was securely on the bedside table, right in your view when you wake up. He’s not a bad captor by any means; he just has trouble expressing himself, walls built up too highly and too thickly to ever really knock them down.
And you’ll get close - as close as you can, at least, as time passes. Feitan will eventually warm up to you, but he’ll never be particularly loving, particularly obvious with his feelings for you - he’ll always be a lovesick fool, but he’ll be damned if he lets another soul know that.
PUNISHMENTS:
As a general rule, Feitan doesn’t particularly like hurting you. Of course, his career rides on his ability to harm, torture, mutilate and extract information out of even the worst criminals and agents, and for the most part he enjoys it.
There’s something about the way he can elicit screams and tears out of others that gets him giddy, the smile stretching across the part of his face covered by his jacket as wide as can be. And yet, for all the enjoyment he derives out of hurting others, seeing you harmed, bruised, crying and begging isn’t nearly as fun as Feitan had expected.
He’s not really sure why, but for some reason seeing you looking at him with so much fear dancing in your pretty eyes makes his gut wrench, an uncomfortable feeling sitting at the base of his throat while he mutters something demanding you to stop looking at him like that. It makes him feel weak, frankly, that you have this effect on him, but he can’t help it – early on into your captivity with him, he tried to settle your disobedience by physically harming you, but he got as far as leaving a rather large carved ‘F’ right over your heart before your crying got to him.
He couldn’t lift his hand as you sobbed below him that day, your wrists bound by leather cording stained with his previous victims’ blood. Your eyes were puffy and glassy, snot dripping from your nose and pathetic little cries and begs for him to stop tumbling past your quivering lips.
Frankly, Feitan was embarrassed for you. But more than anything, he was pissed – his hands were trembling, the switch knife grasped between his fingers frozen, his dark eyes wide as they stared down at you, guilt flashing through them the longer you sniffled and shook, the sight of you in pain with your pretty red blood dribbling down your collarbone simply too much.
That day, he cleaned your wound, packed up his torture gear and locked you into your designated bedroom, all without a single word, mostly because his tongue didn’t seem to be working. But the shaky gasps stumbling from his lips as he stared at his own two hands later that night were enough to make him realize he hates to see you in pain, particularly when he’s the cause.
It’s confusing, irritating, scary, even, that you have this effect on him, but try as he might, any thought of physically harming you from that point on makes his stomach twist, bile rising up his throat and nausea hitting him square in the chest.
But trouble, of course, arises; he refuses to physically harm you in most cases, but he still will only tolerate absolute obedience from you. You can’t simply walk all over him, he won’t let you – you need to listen to his instructions, follow his rules, eat the food he gives you, smile at him all pretty and warm, and let him sneak into your room and hold you when you’re fast asleep in the middle of the night, just as he starts craving.
Feitan needs you to be obedient and submissive to him, and so how can he mold you into the perfect, obedient partner without laying harm to you?
The solution, as it turns out, lies in making you absolutely believe that he will hurt you, despite it not being true.
You don’t need to know that the thought of making you wince or scrunch up your face in pain makes him physically hurl; no, you’re much better off thinking that he’s simply playing nice, waiting for the right moment to strike and leave you broken and bleeding. He’ll allow you to believe that he’s constantly ready to punish you, because then you’ll have some incentive to follow his words and rules, and to do what he believes you should do.
And why wouldn’t you believe it?
You know what Feitan does – he makes no effort to hide the torture tools scattered across his basement, and while you’ve only been down there once (the initial carving of the F), your imagination can conjure up plenty of scenarios of what goes on in that damp, dark basement.
The fact that he has hurt you leads to you staying mostly in line – you’re more than aware of what he’s capable of, and although it slightly pains Feitan that you think of him as a monster, it’s for the best. It’s better for everyone when you’re well behaved – when you simply follow his orders and do what he wants you to, no matter how strange it makes you feel.
You probably aren’t particularly fond of eating in front of him, but he’ll be sitting at the other end of the table as you carefully, hesitantly, twist the strands of pasta around your fork, your gaze flickering from the slightly undercooked noodles to your captor and back again.
You probably don’t really like sleeping while he sits in the corner of the room, that stupid jacket pulled up over his mouth, making the only part of him visible to your drowsy self those damn eyes – and his hands, of course, with just the slightest touch of dried blood under his nails. You’re probably not particularly a fan of any aspect of being his captive – and Feitan carefully controls this.
However, on the off chance that you do act up, that liquid courage flows through your veins and you cross him, you’ll quickly grow to regret it. Feitan still won’t hurt you – not physically, at least.
But others?
Well, it’s not hard to get Chrollo to give him someone who needs to give up some information, to set up the basement and make sure you get a front row seat as he makes the knots tight around the man’s wrist. It hurts him, really, to see the way your face contorts into horror as you watch him break bone after bone in the man’s body, but Feitan can’t stop looking at you. He needs you to be watching – you have to see what he’s capable of, even if he doesn’t really want you to know.
You have to know that he’s serious when he tells you that you can’t leave, that there’s nowhere in the world you can run to where he won’t find you. He rips the man’s nails off, a finger at a time, just to make sure you understand that his touch can hurt – but maybe, some part of him hopes, you’ll realize that when he touches you, his touch is only ever gentle. Or at least as gentle as he can be.
It’s all to make sure you understand that he’s utterly, absolutely in charge – his word is law, and while he craves for you to love him, he’s willing to compromise with just your respect and undivided attention.
It’s not ideal, but as he watches the way tears stream down your cheeks and your body heaves and shudders with your sobs, he can’t help but slice the knife into the man’s thigh deeper, send the punch to his jaw harder.
He has to keep you in line – this complicated, doomed relationship he’s forced you into is the only thing that makes him feel that strange, fluttering feeling in his chest, and he’ll be damned if he lets it go. He’ll be damned if he lets you go – even if you think of him as a monstrous, sadistic freak.
Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t; it doesn’t matter, because you’re never getting away.
OVERALL DANGER:
8/10
The danger that lies with being Feitan’s darling is much more mental than physical. By all means, he’s not the ideal captor – he’s a criminal and mass murderer, torturing people for a living and liking it. And yet, there’s something about you that tones down the more deranged, violent aspects of his personality - he’s by no means soft, but he’s rounder at the edges, less rough and bitter and cold.
He hates himself for falling in love with you, for having allowed you to worm your way into his heart and settle there, plaguing his every thought and dream with your face, your voice and laugh and smile and god, your body -
He blames you, initially, but as time goes on and his feelings only grow stronger, harder to suppress, he finds that it doesn’t matter. You’ve already staked your claim on his heart, and there’s simply nothing he can do to stop what’s inevitable.
Kidnapping is imminent with him, but it really does take him a long while to actually go through with it; you’ll have a long period of freedom from his clutches where you’re living your own life, with him only controlling it from the shadows rather than blatantly, like when he’s stolen you away. He’s not particularly needy, only demanding that you stay in his line of sight, but there’s something more terrifying about the way he’s always watching you like a hawk watches its prey than simple touching would be.
You’re thankful he hasn’t forced himself on you or even forced any kind of affection, but it doesn’t make up for the fact that you miss human touch, that you almost wish he would reach out and hold your hand, press a kiss to your lips, slip the ratty old t-shirt he’d given you over your chest.
You’ll find yourself growing stir crazy under Feitan’s rule, growing desperate but still too scared to confront him, because his intentions with you will remain ambiguous at best - he hasn’t killed you yet, so you must be important to him somehow. You’re not sure, but the longer you spend with him, the less you’ll care until eventually you’re actively dreaming of the day when he finally, finally touches you with those cold fingers and lets you out of that bedroom you’re locked up in.
Feitan loves you, in his own sick, twisted way, and the sooner you realize that the better - maybe you never will, but Feitan will always, always be there waiting, his gaze never faltering once from your figure.
You’re just too mesmerizing, after all - and Feitan’s never been particularly good at denying himself what’s his.
#yandere hxh#yandere hunter x hunter#yandere feitan#yandere feitan portor#hxh x reader#_hxh#_lee's profiles#_feitan portor
655 notes
·
View notes
Text
I Heard That Rafe Sent Someone To The Hospital, Y/N
Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader
Warnings: Mentions of A Bad Fight
Pronouns: She/Her
Word Count: 0.5K
Summary: Daisy has heard some rumours about a certain somone causing trouble at a party.
Masterlist
Everyone knows about Rafe Cameron. He rules the campus with an iron fist and most people fear his rage. Girls hunt for his attention, while most men try to deter it. He is known to set the law and if someone breaks it, Rafe lays out the consequences. Rafe isn’t very close to his sister, but he follows his father’s motto that family comes first. So when Ward insisted that Sarah visit her brother for the weekend, Rafe couldn’t refuse. This leads to his campus-wide hands-off rule for his sister. Anyone seen touching her would have to deal with him. He may be protective for Ward’s sake, but he wasn’t going to spend the weekend babysitting his fifteen-year-old sister.
——
Y/N sits in the booth of the cafe, looking over her notes for her elective psychology class. Daisy slides in across from her with a serious look on her face. “Did you hear the news?” Daisy asks, leaning in with her elbows on the table. Y/N shakes her head, “No, I haven’t had time to watch the news because of class. What happened?” Daisy rolls her eyes and sits back in the booth with her arms crossed, “Not the news news, but did you hear what happened at the Alpha Epsilon Pi party this weekend?” “No. Daisy, you know I really don’t care what happens at those things,” Y/N reminds, going back to her notes when she realizes what her friend is talking about isn’t that serious. Daisy leans forward again and closes Y/N’s laptop. Daisy’s eyes bore into the other girl’s, “You should. I heard Rafe someone to the hospital, Y/N.” This causes Y/N to look at her friend with wide eyes. “Who was it? There’s no way that you haven’t asked around to find out who that someone is,” Y/N provokes, not appreciating the suspense she knows her friend is trying to build.
Daisy’s pride is reflected with a smile, “Of course, I know. He beat Ashton to a pupil. I saw some pictures on Insta and Ashton was so bloody. They say that Rafe was high and drunk.” “As aggressive as Rafe can be, I highly doubt Rafe got into a fight with Ashton for no reason,” Y/N points out, always wanting to know the full story, unlike some people.
“No one seems to know the full reason, but it has something to do with the edict he made last week.”
“Wasn’t it about staying away from his sister?”
“It was.”
“I mean, I don’t condone violence, but knowing Ashton, I would be pretty angry if someone was preying on my fifteen-year-old sister.”
Daisy’s head tilts and she takes a second to think. “Oh, I never thought about it that way. It is a little creepy. Ashton was probably flirting with Sarah.” “Exactly. Daze, you have to stop judging people based on half of the story. I know Rafe shouldn’t have sent Ashton to the hospital, but Ashton wasn’t exactly an innocent party either,” Y/N argues. Y/N returns to her work while Daisy goes to get something to eat. Even before they started dating, Y/N has always been quick to make people see the full picture with Rafe. What she doesn’t know is that she is going to be spending the rest of her life doing that and she can’t say that she wants to complain about it.
Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia
#let me angel#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#outer banks#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x y/n#outer banks fanfiction#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron series#rafe imagine#rafe#rafe x reader#rafe fic#rafe outer banks#rafe obx#outerbanks rafe#outer banks rafe#outer banks imagine#outer banks x reader#obx#obx fic#obx fanfiction#obx fanfic#obx imagine
346 notes
·
View notes
Text
♡♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎
ꨄWhy Talk to Others When You Have Meꨄ
Oneshot - Yandere Toxic Bf Au
❦You mess up when you’re greeted by an old friend from middle school❦
Sano Manjiro x Reader
Not fully proofread
MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!
I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.
Notice:
✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.
✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.
✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.
✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.
✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable
✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.
Enjoy!
Why Talk to Others When You Have Me?
No matter how hard you tried to ignore it, you couldn’t help but notice your boyfriend’s piercing glare at the old friend who stood in front of you. You tried so hard to focus on the story he was cheerfully going on about, but you could feel Mikey’s nails penetrating the back of your hand as your fingers were locked. You bit your lip to refrain from yelping as you subtly tried to release yourself from his grip, to no avail. You kept your eyes straight as you smiled and responded to the person you hadn’t seen since middle school.
The two of you were never really close enough to hang out other than when you shared classes, but seeing a familiar face can be refreshing when the only people you can be around are your boyfriend’s family and friends. You couldn’t pass the opportunity, desperate for communication when he tapped your shoulder to get your attention. Honestly, if you would’ve known that Mikey could see you from where he stood at the Musashi Shrine, you would’ve tried to end the conversation faster.
“Alright, it was nice to see you! We should get together soon!” The friendly male states, dismissing himself after you both exchanged social media profiles before waving and walking away.
You didn’t want to meet your boyfriend’s gaze, though if you don’t, it will show that you feel guilty for something you shouldn’t have to feel guilty about. Swallowing your anxiety you turn your head to face Mikey, who stares at you with a cold expression.
“I know you’re an attention whore, Y/n, but that doesn’t mean you have to talk to everyone you pass by.”
Your eyebrows furrow as you glance around at his fellow gang member friends standing around you both. They had followed him there, you think so he could just humiliate you in front of them, as he always does when he’s angry with you.
“Mikey, you know I’m not an attention whore. Stop being an asshole.” You say as you snatch your hand out of his grip, crossing your arms before attempting to walk away, only to be snatched by your bicep and forced to look at him.
“So you flirt with a random guy in front of my face and then call me an asshole? Y/n, what’s wrong with you?”
“That’s not fair. Nobody was flirting with anyone and you know that! Don’t be insecure.” You state angrily.
“Hey Y/n, you should calm down. The way you’re acting towards Mikey isn’t cool.” Baji growls as he walks closer to you.
“This has nothing to do with you! Why are you always butting in?” You exclaim as you throw your hands in the air.
“Why are you being so defensive, Y/n? Flirting with someone else isn’t okay.” Draken states with his own arms crossed, scowling at you.
Your eyes widen in disbelief.
“I wasn’t flirting with anyone!” You hate feeling as though you have to explain yourself to a bunch of men you never get along with. They never seem to understand your side of things. You understand their loyalty to Mikey, but this is ridiculous.
“We all saw the display, come on. Just admit it and apologize.” Mitsuya adds on. You shake your head before turning to Mikey, who stood with a stoic expression. You turn away, missing the slight curl of his lips as you stomp away from them.
He dismisses himself from his friends as he follows you to the apartment you both live in which is a short distance away. When you make it to the door, you snatch it open before walking in, heading to the bedroom to lock yourself away from him.
“You’re acting like a brat, Y/n.”
Before you could shut him out, he blocked the door from closing, scoffing before walking in the opposite direction of him only to be stopped by him pulling you into his chest before he grips your neck. You gasp as he narrows his black eyes angrily.
“Delete him right now.” You gaze at him with wide eyes before grabbing your phone out of your pocket and removing the old friend. You threw the phone on the bed.
“This isn’t fair, Mikey. I don’t care about deleting him but it’s not right that you can have your friends but I can’t have my own.”
Especially when they’re so insufferable.
His grip squeezes your neck tighter until you begin to lose air, reflexively grabbing his wrist with both of your hands as you struggle to breathe.
“What’s not fair is you flirting with a guy in front of my face, then you disrespect me in front of my friends. That’s not being a good girlfriend, Y/n.” He says as he lifts her off the ground, using his other hand to wrap around your neck as well. Your eyes tear up as your throat closes, feet dangling as you pierce your nails into both of his wrists, drawing blood.
“You even added him on social media. Why? Why did you have to do that? You think he’s gonna come in and take you from me? You’re mistaken.” He releases your neck before dropping you to the ground. He walks to the bed and sits while you cough, hands on the ground in a kneeling position.
“You should be a good girl and apologize to me. You should be thanking me for not killing him on the spot.” He chuckles the last sentence, though serious with his statement. Little did you know he had already sent his delinquent friends to take care of the problem permanently, as he always does when you meet new or old friends. He can’t risk having you taken away from him. You already know what’s coming next, the scene repeating as it always plays out.
“I don’t want to do anything right now. I’m still angry.” He scoffs.
“Beg me for forgiveness.” He demands.
Although you didn’t want to, you know you’re already not going to win this fight by the past experiences you’ve had to endure. So you swallow your pride and count to five in your head before standing up and turning to him.
“I’m sorry Manjiro. Please forgive me.”
“Sorry for what?”
You paused as you refrained from giving him a glare. Sighing, you answered, “I’m sorry for flirting with that guy, adding his social media, and disrespecting you in front of your friends.”
“Hm.” He mockingly put a finger to his chin.
“Show me how sorry you are.”
You frowned before walking towards him and kneeling in between his legs. He leans back on his hands as he smiles slightly, eyeing you as he loved to see you this way. He loved to see you below him like the pretty little slut you are. His slut.
You reluctantly reach for his erection, pulling it out as you leaned forward. Before you began, you moved your head back and looked at him.
“Mikey, I don’t want to do this right now. You really hurt me.” You say. He sighs as he uses one hand to caress your head.
“Baby, you know I hate it when this happens. It wouldn’t have to be this way if you would just be my sweet girlfriend. This is the only way we can truly make up. It’s only fair since you really hurt my feelings.” He cooed with a concerned expression.
You sigh, yearning for more of this sweet moment considering he’s so detached normally. There have been a couple of times where you’ve tried to leave and he wasn’t having it, always going to far lengths to secure you in his grip. You ached for him to be nice to you, trapped in the cycle of temporary happiness and struggle.
“Come on baby, let's make up. I’m gonna take care of you after this. We can cuddle and watch movies together. How does that sound?” He leans over and pulls you in for a quick kiss.
“Fine.” You huff out. You wrap a hand around his erection and encircle your lips around his head, sucking and licking around the lining as his cock twitches in your hand. He holds the back of your neck as he massages your head with his thumb. He releases a soft moan as you take the full girth into your throat.
You pull your head back before continuously bobbing back and forth, closing your eyes as you use your hand to gently grip his balls, wanting him to orgasm fast so you could get to the affection, your heart corrupted with a heavy weight.
“Look at me.” You comply, his heated gaze boring into your orbs as you continue taking him in your mouth.
He grinds his hips against your mouth as the grip on the back of your neck tightens. He accelerates his speed as saliva and pre cum oozes out of your mouth.
“This feels so good. Just like that.” You bob your head against his hips, matching his speed before he grabs your head with both hands and ruts slowly against the walls of your mouth and throat.
“Yes, fuck.” He whispers as he sits up more, aiming himself as he slightly lifts off the bed, fucking your mouth deeply as he brings himself to releasing, the cum shooting down your throat as he holds you there to swallow it all.
You both breathe heavily when he releases you and you pull his milked cock out of your mouth. He pulls you on top of him as he holds you tightly.
“I love you so fucking much.” He whispers against your ear as he presses your head to his neck.
“I love you too.” You breathe out as you ignore the shame and attempt to embrace his love for you.
#yandere tokyo revengers#yandere#tokyo revengers#tokyo rev x you#tokyo rev smut#sano mikey manjiro#sano manjiro x reader#tokyo rev x y/n#tokyo rev x reader#yandere au#yandere x you#yandere x reader#boyfriend au#boyfriend#toxic relationship#toxic love#toxic boyfriend
136 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Dog House Isn’t The Best, But It Can Still Be Our Home
Final installment to 'Pavlov's Dog'
~~
Part 3
~~
I told you guys I'd post it at some point 🥴 I'm honestly so sorry this took so long to post, but last year got really dark for me and everything just kind of took a backseat. Thank you so much for your patience, and thank you to all of you who checked up on me. It means more than I'll ever be able to express. Thank you @fuckingbye for being an amazing friend, and for also making this amazing moodboard. You are a saint and I love to the ends of the earth. Without further ado, here's the final chapter!
Word Count: 71,942 (yes, you read that correctly)
Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY), Public Sex, Semi Public Sex, Drinking, Smoking, Swearing, Daddy Kink, Angst, Heartbreak, Mild Violence, FLUFF, Lying, Betrayal...I think that's it?
Song(s) That Inspired This Chapter: Will You Take Me Back In The Morning If I Promise To Never Act This Way Again?
I do not give consent/permission for my works/stories to be posted elsewhere. I do not condone this type of behavior, this is for entertainment purposes only.
~~
“You can’t keep going on like this, babe,” Daisy sighs sympathetically as she takes a seat next to the bathtub.
“It doesn’t matter,” you shrug as you take a drag of your cigarette, “none of it fucking matters.”
“Babe, it’s been two weeks. You do the same thing every day. You get up, eat the smallest bit of food, you sit out on your back deck and smoke until you decide to start drinking, then you draw yourself a bath and drink and smoke in it until you decide it’s too cold, or I come and get you. You can’t keep doing this.”
“I don’t even have a reason to be mad at him, do I?” you scoff incredulously before taking a drag from your cigarette, “it’s not like he lied. He didn’t even know, so I have no reason to be this upset, do I?”
“He was a complete and total asshole,” she states firmly, “and you have every reason to be upset with his actions. Yeah, it was a shit show, but he definitely could’ve handled it better.”
“The shit he said right in front of that child, even if it isn’t his, were so fucking cruel! No child deserves to be spoken to like that, and he of all people should know that!”
“Babe-”
“After everything we talked about on that trip...it’s like it didn’t even matter to him. He didn’t even care.”
“I’m sure he was just shocked-”
“That’s not an excuse, Dais.”
“I never said it was, but c’mon: it’s Ransom. You really think he was thinking clearly? Linda and Marta were there and I’m more than sure he was afraid of losing you, then Marta drops a fucking bomb on him, and it sounds like she did it on purpose, if I’m honest. Just to fuck him over.”
“Daisy, I just-”
“BABY, PLEASE ANSWER THE DOOR AND TALK TO ME!” Ransom calls desperately as he bangs on your front door.
Like clockwork.
“Why can’t he understand that I need time? I don’t owe him shit,” you start to sniffle as your tears fall, and you grab the bottle of tequila that lives by the bathtub now, and take a long drink from it.
“I’ll get rid of him, just please...please get up and do something,” Daisy begs desperately.
“Ya know, you’re wrong,” you say as she reaches the doorway, finally looking at her, “I put on makeup today,” you smile weakly.
She lets out a humorless laugh before disappearing and you hear her footsteps quickly making their way downstairs.
Since everything that took place on his doorstep, you haven’t spoken to or seen him. You don’t know what to say or how to handle the situation. He’s been calling and texting non-stop since it all happened, and every two days he comes by to visit, and Daisy tells him to leave you alone every time.
But you can’t keep avoiding him.
No, you don’t know what the right thing to do is, but you know that avoiding him is the wrong thing, and you can’t keep letting Daisy handle these issues for you. You have to at least speak to him, but say what? Do what? It’s not like you have any real right to be mad at him. It’s not like he cheated on Marta with you, he didn’t cheat on you with her, he clearly didn’t know he had a child so he didn’t keep it from you, and he did defend you to Linda. However, that doesn’t change the things he said to that child.
Possibly his child.
“He’s not my son and this isn’t fucking funny!”
“We can take a test if you want, but he is your son!”
“Well, I don’t want him! You wait...however many years to tell me about him, and you sure as shit don’t need any money, so why now?!”
“He deserves to know who his Father is, Ransom! He’s a Drysdale and-”
“Watch it,” Ransom warns with a foreboding tone.”
God, how could he be so cruel to a child, after all of the talks you two have had? He’s always cruel though, isn’t he? To you, to Marta, his own son (the resemblance is too strong for that boy to not to be his child), and fuck it, even Jack. He can’t ever seem to control his temper and, if he can’t do that, what chance do you two have together?
Still, he owns your heart and you don’t know how to get it back at this point. You don’t know and you don’t wanna know.
“Ransom, you have to stop coming around!” you hear Daisy yell, and you sigh before taking another drink from the bottle.
“You can’t stop me from me seeing her, Daisy! She’s my girlfriend!”
“Bullshit! You two never made it official-”
“Daisy, stay out of it! Let me see her!”
“No! She’s not ready to see you and you can’t force-”
“I’m not forcing anything-”
“What do you think this is?! Showing up because she won’t answer your calls or texts, and demanding to see her?! Leave her alone!”
“You can’t stop me-”
“Let him in!” you call, lighting a cigarette as you use your tip toes to turn the water back on, and heat up your water just a bit.
Who the hell knows how this is gonna go?
You hear the both of them speedily stomping up the steps, but Daisy get there first and says, “are you sure? You don’t have to-”
“I can’t keep letting you fight my battles,” you smile weakly at her as you turn the water off.
“Babe-”
“I have to deal with this at some point. I can do this,” you all but mumble not believing yourself as you take a drag of your cigarette.
“I’ll be in the room over,” she sighs softly before turning, “fuck you Drysdale!”
“Fuck you!”
You hear her slap him and shake your head. Nothing can ever be simple, can it?
“Sweet Thing, please-” he starts as soon as he makes his way into your bathroom.
“Ransom...don’t,” you quickly interrupt. “This isn’t just some small disagreement.”
“I didn’t even know I had a child!”
“I could’ve dealt with that, Ransom! It would’ve taken some time, but I honestly could’ve dealt with that! It’s the way you spoke about him in front of him!”
“I don’t want him!”
“You didn’t have to say it in front of him! Jesus, it’s not his fault that you’re a selfish bastard! He didn’t ask to be born, and Marta-”
“She did this out of spite! Not because she wants me to be apart the child’s-”
“Be that as it may, he didn’t do anything! Basically telling her that she has no right calling him a Drysdale, when he is in fact a Drysdale! Ransom, I know you’re rough around the edges, but for fucks sake! All the talks we’ve had about our own fucked up childhoods and you do this?! You just...I don't fucking get it with you, Ransom!”
“What is there to get?! We fucking talked about this, Y/N! I’m not-”
“That’s no excuse for this! You took it too far and I...Ransom, I can’t-”
“Don’t you fucking say it,” he warns as his eyes start welling up with tears. “Don’t you fucking say that to me!”
“Ransom...I love you, but I can’t be the only good thing in your life. The only person you like,” you sob, sitting up and ashing your cigarette in the ash tray resting on the little table near by.
“WHY NOT?!”
“It’s too much fucking pressure! It’s too much pressure, and I can’t keep watching you be terrible to people because you had a rough childhood! You having a rough go of it doesn’t mean you get to walk all over people for the rest of your life!”
“Listen, give it a few days and you’ll see-”
“No, Ransom. This is done. I can’t do this with you anymore. You have to grow up at some point, and I refuse to mother you.”
“Y/N...you’ll see...you don’t mean it. You always say you’re done and you come back-”
“I can’t anymore. All of this just hurts too much. You keep finding new ways to hurt me, even when you don’t mean to, and I just...you’re cruel, Ransom. You’re cruel, you’re a bully, and you will hurt anyone by doing anything. I know there’s good in you, because you’ve let me see it time and time again, but you refuse to let others in, even in the slightest and I just...please don’t call me anymore,” you sob pathetically. “Don’t call, don’t text, don’t come by...we’re done.”
“You don’t mean this-”
“Don’t make it harder than it has to be, please. Just let me go,” you beg softly as you wipe your eyes.
“You’ll see. In a week or so, you’ll see and I’ll be waiting. I’ll wait and everything will be as it should, again,” he smiles weakly, wiping his own eyes.
“Ransom-”
“I’ll call you in a few weeks, okay, Sweet Thing,” he promises, making his way over to the bathtub. “I love you and I’ll talk to you.”
He cups your face and kisses you passionately and you’re so tempted to pull him into the tub with you, but you know you’ve got to stop. You left one toxic relationship just to jump into a different type of toxic relationship.
“Ransom,” you breathe once you two break apart, “please-”
“I’ll talk to you in a few weeks,” he promises with a sniffle before standing up and walking out.
“Ransom-”
“I’ll see you in a few weeks,” he repeats, his voice cracking as he continues on his way out.
Daisy is back inside and by your side instantly, climbing into the tub and holding you close as you cry uncontrollably, as you try to come to terms with the choice you’ve just made. Yeah, he’s right in saying that you always come back, but that’s not the case this time.
You need to stay away from him for good.
The fact that he has it in his head that all of this will be sorted out in a few weeks, lets you know that this is only the calm before the storm. As both you and Daisy lean back into the tub, and she holds you close while you cry into her shoulder, there’s only one question going through your head:
How the hell are you supposed to quit the love of your life?
**
4 Years Later...
~~
You can read the rest of the story here
~~
taglist: @whiskeytangofoxtrot555, @companionjones, @autumnrose40, @fuckingbye, @pono-pura-vida, @nomadstucky, @mazda098, @chemtrails-club, @bree-lyrie, @mjey12, @charlottiedawson, @fenixstar , @thickania
#fanfic#fan fiction#fan fic#fanfiction#knives out#ransom drysdale#hugh drysdale#hugh ransom drysdale#knives out fanfic#ransom x reader#chris evans characters#ransom thrombey x reader#ransom thrombey smut#ransom thrombey#ransom smut#hugh ransom thrombey#Hugh Ransom Drysdale#ransom drysdale x you#ransom drysdale smut#ransom drydale x you#ransom drysdale x reader#ransom thrombey fluff#fluff and smut#fluff and angst
150 notes
·
View notes
Text
Guilt Tripping - Yan! Diluc
Yandere Diluc x Fem! Reader
part 1 of the “Baby Trapping” series
Warnings: Toxic relationship, general yandere themes, guilt tripping (I think), emotional manipulation, slight victim blaming (I think?), drugging, implied future physical violence (Not towards reader), possessive and obsessive thoughts and behavior, overprotectiveness, overbearing actions, controlling actions/mindset, unhealthy and toxic mindset, paranoia, implied Yandere! Albedo (Towards a different reader of perhaps the same mini-series of this).
Not sfw warnings: Baby trapping, dub-c0n/non-c0n, unprotected sEx, cumming inside without permission, unconsensual and unethical use of aphrodisiacs, vaginal fingering, clothed grinding, loss of virginity (both parties and totally didn't forget to add this warning until now)
Diluc is straight up gaslighting himself in this. He’s aware of how awful he is but keeps justifying it lmao.
Please tell me if I missed any warnings that are needed.
Disclaimer: I DO NOT condone any of the toxic behavior and thoughts that may take place in this work of fiction. None of this should be romanticize or even considered normal as it is very toxic and very dangerous. If you find yourself in such a situation, please seek help if able to.
DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT
WARNING: DUE TO TUMBLR’S SHITTY TAGGING SYSTEM, NOT EVERY TRIGGER WARNING WILL BE TAGGED, SO PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS THAT ARE WRITTEN ABOVE. THANK YOU.
MINORS AND AGLESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI OR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. THANK YOU.
Unedited.
Word count: 5134k
===
Diluc was aware that he could be… overbearing, at times. He’s aware that his presence can be suffocating, that he can be a bit delusional at times, and that he’s a bit controlling when it comes to you. But be doesn’t mean to do that on purpose – you just manage to bring out both the worse and the best out of him.
Whether or not you’re aware of that fact is up for debate.
He’s been preparing for the day you snap and talk back, or to take some ‘much needed’ space from the relationship. He can’t deny that your sanity is slowly withering away the more you deal with him. Again, he doesn’t mean to make you so stressed.
He just wants what’s best for you, as long as you come back into his arms. There are understandings at times, where you listen instead of charging away like a bull. He knows that you know he cares deeply for you, loves you to the moon and back. That he’d be willing to do almost anything for you.
Anything but this.
“I’m breaking up with you.”
One sentence, five words, is all it takes for his words to come crashing down around him. ‘I need a break’ implies you’ll be back after a week or so. It’s happened once or twice throughout your entire two years of your relationship. And it never lasted more than a week, max.
Diluc can feel the thin thread snapping like a nose around a neck. He swears that the world comes to a halt at your words, seeing nothing but white. Is he undergoing shock? Perhaps he heard you wrong. Yeah, that’s it – you must have said something else. A prank maybe? Or maybe you mixed up your words.
“What… what do you mean?” He hates the way his voice cracks, how shaky his hands become, even when they’re clenched hard enough to snap metal into two. Your facial expression doesn’t show any signs of playfulness.
There’s nothing playful about this situation.
You let out a sigh, fingers massaging your temple. “I said… I’m breaking up with you. I can’t… I can’t do this anymore. I can’t deal with you anymore.” Your voice cracks, and there’s a silent sob. There’s a huff, an intake of air.
You’re trying your best not to break down in front of him. And he’s doing the same, fists clenching and unclenching as he thinks of something to say. What should he say? That you can’t leave? It’ll only make things more complicated, making you hostile towards him.
He can’t have that. He just can’t. but even so, he finds himself about to utter those words out loud. He bites his tongue.
“…I thought I was good to you. While… I do understand that I can get overbearing at times… I thought I was a good lover to you regardless of.” He tries to keep himself in check. Diluc was nothing but a good gentleman in your eyes, so he acts as such. Although, that illusion may be gone now.
“That’s the problem! You think you’re a good boyfriend. But you’re not. you’re so… overbearing and controlling. I can’t even talk to people you don’t approve of!” Your own thread had seemingly snapped, leaving nothing more than rage behind. Quite, dull rage that’s too exhausting to come out at once.
“You say it’s for my own good… that I need your protection…”
“I never said that- “
“You implied it. Every. Single. Time. you always imply it.”
There’s nothing but silence. There’s a guilty conscience. He can’t ignore it, but he won’t address it. Because that means he’ll have to let go. And he won’t, not even in death, where hell will surely drag him down. He’ll drag you if he has to.
“We can… let’s just talk about this, okay? No need to make any rash decisions.” He’s talking out of his ass right now. “It’s… been a stressful week. It’s late and we both got out of work not too long ago. Let’s just… how about you come over?”
You don’t say anything, not at first. A glimmer of hope. Yes, everything will go back to normal, over a glass or two, ending with you being a whimpering mess as he grinds against you. Just like always.
“No. I can’t… I won’t do that. It always has the same outcome anyway. We never ‘talk’, you just sweet talk your way out, and it ends with some type of sexual activity.” You shake your head, taking a step back. He takes a step forward.
It feels wrong for you to stand so far away. Alien. You should be next to him, no, in his arms as he soothes you. Reality and fantasy don’t mix well, he realizes. “Please,” he tries again, choking on air.
It can’t end like this. It can’t end at all.
“Diluc… I can’t. I just can’t. I know it may be hard for you to understand but, whether you realize it or not… you treat me like a doll. A pretty, fragile, glass doll.” You don’t look him in the eyes, probably can’t.
To be fair, it felt worse on your own end. You loved this man. You wanted to marry him. But it’s in past tense and you’re not sure if you can keep up this happy façade. He’s nothing but controlling at this point, overprotective, suffocating. You can’t live in denial anymore.
Another sigh, another sob. With every step he takes towards you, you take one back. There’s an invisible wall between you, too hard to shatter. At least completely.
“Hey… let’s talk again in a week. When the steam blows off, okay?” You try not to break, he sees it. The way your body tenses, the slight tumble. He makes an effort to not point it out. “Please?”
And you cave, breaking down, wailing like a child. You don’t move away, only flinching as he closes in on you, gently and slowly wrapping his arms around you. his grip on you is loose, not wanting to chase you away. Gentle, he must be gentle.
It’s always worked in the past. He just needs to tweak a few things to guarantee victory. Anything for you, no matter how shady it may be. His morals become dubious when it comes to you.
A few minutes pass before you answer.
“Alright.”
--
Truthfully, you didn’t want to go, your resolve going down the drain whenever it came to you. But you had already promised you would, weak in that moment. But he knew. He knew that you would eventually succumb to his wishes. It happens every time.
And it ends with heated kisses, hands exploring each other’s bodies, promises to wait for the full act after marriage huffed into your ears. Despite the bulge straining in his pants, hazy eyes that kept looking at your kiss swollen lips, he never did anything you were uncomfortable with. And for that, you were grateful. But it doesn’t excuse his other behavior.
Something didn’t feel right. You were nothing short of tense, weary of what’s to come. Would he try to pull something? Or procced to guilt trip you once more, as unknowingly as usual? You could never tell with him, despite dating for two years.
Two years and he became a different person.
No. Beneath that gentlemanly exterior lies a control, obsessive and possessive freak. And you fell for it, the charm, the words, the looks. You dug your own grave without even knowing. And now it’s time to dig your way out, no matter how painful it may be.
You just hope your resolve will stay strong.
It must.
--
Diluc was nervous. It was more common these days, a nervous Diluc. He can’t help it but to be nervous around you. You were just so pretty, adorable, irresistible. And there was a time where you thought the same, where you couldn’t even take your eyes off of him. And yet, you don’t anymore.
He’s aware why. It’s because of him. But you need to understand was for your protection. He has too many enemies, there’s too much danger in the outside world. Surly, you would come around eventually, right?
Wrong. He was so, so wrong. He should have kept up with the gentle approach, no matter the amount of years it might have taken. It’s not too late to restart… right?
Just act the way you always portrayed him as. His mask has slipped too much too quickly. And now, he needs to fix everything as quickly as possible. The question is how to.
He glances at the wine bottle. A little drug as curiosity of Sir Albedo… a new and up coming drug. An aphrodisiac is what he called it. It was still in its developmental stages, but harmless. He was even given the right dose.
A questioning look in the alchemist’s eyes, no concerns were voiced. Most likely thought it wasn’t his business. And besides… even the esteemed Alchemist Albedo Kreideprinz had skeletons in his closet. Likeminded people must stick together, right?
And thus, the aphrodisiac was handed to him under the table, and now in this ‘new’ and ‘unopened’ bottle of wine. The cork was a new one, the previous one hastily thrown into the trash, covered with other discarded things. Not a smooth cover-up, but one you wouldn’t notice. And, if you were to ask for juice, he even drugged that beforehand.
He flinches slightly when a servant comes up to him, announcing your appearance. He takes in a deep breath before grabbing the bottle and two glasses, making his way to the study. When he gets there, he pauses. Would he be able to pull this off?
If you do ask for it, he has your consent, right? Yes, you wanted to save yourself for marriage but…
He shakes his head, ridding himself of those thoughts. He’ll back down if he thinks about too much. So, he takes a deep breath, straightens himself. His feet feel heavy as he walks into the room. He keeps the door open.
“(name). You came.”
You jolt at that, whipping your head around to see his figure at the doorway.
“Yes… just for a bit. This isn’t a casual visit, after all.” You built a wall around yourself, trying to smile but failing. He doesn’t comment on it.
“Ah. I suppose that’s… right.” Awkward silence, your hands tightly clasping together. His own grip on the glasses and bottle are tight as well. Swiftly, he places the objects down on the table in front of you. Everything has to be perfect. This night needs to end on a good note.
“Wine?” he asks, eyeing the way your jaw tenses as you hesitate to answer. You want to say no, he can see it, feel it. And hopefully, you won’t. His legs are already shaking like a newborn foal’s.
“I… sure.” A quiet sigh of relieve, and he opens the bottle, a loud ‘pop’ echoing in the room. You don’t take your eyes off of it. You’re weary of him. And he doesn’t have the right to complain or even feel offended.
Because you were right to be weary. To be weary of him.
He pours you a glass and himself one. He’s going to take the drug with you. God, he’s already silently regretting this. Not because he’s tricking you (although that’s part of it), but because he’ll have to explain, in detail (something he dreads, but a favor is a favor) of the results. He hates himself for being used a test subject and ragging you into it.
He can’t feel bad, considering he was the one who chose this route.
“Thank you…” you say as he passes a glass to you. He sits in front of you, the plush chair soft against him. He takes a sip.
“So… about our relationship… do you truly want to end it? We can work through this together.” He croaks out, trying his best not to ramble. He takes a deep breath, calming his nerves. He can do this.
“… I’m not sure if this relationship is savable. Two years and you’ve just gotten… worse. Much worse than you have gotten better. It’s like you’ve been possessed.” He can see your eyes water up, but you don’t let them fall.
He wants to wipe them away.
“What do you mean?” He’s never felt so scared in his life. He hates this. He hates himself. “It’s just… I know I can get overbearing, and I promise that I don’t do it on purpose-“
You cut him off, “That’s the problem. You don’t do it on purpose. It’s harder to resent you that way.”
Resent him? What do you mean by that?
“I don’t… I don’t know what to do. You’re… you used to be a good boyfriend. Someone I wanted to marry… but you’re not that same person anymore. And I’m not sure if we can fix this… if you can fix yourself. I’m not a therapist… yet you treated me as one for years.”
Your shoulders slack and you don’t make an effort to look at him. You don’t make an effort to drink the wine either.
He can feel his heart breaking. What should he do? What can he do? Crying (a rare sight indeed) won’t do anything. It’ll only prove you right if he cries and begs for you to reconsider. He needs you to drink the wine. A good amount of it.
He takes another swing, enough to the point the glass is almost empty. Too much at once, he hasn’t even eaten yet. He wants to eat you. But not when you’re crying like this.
“I’m… I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware that I was that… inconsiderate.” Ever so slowly, he takes small steps towards you. You don’t resist when he gets on his knees, gently placing his head on your lap. His arms wrap around your legs. And, almost as if it was natural, your hand comes town to thread fingers through his hair.
Even when you ‘resent’ him, you still comfort him. You really were too good for him. But it’s because of that he doesn’t want to let go. No. he’d never let you go. He’ll drag you to hell if he has to.
“… To think the esteemed Diluc would beg on his knees… hah,” a humorless laugh that shakes him through his core. You sound tired, so, so tired. You’re really going to give up on him. Was he really that bad? Sure, maybe he overshared, at times, and was a bit controlling, but…
He never hit you. Never raised his voice at you.
He’s in denial. He doesn’t want to admit to his mistakes right now. He’ll do it (probably) after you two make up. He’ll do it once you say you won’t leave, that you won’t give up on him, on the relationship. You’re all he has left.
His father’s dead, his ‘brother’ is a spy, he can’t really get along with anyone on an emotional level. Anyone except you. You know this, so why are you putting him through this? Can’t you see he needs you?
God helps the poor soul would dare take you away.
“… I’m sorry. I really am,” useless, he’s so useless right now. Helpless, he hates himself, he hates you. “I… can’t lose you. I love you, you know that, right?” Like he wasn’t the one pushing you away with his behavior and actions.
He’s a horrible person, a dreadful and emotional abusive boyfriend. The naked eye can’t see it, but a trained one can. Likeminded people can. The victim can.
“Diluc… sit down, okay? You’re going to make yourself sick,” you run your fingers through his red mop of hair before retreating it. No, no, no, you can’t do that. You just can’t.
You have to drink the wine. You need to understand he’s protecting you. You need to understand he needs you. So, stay, please.
Don’t make things even more complicated.
“… do you love me?” He looks up, eyes glossy and he watches as your strong façade crumble. He was your weakness as you were his. You’re perfect for each other, however toxic the relationship may be.
“I… I don’t know anymore. I feel like I love you, but I know I shouldn’t.” Shaking your head, you gently push at his shoulders. The effort is weak, almost meaningless. He gives a squeeze before getting up and returning to his seat.
It’s when he sits down, head falling into his hands, when you take a swing. He hears you slam the glass on the mahogany wood. Hope lights up in his chest, but even so, it feels so wrong. But he needs to do this. For him. For you.
How selfish of a person he was.
“… I can’t promise I won’t fall back into the habit, but –“
“You said that last time. And here we are, again. You say you’ll do better, that you’ll listen. Sure, you do, but only for a week. And then the cycle repeats.” You sigh out, now crying, finally breaking down despite everything.
Sobs, ugly sobs that he hates to hear. He’s not sure when he got up, or how long he’s been hugging you, but he knows that you need comfort. Maybe not from him, but he’s the only one here anyway. The servants are outside, cleaning the yard, tending to the grapes, shooing of pests.
Just you and him. No-one will hear, and even if they did… who are they to question their boss? Money talks.
You stay like that, for a while. Crying in his arms as he strokes your hair. He’s not sure when you had stopped, and completely forgotten about the drug.
He only remembers it when his body starts to heat up. And the same must be said for you, as you’re quivering in his grasp. The way you quiver whenever he drags you across his crotch, erection making contact with your clothed pussy.
Like right now, your hips rolling against his as he practically dragged you to the couch in the study once you started to kiss out of pure lust. You’re panting above him, eyes shut tight. Maybe you didn’t want to see him. He hates it, but that’s okay. As long as you’re here, with him, and not thinking of another man.
“Fuck… my body’s hot. I’m scared yet I can’t stop… did you put something in the drink?” You question him, voice broken and breathy as you keep rolling your hips. Harder, faster, more friction, you need him as much as he needs you. He’ll get you, and you’ll have him.
Like it’s supposed to be.
“Are you… mmh… that weary of me?” You’re far too gone to properly hear him, chasing pleasure above answers. His gloved fingers tug at your skirt, wanting it off. He wants to see you bare. Patience... patience, he tells himself.
A squeal, mouth open and he can’t help but kiss you. saliva everywhere, any pretense of a breakup gone. For now. And yet you both don’t care, delving into the pits of pleasure that’ll never be enough. He bites your lips hard enough to draw blood, you claw at his neck deep enough to see crimson.
You hurt and take, hurt and take. You break his heart, he’ll break your mind on his cock. Just… be good.
“Diluc… wedding… I want to wait – oh! – but… ah… not sure if I can…” you’re groping yourself, thumb ribbing at where your nipple would be. Too many clothes, hot, clit throbbing while grinding against him like there’s no tomorrow. Diluc takes this chance to tease you, just a bit.
“Wedding… you still want to marry me?” There’s a slight teasing to it, and he proceeds to kiss your neck. Gently, gently, so gentle you want more. He wants to drive you crazy. “But, of course, if you want it now, I won’t say no…”
Another moan, another messy kiss. Your lips are raw by now, and you’re not sure when he dragged the front of your shirt down, sucking on the bare skin before him. He bites your neck, leaving marks, he gropes your breasts, your hands now tugging at his hair.
He hisses at the sting, but it only drives him to do more. His free hand dives under your dress, the skirt of it wrinkled now.
“Diluc… please, fuck, I need you,” you breathe out, grinding against his hand as he teases you through your underwear. Slowly, he brings his hand back, using his teeth to take his glove off. Almost, he’s almost there. He needs to loosen you up. Hopefully, hopefully this drug will help with the pain.
Ah. Blood.
He needs to do this in the bedroom, easier to change the sheets.
--
You’re naked in no time, and despite the drug running through your veins like fire, you’re still scared. Very scared, and he feels so horrible about it. and yet, yet he can’t stop himself for shit. He’s horrible, shitty, controlling, obsessive, possessive, and desperate. Paranoid to a fault, he plans on tying you to him via family.
It’s hard to raise a child on your own. Reputation is important, and everyone would lose respect for you, for a good while at first. And besides… they would know who the father was. If they inherit his features, be it the red hair or ruby eyes, they’ll know. They’ll blame one of you, both of you, taking one side or the other.
Thus, it’s just overall easier to stay together, avoiding controversy. A horrible and risky plan. But you would need the support, the funds, the father. It’s harder, nearly impossible to run away from him in such a state.
“Hey… it’ll be okay. I’ll take it slow, alright?” He reassures you, smiling down at you gently. He’s always imagined you like this – a panting mess, lips kiss swollen, hair sprayed around his pillow and your hair. Bite marks everywhere, nipples tendered from being sucked on so much.
He’ll make a mental note to be more gentle next time. But for now, he trails down his hand, fingers ghosting over your burning skin. Shaky breaths, and he can’t take his eyes off of the way you stare downwards. He’s naked too, his own hickies littering his neck like a necklace.
“G-gentle…,” you breathe out, legs shaking in both fear and anticipation. You can’t wait, and neither can he. So he doesn’t, tracking your slick slit once before slowly entering. A gasp, and h looks up to make sure you weren’t in too much pain.
Instead, he’s met with the sight of you biting your lips, pleasure written all over your face. The drug works, it’s helping with the pain. Making things far easier than he thought it would be. He’ll make sure to thank Albedo to the moon and back.
“Diluc…” He’s brought back to reality when you whimper his name, and he softly shushes you. If you say his name like that one more time, he might just slip in without any prep. Without any consideration.
“Shh… there’s no need to rush. Let’s try to take our time, okay?” He kisses your forehead, finger curling slightly inside you. The way you arch your back is heavenly, the drug making you far more sensitive. “I’ll take good care of you. Promise.”
Nodding, you relax, allowing him to add a second finger. It feels rushed despite his words, but you don’t comment on it. You can’t, not when he’s curling them oh so deliciously. And he knows this, he’s not completely lost in lust just yet. He needs to drown you in pleasure, drive you crazy with it before he succumb to his own desire completely.
Just a bit more.
The squelching echoes in his room, bouncing off the walls. His ribs had become a drum, his heart the stick. Small, needy breaths that leave your lips, crying out when he curls his fingers at a certain angle. Oh. He found it.
Your g-spot.
He’s heard of it, and thought it was rubbish at first. Until Adelinde smacked his head when he suggested such a thing. The Head Maid made sure to educate him on sex that day, showing diagrams and pictures, along with books written about the subject. He’s almost entirely forgotten about it.
“There?” he asks, repeating the action once more. You nod your head several times and in quick succession – too lucid to properly beg, too desperate to fully think it thoroughly. “Such a needy little thing,” a third finger elicits a hiss from you, causing him to pause. He waits until you give him the green light.
“It – it feels weird… but good at the same time. Is this normal?” Croaking, you’re croaking out sentences now, and Diluc resists the urge to kiss you until you run out of breath. Your fingers grasp at his shoulders, trembling slightly. He can’t tell if it’s from fear or pleasure.
For his own sanity, he hopes it’s the latter.
“I’m… not sure. I think it is. Just tell me if it’s too much, and I’ll slow down.”
He didn’t say he would stop.
Diluc sees the worry in your eyes, the questions he won’t answer, and he feels guilty. It’s far too late to stop, and even if you were to ask him of it, he wouldn’t be able to. So he gives you the illusion of choice, and from the way your eyes travel down to where he’s fingering you, he can only guess you chose to ignore the reasoning in your head. What a good girl you are for and to him. Like always.
“Diluc… Diluc…” your eyes shut tight, breathing heavier as he fastens his pace, fingers pumping in and out while curling all the same. You need this too, right? He can’t force you if you were the one who asked for it.
Your belly tightens, and hips grind against the hell of his palm. You’re almost there, he thinks. You’re becoming wild, all pretense of rationally gone with the wind. He’s there, he’s there, you’re there, shivering in the palm of his hand. Like you should be.
“Ah, ah, fuck!” One more buck of your hips and he feels something wet. Upon looking down, he notices something red, very thing and small, mixed with a clear liquid. Did you cum? He feels bad for making you bleed already*.
Your chest heaves, and for a moment, he’s afraid you’ll come back to your sense. You’ll hate him for sure. But his own body is burning, cock twitching, and he’s going to die if you resist. Please, just make everything simple and easy. Please, for both of your sakes.
He gives you time to recover despite the urge to fuck you silly. Patience, patience, at least pretend to be a gentleman he tells himself. Anything and everything for you. Except letting you go.
“Do you need a breather?” gently, gently he removes his fingers, trying his best to treat you nicely. He tries not to grit his teeth when you nod your head. He’s already doing something awful. He needs to make you comfortable, at the very least.
A few minutes before you calm down, laying flat on your back, hands leaving him and choosing to grip his sheets instead. You’re distancing yourself from him. A bit lucid, but enough to resist.
“Alright… please be gentle,” closing your eyes, your arousal is still there, you still need him as badly as he needs you. He doesn’t wait a second to hover above you properly. His place, this is his place, you’re his and will always be his. You signed your faith the moment you appeared in his life.
“Gentle…,” he tells himself, taking in a deep breath. It stings you when he pushes in, slowly and gentle like he promised. Hands grip your hips, and he leans back on his heels a bit. You gasp, from pleasure mostly, and he stills. Be a gentleman in appearance, at least.
One second, two seconds, and at ten he starts to move. a deep sigh of pleasure from you both, yours higher than his. The tone was different compared to when you dragged your hips across his, clothes separating you. But now, now he can feel everything – the thought of a condom never having crossed your mind once. Good, everything is sailing smoothly.
“You’re, ngh, tight… fuck, you’re driving me crazy angel.” Unexpectedly, you mewl at the nickname, and without meaning too, he gives a hard thrust. Fuck, you’re going to be the death of him. One thrust, two thrust, and you’re begging him to fuck you harder at the fifth one, legs wrapping around his waist and hands clawing at his chest.
He loves you like this; he wants you remain so needy for him. “Diluc! Fuck, don’t stop!” Both blood and slick cover his cock and make a mess on his bed. He’ll have to give you a warm towel after this, a glass of water. And a lie about cumming inside.
“It feels good, fuck why did we wait so long?” His hips can’t stop moving as he questions you. You don’t answer, you can’t when you’re moaning like a whore. And he loves it, he loves the fact that only he can make you this way. He loves the fact that he’ll be your first and last partner.
He might hurt a man who would dare to attempt to do the same.
It doesn’t last long, neither of you do. He makes sure to circle your clit with his thumb, wanting to bring you more pleasure. You needed to finish with him. You needed to be distracted from the feeling of his cum painting your womb white.
And when he does, he lets out a low groan, your squeal music to his ears. he holds you tight until his balls are empty. And ever so slowly pulls out, careful to not alarm you. His goal was done, and hopefully, this’ll be enough to get you pregnant.
If not, he’ll come up with other plans.
“I love you…” one of his hands comes down to wipe away the sweat from your forehead. Your skin is sticky, eyes dazed. It’s a sight he’ll never forget.
You don’t answer, not at first.
“I… I love you too.”
A soft peck and he’s up to soak a towel in warm water. You’re too tired to check your lower half, eyes closing against your will. But it’s okay, it’s Diluc after all. Surely, he wouldn’t do anything… right?
As for Diluc… he’s already coming up with baby names.
===
A/N:* - tmi but the very first time I got fingered, I bleed a bit lmao. I don’t know how it is for everyone else, so I just used my own experiences. Seriously though, acting like Diluc in this fic is fucked up. Please don’t do that.
#Yandere#tw:yandere#yandere genshin#yandere diluc#yandere genshin impact#yandere diluc ragnvindr x reader#diluc smut#diluc ragnvindr x reader#genshin x reader#yandere genshin x reader#yandere genshin impact x reader#diluc x reader
639 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Glory -> You Leave Them
Requested: No
Kdrama: The Glory
Genre: Angst.
Warnings: Mentions of murder. Mentions of bullying. Mentions of death. No remorse. Swearing. Violence.
A/N: I absolutely do not condone anything that was presented in the kdrama. No one should ever bully others. This is all purely fiction.
Moon Dong-eun
The apartment was remarkably quiet, not filled with the with your singing voice as you would flounder around the rooms, usually the kitchen, as you made dinner for the two of you. Dongeun closed the door behind her silently, dark eyes flinting across the room as she began to take her coat off. It was dark, not a single light on, a sign that you were not home.
She frowned.
You always were home before her, being a creature of routine as you always returned home after work, diligently waiting for her as she would be out doing her own work and alternative dealings with Yeojeong, productively placing all the puzzle piece of her plan together. She was close to achieving her revenge on everyone, time being her side as it always has been since her high school years. She had the five of them running around like headless chickens, flustered and terrified about her next moves. It was silently delightful, to see them so terrified of her presence, of her very lingering around the diameter of their lives, not really truly lifting a finger of direct interaction with them.
Mice do not truly feel terror towards a cat until they see it watching them, only then do survival instincts kick in, but Dongeun was not ready to pounce yet. She was simply biding her time until the ultimate position was set for her to deliver the final kill.
But aside from that, she was concerned on where you were. She pulled out her phone, checking to see if you had perhaps sent her a message about your whereabouts, something you always do even though she has stated that it is not necesarry.
Nothing.
Dongeun’s frown deepened as she pocketed her phone before reach out to switch on the lights, eyes blinking as they adjusted to the sudden light in the apartment, still hoping to catch a glimpse of you in the room.
“Y/N?” she called out, her voice leaving a slight echo in the empty room as it went unanswered.
A small bundle of unease began to form in Dongeun’s chest, not enjoying the aspect that you were not home like she expected. Throughout her life, Dongeun has never had anything that was constant, especially after her ordeals in high school, so when you stumbled into her life, it has been a concept she has never had to deal with before.
You were so...good. Dongeun has never been surrounded by something good or positive, her whole life until now being filled with pain, fear, and wrath. So when you were adamant to become involved in her life, slipping through the concealed cracks in her armor, she thought herself and you to be insane. Although Dongeun lost her sanity years ago, lost all sense of her humanity ever since that curling iron laid its first kiss to her skin.
But since meeting you, she felt that perhaps she will finally be able to feel a sense of normalcy in her life again. Or to just feel something again. She hasn’t quite be able to outright say what her feelings towards you were, but she knew that it was something that could be worthwhile. Something tangible and something that she can act upon which will not wind up with someone paying for their past sins.
But the feeling of unease was not welcomed and even though you did not answer the first time she called your name, she tried again, hoping that just perhaps you were someone deeper in the apartment that you simply did not hear her.
But you voice didn’t answer her back.
This was a strange circumstance, and Dongeun knew that she did not like it. Swallowing a bitter pill of nerves, Dongeun walked through the kitchen and headed towards your bedroom, it being the other likely place you would be aside from the kitchen. She opened the door without hesitance, hand going for the light switch, eyes moving to where your bed was, hoping to see your sleeping bundle in it.
But nothing. Your sheets were pressed and straight, not a single sign of disturbance on their immaculate design. Her eyes flinted across the room, your organization obvious to the naked eye but Dongeun froze when she noticed a piece of paper on your desk, a pen on top of it which indicated that something had been written down. While usually Dongeun respected your privacy, only entering your room when she required your assistance or when you finally managed to convince her to sleep beside you for the night, she could not help but forgo her previous reservations upon entering your room without you as she bee lined for your desk.
She immediately noticed the writing on the piece of paper, your cursive writing curling with one another, forming her name on the folded piece of paper, making the ball of unease increase as she reached out and picked it up from the desk, unfolding the piece of paper with slightly shaky fingers.
To Dongeun
There is nothing more that I want than you happiness. After everything that has happened to you, it is what you deserve.
I have tried to be a source of your happiness, to try be a semblance of what you can call happiness. But I don’t think that I am someone who is able to give you what you want.
Your revenge...it is what you want. And I understand why. I sincerely hope that you are able to find what you need Dongeun, but I am scared that I will fall into a hole which I will never get out of. And while you are happy to fall...I am scared to fall with you.
I am not sure when you will find this letter, but Dongeun, please don’t think I have left because of you. I have left because of myself. Because I am not strong enough to handle to consequences that may come from your revenge.
If this will add me to your list...then I accept it.
I just hope that you will hopefully find your happiness soon.
Goodbye
Dongeun stared at the piece of paper, rereading the word, a stone forming itself in her throat as she tried to get a handle of herself. And yet she could not stop the tear that escaped her eye, nor could she stop the following ones as she lowered herself to her knees, slumping over the letter as it fell from her fingertips to the floor.
The last time she cried was when she was saved from making the ending choice that winter in the river. When she was embraced by her landlady, giving her the comfort she so desperately craved. Afterwards, she became completely numb with her emotions, the only thing motivating her forwards in life was the ultimate revenge she was going to carry out against Yeonjin and the others.
And yet now she is finding herself beginning to bawl like she did all those years ago, her arms wrapping around her body as she attempted to comfort herself, halfheartedly patting herself as she slumped her head forward.
You were gone...and she had no idea where she could start to find you.
Her constant was gone. And you didn’t even realize just what you were to her. And it seems that she will never be able to tell you.
Joo Yeo-jeong
Both of you froze when you locked eyes, him already having stared at you in shock as he watched you shoving clothes into a suitcase, you not realizing he was there until you lifted your head. Neither of you said a word, just staring at each for a few long moments, either trying to figure out what to say or to truly determine if the other was in fact in the room.
But eventually you were the one who broke eye contact first, turning around to head back to the closet and yanking out more of your blouses, hurried undoing them from the hangers. Only then did Yeojeong hurry pass the threshold and headed towards you.
“Y/N, what on earth are you doing?”
“Packing.”
Your voice was firm, but he could hear the fragility of as you kept your head down, not daring to lock gazes with him. But he was not going to allow that, not when you were doing something sudden. He reached out to you and grabbed you by the arm, only for you to rip it out of his hand.
“Don’t touch me.” You hissed, still not looking at you as you shoved your blouse in the bag before grabbing another, only for Yeojeong to grab it before you.
“Stop. Y/N, what is going on?” he asked, tugging the piece of clothing closer to him as you reached out to grab it back. You paused for a moment before deciding to forgo the captive blouse, turning around and shoving the others in before heading back to the closet, him following quickly after you. “Y/N, what are you doing? Why are you pack? Where are you going?”
“Away from you.”
Your words were as sharp as three daggers being plunged into his chest, curved blades that have truly wedged themselves into is sternum, causing excruciating pain while he was trying to determine your reasoning for such harsh words.
“W-Why? What did I do-”
His words got caught in his throat when you suddenly whirled around to look at him, eyes hard but red with tear streaks down your cheeks, clearly indicating to you that you have been crying. But before he could reach out to try wipe away the old remnants of tears, your words made the blood in his body freeze.
“Are you seriously going to try play dumb with what you did. To what you have been drawing out for the past years until you finally managed to achieve what you wanted?”
While you did not outright state what he did, he knew immediately what you were referring to. His revenge, his long, drawn out revenge which he finally managed to achieve last week. To watch the light fade away from that monster’s eyes, to see the blood seep out of his body, the sign of life escaping him, it had been wonderful. And the best thing about it is that it all seemed to be an accident, the pouncing of other prisoners on the monster. No one has suspected his participation in the attack, after all, he was just a doctor. The beast had been brought to the medical wing of the prison, but he already knew that the beast was gone, as he waited the entire time during the whole ordeal until his last breath was taken.
It was hours of pain for him, but Yeojeong, it was hours of bliss. And he made sure to treasure the memories in his mind.
But now...it seemed that he was no longer the only one who knew about it.
“H-How did you-”
“It doesn’t matter. But what does matter is that I am leaving.”
You whirled around and grabbed your favorite cloak, his eyes flicking to the closest to realize that all the clothes that he had gotten for you during the entire relationship was left hanging in the closet, you having no intention of taking them with you. As you moved to walk past him, he immediately stepped in front of you, his hands moving to grab you.
“Wait, Y/N, just listen to-”
“NO!”
Your scream made him flinch backwards, not expecting you to scream so suddenly. Your eyes were blazing, but he noticed that they were becoming wetter by each passin second until you angrily wiped at them, tightening your grip on your cloak before you pushed past him and head towards the suitcase on the bed.
“I don’t need to listen to a damn thing you say.”
“Y/N, you have to understand that-”
“Understand what?” you said, whipping around to face him again. “Understand that you killed a man in cold blood? That you had been planning it out even before you transferred to that prison? That you enjoyed it? What else is there for me to understand?”
Yeojeong tightened his hands into fists, slightly shaking on the spot as he clenched his jaw tightly, his adam’s apple bobbing as he stared at you, trying his best to keep his emotions in check.
“Y/N...he deserved it. After what he did to me, to my father, he deserved to die. He deserved it!”
He didn’t mean to raise his voice towards the end, but he couldn’t help it. Just...the thought of that beast, the memories of him laughing and mocking Yejeong as he laid on the floor in the hospital as his father bled out...it made his blood boil. His father was a great man who was only doing his job. He saw the best of people, and yet that monster slit his throat without hesitation. He deserved to go out the way that he did, by Yeojeong’s hand, precise and slow were all of the cuts and stabs, he made sure that he suffered, he made sure that he felt his wrath.
You had flinched at his raised voice, but your features tightened up even more, the cloak in your hands being thrown onto your open suitcase before you took a step towards him.
“He deserved to die...but not by your hand.”
His jaw dropped in shock. What the hell were you saying.
“Y/N-”
“That monster deserved to die Yeojeong. But not by your hand.”
“I...Yes he did! He killed my father Y/N! He has sent me letters about it for years! You’ve read them! You’ve seen them! And you are saying that he didn’t deserve to be killed by me! I had the right to do it! It was my right.”
He couldn’t help but be infuriated by your words. Out of all people, you should be the one the most understanding. You understood the utter disgust and hatred he felt towards that man, no, that beast, and yet you are staring at him like he was some kind of stranger, or a predator you had been locked in with in a cage.
You stared at him with cold eyes, cool tragedy fooling your orbs while your lips quivered as you stared at him. Your jaw was clenching and unclenching, your neck flexing as you swallowed before you shook your head.
“You just don’t see it Yeojeng.” You said before turning around, moving towards your suitcase and slamming it shut with a resounding click. “You refuse to see it.”
“...refuse to see what?” he probed, his eyes staring darkly into yours as you turned around to face him again, hands on the handle of your suitcase. You gazed at him solemnly before uttering the words which made his entire conscious freeze.
“You’re just like him.”
It almost felt like you fired a bullet through his brain, bring an entire end to his living soul when he heard those words. He didn’t even realize that you had left until he heard the resounding slam of the front door, which startled him out of his daze. He hurried to chase after you, only to trip on the lone blouse you had abandoned in his hands earlier, making him fall to the ground with a hard thud.
Pain...that was all he could feel. Physical, emotional, and soulful.
Ha Do-yeong
Following his disastrous marriage to Yeonjin and divorce, Doyeong was apprehensive to get involved with someone else, believing that he had to just focus on his overseas expansions and on providing Yesol the best life that he could.
But then you entered his and Yesol’s life, and managed to slowly fill in the void that was caused by his ex-wife. You had a warm air about you which was different Yeonjin, or rather any other woman he has come across in his social circles. He was not naive enough to believe that woman were attracted to him because of his personality, but because of his wealth. The reason he and Yeonjin had been introduced to one another was because her mother had been an acquaintance of his father’s, the two of them running in the same social circles that eventually she caught his attention, charmed him, and managed to convince him to fall in love with her and give her the life she had always wanted.
But you were different because you had no idea who he was when the two of you first met. In fact, you weren’t even aware of the wealth that he had as he had happened to bump into you at a soccer match at Yesol’s school, you being there to support your niece as she played on the opposing team to Yesol. You introduced yourself and offered to buy him a coffee, almost bewitching him at first sight with your kind smile and bright eyes.
Yesol took a liking to you, she was a bit shy at first but when you had offered to buy her a victory ice-cream after beating your niece and nephews team, she lightened up like a Christmas tree. And soon afterwards, you started become an aspect to their life, a development which had startled him.
It was not that he did not want you a part of his life. He did, in fact, he craved it. But he couldn’t help but worry the confusion his relationship may cause with Yesol, especially since it has not been too long ago that the whole ordeal of Yeonjin had affected their lives. Doyeong did not believe that Yesol needed Yeonjin to be happy, that him being her father was enough for her. But when he watched you and Yesol bond with one another, playing soccer, dress up and going on shopping and arcade trips, he could help but start to feel panicked with how much of a figure you were becoming in their lives, and with how fast things were starting to move.
Doyeong would not describe himself of being a coward. In fact, he would consider himself the opposite, but with how fast things were moving, he was getting scared. Of what, he did not exactly know, but he couldn’t stop the fear from growing until he finally snapped in an unfair moment of panic when all you were doing was trying to be there for both Yesol and him.
When he had received a phone call from a hospital about Yesol, he thought his entire world had shattered when he heard the word’s ‘accident’ and ‘missed traffic light’. He flew out of his office like a banshee out of hell, uncaring of the meeting that he was to enter because the only thing that was on his mind was his daughter. He probably broke about a dozen overseas laws with his driving but he did not simply care for it because nothing was going to stop him until he knew the state of his daughter.
He had all but sprinted into the hospital and demanded to know where Yesol was, nearly scaring the receptionist half to death with his rapid Korean, not understanding what he was saying until he eventually had to calm himself to speak English, eventually being directed to the after-care unit where Yesol was being kept. He sprinted through the corridors and corners until he eventually arrived in the corridor to where Yesol’s room was, only to see you stepping out of a room with your arm in a sling.
“Y/N!”
You immediately turned your head in the direction of Doyeong as he hurried towards you, a small smile on your face as you raised your uninjured arm towards him.
“Doyeong-”
“Yesol! Where is she? Is she okay?!” He immediately asked, staring at you with panicked eyes as he demanded to know the status of his daughter. You gave him a comforting look, resting a hand on his arm in an attempt to calm him.
“She’s okay, the doctor is busy checking up on her now. He will be done in a few minutes and then you can see her.”
Doyeong relaxed slightly now that he knew that Yesol was okay, but his anxiety immediately raked up again when he remembered the reason Yesol was in the hospital in the first place. You had your day off and wanted to spend it with Yesol since it was the school holidays. Doyeong was initially hesitant about it since he knew that he was going to be busy all day and not be able to join the two of you, but when Yesol pleaded for him to agree to your desire, to let the two of you spend the day together, he eventually succumbed to his daughters wishes and agreed.
But it seemed his initial hesitance was valid because if he had refused your request, then Yesol wouldn’t be injured and in the hospital in the first place.
“You said that she would be okay with you. Why the hell didn’t you take care of her?”
Doyeong didn’t realize that he had said such harsh words until he said them, and by the way your furrowed your eyebrows and flinched, you weren’t expecting such words from him either. You removed your hand from his arm and took a step back.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen Doyeong. It was an accident. It was my right away and another car had jumped the stoplight and-”
“That is not enough! Yesol was in the car! You should have been more aware on the road!”
You furrowed your eyebrows even more and took another step, taking an unsteady breath while you bit your bottom lip.
“I didn’t see them coming Doyeong. You know that I would never deliberately put Yesol in danger like that. It was an accident, and while I understand how you feel-”
“You have no idea how I feel. Yesol is my daughter!” He yelled, his hands tightening into fists as he whipped past you to stand in front of the door where you had come out from. He needed the doctor to come out already, he needed to see Yesol for himself, to scoop her up in his arms to truly comfort him that she was okay. He heard you sigh and walk up behind him, reaching out to touch his elbow.
“I understand why you are upset Doyeong and I’m sorry. I should have been careful, and you know that I love Yesol like she is my own daughter-”
Before Doyeong could stop himself, he whirled around to face you with a snarl on his lips, his eyes flashing angrily as he glared at you.
“She will never be your daughter, just like you will never, ever be her mother!”
...
He might as well have slapped you with how strong of an effect his words had on you. You completely stumbled away from him, eyes wide and jaw slacked, staring at him in complete and utter shock. Doyeong widened his own eyes when his own words and indication of them dawned on him, filling him with immediate regret as he watched you fold in within yourself, your bottom lip quivering as you looked away from him.
“I-I see.” You stuttered out, your voice strained, an indication to him that you were trying to stop yourself from crying. “T-Then, I will see myself off.”
Without another word, you turned around and began to hurry away, his own body acting on instinct to chase after you, but before he could, the door behind him opened and another voice called out to him.
“Oh, are you Mr. Ha? Yesol’s father?”
Doyeong turned around to see a well-dressed man in a doctor’s coat, a kind smile on his face as he looked at him. Doyeong swallowed thickly, trying to push down his emotions of dismay and regret as he nodded, running a hand through his hair.
“Yes. I-Is Yesol alright?”
The doctor smiled and nodded before inviting Doyeong in, Yesol smiling face immediately greeting him as she sucked on a red lollipop which the doctor must have given her, a plaster on her cheek.
“Hi daddy!” She greeted, giving him a wave, only to frown slightly as she looked behind him. “Where’s Y/N?”
And Doyeong was at a lost to what to say.
Park Yeon-jin
We’re over
Not a lot of things have ever scared Yeonjin, but the second she saw that text message from you, an avalanche of terror and panic washed over her. She knew that the reappearance of Dongeun in her life was going to be the cause of so much trouble, especially since Sara had already taken a fall, being one of the first of them to crumble under the so called ‘revenge’ Dongeun was trying to pull over them, but she thought for certain that you were going to remain untouched throughout this duration of Dongeun’s stupid revenge scheme.
She was in the middle of broadcasting when she had received the message, and it was only afterwards did she finally managed to read it and was sent into a complete state of shock because she refused to believe you would actually send such a text to her during a time when she needed you the most.
She immediately tried to call you, but it went unanswered, prompting her to call you a second time, then a third, and then a fourth to finally realize that you were purposely ignoring her calls. And she could not stand for it.
Yeonjin did waste another second of her time, immediately grabbing her stuff and all but sprinting out of the studio to get to her car. She all but stranded her assistant behind, not bothering about them because they were not a priority. They could take a taxi for all she cared, but the only thing she had in mind was to find you.
You could not leave her. Not now when she needed you the most. Sara was a lost case, Jaejun has lost his mind, Myeong-oh was dead, and Hyejeong is a pathetic bitch who could get burnt alive for all she cared, but she could not handle the thought of you leaving her as well. You were her only constant right now, the only reminder that she had that her life was still fine. Doyeong was all but a distant memory, her husband being the last thing on her mind when the only person she needed was you.
You were the only one able to bring pleasure and joy into her life. They only to make her feel alive and rejuvenated.
And you were leaving her.
She could not allow it.
She knew journey to your home like the back of her hand, her body driving to it with muscle memory while she continued calling her number via her car system, but each time it continued to go unanswered. You were ignoring her...but not for long. She could not have you treat her like this, she needed you to listen to her, to explain why you were doing such an outrageous thing.
Yeonjin roughly parked her car in the apartment parking lot without a car and slammed the door shut before hurrying towards your building, not sparing a glance to any other the home owners who noticed her presence as she made her way towards your apartment. She sprinted up the stairs like a hell hound was at her heels, her eyes focused on one thing, being your front door apartment when she immediately reached your floor. She hammered her fists against the door while simultaneously ringing your doorbell.
“Y/N! Open this door! Open this door right now!”
There was a possibility that you were not home, but if you were, it would only be a matter of time before you answered her because you were the kind of person who hated drama being aired out in public, and while no one knew of your and her relationship aside from her friends, you would rather not risk anyone else finding out since it will only send tongues wagging and have some kind of effect on you, especially since Yeonjin was a married woman.
And Yeonjin was right when after a few minutes of her make a ruckus at your front door, it whipped open and revealed an infuriated you dressed in pajamas.
“Are fucking insane right-”
Yeonjin didn’t let you finish your sentence, pushing herself past the door and into your arms where she immediately wrapped her arms around your waist and then forced you against the wall, forcing you to let go of your front door and let it slam itself shut, the sound echoing through your apartment. Yeonjin pressed herself closely against your body, pinning you to the wall while her nails dug into your lower back as she held you tightly.
“Just what is it that you are trying to do to me?” She hissed softly into your cheek, brushing her lips against the skin as she tried to gather as much comfort that she could from the warmth of your body, her throat tight with blurry emotions that she could distinguish to herself yet. “What are you trying to do to us? Y/N, you are not thinking straight again.”
You scoffed.
“The only one who is not thinking straight is you. Now get off me.”
She felt your hands on her shoulders, trying to push her away, but Yeonjin was not going to allow herself to be moved so easily. She instead curled her chin over your shoulder, forcing you closer into her body as she tightened her hold around your waist. She heard you hiss annoyance and felt the increased pressure of your hands against her shoulders.
“Yeonjin! I am not joking, let go!”
“No.”
“Yeonjin I am serious!”
“So am I. No.”
“Bloody hell Yeonjin, get off!”
She was not expecting you to headbutt her, gasping immediately in when she felt your head collide with temple, making her loosen her grip on you to clutch at the injured spot, giving you the opportunity to shove her way entirely from you. Yeonjin stumbled backwards, almost falling if not for her quick reflexes. Betrayal spouted out of her chest as she locked eyes with you as you cradled your own head, eyes burning in fury as you stared at her.
You have never laid a hand against Yeonjin. Never. Not even when she maybe deserved when she was more cutting with you during some of her bad days. But never have you been physical with her, not even during arguments, so the fact that you headbutted her...she felt as if the entire world had been pulled out from her.
“H-How could you?” She said, her voice betraying her usual intention to try be as composed as she could be. You scoffed.
“How could I? I told you to get off but you didn’t listen. But then again, you have always done what you wanted and have never considered the feelings of someone else.”
Yeonjin flinched at your words, so unused to hearing your voice to be so curt and sharp. You were usually so soft-spoken with her, endearing and loving as you whispered sweet nothings in her ear while burning kiss marks against her skin as she arched her body into yours for more of your embrace.
You were acting so different, it having been only a day since she last saw you. Just how could you be acting like such a different person in a short amount of time. What has happened.”
“I know you got my message. So I don’t get why you are here.” You hissed, crossing your arms over your chest as you glared at her. Narrowing her own eyes, Yeonjin took a step towards you, tightening her lips into a straight line.
“You are stupid if you think I would just read that message and do nothing about it.”
You laughed.
“Calling me stupid in my own home? Wow, that is quite something to say.”
“Stop fooling around Y/N. You are making no sense with anything?”
“I’m not making sense of everything? I think I have been pretty clear.”
“Y/N, stop messing around already, otherwise I will-”
“You will what? Burn me?”
The way that you said those last two words, looking at her with such cold conviction, made the blood in Yeonjin’s body freeze. And her body continued to become more ice cold as you took steps towards her, eyes growing more infuriated with each passing second.
“Are you going to burn me Yeonjin? Perhaps with a curling iron? Or maybe a normal iron will be better. Although who knows, maybe you have taking a liking to boiling water instead, or maybe just your lighter. You have on you at all times, so perhaps that will be your weapon of choice. Everybody matures from their past actions after all.”
As you got closer, Yeonjin couldn’t help but stumble back away from you, your words scaring her more than she has ever been before. And you could see it clearly on her face, but you did not care. Instead of stopping in front of her, you walked past her without another words, making Yeonjin slowly turn around to watch you retreat. She took a few hesitant steps forwards, only to freeze again when you returned back with some documents in her hand. But when you got closer, she realized that they weren’t just documents, but rather photographs.
You didn’t say a word as you shoved the photos in her chest, making her clumsily clutch at them as she felt your burning gaze on her as she slowly lifted them to see their captured picture. Her eyes widened in horror when red, burn marks on skin, most particularly, on Dongeun’s skin as the teenage Dongeun looked at the photo, only to be followed with a current Dongeun photo staring at the camera with an empty gaze. There were about ten photos of Dongeun as a teen and as an adult, displaying the new and faded marks from captured time period.
“I can’t believe you could be that cruel.” Your voice interrupted her thoughts, forcing her to look up and see you disgusted face, arms crossed as you stared at her. “How could you have done something like that to her?”
“I-I didn’t-”
“Don’t even try lie to me Yeonjin. Don’t you dare.”
“I-This wasn’t me! T-This was-”
“She came by my house today. Alone.” You finally said, making Yeonjin’s words become trapped in her throat as she stared at you in horror. “She told me everything. About what you and the others did to her in school.”
“S-She-”
“I never want to see you ever again.” You finally said, uncrossing your arms and pointing at the front door. “Get out of my house before I call the fucking police.”
“Y-Y/N.”
“Now Yeonjin.” You growled, lowering your arm as your glare brightened with each passing second. “Otherwise I will do it myself.”
Yeonjin started to shake her head, the photographs falling out of her hands as she walked towards you, reaching out to touch you, to grab you and tell you that everything that Dongeun had told you was wrong. That she was a delusional girl who wanted to blame her very everything bad that went in her life. But you didn’t let her. Instead, you roughly grabbed her by the hair, making Yeonjin screech in pain as you pulled her towards the front door and all but tossed her outside, making her land painfully on her knees before she turned to look at you in shock and horror. You stared her down with disgusted eyes, you face screwed up in fury.
“I never want to see you again.”
And then you slammed the door shut, leaving her outside with bruised knees and a shattered heart.
Jeon Jae-jun
Shock washed over him like ice-cold water as he stared at your crumbled body on the floor, your head turned away from him and your shoulder shaking as you tried to compose yourself from the pain that he just caused you. His hand was sting from the slap, his body frozen stiff like a statue as he stared at you in shock, unable to say anything as he came to terms with what he did.
He hit you.
He...
He...
He just...he didn’t realize he did it until he saw you on the floor.
He just knows he was angry. He was angry over the fact that no matter he did or said, there was no way that he was ever going to have Yesol. There was no chance for him to be a father to Yesol. His little girl, his own flesh and blood. He had the right to her like Yeonjin did, and the fact that some snobby motherfucker like Ha Doyeong was acting like Yesol’s father when he was actually her real one, it pissed him off to no degree.
You came by to visit him to try calm him down, to just let him see a little reason, but he did not want to listen. He didn’t want you there because there was no way you would be able to understand the problem he was dealing with. You were no mother and no wife; therefore, you had no semblance of understanding towards his situation.
Jaejun has gotten better at handling his temper, knowing he was a little shit in high school, kicking everyone's ass when given the opportunity, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t lose it sometimes. And he was already raging when you arrived at him home, already have a spare key to his place. You tried to calmly talk him down out of his rage, keeping to the edge of the room as he kicked and punched furniture and walls as he marched around the room. His mood certainly wasn’t helped with the half of bottle of whiskey he had already consumed, having swallowed the glasses with one mouthful one after the other before answering the your previous phone call.
Your words were half-heard, the buzzing in his head taking preference as he cursed around the room, his blood pressure only rising when he thought back on that arrogant look Doyeong gave him, reminding him that the law was on his side, that Jaejun will never be able to call Yesol his daughter nor that Yesol will ever call his father. The fact that it was the truth, that even though the shared blood between him and Yesol means nothing, it made him so furious that he was ready to kill someone.
“...Jaejun, you know that I am on your side. You know that I will stand by you every way that you want to go.” He recalled your voice saying, someone near the edge of the room while continued to pace up and down. “You are her father, nothing changes that.”
“But Yesol will never know that until I tell her. Until I do, she keeps calling that motherfucker her dad when he isn’t!” He kicked his coffee table hard, pain shooting through his toes but he hardly paid any mind to it because he was still so furious. He grabbed at his hair roughly, growling before he screamed out another curse and wildly slammed a punch to his armchair before pacing again. “She’s my fucking daughter! He can’t have her!”
“I know she is Jaejun, I know she is.”
“If I have to fucking drive down there and tell Yesol myself, then I will fucking do it! She will choose me over him! I am her real dad!”
The thought of doing the deed, the images of Yesol leaping into his arms in a tight hug while calling him dad made a ball of happiness and hope fill his chest, making a dent in his anger as he thought of the wonderful look of dismay which will cross that motherfuckers face when he realizes that he will no longer be called dad by Yesol.
Fuck it, he was gonna do it.
“-Jaejun, that isn’t a good idea.” He heard you say, your contradiction to his thoughts suddenly make that ball of hope disappear and be replaced with his anger. He whipped around and glared at you.
“What the fuck do you mean? She is my fucking daughter! She deserves to know who her real dad is!”
You flinched at his raised voice being directed at you, but you fixed him with a sympathetic look, your eyes genuine in emotion.
“Of course she does Jaejun, but she is young. You telling her the truth will only confuse her. As far as she knows, Doyeong is her dad, and you suddenly telling her that he isn’t will only hurt her.”
“I will never fucking hurt Yesol! Fucking never!” he screamed, insulted by you insinuating that he would do such a thing. With another curse, he turned around and started marching towards the door. “Fuck it, I’m going to tell her!”
“Wait, Jaejun don’t!” He heard you yell behind him, following after him with hurried steps as he headed towards the door and grabbed his car keys. “You’ve been drinking and you’re angry! Think this over tomorrow!”
“I don’t need to fucking think it over! I am going to tell her I’m her real dad!”
He reached for the front door, ready to leave, only to feel your hands on his arm, trying to pull him back.
“Jaejun please think this through! This won’t help Yesol, and if you go there and tell her the truth, it will only push her more into Doyeong’s arms and-”
It happened so quickly.
He was just so furious that you didn’t support him with his decisions, as well that you were trying to stop him, that he just dropped his keys and spun around with his other hand, his palm connected directly with your cheek, sending you flying to the floor with the powerful blow.
He didn’t even really remember doing it. Or rather, it felt like he was an outside observer to someone controlling his body when he did it. And now that the truth dawned on him, he just stared at your crumbled body in shock, his hand still sting from the blow.
The wool which was dangling in front of his eyes caused by the alcohol suddenly was lifted, sobering up really quickly as he watched you move so that you were kneeling, your hand cradling your face while you took shaky breaths to try control yourself, obviously trying to control the tears that were no doubt falling from your eyes.
“Y-Y/N...” He called out, horror slowly filling his veins as you continued to remain on the floor, not uttering a single thing aside from the pained gasp that broke past your lips when he struck you.
The saying of your name made your breaths freeze entirely, making Jaejun watch in frozen fear as you hastily stood up from the floor, your head bowed down as you turned around and tried to move past him, not saying a word. He immediately reached out to you.
“Y/N, wait-”
You flinched at his approaching hand, making him freeze from his actions as he stared wide-eyed at you, stunned like a deer-in-headlights that you would flinch at his approaching touch.
Only he understood why.
Instant regret filled him at your flinch, and you took the opportunity to hastily grab the door handle and open the door and retreated out of it, slamming it shut just as he rushed at it to follow you.
“Y/N! Wait!”
He immediately opened the door and rushed out of it just to make out your figure disappearing around the corner as you escaped from him, prompting Jaejun to immediately give chase, not wanting you to leave him like this. He had to apologize, he had to make you know that he didn’t mean it. But just as he managed to run outside, he saw your car speeding out from the parking lot into the street, escaping him entirely and leaving him stone cold in his even more colorless world.
Lee Sa-ra
The twitches in her body were uncontrollable, curses leaving her lips every few minutes as she nibbled at her nails, tearing them down until they were almost exposing her nail beds, making her curse even more as she was unable to do anything else. The drip on her arm was hardly improving her mood at all, limiting her movements in the hospital bed that she has been chained to for the past few days.
Her father was adamant about getting her cleaned up, or rather to try clean up his reputation as much as he can since the police was sniffing around the church and other activities he has been conducting aside from daily services, Sara being nothing but extra goods which he is locking up to keep her out of sight.
Fuck, it pissed her off.
Hyejeong has been unbearable as usual, trying to act all high and mighty in front of her during visiting hours to the extent that Sara nearly threw her entire lunch tray at the bitch. Yeonjin and Jaejun have been no shows entirely, although to be honest she was quite glad because she was just about read to tear both of their faces off with all the shit they have started ever since that damn Moon Dongeun returned.
Her mother has visited her every single day, offering her prayers of recovery but each time her mother spoke, Sara just wanted to scream. Fuck, all of this could just be avoided if her parents will just let her leave the country again! But no, they have to be these hard-assed holier-than-thou parents suddenly wanting to be all responsible and prim, even though she knows they are everything but that.
Dammit, she was just so fucking pissed!
Probably the only thing that was keeping her from losing her damn sanity was you, visiting regularly whenever you could, always making sure to visit during the hours her mother and father’s weren’t there, as well as Hyejeong because she knew that she would rip that air hostess’s head off if she made a comment towards you and her during one of your visits. She has anxiously been waiting for your arrival, needing to have some sort of stability in this damn place before she completely lose her shit.
And just as she was contemplating ripping her drip out, consequences be damned, she was interrupted by the hospital door opening up and you stepping through it. Sara let out a sigh of relief.
“Thank fuck you’re here.” She said, grabbing you by the wrist and tugging you close to her once you got into close proximity, pressing hers lips to yours in a kiss.
But as she kissed you, she could feel something was wrong by the way you stood stiffly next to her bed, lips barely moving against hers. She pulled back to look at your face, eyebrows furrowed, and she noticed how downcast your eyes were, barely maintaining any eye contact. She squeezed your wrist, fingers flexing around your delicate delicate arm.
“What’s wrong?” She asked, her thumb subconsciously rubbing circles around your wrist bone in some sort of comforting manner, but it seemed her actions made your more anxious, your arm halfheartedly trying to tug itself from her grip but she wouldn’t let you. “What happened.”
“Sara...” you started, biting down your bottom lip as you paused your words, seemingly contemplating what to say next. And then you seemed to figure out your next phrase. “How...are you feeling?”
Sara immediately frowned at your questions, glancing at her lap and her bed before looking back at you with a slight sneer.
“How am I feeling? Shit, that’s what.” She hissed, letting go of your wrist to slam her hands against her bed mattress. “Fucking look at this Y/N. I am in hell! I mean fuck, the nurses are a pain in the ass and the doctors are even worse! Fuck, they look at me like I’m some pitying school girl! I’m not, I’m fucking not!”
Her blood boiled at the images of the doctors and nurses that she regularly sees, all having the same look as the other, pitying and at times disgusted. It pisses her off. They have no right to judge her. They have no right to feel they are better than her in any other way. Fuck, they should just mind their damn business! She doesn’t even want to be here! She is being held captive by her own damn father, she should probably get one of her lawyers to sue him, fuck, that will teach him a lesson. And probably mess up his reputation even more.
The idea really seemed like a good idea and Sara started to smile at the prospect of it, but then a sudden chill hit her and her teeth rattled as her body twitched, breath catching in her throat as her body tried to re-stable itself. Your hands went out to touch her, grounding her by the hold on her shoulders as she broke out into a cold sweat, her hands gripping her bed sheets tightly as she trembled.
Dammit, she hated it when this happened.
Since she hasn’t had anything in her system in weeks, her body was trying to reconfigure itself, but it was absolute hell for Sara because she felt that she was conducting a sinful punishment handed to her by hell itself. Her hands were gripping her sheets so tightly that her knuckles were turning white and she felt like she was breathing through a test tube which was forced down her throat. Minutes felt like hours and when she eventually felt her body settling itself down, she couldn’t help but curse.
“Fuck I hate them! I hope they getting hit by a fucking bus!” She hisses, putting the wish into the universe with the hopes that it will carry it out. She felt your stiffen beside her, hand tightening for a moment before finally releasing her as you moved to stand in front of her bed.
“Don’t wish for something like that Sara. They are your parents.” You murmured, making Sara let out an empty chuckle.
“And what? That gives them the right to fucking throw me in here against my will! They are only acting like decent parents now because a fire has been lit under their ass. Dad is only trying to save face.”
“...That’s not true Sara.” You said, knitting your fingers together and rubbing your thumbs uncertainly. “They are worried about you. They want you to get better.”
A flash of irritation snipped through her mind, making Sara grit her teeth as she glared at her.
“Don’t give me that shit Y/N, they just fucking want to save face for the church. They don’t give a shit about me.”
“That’s not true Sara, if they didn’t care about you, they wouldn’t be trying to help you get...clean.”
You looked at her with an uncertain flash in your eyes, which immediately made her blood boil because it replicated the same looks as the doctors, nurses, and even her mother whenever they visited her. Her lips curled back and she bared her teeth like an animal, eyes burning in anger.
“You have been fucking speaking to my mother, haven’t you? She has tricked you into adopting her fucking stance, hasn’t she?”
Your eyes widened at her words, immediately making you shake your head as you reached out to her.
“Wait, no, Sara I am just saying-”
Sara slapped your hand away, lip curling further in anger as she pushed herself up to the head of her bed, pointedly ignoring your hiss of pain as you cradled your struck hand.
“I should have fucking known they would have gotten to you too! Fuck, you are supposed to be on my fucking side! You should be supporting me!”
You looked up from your struck hand, lips wobbling but your eyes suddenly resolute.
“I do support you Sara! But Sara...the drugs, they are eating away at you. You are becoming the shell of yourself, I’m worried about you. While it may be hard, I know that once you go through this, that we can-”
“FUCK OFF!” Sara screeched, grabbing her pillows and hurling them at you with so much force that the impact was loud as they hit your body. She then grabbed the glass and jug beside her table and hurled it at you, uncaring of the shattered remnants that flew across the wall and floor as you dodged them, backing away towards the side of the room as Sara went ballistic. “YOU CAN GO RIGHT TO HELL!”
“S-Sara please, c-calm down-”
“DON’T TELL ME TO FUCKING CALM DOWN!”
Sara grabbed whatever she could and threw it at you, screaming and cursing as fury filled every inch of her body. You, of all people, siding with her parents. That was the most absolute betrayal you could ever pull against her, and it made it furious. And it certainly didn’t help that her body was starting to go through one of its episodes again.
“Sara, please-”
“JUST LEAVE! JUST FUCKING LEAVE! I DON’T EVER WANT TO SEE YOUR FUCKING FACE AGAIN!’
She was so bloody angry, she was seeing red in everything in the hospital room, uncaring of how her arm was burning from the drip as she ripped her arm around. She heard the door of her room open and saw nurses rushing towards her, hands attempting to pin her down, which only infuriated her even more. She immediately tried fighting them off, hissing and biting at them like a wild animal.
“LET GO! LET ME FUCKING GO!”
“Miss Lee, please calm down-”
“DON’T FUCKING TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!”
Sara snarled and twisted about on the bed, trying to rip her body away from the nurses, barely paying attention to your lingering body as you slowly edged towards the exit, your eyes sad as you gazed at her. Feeling your gaze, she whipped her head in your direction, locking eyes with you as you shoulder your bag with wobbly lips, swallowing thickly as you attempted to keep your tears at bay.
“Goodbye Sara. I hope you recover from this.”
And then you were gone, and only after a few more weeks in hospital did Sara realize that it was for good.
Choi Hye-jeong
“Let me go! Just let me go!”
You were fighting against her, trying to break free from her strong grip but Hyejeong held firm. There was no chance of her letting go until you heard her end of the story. To just understand where she is coming from.
“Y/N-”
“Just let me go already!” You screeched, renewed energy soaring through your body as you kept fighting, but Hyejeong tightened her grip even more.
“Just listen to me!”
“No! Because nothing you will say will ever make this any better.”
Hyejeong gritted her teeth and curled her chin over your shoulder to try keep you in place, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to calm herself.
You knew just hard it was to live the life she wanted without the aid of her friends, even she could even call them that. All her life she has struggled, either it be socially and financially, and even though she makes her own money, it is only a matter of time before she will be replaced with a prettier, younger air hostess who will cater to all the needs of passengers. Taking over her parents business was out of the question, she already has taken social blows due to her association with them, so for her to inherit the business will be the entire end of her upstanding reputation.
Even though Jaejun is the dirtiest bastard she has ever known, he can provide her with a life which she knows her deserve, only expecting a few nights from her to cater to his manly needs and maybe give Yesol a sibling, but otherwise the two of them will be open to any other relationships without hurt feelings.
You and her didn’t need to separate...and yet you were adamant to leave her.
“It won’t mean anything Y/N! I promise it won’t mean anything!” She pleaded, digging her fingers in your body in attempt to reaffirm her grip, and yet your fighting body wiggled around furiously.
“How the hell will it mean nothing? You are going to become his wife Hyejeong! His wife!”
“He and I won’t do anything! We will just-”
“Please...as if that asshole will not want to do anything on his wedding night.” Finally finding some success, you managed to rip yourself out of Hyejeong’s arms and scurried away, raising a warning finger at Hyejeong as she attempted to close the distance between the two of again. “Don’t treat me like an idiot Hyejeong, cause I’m not.”
“I’m not trying to-”
“Bullshit,” you hissed, “You would much rather marry a bastard like Jaejun than even try have a life with me.”
“That’s not true Y/N!” Hyejeong exclaimed, horror shooting through as you spoke, scurrying towards you to pull you into her arms again, only for you to match her footsteps and to keep the distance between the two of you. “You know that I love you! I love you so fucking much it scares me!”
You let out an empty laugh.
“Scares you so much that you run into the arms of someone else.”
“Y/N, you have to see it from my point of view!” Hyejeong screeched, hands suddenly rushing to her hair to tug at it furiously before throwing her hand in the air. “I have nothing to make something decent for myself. My parents own a damn laundry cleaning service and it will only be a matter of time before I can no longer air hostess! I need Jaejun to help me to maintain...well, this!”
Hyejeong indicated towards the room, pointing out the luxurious items that she has managed to afford and gather, either by herself or given to her by one of the others. But instead of adopting a more unstable expression, your face became more thunderous.
“So in the end, it is all about money. I am not even surprised, that is all you care about.” You growled, shaking your head. Hyejeong tightened her hands into fists.
“Y/N, without money, I’,-”
“You. And to me, you are enough. And yet it seems I am not for you, cause I wasn’t born with a damn golden spoon in my mouth.” You shook your head and moved across the room to grab your bag. “But I guess that is it then.”
Hyejeong immediately shook her head and hurried after you, grabbing you by the elbow before you could pull away entirely.
“Y/N, you and I can still-”
“Let me stop you right there.” You snapped, ripping your elbow out of Hyejeong’s grip, glaring at her. “There is no way I am going to become some sidepiece to you while you are happy wife to that bastard!”
“I don’t love him Y/N!” Hyejeong suddenly snapped, tossing all caution out the window as she grabbed you by the shoulders, looking at your earnestly while panic started building up in her throat. “You are the one I love! You are the one who matters the most to me! Jaejun is just-”
“Going to marry you. Call you his wife, and have you raise his child. And me?” You grabbed at Hyejeong’s wrists, squeezing them angrily with your own death grip that Hyejeong flinched at the instant pain you began to cause. “And you expect me to wait around at home like some good little lapdog, wagging my tail when you decide to give me the time of day once you finish doing your wifely duties? Not a chance in hell Hyejeong.”
You ripped her hands off of you and began marching for the front door, only to be pulled back by Hyejeong again, the air hostess refusing to simply accept you wanting to leave her. She has already said that the two of you could still be together, that she and Jaejun will only be wife and husband in name, albeit with some exceptions.
But she wanted you. Of course she wanted you. And her marrying Jaejun does not change that. Why can’t you just see how important it was for her to maintain the lifestyle she has had until now?!
“You can’t just leave me Y/N! Think about everything we have been through together!”
You paused in your footsteps and then turned to look at her with a sarcastic smirk, shaking her head.
“Are you seriously trying to pull that card right now in this discussion. Hyejeong, out of the two of us, you are the one who has not considered the fact we have been through a lot together. In the end, you are just a selfish bitch who is content to stay a gold digger for the rest of her life.”
Hyejeong couldn’t help but gasp in shock at your words, never having heard them from your lips before. Sure, she has heard it from Yeonjin, Sara, and many others, but you...you have never used the same labels as the others before. And the fact that you are using them now just sends unshakable pain to her heart, as well as fury.
“Y/N, you-”
“Let me put it this way Hyejeong,” You said, pulling your arm out of her grip again and turning fully to face her, a cutting glint in your eye. “If I was the one marrying Jaejun, would you even bother staying by my side as number 2?”
You didn’t even bother to hear you answer as you turned around and stormed out, slamming the door hard behind you, its slam echoing through her house while Hyejeong lowered herself to her knees, numbness flowing through her entire body, rendering motionless as you words repeated themselves in her head in an indefinite loop.
#the glory#The glory imagines#the glory reactions#the glory scenarios#moon dongeun#Joo Yeo Jeong#ha doyeong#Park Yeon Jin#jeon jaejun#lee sara#choi hyejeong#Moon Dong Eun x reader#joo yeo jeong x reader#ha do yeong x reader#park yeonjin x reader#jeon jae jun x reader#lee sara x reader#choi hye jeong x reader
204 notes
·
View notes
Text
Reapers & Ravens
<< prev | chapter i | next >>
pairings: jordan li x oc
tw: canonical violence and gore, allusions/talk about sex, alcohol and drug consumption and misuse (i don't condone the actions of the characters so remember to drink wisely), A LOT of mentions of death, iffy morals?? - if there are any more pls lmk
description: the story of a girl. a girl cursed by compound v to live a life without touch.
a/n: hiii and welcome to the first chapter of my new fic. I haven't written a multi-chapter fic in a while so be patient with me. some little disclaimers: as of the moment of writing this chapter i have only seen the first 3 eps of gen v so if something doesn't work plot wise with future eps i will try to come back and change it, secondly i do not support chance perdomo's actions - i felt like this needed to be stated cause his character andre will be a prominent part of the story and i would change it but he literally is the only one that really makes sense in his role in vic's backstory. vic's wonderful roommate was created all thanks to one of my mutuals (not sure if you want me to mention you by name) so all credit goes to them for gemma. FINALLY i hope you enjoy! the second chapter should be out soon and i'm always open to feedback so lmk your thoughts either in the comments or in an ask. love you and ty for taking the time to read my fic - my a/n will not be this long all the time i promise.
19 years ago…
A little girl lay peacefully in her wooden cot, the walls surrounding her were painted in a beautiful pastel lilac and a snowflake mobile lay spinning above her little head. The night was serene, the wind rustled the leaves of the great oak outside the girl’s window and a soft lullaby was echoing through the room.
The girl’s mother smiled down at her perfect bundle of joy as she laid the pads of her fingers right against the soft silky skin of her daughter’s hand. Everything was perfect for another few seconds before the mother started to feel herself fade away. She deliriously looked down at her hand where she suddenly saw her skin going gray.
The baby’s eyes flew open and she let out a happy gurgle as her mother started to wither away in front of her just because she held her daughter’s little hand.
“I love you my darling girl.” Were the last words that came out of the mother’s mouth before her soul was taken far far away. Too far for her daughter to follow.
The second that the tingly feeling that the baby experienced faded away she let out a loud cry. Her mama wasn’t moving and she looked all wrong. The little girl cried and cried and cried until finally the door to her nursery flew open.
Her papa filled the doorway as he let out a horrified gasp before kneeling next to his wife. His dead wife.
“Victoria, what have you done?”
Present Day…
I pressed skip to the song playing on my phone and shifted my gaze to the flashing scenery, music resonating through my headphones as I was being driven to Godolkin. It was absolutely insane that I was actually doing it. I was actually going to GodU. The whole situation just felt so unreal. Distantly I heard a voice calling out so with practiced precision I moved my headphones away from my ears.
“Sorry, could you repeat that?”
“Of course Miss. I was just saying that we’re nearly there.”
“Ok thanks Rob.”
I sent him a smile and replaced my headphones before taking a moment to examine my newest pair of gloves, the carefully crafted design on top of the white leather made me smile. Dad didn’t really pay that much attention to me ever since the incident™ but at least he seemed proud of me for getting into GodU. He had gifted me these gloves after stuttering out that they had once belonged to my mother.
I promised myself that I would try to wear them as much as possible since I barely had anything to remember her by anymore… other than the power my parents decided to inject me with. Life-force absorption isn’t all that common, as my relatives put it: ‘those powers… they’re a curse!’
Everything that touches me dies basically. It’s how my mother died and it’s how I kill plants and sometimes people (by accident I swear). I absorb their energy and it sort of works like a drug - I get a shot of life. Other people aren’t so lucky, they slowly turn into a gray statue and die.
Sometimes I’m able to stop before they're totally gone but with the potency of my powers they’re kaput by just 3 seconds of physical touch. I know it sucks, I can’t even shake hands for Christ’s sake!
“Miss? Miss?” I’m shaken out of my string of thoughts when I heard Rob’s voice echoing through the interior of the car.
“Yes yup sorry.” I took off my headphones and quickly shoved them into my canvas bag before looking out the window. There stood Godolkin University, the end goal of all my relentless studying and hard work.
“We have arrived. Are you okay Miss?”
“Yes I’m more than okay Rob. Thanks for driving me.”
“Of course, do you need any help with any of your boxes?” He asked as he unlocked the car and we both stepped out into the warm September air.
“It should be fine but thanks Rob really. I’ll see you at Christmas?”
“Definitely Miss Oaks, have a good semester.” He finished placing your 3 boxes and suitcase onto one of the many trolleys and sent me a smile.
“Thanks.” I gave him a little wave as he got back into the SUV and drove off. Turning to the big metal gates I took a deep breath to steady myself. Time for the start of the rest of my life.
Okay maybe I really should have asked Rob for help with these idiotic boxes. I’m a goddamn super hero. Why was I struggling so much with this? I was already regretting this as I walked past the Lamplighter School for Crimefighting, failing to push both the trolley and my suitcase.
“You look like you need some saving from a gracious prince.” I heard an eerily familiar voice as I looked up from my tortuous task. Andre Anderson. An old friend whose friendship was sort of forced on us by our dads, who happened to have been in the same class at Godolkin.
“Andre! Fucking hell I’m so glad to see you, please help me. I’m dying here.” I said dramatically as I sunk down to the ground next to all my stuff.
“You know you should consider majoring in Performing Arts if you keep up with that.” Andre said with a smirk but he still started to help by pulling my large suitcase towards the freshman dorms.
“Haha. You know I’ll be joining you at Crimefighting, my powers will probably render any makeup artist dead.”
“Oh please become an actress I would love to see that.” I narrowed my eyes at him and lightly punched him in the arm as he took a sip of his latte.
“Hey!”
“You deserved that.”
“Ok maybe I deserved that. So Vic, what are your first impressions?”
“It’s huge for one thing.”
“That’s what she said.” I rolled my eyes at his immature sense of humor before stealing the latte out of his hand and taking a sip, only to scrunch my face.
“What the fuck do you put in this? It’s literally pure sugar.”
“Hangover cure.” He said with a shrug as he stole the latte back. “You should come hang tonight. I can introduce you to everyone.”
“Mmh sure. I think you mean getting me into trouble.”
“When have I ever done something like that before?” Andre asked as his eyes twinkled.
“Oh just about every time I hang out with you.” Stopping in front of the freshman dorm room Andre looked at me and tried to make his usual puppy eyes.
“Please.”
“Fuck fine. You need to stop doing that.”
“Why? It works every single time.”
“I’ll see you later then?”
“Definitely, enjoy being around the freshers.” Andre gave me a military salute making me roll my eyes as I started dragging all my stuff into the building.
Weaving my way through a shitton of supes was way harder than I expected, at least I had a jacket on or a few of them would be very dead right now. Finally and by finally I mean, FINALLY I found my room, I clutched the handle of the door and pushed in when I realized I definitely had the wrong room. Two girls were already all set up in the room and swiveled to look at me weirdly.
“Uh hi? Shit I’m sorry, I'm in the wrong room.”
“Wait! Are you Victoria Oaks?” asked the shorter blonde one.
“Uh yes?”
“Holy shit I follow you on Insta hi! I’m Emma and this is Marie.”
“Oh cool hi.”
“I can’t believe you’re on the same floor as us. Want to go check out the Golden Boy’s workout? We’re going to head down in a few.” Right, okay, I should make friends. So time to compromise.
“Uh sure? What exactly would we be doing?”
“Oh you’ll see.” Emma says with a mischievous smile.
“Righttt that sounds incredibly ominous but I’ll see you in a few. I’ve got to go put down all my stuff.”
“Ok see you!” I smile and retreat back into the busy hallway but not before catching Marie’s remark.
“Who is she exactly?”
“DO YOU LIVE UNDER A ROCK?” Emma replied loudly, making me snort. Taking a deep breath I once again clutch the handle of the door across the hall and push it open to see a girl lying on the bed closest to the door. She smiles up at me and bounds over to the door in an instant.
“Hi! You must be Victoria. I’m Gemma, nice to meet you.” She says before extending her hand. I carefully move my gloved hand over to hers and shake it.
“Hi, it’s a pleasure to meet you too.” I took a moment to scan her appearance, she was absolutely stunning. Her red hair trailed down her shoulders and her smile seemed to light up the very room. “You’re so beautiful wow.”
“Aww thank you so much! You are absolutely stunning as well, like this blonde totally suits the whole vibe you give off.”
“Is it a good vibe?”
“Oh definitely.”
“Ok whew I was worried for a second there.” We start laughing and Gemma helps me sort out all my stuff in the huge boxes.
“Actually with the talk about appearances would it be okay if I ever shift into you? I love being able to get to know people more through their faces and stuff but only if you’re cool with it.”
“Shifting? You mean like shape shifting.” I ask as I look over to her curiously, picking up yet another pair of gloves which I placed on one of the shelves in the closet.
“Yup!”
“Oh I wouldn’t mind at all, that's such a cool power!” Her entire face brightened as her hair slowly started to shift and match the shade of my bleached one.
“Brilliant! Thank you. So… what’s your power?”
“Oh umm here let me show you.”
Carefully taking out one of my older plants out of the box I place it on the window sill and pull off my leather glove. Within just a few seconds of my fingertips placed on top of the delicate leaves the plant withered away and died. I could feel the zap of energy encase my being and I smiled. Life absorption feels incredible, it’s so encompassing. You quite literally feel full of life. For a second as I turned around I could see the blood and energy from Gemma’s cell move around her body but I shook off the stupor.
“Wow. Can you just do that with plants or?”
“Uh no people as well. Anything alive that touches my skin just dies.”
“So you can’t do human contact?”
“Nope, unless I want them dead.”
“What about sex?” I chuckled at her slightly incredulous tone.
“I think you need to reevaluate what you consider sex.”
“Oh okay wow” Gemma laughed and we continued to set up my plants on the windowsill and chatted about our favorite movies, surprisingly enough we had pretty different tastes but there were a few that we had in common - like our love for Clue. That was when we heard a knock on the door, Gemma looked at me with a clear question in her eyes.
“I met our dorm neighbors a few minutes ago and they invited me to go see Golden Boy train.”
“Ooo I’m so coming with you.” Gemma shifted her hair back to red and waltzed over to open the door as I finished placing my last plant pots.
“What’s the deal with his workout sessions anyway?” I ask as she pulls open the door to find Emma and Marie standing sort of awkwardly outside.
“Oh he’s like super hung, and when he blazes up his clothes all melt away.” Emma answers my question but when she catches sight of Gemma her jaw drops.
“Right, uh Marie and Emma meet my roommate Gemma.”
“Holy fuck you’re so hot.” Emma says, almost as if the words involuntarily jump out of her mouth.
“Why thank you, love, you are as well.” Gemma flashes her a dazzling smile.
“Alright then enough flirting. I have been promised to see some hot supes. Let’s go!” I exclaim as the little group makes their way towards the arena. Hanging back so I was walking next to Marie, we watched the two girls flirt.
“Oh that’s going to be very interesting. I don’t believe we’ve talked much yet, but I’m Vic. It’s nice to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you too. Emma gave me a full on lecture on why I should know who you are but I kind of zoned out halfway through.” I let out a laugh at her admission and gently nudged my shoulder with hers.
“Oh don’t worry, it’s kind of nice having someone who has no idea who I am or who my dad is.”
“I’m glad, everything is so…”
“A lot, I know. My dad homeschooled me for the last few years of high school so being among this many people, especially supes can be overwhelming. If you ever need to chat or just need someone to hang out with, I'm your girl.” Marie gave me a grateful smile, “So what are your supe powers?”
“Blood manipulation.” My eyebrows shot up and I looked at her with astonishment.
“Holy fuck that’s awesome. I basically drain the life force of any living being.”
“Really?”
“Yup so don’t touch my skin unless you’re covered up.” I throw up jazz hands to showcase my gloved hands which elicits a short laugh out of Marie.
“Got it. You’re really nice by the way. Everyone here seems so like aggressively in your face.”
“Yeah I know. I’ve had to live around supes my whole life, it really isn’t at all like Vought or the movies say.”
We finally arrive at the arena and I take a seat next to her, Emma is sitting next to Marie and Gemma is still trying and succeeding at flirting with the blonde. Leaning over the railing I peer out into the main arena and spy Andre making his rounds with the group.
“Yo Andre.” I scream out into the stadium making him turn around, trying to find me in the crowd. The people seated around us had now turned to look at me as I smiled down at him. He smiled back and tilted his head towards where Golden Boy and some other dude were gearing up to fight, inviting me to come down.
“You sure?”
“Yeah get down here.” I turn towards my new group of friends and say: “You guys okay if I go down?”
“Since when do you know Andre Anderson? You know what don’t answer that question go, go, go. Tell us everything when you get back.” Gemma and Emma urged me out of my seat as Marie kind of sat there awkwardly but with an encouraging smile on her face.
I carefully picked my way down the stands and vaulted over the fence to get over to the sidelines of the fight. I poke at Andre’s shoulder as I fall in next to him as I watch the fight playing out. Golden Boy was obviously winning and wow Luke Riordan really had some moves.
“Oh hey Vic. It’s earlier than I expected to see you.”
“Well I did want to honor you with my presence more than once today.” I sent him a sarcastic smile which made him respond by pushing my shoulder.
“Wow Andre I can’t believe you have more friends than us, I feel betrayed.” I turned to the source of the voice and there stood a beautiful blonde, who had a big smile on her face. Little butterflies exploded in my stomach - how was everyone so damn attractive?
“Cate, darling, I hate to break this to you like this but I have a lot more friends than just you guys.”
“Oh how will I live knowing this information?” Cate said with a dramatic gasp and pretended to faint into Andre’s arms. He just pushed her up and they stuck out their tongues at each other.
“You guys are going to be perfect for each other. Cate Dunlap meet Victoria Oaks.”
“Hi! Nice to meet you.” I say as I extend a gloved hand only to be met with a similarly gloved hand, only that it was covered in brown leather instead of white.
“Oh my god, your gloves! I love these designs, you have got to tell me where you get yours. My collection needs adding to.” She says excitedly as she quickly shakes my hand and turns it over to inspect the handiwork. We continue to nerd out about gloves as the fight finishes and Andre throws Golden Boy some clothes, before they head over to us.
“Hi sweetheart you did great out there,” Cate throws her arms around him and they make out for a few seconds as I kind stand there awkwardly with Andre.
“Do they usually do this?”
“Yes. There is so much PDA I’m surprised they haven’t had sex in front of us yet.” Andre’s voice was raised in volume a little at the end which caught the attention of the couple.
“Oh right, Luke meet my new best friend, this is Vic.” Cate said as fixed her now slightly messed up lipstick.
“Hi, it’s nice to meet you Vic. Andre has told us a lot about you.”
I cringed but shook my head trying to forget about the many instances the idiot had nearly gotten us arrested and the one time he did.
“Yeah well, I hope it’s all nice things because any time I do spend with this guy somehow ends with us breaking a law.”
“Oh we can relate. I remember this one time…” We started making our way out of the arena as Luke started to recount one of the insane adventures that Andre managed to string them into. It felt nice to actually be part of a group again and it was easy. Way easier that I thought it would be.
After a few hours of touring the grounds and eating at Vought-a-Burger, I finally trudged back to my dorm absolutely exhausted. Not that it wasn’t great getting to know Cate, Andre and Luke but the whole day had absolutely drained me.
When I finally opened the door to my room I was surprised to find Emma sitting on top of Gemma’s bed reading some random fashion magazine.
“Uh Emma?”
The girl basically jumped out of her position on the bed and whirled to face me. Suddenly her entire body shifted and there stood Gemma, looking rather embarrassed with a sheepish smile on her face.
“Look, I asked her if I could change into her body! This wasn’t without consent and she’s just so stunning and it’s the-”
“Hey hey, Gem. Chill, I get it, you have a crush on our neighbor.” I smiled a little teasingly as I tried to reassure her. Thankfully Gemma’s panicked look faded and was replaced with a grateful smile.
“Sorry.”
“It’s all good, you guys would look great together.”
“Do you think that Emma might actually like me?”
“Oh Gem, I think anyone would be lucky to have you. From the few hours that I’ve known you, you're genuinely one of the sweetest people out there. And that’s saying something cause you’re also a supe.” I gave her a small smile before opening up my arms to signal for her to hug me. She flew into my grasp and I was careful not to let my exposed face anywhere near her.
“Thanks I needed this.”
“Hey I’m here anytime, just don't touch any skin.” I sent her a teasing smile when she finally pulled away. “How about we have a chill night in? There’s this new show I’ve been meaning to start.”
“Great! We can have our first girl’s night.”
“Fuck yeah! I’ll just get changed into my pajamas and grab some of my snacks from the stash.”
After spending the night doing absolutely nothing except watching Yellowjackets and raiding snacks from the vending machine after my relatively large stash ran out, Gemma and I woke up sugar hungover. Somehow we managed to make it down to the cafe and bought some coffee, which was thankfully enough to wake us up.
“So you heading over to Performing Arts?” I finally asked Gemma after the caffeine started to kick in.
“Yeah, Marie and Emma said they were going to meet me there as well so…”
“Can you believe we’re actually doing this?” I ask as we slowly walk out onto the common, I readjust my favorite pair of black gloves, knowing that if we were doing any sort of combat sessions at Crimefighting I would probably end up damaging my mom’s ones.
“Nope, it’s still surreal that I actually got accepted.”
“What are you talking about? You literally have some of the most interesting and versatile powers.”
“Yeah but I’m on scholarship, if that somehow falls through…” I smiled at her reassuringly as we stopped at the fork in the walk.
“Look you’re super fucking smart and you have more control over your power than most of the supes I know. Gem, you’re going to be great and never let anyone tell you otherwise.” Gemma smiled at me after she thanked me and we both went our separate ways - time to see what orientation was going to be like.
I navigated through the slew of students making their way through the halls of the Lamplighter School for Crimefighting when I suddenly bumped into someone. Thank whatever entity out there that I had just thrown out the remainder of my iced coffee.
“Shit sorry- Oh.” I caught the eye of the person I had bumped into as I helped them gather the assortment of books, all Brink’s for the looks of it.
“Right yeah, it’s fine just be more careful next time.” The person just kind of ran off after I helped them with the books. Strange and kind of rude but also so very attractive. I smiled at myself, if bumping into people meant getting to meet more enticing supes then this year was going to be incredible.
“Hey! Hey! Victoria. Vic. Vicky.” I finally stopped and turned to look at Andre who had been relentlessly pursuing me for the past few minutes. Orientation went well and I got to meet some of the other supes - mostly it was just for selfies but still.
“You know I hate when people call me that.”
“Well it was a last resort, you weren’t stopping.”
“You don’t think there may have been a reason behind that? Maybe my dad is dying and this is the last chance I get to hear his voice.” I remarked in an overly bored tone, I could already tell from Andre’s whole face that he was about to invite me to do something illegal… again.
“I know for a fact that isn’t real since it hasn’t been on any gossip sites-”
“Wait since when do you frequent gossip sites?” I ask incredulously as he somehow starts to lead me towards the opposite direction I was going in the first place.
“Not the point. You’re coming out with us tonight.”
“Do I get a say in the matter or?”
“Nope, go get changed into something hot and meet me in front of Lamplighter in half an hour.”
“Excuse you, but I always look hot. Thank you very much.” I say scoffing but we both know I’m silently agreeing with his plans - like always.
“Oh I know darling. Now hurry up.” He pushed me softly (as softly as a supe could push someone) and I made my way to my dorm.
“Hey Gem. Good day?” I said as I threw my bag on the bed and started to look through my outfits, I needed something that would cover all exposed skin - I really didn’t need another incidental death on my roster.
“Yup! We really should plan out more ways to- wait what are you looking for?”
“Andre invited me out with his friends you’re welcome to come if you want.”
“Nope it’s okay. I’ve got some auditions I need to tape.” She said with a smile.
“You sure?”
“Yeah I’m not really in the mood for partying tonight, orientation was a lot.”
“Tell me about it. You can use my bedroom if you need any extra space by the way.” I shouted out from behind the wall as I laid out the different materials that made up my outfits - it was a mismatch of blacks, whites and reds. Cute.
“Thank you! Holy shit you look fucking incredible.” Gemma remarked as I walked back into her bedroom now wearing my going out outfit.
“Why thank you. I haven’t been out clubbing for a while so I thought it would be best to go big.”
“Always the best choice. Make sure you don’t get too smashed okay?”
“I will try. Byeee.” Her laughter echoes into the hallway and the door shuts behind me. I flash the security guard a smile before leaving the freshman dorm building and making my way to the Crimefighting school.
“Oh god please don’t tell me Andre has dragged you into one of his schemes.” I say when I catch sight of Marie standing next to Cate, Luke, Andre and someone I had a vague inkling that I’ve met before.
“Vic! You came!” Cate smiled and pulled me into a little hug when I was close enough to the group.
“Hi guys.” I said with a smile before turning to the stranger of the group. “I don’t believe we’ve met yet, I’m Victoria.”
“We have actually, I’m Jordan. You bumped into me this morning.” A giddy smile slowly spread out over my face.
“Oh right, you were the hot and mysterious person I nearly killed this morning. Pleasure to meet you.” A dusting of blush appeared on their face and we held eye contact which was annoyingly broken by Andre’s screech of:
“You nearly killed someone AGAIN?”
“Ok dude chill it really wasn’t that bad.” I roll my eyes at his antics and thankfully the exchange gets interrupted by Luke.
“Come on, we don't want to be late.” Luke said after removing his arms from around Cate and heading over to the driver’s seat. Andre makes a whole thing of opening up the passenger seat for Kate and I get into the back seat with Jordan sliding in next to me.
The entire car ride was spent awkwardly avoiding whatever feud Jordan and Marie had going one and trying to get everyone better. Cate and I talked more about our glove choices, mine were black with a red heart detail and hers were stunningly sculpted brown ones. The playlist was (thankfully) controlled by Jordan, which ended up with music that could have been stolen from my own playlist.
When we finally got to our first destination, my jaw dropped - I had only been to Seven tower a handful of times. Mostly to deal with lawsuits from accidental deaths, there were surprisingly few of them for the amount of death that seemed to follow me everywhere. Luke and Cate managed to get us up on the roof, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Homelander could literally hear us up here. Better not to think about that.
So I took a hit of coke after Andre passed me his little vial - drugs were a way to kind of quell the murderous impulses my power demanded plus they were fun to do when around friends. Doing coke alone does not have the same effect - trust me.
“Hell yes! I forgot you did this stuff.” Andre said as I spied Luke wandering off to talk to Marie.
“Eh sometimes. I usually stick to weed or shrooms. The harder stuff messes with this whole thing when I’m hungover.” I said as I raised my hands to try and illustrate my point, wow okay this was strong stuff. I could quite literally already feel the haze starting to form around my brain.
“What exactly is your power anyway?” Jordan asked as we continued to do some more bumps.
“Oh well basically everything I touch dies.”
“So your skin is poisonous?”
“No, I absorb energy or rather life force. Here.” I wander over to one of the randomly placed potted plants and take off my glove, only to place my fingers on the red petals. The plant started to shrivel up and die about a second later.
“Awesome.” We were both clearly starting to feel the effects of the coke. We started to laugh as we made our way back to the main group.
The next stop on our little unsanctioned outing was some fancy club that Andre had been raving about the entire drive over there from the tower. I lean against one of the golden walls as I watch Cate do her thing.
“We don’t have one but you don’t give a fuck. Right?”
“I do not give a fuck.” The doorman leads us straight into the club and I smile widely at Cate.
“You are such a fucking badass.”
“I know.”
After getting some much needed drinks I lean back against the red seats and stretch out my arms. This many people were making me antsy and drugs and alcohol can only settle so much of my power.
“So yeah, basically this fucking idiot decided we should have a lightsaber duel in the middle of Grand Central and someone must have called the cops cause they randomly pulled up and we were arrested for ‘disrupting the peace’.”
The entire group burst out laughing and one of the many stories I had from when Andre and I would hang out as teens - we sort of drifted ever since he got to GodU but it felt just like old times.
“Alright, alright, enough embarrassing stories about our arrests. You guys in?” Andre asks as he holds up a bag of Molly and Jordan snatches it from his hold.
“Is that cocaine?”
“Nah we finished all the coke. It’s Molly. Vic?”
“Ooo yes please.” Jordan smiles charmingly and passes the little bag over to me.
“Hey I don’t really fuck with powder. But I do microdose shrooms.” Luke says with an almost triumphant tone as he also pulls out another bag.
“Hey where do you get yours from? I need a good dealer now that I’ve moved from LA.” I ask Luke before passing the bag containing Molly back to Andre.
“I’ll send you my guy’s number.”
“Thanks man.”
“So, what do you say, freshman?”
“Uh-”
“Hey Marie, you don’t have to - we are not trying to peer pressure you but… it’ll be funnn.” I smile widely and wiggle my eyebrows making her laugh, Cate also joins in on my teasing and she relents.
“Yes, let's go Marie.”
“Whooo. Come on, let's dance.”
That’s when I suddenly feel a little part of me sober up, fuck. It was a bad memory - the last time I danced was homecoming. A really sweet guy had asked me out and of course I had said yes. It was one accidental touch of my cheek against his and a few seconds later he laid dead in the middle of the dance floor. I ended up changing to homeschool after that whole incident, there had been issues across the years but overall this was one of the worst.
“Vic?” I shake out of my stupor as I look up at Cate extending her hand in invitation.
“Nah I don’t dance.” She must have seen something in my eyes cause she smiled softly and retracted her hand.
“Ok, just know you’re missing out on a great time.” She pulled Marie off towards the dance floor and I took a sip of the whiskey I had ordered.
“Any reason you’re not dancing out there? I remember all those clubs we sneaked into and you fucking killed it everytime.” Andre asked as he leaned back against the cushions.
“Andre, darling, that’s not proper club conversation. I’m going to go get another drink, you guys want anything?”
“I’ll come with you.” Jordan exclaimed as they sprang up from his seat and started following me towards the bar. I could quite literally feel the smirk that Andre and Luke had on their faces. Suddenly I heard a small pop next to me and I turned to see that Justin had shifted.
“You want anything specific?” I asked with a slight tilt of my head.
“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
“Wise choice.” I winked at them and leaned over to wave to the bartender. He, obviously trying to flirt, ended up giving us a bunch of free vodka shots and 2 whiskies, the top shelf stuff.
“So how are you liking GodU so far?”
“It’s greatish. There’s so many bloody supes.” Jordan just raised their eyebrows at me as she helped me carry over the drinks.
“Oh I definitely know what you’re talking about. Have you met Rufus yet?”
“No?” I look at them in question and she looks at me with relief.
“Pray that you don’t.” We dissolved into laughter for a second time that night and finally set our drinks down at the booth.
“Well don’t you two look cozy.” Luke remarked.
“You changed? Why?”
“Cause I fucking felt like it. And more free drinks.”
“Here here.” Luke agreed as we each held up a vodka shot.
“To the Seven.”
“No way.” I look at Luke in minor awe, he actually got a place in the motherfucking Seven.
“I literally just told you.”
“Yeah well you do know that I’m an open book, plus you have to invite me to the tower sometime. I crush so hard on A-train… imagine that man in bed.”
“And that is exactly why he won’t be inviting you.” I added after taking my shot.
“It’s the least surprising surprise ever but congrats. You deserve it. When are you leaving?”
“More like when do you get to be number one?”
“Please, the trustees think I’m too confusing. I’ll never get number one.”
“They put you in the orientation video.”
“Yeah so they can suck their own dicks about how progressive they are.”
I listen to each of them debating the merits and the downsides (mostly Andre) of getting ranked number one when I start to feel it. Goddammit. Every life force around me seemed to pulse. I could see literal life running through each person’s veins and the conversation started to grow further and further away.
Quickly fishing in the pocket of my jacket I pulled out a few tablets of the experimental drug Vought was testing out on well… just me. I place one of the cylindrical neon green pills on my tongue and wash it back with another shot of vodka. A few seconds later everything went back to normal and I watched Luke and Andre have a whole bro moment. It was actually quite touching.
“By the way I forgot to mention but you’ve looked so fucking hot tonight.” Jordan turned to look at me with a slight smirk on their face.
“Oh you haven’t seen anything yet.” She winked and I felt a blush start to color my cheeks. Okay game on baby.
We all end up dispersing after a while and I start walking around all the warm bodies, being extra careful to avoid my face touching anyone’s exposed skin. That was extra hard when you’re in a club so I decided to just take a step out onto the balcony. Spying through the doors, I took in breaths of sobering air and watched as Jordan easily flirted with a group of girls.
Fuck Vought and fuck my dad for this stupid power. I turned towards the ivy growing over the balcony railing and without a second thought I ripped off my gloves and pressed my palms to the stems.
Life thrummed through my veins, I sucked it in deeper and deeper until I finally reached the roots of the ivy. I felt them start to rot away and die as my power crept into every crevice and cell. Stealing away vitality. Suddenly I was wrenched away from my ivy killing by high pitched screaming. I leave for a single second…
Quickly pulling on my gloves I looked into the chaos that was created over a woman’s body whose throat was punctured by a tiny metal hummingbird. Andre you fucking idiot.
Calculating how to get out of the club without actually having to go through the chaos I saw a few window sills that would easily get me close enough to the fire escape on the next building.
Using my supe strength I jumped between each sill until I was near the fire escape. Taking a few deep breaths in and out I jumped and let gravity take over. It was a few seconds of bliss before my entire body slammed against the hard metal railing with a resounding bang. Goddamit sometimes I wish that I got pain tolerance when I was injected with V.
The next few steps down were easy and I was able to get to street level and disappear into the night without getting noticed. My phone dinged as I started putting on my headphones and I looked down to find that I had been added to a group chat:
(possibly Cate Dunlap): vic you good?
you sort of disappeared
we’re on our way back to GodU.
Me: yup all good
god Andre u need to be more careful.
A.A.: u don’t think I know that
u need us to pick u up?
Me: that would be appreciated
*you have now enabled geotracker with the group*
(possibly Jordan Li): see you in a bit!
Waking up after a night out was a bitch. Carefully maneuvering out of bed without activating my headache too much was even more of a challenge.
“You good there?” I heard a shout loud enough to rattle my very soul reverberating through the room.
“Fuck Gemma a little quieter please.” Her laugh twinkled in the air but even it's usually nice sound zapped my brain.
“I thought supes didn’t get hangovers.”
“Yeah they don’t- it was all the people.” And the experimental Vought pill I felt like saying.
“Oh shit yeah sorry.”
“Right, I'm going to have a shower.” Gingerly grabbing my shower essentials I picked my way through the already busy hall. Communal showers sucked.
Thankfully, 3 coffees later I finally started to feel a little more like myself. Andre had made me promise last night that I would have to help him with some power drink promotion. So off to commons I went, the sun seemed to burn my eyelids so a pair of slim blue lenses adorned my face. The shade perfectly matched my gloves.
What I didn’t expect to find outside the school of crimefighting was Luke. Completely flamed out and Andre stepped closer and closer to him. My eyes widened and I started running - the blue gloves were torn off and I nearly collided with Marie when Luke (thank the universe) stopped flaming out.
“What… Marie, what is going on?”
“I- I found him murdering Brink.” If my eyes widened any further I was pretty sure my eyeballs would quite literally jump out of my head.
“WHAT?” I turned towards Luke again to find that he had started walking away from Andre, muttering apologies under his breath. I could identify that crazed look in his eyes. He knew he was cornered and he didn’t want to run anymore.
Luke started flaming out and suddenly flew up into the sky… only to make himself completely explode. Blood, guts, muscle, bones and brains started raining down.
The ‘materials’ that managed to touch my uncovered face and hands thrummed with power. That was strange. It was as if they were still alive somehow. The cells oozed energy.
My power started to immediately absorb whatever life-force the cells had remaining and then I felt a foreign kind of ache. It felt like a cold burn spreading all over my hands and my face, bringing my palm up to my face. I was surprised to see a tiny flame start to sputter on.
What the actual fuck?
did you know that human cells can stay alive for hours and sometimes even days after you die? so yes the ending makes sense - I did research. also Vic has never "absorbed" another supe before - her mom was human.... so we shall see how that affects her hehe.
if you want to be added to the taglist lmk!!
#gen v#gen v fanfic#gen v amazon#gen v spoilers#andre anderson#jordan li#marie moreau#luke riordan#golden boy#the boys#the boys fanfic#the boys tv#oc fic#gen v tv#victoria oaks#maria writes#the boys series#the boys amazon#cate dunlap#emma meyer
252 notes
·
View notes
Text
In the past few days, I've seen an increasing amount of comments about how Suzanne Collins pushed a narrative in The Hunger Games about "both sides being equally bad" because of her representation of Coin and Snow being the same, someone going as far as saying Katniss was being manipulated by Coin, therefore, making her words against the Capital less true. And that really bothered me.
I strongly disagree with those people but I can see where they're coming from and that point of view has two reasons to be so widely spread:
The first of them is Snow and Coin being "different sides of the same coin" (pun intended). Both are driven by the same thing, which is the hunger for power and it's true that Coin tries to manipulate Katniss. However, just like Snow, she's unable to, that's the reason why Coin is so set on killing Katniss in the second film (and the book, but it's less obvious there).
But that's the thing: Katniss (just like Lucy Gray) won't be contained because her compassion for the struggling people under the oppression of the Capital and her hatred against this oppression shines through every time someone - even herself - tries to contain those traits.
Katniss is a representation of what the people from the districts really are - people both compassionate and filled with hatred against the oppressive system that shackles them to fear. Her own existence validates that the district's fight is a fair one, one that means the freedom of all Panem, as they claim. The fact that Coin is a part of the revolution does not make it less valid, it just comes to show that we have to be careful about choosing our leaders and that they, alone, don't mean anything:
It's really important to understand that the people responsible for the dismantling of the Capital were not Coin and District 13, but all of the Districts organized together, people who didn't have the exact same values or vision of what a freed Panem would look like but know the Capital cannot continue to oppress them. THEY are the revolution, THEY are the ones who killed Snow, THEY are the ones who did the fighting, THEY are the ones who took the Capital, and to me, it's insulting to resume their fight and their hopes for a better Panem on Coin and her own selfish goals.
Especially not when they are the reason why Coin dies at the end: once she tries to show her hands, she is immediately shot down (pun intended) because Katniss - as do others, like Plutarch - recognizes they're trading six for half a dozen (and I don't know if that's an English expression, but I think its meaning is obvious) if they allow Coin to spread her wings. The revolution didn't happen because of Coin, it happened because people saw in Katniss a symbol of hope, driving them into action, and the fact that District 13 - and Coin - appeared months after the beginning of it doesn't invalidate their fight in any way.
The second point is closely tied to the first and it's the strong anti-violence and anti-war narrative in both the books and the films. And I'll have to be very careful treading this one because I don't want you to think I condone war or violence but it's a really fine thread I'm going to walk by right now:
It's undeniable that the war itself is treated in the books as something terrible, both sides (first point) use violence as a means to an end, this end being the victory of their own side. But that's inevitable in war: there will be violence, and there will be unspeakable things done to "the other side", and there will be war crimes being committed. And we are so culturally infected by the idea of resolving anything by "love" and of a unique hero who will free us all, that talking about violence as a valid response to oppression is quickly rejected.
Again: I do not think violence should be the immediate answer to political problems, of course not. But when we talk about the oppression that's been committed continuously against a group of people through a large period of time, especially when their diplomacy and cries aren't being heard, why shouldn't violence be the answer? What other response there is? Go quietly into the good night? I don't think any of us would want that, not for ourselves and not for the ones we love, and not for the ones who make our communities.
There's a really good book - The Wretched of the Earth, by Frantz Fanon - that explores violence as more than a valid response to oppression, but a necessary one. Although I do think diplomacy should be tried and other resources should be exhausted before violence and war, I also think they are a valid response to oppression, especially because the oppressors are so vicious.
But returning to the books, even when violence and war are valid, like in the revolution, they are still extremely ugly and traumatizing, especially when we need - as the oppressed ones - to keep our humanity so we don't end up becoming the oppressors. So it's natural that the violence narrated in Collin's books, especially the violence committed by the revolution, seems like it passes the message that both sides are just as bad - something like the narrative, you lose your reasoning when your response is violence.
However, what makes Katniss's and the District's fight for freedom from the Capital's oppressive regime valid is not their lack of violence or their integrity (it's war, and it's not likely that, as a soldier, you maintain it), but the very fact that they are the oppressed ones. Victims should not and are not perfect, they never will be - children being as close to it as we can go. But that doesn't make their fight less valid.
Of course, there is a limit, and that's perfectly captured by Gale: hatred without compassion, blind rage, and dehumanizing of your enemy. That's when violence is no longer valid in fighting oppression, not because of its lack of morals but because of the danger it represents to the innocent they're trying to free.
And yes, I thought a lot about Palestine writing this.
#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#coriolanus snow#lucy gray baird#the hunger games#katniss everdeen#lucy gray#tbosas#suzanne collins#books#gale hawthorne#political activist#political discourse#free palestine#palestinian genocide#the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes#the hunger games theories#the hunger games theory#thg#mockingjay#hunger games#catching fire
113 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Eye of the Hurricane [8] - Bells
A.N: Here’s the new chapter my loves! ❤️ Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️
Summary: Some decisions require late night visits.
Word Count: 2600
Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, mentions of sex. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.
Series Masterlist
You didn’t think the rest of the week would be peaceful in any way but even you couldn’t guess just how tense it would be.
“This is insane,” Becca pointed out, crossing her arms and leaning back on her seat. You had decided to meet up for brunch but this time, two other tables in the café were also reserved for your and Becca’s multiple bodyguards who were enjoying their coffees. You stole a look at them, then turned to Becca.
“You’re telling me,” you said. “Four bodyguards everywhere I go. It sounds absurd.”
“And this is Barnes territory!” Becca hissed. “I’ve never ever needed bodyguards in our territory, and all of a sudden...”
“How stressed out is everyone?” you asked and she shook her head with a sigh.
“I could barely see Bucky in these last couple of days,” she said. “My dad said I have nothing to worry about, but you know how he is. It’s kind of condescending, honestly.”
“And your mom?”
“She has this bright idea to send me off to vacation to Zürich until the dust settles here.”
You pulled your brows together. “Will you?”
“No!” she exclaimed. “I’m not leaving any of you here.”
You reached out to squeeze at her hand before grabbing your coffee to take a sip.
“How about you?”
“I think I will get the same speech tonight,” you said. “My dad wants to talk to me.”
“And?”
“I’ll make a counter offer.”
“To?”
“To help out,” you said. “With this situation. Besides, me leaving in a time like this would be basically handing Ian the heir position, and I’m not doing that.”
“Do you think your father will accept that offer though?”
“We’ll see,” you said, trying to ignore the way your stomach did a flip. “I’d be better than Ian than handling this, he has to see that.”
“Bucky says Ian isn’t even carrying a gun anymore,” Becca said with a small laugh and you tilted your head.
“What?”
“Yeah. Apparently he says no one can get to him with his men around him. I guess it’s his way of making them think he trusts them with his life.”
You rolled your eyes. “Right.”
“As much as I hate to admit, it looks like it’s working,” Becca admitted. “He looks pretty confident.”
“Confidence can lead to very huge mistakes,” you said and cleared your throat. “Ugh, let’s talk about something else. How’s everything with Leila?”
“That’s what I wanted to ask you!” Becca said, snapping her fingers. “Do you think it’s still too early to ask her to marry me?”
You blinked a couple of times. “Becca, you two started dating less than a week ago.”
“Yeah but I could still ask her!”
“That’s the hopeless romantic in you speaking.”
“That’s the orgasms speaking actually,” she corrected you, making you grin.
“Either way, neither of those make you think logical.”
“Logical is overrated,” she pointed out. “How about you?”
“Me?”
“You and Ethan?”
“We’re not doing anything,” you said slowly. “I did hire some bodyguards for him though, just in case.”
“Maybe you should take the first step.”
“I’m not going to do that,” you said, shaking your head fervently and she hummed.
“Don’t tell me Bucky’s proposal affected you like that.”
“What? No!” you exclaimed, scrunching up your face. “Why would you say that?”
Becca rolled her eyes.
“Maybe because I’ve known you two my whole life?”
Your frown deepened. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Please,” she said, shooting you a look. “All those glances and so much bickering, it’s obvious something is there—”
“Hate,” you cut her off. “Hate is what’s there.”
Becca gave you a mischievous smile, then sipped her coffee.
“Whatever you say.”
“Bucky and I could never work,” you insisted and Becca hummed.
“What about you and Ethan?”
“Ethan is—” you paused for a moment. “Dating him would be incredibly simple. You know, no ulterior motives, no strategies, nothing complex.”
“That would be so convincing if you could deal with simple more than just a couple of months.”
“You can,” you said and Becca waved a hand in the air.
“I was never promised the heir position,” she said. “It was always Bucky. That’s why I’ve never had that…that burning ambition both of you have. At the end of the day, I do want a simple life Y/N but you’ve never been that type. I don’t think you could actually be happy in a simple relationship.”
You clicked your tongue and leaned back in your chair.
“Well then that complicates things,” you said. “I don’t think I would be happy with someone in the business either.”
“Why not?”
“Are you kidding?” you said with a laugh. “Come on, you know how spouses are treated in the business. You’re just—you’re there as the arm candy, they never let you get involved—”
“That’s the generation before us.”
“Did Bucky put you up to this?” you asked and she huffed out a laugh.
“I didn’t say you should marry my brother,” she pointed out. “I’m just saying maybe you shouldn’t force yourself to like a simple life if you want more than that. Especially if you’re basing your decision on some ancient bullshit rule our families decided to follow.”
You heaved a sigh and took a sip of your coffee.
“Didn’t you just say logical is overrated?” you asked. “Since when are you so logical?”
“I have my moments,” Becca grinned at you. “So. Can we talk about my love life now?”
“Yes but you can’t ask her to marry you.”
“I can ask her to be my fiancée,” Becca stated and you tilted your head.
“That’s…that’s basically the same, Becca.”
Becca rolled her eyes and groaned.
“Fine!” she said. “Can I at least ask her if we should move in together?”
You bit back a smile.
“I’ll give you my permission for that once you two reach the third month.”
“Oh we will,” Becca said with a bright smile. “Great. I’ll send you the house warming party gift list when I get home then.”
*
You had assumed your father would see you and gave you the same speech Becca got from her parents at home, but apparently he was swamped with work so he had asked you to come to the company. When you got there, your father’s assistant told you he was in the middle of a meeting with Ian and Stark, so you took a seat in the waiting area and stole a look at Ryan who was no doubt waiting for Ian.
“Hi Ryan.”
“Ma’am,” he greeted you, his tone rough but respectful. You smiled at him, crossing your arms.
“Waiting for my cousin?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” you asked and he paused for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders.
“Why are you working for him?” you asked. “He’s an asshole.”
Ryan didn’t even dignify that with an answer as he looked at you, his expression completely calm like he was very used to not giving answers.
“Riveting conversation as always,” you teased him and he bit back a small smile.
“I respect your family, ma’am.”
“I mean you don’t really have to respect Ian though, God knows he does nothing to earn that,” you pointed out. “You know he’s looking forward to starting a war, right?”
“He’s ready to see you,” the assistant said before Ryan could answer you, and you nodded your head, then stood up from the couch.
“Have a nice evening Ryan.”
“You too ma’am,” he said and you followed the assistant to your father’s office.
“Y/N sweetheart, hello,” he said as he walked to you to press a kiss on your cheek. “Sit down, sit down!”
“How was your meeting?” you asked and he waved a hand in the air.
“The usual,” he said. “I have four other meetings after this.”
“Daddy—”
“I will rest when I get home, I promise,” he said and you narrowed your eyes at him.
“Right. I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“It’s just that I don’t know when they will be finished, and I figured you’d be asleep by the time I got home,” he said. “Y/N listen—”
“Don’t bother giving me that speech, I’m not going anywhere,” you cut him off and he frowned.
“How did you…?”
“Winnifred gave the same speech to Becca. She tried to send her to Zürich, where are you trying to send me?”
“Wherever you want,” your father said. “I was thinking Florence but…”
“Florence is a gorgeous city,” you said. “I’d love to see it sometime, maybe next Christmas.”
“Y/N.”
You gave him a small grin. “Hm?”
“It’s going to be safer for you if you just go away from the city for a while.”
“While you and Ian handle things?”
“While I handle things.”
“But Ian stays?” you insisted and he ran a hand over his face.
“Yes, but—”
“I’m not going,” you said, your voice firm. “Send him away if you want, but I’m not leaving the city when there’s a war coming.”
“I feel like you need to think about this,” your father said and you shook your head.
“I did think about it.”
“Y/N, I will feel much better if I know you’re away from danger, at least until the dust settles here.”
You sat up straighter, your heart pacing in your chest.
“Dad I can help,” you said. “With all this. You know I can.”
A look of realization dawned on his face.
“We’ve talked about this.”
“No we haven’t,” you insisted. “Not really. We keep ignoring it, ignoring the fact that you haven’t named a successor—”
“That’s because I’m not planning on retiring soon.”
You let out a dry laugh. “Others might believe that lie, but I do not.”
Your father heaved a sigh, then pushed himself off of his seat to come closer to you, then leaned back to his desk, crossing his arms.
“And please tell me, what is it that you want to hear from me right now?” he asked you and you shook your head.
“Don’t patronize me,” you said through your teeth. “You know what I’m capable of, you trained me for times like these. You know I’d make a much better heir than Ian—”
“Y/N, enough.”
“Just give me a chance to prove myself,” you insisted. “That’s all I’m asking. You don’t have to make me the head of all operations, but give me a chance to show you I can do this. I’ve already prepared a plan—”
“Let me stop you right there,” he said. “What you’re suggesting is absolutely out of question.”
Your jaw clenched. “Why?”
“We already have a plan.”
“Okay,” you let out an impatient breath. “Then you can tell me the plan and I’ll help.”
“No need, we have everything covered.”
You could feel the anger bubbling in your stomach but you dug your fingernails into your palm, reminding yourself to stay calm.
“Dad,” you said slowly. “You promised me.”
“And I promised your mother!” he snapped, making you stop talking. “I promised your mother that I would keep you safe, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
The bridge of your nose along with the back of your eyes started burning, a sure sign that the tears were on their way but you blinked fast a couple of times, biting at your tongue.
“That was your mother’s dying wish,” he said, looking you in the eye. “I’m not going to break my promise to her.”
You swallowed thickly. “Mom would want me to be happy.”
“And you think this life would make you happy?” he asked you. “All this bloodshed, this violence?”
“I was born into bloodshed and violence,” you reminded him. “I’ve spent all my life in it. What, you think you can keep me safe by pushing me out of the picture?”
“It’s much safer than being in the middle of it.”
“For now,” you pointed out. “What about the future? I already know three families that will refuse to do business with Ian.”
Your father shrugged his shoulders. “It’s too early to worry about that. I’m not retiring anytime soon.”
“Dad, he wants to start a war.”
“He will see that war isn’t good for business,” he brushed you off. “He’s just very eager to prove himself right now, that’s all. He’s not going to start a war, don’t worry.”
You gritted your teeth and pursed your lips, glaring at him.
“You got your fire from me, your mother was much calmer,” he said with a small smile. “So I swear to you, I understand your frustration and anger very well. The crown you think you want right now? It’s way too dangerous sweetheart. You’ll see it in time that I’m making the right choice.”
The tears blurred your sight for a moment before you blinked them away and wetted your lips, trying to ignore the lump in your throat.
“You’re not going to name me as your successor, are you?” you rasped out. “Nor will you let me prove myself.”
Your father held your gaze in his for a second, then shook his head.
“No.”
The disappointment hit you so hard that it made your head spin. This wasn’t news to you in any way, you had spent years watching your father treat Ian like his successor but actually hearing it from him was enough to make you want to scream. Anger rushed through you, boiling your blood and you bit your tongue hard enough to hurt, and nodded slowly.
“Okay,” you heard yourself say as you stood up, not even looking him in the eye and he took a deep breath.
“Honey…” he started but you walked out of his office without sparing him a glance, your whole body moving as if it was on autopilot. You got to the elevator and pressed the button, then stepped inside and watched the doors close, sniffling as you wiped at your eyes.
Very well then.
If your father didn’t want to give you power, you were going to take it for yourself.
*
The address wasn’t exactly familiar to you seeing that you hadn’t been there before, but your driver knew the way. When you walked into the building and gave the reception your name, it took them less than a minute to guide you to the elevator, everyone around you rushing like they were instructed not to make you wait even for a second. When the elevator stopped at the top floor, a bodyguard led you to the door of the penthouse to knock on the door and you heard the footsteps coming closer before the door opened.
It looked like Bucky had dashed through the apartment to put his jeans on when they told him you were there, seeing that he was breathing quite fast. You let yourself run your gaze over his bare muscular torso, the tattoos over his chest catching your attention before your eyes snapped up to his, your heart skipping a beat.
God damn it, you almost forgot just how handsome he was.
“Charm,” he said, offering you a small smile. “Hi.”
“Hey there,” you said as you walked past him into the penthouse before he could invite you inside and he closed the door behind you.
“This is a nice surprise,” he said while you glanced around. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
You took a deep breath and turned around to look at him better, your heart beating in your ears.
“Get rid of whoever is in your bedroom,” you said and shot him a sarcastic smile as you crossed your arms. “We need to talk about the wedding.”
Chapter 9
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#mob!bucky barnes#mob!bucky barnes x reader#mob!bucky x reader#mob bucky barnes#mob bucky#mob bucky barnes x reader#mob bucky x reader#mob boss bucky barnes#mob boss!bucky#mafia!bucky barnes#mafia bucky x reader#mafia bucky barnes#mafia!bucky#mob!bucky#mafia!bucky barnes x reader#mob au
335 notes
·
View notes
Text
Yandere Pomefiore Headcanons
TW/CW: Dark Content up ahead!! Yandere content specifically!! Themes will include but not be limited to, yandere, possessiveness, violence towards reader or characters, manipulation, mentions of stalking, obsession, etc. (I think that should be it but unless I'm missing something please do let me know!!) Please proceed with caution!!
DISCLAIMER: These are my interpretations of his/her/their persona and none of these is 100% accurate. I don't condone any of these actions in real life and all of this is purely fictional and should be taken as such! Underage characters will ONLY be given SFW headcanons, please respect this decision!
Banner made by @herestrish please don't steal my bestie worked hard on it and I love them so much :((
Vil Schoenheit
Beautiful Vil indeed, Vil is one of the characters who I feel relate to the most. His desire to be the fairest is rooted in the ideology that he has to work twice as hard for the praise that comes at no cost for Niege. Vil’s S/O would be someone who can see past that, maybe someone who can see the ‘ugliest’ parts of him but still want to be with him. Someone that can accept Vil for himself. With that said, he’s a manipulative, possessive, and overprotective yandere.
It needs to be said that Vil is probably the most reliable housewarden here. I feel like he’s the type you should go to for advice because he tells it to you straight. He doesn’t sweeten his tone or downplay the situation to spare your feelings, he’s direct. The best way I can describe Vil and Neige is that Neige is cute, and Vil is hot. Niege is the cutesy persona, the kind and charismatic main character that you can’t help but root for in every situation. He’s literally the one who beats the villain with the power of friendship. Vil is a sophisticated and respected individual, the one who worked hard to get what they have, because of this. . .he’s often made to play the role of a villain. The one who is blinded by greed and stops at nothing to prevent the MC from getting what they want. That’s the role he plays. His S/O would be someone who sees past that, long story short someone who can respect and love Vil for himself rather than some silly persona he’s been pushed to play. Someone who can see Vil in the worst light but accepts him. You see the ugly but rather than shy away from it you learn to embrace it.
I don’t want to say that he’s manipulative to the extent that Jamil might be, but he’s good with words. Pomefiore is a dorm that radiates beauty, not just physical appearance but how one carries themselves. This makes sense when in book 5 he talks to the others about skincare and even reminds Epel that ballet isn’t exactly a gendered sport. Beauty is how someone carries themselves, what they reveal when facing a tough situation, and how they view themselves and others, that’s beauty. If his S/O ever had a doubt, they would seek Vil’s opinion first. Of course, he knows more and his opinion is highly valued. His manipulation isn’t too complex but it follows the ideology that if a stranger gave an unsolicited opinion you won’t pay too much attention. Still, if a trusted friend gave it, you’d be inclined to trust them more. Under his guidance, Vil will slowly alter your mindset as well as your opinions of others. He’s Vil, he has a keen eye for these things after all. Vil says things straightforwardly so you know he’s being honest, that’s gotta count for something! So while it’s not a big thing at the moment, his words start to weave themselves into your conscious decisions. He’s not someone you would doubt, much less disobey.
He’s quite possessive. In the way Jamil doesn’t want to give his S/O up, he can’t stand the idea of someone taking you away from him! Vil is quite infatuated with you, you see. The one thing he wants is standing right in front of him, he’s not letting his opportunity go by. He’ll start by conviving you to spend time with him. You’re failing your potions class? Vil can offer to help but it won’t come for free! The occasional fashion advice or skin care opinion, always offering to teach you the ropes and how to accessorize. Granted if you don’t ask for it nor actively seek it, he’ll never push his opinions onto you. If you do however ask for his advice, he’ll make a tight schedule that takes up your time and includes himself in the mix. Would he isolate you from others? No, but he would drop some side comments that might make you reconsider who you should be hanging around with. The choice is yours but he’s quite persuasive. He would never let Neige know of you, he can’t risk you becoming a fan or choosing Niege over himself. He just can’t let that happen. This ties in with his over-protectiveness, he’s by no means a pushover. With fame comes risk and Vil is more than qualified and prepared to ensure your safety. In the event that he does go public with your relationship (which he will), some crazed fan might send something to you!
Overall, there are no traits that I can use to define how dangerous Vil can be as a yandere. Vil would probably force you to go through some rigorous training, anything that proves your loyalty to him. I think it’s what he values the most. Loyalty to him. Once you prove you can be trusted, Vil might start to expose bits and pieces of himself to you but don’t get your hopes up. Does Vil want to be worshiped? Yes, but he wants you to love him. It has to be you, nobody else can suffice. Nobody else sees Vil the way you see him and that’s what he wants. He wants your eyes to be on him, He’s in the spotlight and you’re the only member of the audience that he yearns for. Don’t let your gaze wander, keep your eyes focused on him. While it’s your attention and affection that he yearns for, he by no means will resort to groveling. He has too much pride (though maybe in extreme feelings and conditions, he may but unlikely at the moment) and I feel like it contradicts his ideology of working to earn. If it’s your affection he wants he’ll work hard and strive to gain. Do I think he may have a moment where he slips up? Yes, like in book 5, that wasn’t supposed to happen but it did. He had the idea of beating Niege at a dance competition but towards the end almost took his ass out. I feel like it starts to be futile, normal means of gaining your affection aren’t working, or keeping your love he may stoop down to using potions. Designed as ‘sharing’ snacks and drinks, he may slip in a potion that will make you agree or idolize Vil to a certain extent. He by no means will buy your love or use cheap tactics to earn it, but he may fall into a fear that you may leave him resulting in a potion to keep your love.
Also, I realized that with these headcanons I don’t exactly highlight something that makes them unique, but I will start doing that with the remaining characters! Vil, what makes him unique is that he’s as suffocating as the poisons he makes. He’ll slowly start making his way into your life and cloud your senses. Anything and everything you do is for Vil. The air you breathe is for Vil. He demands absolute loyalty (as I’ve repeated countless times but I can’t organize for shit) and that loyalty is slowly woven into your routine. You use his skin care, you style your clothes a certain way because Vil told you. You style and accessorize yourself according to his recommendations because Vil is right. You act the way Vil would appreciate (in your eyes because I'm a huge believer they will love you for being you), and you are dedicated to him. The most unique thing about this is that it’s all according to Vil’s design. He managed to flip the table and make YOU seek him out rather than him doing all the hard work.
These headcanons probably don’t do him justice but on the scale, he’d be an 8/10. It’s Vil, he would never show such unsightly behavior and I think that is where people would fall for it. If anything I think pomefiore is a dorm that can show multiple faces. They hold themselves to such a standard that at first glance, they could never do that! He excels at potions and poisons so he is quite a danger to others and his S/O. His manipulation is hidden under the guise that Vil is only helping you out. It’s Vil, sure some of the things he says might sound rude but he’s just being honest. His reputation does help him conceal his true behavior. His love is suffocating and overpowering. Surely you can learn to accept this ugly Vil as you would the beautiful Vil. Not to mention, he’s clouding your mind to the point all you can think about is him (managed to save these headcanons because I thought the song Aishite X3 (I’m typing all that out) and how I personally feel Vil would relate to it on some form.
After editing these headcanons I came to the horrifying truth that this sounds like Nate and Cassie’s relationship in euphoria. . . shit. Oh! Before I forget, on the rope-chain-saw scale I think he would be chain. He isn’t one to restrict you physically, but he would restrict with you magic and potions. As I mentioned before, he’d try to manipulate you to turn the tables around, it would be you seeking him rather than him seeking you which would put him on the rope scale. Since he has a possibility of using magic to keep you obedient (rather than make you because he still wants you to make that choice) he would be placed on the chain, you can win back freedom (basically he has no use for the potions at this point) as long as you continue to prove your devotion to him! Okay, this time FOR SURE I’m done!
Rook Hunt
This man scares me, he’s horrifying. In canon, he’s probably just a bit off-putting and he’ll be nice to you but as a yandere? That being said, Rook is manipulative, possessive, obsessive, and sadistic. Let’s get into it!
The biggest thing with Rook is that we need to see his reference material, he’s a hunter. That predator and prey dynamic is quite strong as we’ve seen in the beanfest event, he likes the thrill. Normally I’d say to run but he enjoys the thrill of that so start walking slowly. Let’s talk about his S/O, I try not to put too many traits because I truly like to believe that they prefer the personality of their S/O as opposed to anything specific but he’d be interested in his S/O. Their way of thinking and the way they carry themselves. We know he loves beauty and has no problem voicing his admiration, but when it comes to his S/O, his comments increase a lot. He loves the way you dress, the way you carry yourself, the way you write your name, and the way you speak, if you have any anxious ticks they don’t go unnoticed and he loves them as well. He’s very observant of any and all things you do, it’s scary. He’s like Kalim who sees the beauty and the good things, he just communicates them differently. To be honest, right now, Rook would make you love things about yourself that you hate or never knew about. As a yandere, that doesn’t change but his love increases by a lot. Tying this in with his obsessive trait, he knows everything. When you leave class with Grim, his eyes are on you. When you take a test and scratch your head, look confused (stuff you do basically), etc, he’s watching. He takes in any and all information possible. Things that are routine to you, he analyzes and takes great interest. Like a hunter studies his prey, he studies you just as well. Maybe at first, it was just something he does, but then it started to become extreme. If you take walks around Ramshackle and you feel eyes on you, it might be him. He doesn’t do anything other than stalk but that doesn’t make it any better. His eyes are ALWAYS on you. Taking in EVERYTHING. He’s extremely obsessive if you couldn’t tell.
Manipulative and this is also where I want to include his ‘unique’ trait. He will NEVER trust you. I’m like jumping a couple of steps but this will all make sense, promise. His manipulation isn’t like the others where they isolate you and try to make it seem like you only have them. It also isn’t something based on authority where they say, “I’m this so you should trust me” or where they use their fame to get you to comply (AKA blackmail). No, Rook takes on a different route. He’s a hunter and he’s always setting up bait but his reasoning isn’t always to prove your loyalty and love, it’s because he finds it fun. Like the Leech twins, you’ll have to be constantly on edge with him. It’s all about observing you. If you read yandere fanfiction, I’m sure you’ve seen prompts that involve the yandere placing the darling (you) in a situation where they can escape, but it’s secretly a test. With Rook, you’ll NEVER know it’s a test. You could stay put for three hours and Rook comes back saying he was busy. You realize then, you could have gotten help but you didn’t. Sometimes, he’ll leave you for 15 minutes and the moment you turn around to run, he’s there. You’ll either have to try to escape at every opportunity or stay put at every opportunity. He could send you on an errand, running papers to a teacher. Out of the fear that he’s watching even though logically he wouldn’t be in the office, you don’t say anything. You realize too late that it was a perfect opportunity to flee from him. This ties in with his unique trait.
He will NEVER trust you. In fanfiction when the darling has been ‘loyal’ (basically playing into their hands waiting to get the upper hand and flee) for some time ranging from a couple of months to years and the yandere assumes that they’ve finally given in. Yeah no, that’s not happening with Rook. You could be together for 10+ years and with 8 children, but he’ll NEVER assume you’ve given in. He’ll play the role and display signs that make it seem that he has but rest assured he hasn’t. He can be the perfect husband, and doting father, and just be a textbook family. You think you’ve planned well, surely after all these years he would believe your charade but no, Rook still keeps an eye on you. Not to mention, he has an army of 8 kids. He probably taught them to recognize signs and to snitch on you. Imagine you’re planning on leaving him but taking the kids and you tell them the plan but all these fuckers turned on you. Yeah, trust is something that comes hard with Rook (if you ever gain it), but this also ties in with the rope-chain-saw scale. He’d be rope. He enjoys the thrill of the hunt and I don’t see him as someone who tires of it. He’ll have some restrictions but overall, he wants you to be as free as possible. You won’t have any extreme restrictions or anything holding you back other than your fear of him. Funny enough, this brings me to my second point, he’s sadistic.
He doesn’t mean to harm you physically, but mentally he loves it. Physically, maybe but it’s not that common. He’ll find your scared expression beautiful and exciting, it shows how much you’re afraid of him. Of course, he wants your love and honestly, in a non-yandere setting, he’d be the perfect boyfriend. As a yandere, he THRIVES off the idea that he’s the biggest threat in your eyes. It’s the thrill of the hunt that makes that catch so much sweeter. Despite all the opportunities of escape (test or not), you don’t take them because of that fear. Any and all bait (escape or not because it’s mostly used to track your reactions) is meant to cause mental anguish. If you do bite he may inflict some physical pain but it’s not something that happens often. In the commissioned fic I wrote, you ran and Rook used an arrow to stop you. Yeah, he’ll do that again. He’ll treat you very well after (medical sense) but he’s not above harming you temporarily. I didn’t put him on the scale as saw, because he doesn’t want to take away your ability to run. Back to the original point, the mental anguish he causes is so much worse. It’s the way he will pamper you, loves you, gives you gifts, and speaks sweet words that make you melt away in a blissful state. You seem to forget that his eyes are closed on to you, he sets up traps that you may or may not recognize until after he appears to give you praise or punishment based on the result. You can’t read him and you can’t predict his intention so you live in fear. That’s what sadistic Rook loves, he’s the cause of your pain and fear.
Wrapping these headcanons, Rook gets an 11/10 on the yandere scale. I wanted to say 10/10 because he’s a danger but because he’ll never trust you he gets an 11/10. Escape really isn’t an option (unless you want to end it all but even then your snitch children might step in). He’s possessive like most, if not ALL yanderes. You’re his, trust me others will regret messing with you. I don’t think Rook would isolate you so he’s not possessive in that sense (like some of the yanderes) but he still wants you to be his and his alone. I don’t think he’d brand you (this brings up a tiny point how despite what you think he sees you as an equal and not as a pet because the mental anguish he causes is what leads you to make that dynamic) but if pushed to the point, he may and find beauty in something of his on your skin. He’s dangerous because he causes an INSANE amount of mental anguish (cater levels) but he can also be physical if need be. He’s always watching and his love is like an anchor, constantly weighing you down and making it hard to breathe. All eyes on you as he sees everything and anything, not to mention his unique magic? Yeah no, escape has and will never be an option. Honestly, I feel like maybe (since this isn’t canon and a yandere headcanon) the whole Pomefiore dorm might be in on it. I see Rook trusting Epel and Vil with you or knowing about you. They might even be the unsuspecting bait that Rook plants. If you thought one pair of highly trained hunting eyes was bad enough, imagine a dorm full of eyes that are trained to see people in the spotlight.
Epel Felmier
So starting right off the bat I’m gonna say what his unique trait is. It’s his appearance. Book 5 was about Vil trying to get Epel to see that his cute face was something he could use to his advantage rather than a disadvantage. So, he’s going to take what Vil taught him and put it to good use. Overall characteristics would include manipulative and overprotective, with a hint of possessiveness.
Finding a way to tie in his unique trait with these characteristics is simple but let’s get into it! Manipulating you and others is quite easy for Epel. Though he doesn’t like being seen as some dainty and petite individually, he’s more than content using it to get you and others to listen to him. You would probably lower your guard a lot more with Epel because it’s Epel. At first glance, I think most of us could push him away if things ever got physical. Which is why Epel doesn’t seem like a danger at first. Epel's gentle and soft-spoken nature is something so refreshing to be around with (especially after hanging out with Ace and Deuce) and is usually quite calming. Epel is sweet and caring, always minding his manners which are suited for someone in Pomefiore. He doesn’t need to do any extra work because you feel comfortable around him talking about your personal life. When something occurs, you may ask Epel for his advice or maybe just to listen (which he’s always down for). It’s different from the others because sometimes Ace happens to say things so bluntly and Deuce, while having good intentions, says things that just don’t work. Epel is a soft-spoken person who offers advice in a tone that doesn’t mean to criticize or look down upon. Finding ways to effectively get his point across without the need of hurting your feelings. You trust Epel so much and while he appreciates this, he knows it stems from his appearance.
I can see him slightly being annoyed by this at first until he starts to slip up. Imagine your surprise when Epel is single-handly arguing and fighting the students who made fun of you. Imagine your surprise when the sweet boy starts to act out, saying things you didn’t expect to leave his mouth and just starts acting different. It’s total whiplash. Once he’s gotten your trust and you start to reconsider, his appearance comes to the rescue when you start accusing Epel of things he’s done. Honestly, I can see Vil and Rook stepping in if things get serious but most of the time his good looks do the talking. What do you mean Epel scared you? He grabbed your wrist and left a nasty bruise? That doesn’t sound like the Epel I know. Did he say all those mean things to you? Are you sure? Epel doesn’t speak like that! Suddenly, he’s making everyone turn against you for speaking out against him. How scary is Epel?
I want to include overprotectiveness and possessiveness together because they go hand in hand. Epel loves you and he’d fight for your honor! It’s quite cute, brave, and courageous to see someone of a small stature standing up against the bad guys. He was raised on the principle of treating everyone with respect and you’re no different! His possessiveness ties in when others try to steal you away from him. No doubt looking down on him because of his size and he needs to show them who’s boss! Well, he sounds tame, so what’s the big issue? Ladies and gentleman, it’s a power dynamic scale we have going on. See Epel is so used to being seen as someone small and petite and while he appears that way to his darling, he has the ability to remind them who is in charge. Though I don’t see Epel as being someone to get physical with you off the bat, there are times when he sees it as his last resort (and by last I mean he tried one other option and gave up). Considering he has a short temper, it’s more often than not. He can be like Ace who says some mean things and basically degrades you but no point in telling anyone because it’s not like anyone would believe sweet Epel would say that. He can pose a threat and when all else fails, start resulting to hitting you to keep you tied to him but again no use saying anything because who would believe you? Granted, there is only so much he can hide behind leading me to a small point, I think Vil and Rook would encourage his behavior.
Vil would dislike the way he’s so rough with you but he did gain your trust with that pretty face of his. Rook would find it amusing. Honestly, he’d feel the same when he thinks you shouldn’t be too rough with your darling, but Epel is a stubborn one who doesn’t accept defeat. In the rope-chain-saw scale, he’d be split between rope and chain. Honestly, like Rook, you start to grow a fear of Epel. While most of the time he’s his usual self (the one you came to love), saying the wrong thing could set him off and spell disaster for you. It’s like walking on eggshells for your safety. So at some point, Epel has no need for too many restrictions but Vil encourages him not to slip up. Not to get too cocky and assume he’ll always be at the top because an unssuspecting person came come and steal you away. It’s as if they’re trying to make him worse than he already is, resulting in the border between chain and rope. Depending on what happens and how he feels, he made add too many restrictions and he’s always inconsistent with them, but most of the time he’s a rope. Doesn’t feel the need to keep you caged and away when you already know the consequences that await you.
Epel overall isn’t too dangerous, maybe a 6/10? His behaviors can start to get predictable but do be careful with that face. He may even stage a situation where you’re the one hurting precious Epel and onlookers judge you. How could you come to hurt someone like Epel? Surely he didn’t pose too much of a threat. Though, while he physically is strong and has a quite short temper, his behaviors can become routine and easy to follow. He’s really only a danger more than Deuce because he would have the help of Vil and Rook. I’m sure that over time you could turn the tables on him and either fight back or paint him to be the villain he is. He’s truly like the poisoned apple, beautiful and tempting on the outside but rotten to the core.
#yandere vil schoenheit#yandere vil x reader#yandere rook hunt x reader#yandere rook hunt#yandere rook x reader#yandere epel felmier#yandere epel x reader#yandere twst#yandere twisted wonderland x reader#yandere twisted wonderland#yandere#yandere x y/n#yandere x reader#yandere x darling#yandere x you#yandere headcanons#yandere headcannons#yandere imagines#kikyan
555 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Life Ransomed
A/N: Got a new request!
pairing: Sebastian Michaelis x Reader
warnings: Some curse words, description of violence and blood
w/c: 1733
Prompt: Sebastian’s mate has been kidnapped. He will do anything to bring her back.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sebastian hadn't seen you for a couple of hours which made him nervous. Sebastian Michaelis was one hell of a butler and this meant that not many things went under his radar. You were one of them, especially as his mate. You were a maid for Ciel Phantomhive and Sebastian was the one to recruit you after you left serving for the queen's guard. He thought that your skills as a soldier would be beneficial for protecting Ciel against his enemies and your training meant you knew how to take orders. You were probably the best employee of Ciel's besides Sebastian, which isn't saying a lot...
For Sebastian, you were different than any other human. Your mind is so much more complex than he thought possible and it intrigued him to no end. He wanted to understand what thoughts go through your head at all times. Plus, you also had a deep affinity for cats which was a bonus. And you are beautiful. He never saw an angel as pretty as you, with those locks, your soft skin, and those eyes which sparkle even when they're sad or annoyed. He adored you. You had come to care for him as well and eventually, he made you his mate. According to Sebastian, demons only have one mate for their entire life. Even if they don't fall in love with each other or their mate, they still stay with that person forever. You two were bound and luckily you did love each other. You two would always do anything for each other. Sebastian would give you the world without hesitation. Ciel did eventually find out about you both. At first, he didn’t know whether or not he should condone the relationship but Sebastian appeared to have more determination in his duties thanks to you. Ultimately, Ciel decided to let the two of you keep being together even though he had concerns.
It was becoming later in the day and you were nowhere to be seen. Sebastian's fears continued to grow and he was beginning to worry that something bad happened to you. He continued his duties but he made sure to look around for you each time he completed a task for the young master. He walked to the gardens hoping you weren’t hiding from him. He stopped by every place that could be considered a meeting point between you two and there was simply no sight of you. His realization that you weren't at the Phantomhive manner made a pitfall in his stomach.
He opted to ignore his fears contemplating the possibility that maybe Ciel sent you into town to retrieve something. No...that couldn't be the case, because you'd be back by now. The Phantomhive manor was vast with plenty of places where people might hide. Maybe someone kidnapped you? That thought sent chills down Sebastian’s spine. Ciel had many enemies, it was possible. After thinking for several moments, he realized that there was no evidence of this either.
One of Sebastian's last tasks for the day was retrieving the mail from the porch. Sebastian opened the long door to see several letters strung about. He noticed that some were sealed tight with wax but most were addressed to the Ciel and some to other members of the household. Something out of the ordinary is that there is one addressed to him. Sebastian throughout his entire time at the manor had never received a piece of mail. It must have been delivered earlier today while he was tending to Ciel. Carefully, Sebastian opened the small envelope and began to read:
Dear Mr. Michaellis,
I apologize for contacting you on such short notice but please forgive me for interrupting your work today. I'm afraid my business is not very pleasant but we have a settle to score. My men have taken your partner and will take your life in exchange for hers. I believe this is a reasonable bargain to prevent unnecessary bloodshed. Come alone or die trying to reach her. I have hired the strongest men so your little fiasco that happened once won't happen again.
Azzurro Vanel
Sebastian crumpled up the letter in disgust as anger bubbled in his chest and his eyes flashed fuschia. Azzurro and his men were going to take his mate? How dare they! He would make them pay! Without waiting another moment, he ran towards the kitchen grabbing a handful of knives. He needed to hunt down these bastards and kill them.
"Hey! What the bloody hell are you doing?!" Someone called out to him. It was Ciel.
Before Sebastian could say anything, Ciel pulled him aside and started lecturing him furiously.
"What in heaven's name are you doing with my silverware?"
Sebastian looked stern as he continued to grab various kitchen items.
"I was just taking care of some business." Ciel gave him a disapproving glare and shook his head.
"Don't think that I haven't seen your worried expressions all day." Sebastian frowned at Ciel's comment and sighed. "Y/N has been taken by Azzurro Vanel. I plan to return her home."
Ciel nodded. "Well I can't fault you for wanting to bring home your lover but please be home before 10 PM."
Sebastian nodded before picking up a knife.
---
Sebastian ran through the entrance of the run-down building on the edge of London, throwing a knife at the head of a hired mercenary. Sebastian felt exhilarated as he watched the man fall to the ground with blood dripping off his temple. There was a slight pause as the mercenaries recovered from the attack but Sebastian took no time killing them as well. He wasn't about to waste a second. As Sebastian reached the staircase leading towards what appeared to be the office, likely where Azzurro was holding you. With all the energy he possessed, Sebastian kicked open the door. Inside, Sebastian found Azzurro sitting behind his desk while two large men held guns at his head.
You were tied up like cattle to a chair across from Azzurro. His face was emotionless except for his piercing gaze. A few candles illuminated the room allowing Sebastian enough light to see the way your face contorted in pure fear.
"I told you to come in peace," Azzurro said calmly. "So let's begin the fun."
Azzuro stood from behind the desk and made his way toward your side. Sebastian glared daggers at him until Azzurro grabbed you roughly by your arm. Sebastian moved a step forward until a gun was placed to your head. You whimpered in fear and squeezed your eyes shut. Sebastian froze. He hated seeing you this vulnerable, scared even, especially since he himself was feeling extremely upset.
"Don't try anything," Azzurro threatened. Sebastian narrowed his eyes at him before glancing over at your scared expression. A shiver traveled down his spine as his heart broke for you. You were so fragile. His mate.
Sebastian took one more step forward and a gunshot was heard. The smoke left Azzurro's gun but you were not harmed. In fact, you looked like nothing had happened at all. Sebastian smirked slightly as he turned out to be now behind Azzurro, holding the bullet out to him.
"I want you to know why you are dying Azzurro," Sebastian spoke quietly. "You tried to harm the woman whom I care deeply for and she didn't need or deserve it, therefore, I'll make sure you get the same fate as your men."
Sebastion removed your mouth gag and gave you a sad smile. "Don't cry (y/n). Everything will be alright. This bastard will suffer. I promise... " You tried to respond but Sebastian interrupted. "I need you to close your eyes." You smiled back. Tears began to roll down your cheeks as you closed your eyes. Sebastian took the bullet in his hand before pressing the barrel against Azzurro's forehead.
You heard screams, gunshots, and bodies falling to the ground. Your ears began ringing loudly as your mind struggled to understand what was happening. "You can open your eyes, my love," Sebastian said softly. Your vision focused and there he was standing right in front of you. Sebastian was alive but Azzurro was dead, bleeding profusely. "We won't let anyone hurt you ever again," Sebastian stated. He moved behind you and uncuffed your wrists.
You immediately wrapped your arms around Sebastian, sobbing hysterically. He rubbed circles into your back as he hugged you close to his chest and rested his chin atop your head, whispering sweet nothings into your ear to calm you down. Eventually, your breathing started to regulate and you began calming down a bit. You loosened your grip and Sebastian finally removed your head from his chin. You turned around and looked at the carnage that was in the room. Blood was everywhere. Even you were covered in it. Sebastian lifted your chin up and wiped the tears away with his thumb. "Are you ok?" He asked.
You nodded slowly and sniffled as tears flowed down your face once more. "Thank you... thank you." You whispered. "For everything." Sebastian chuckled and wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you closer to him.
"Of course, my love."
---
Sebastian and you sat together on the bed in the guestroom as the sun slowly disappeared. You were still shaken by what happened. The only thing keeping you sane was Sebastian's presence next to you. Sebastian was rubbing your arm soothingly. He had insisted upon getting the both of you cleaned up after your encounter with Azzurro which he refused to leave your side for even a moment. Your clothes and hair were stained red from blood, sweat, and dirt. Sebastian had also cleaned your cuts from their rough handling as best as he could with alcohol.
"How did you find me?" You asked.
"I followed your scent. I knew you were here somewhere." Sebastian replied. "I was... scared." You nodded your head and kissed his cheek tenderly.
"It's fine. We're safe now," you reassured him. Sebastian leaned into you as he gently touched his lips against yours. You melted into his embrace as your body relaxed.
He moved the both of you to lie down so you were resting comfortably against one another. Your eyes grew heavy as exhaustion overcame your system. Before you fell asleep completely, Sebastian slipped his arms under your head causing you to nestle deeper into him.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Submit a request here
#black butler#kuroshitsuji#sebastian#sebastian michaelis#sebastian x reader#sebastian michaelis x reader#sebastian michaelis x y/n#sebastian x y/n#sebastian michaelis x you#sebastian x you#black butler imagines#black butler one shot#black butler x reader#Kuroshitsuji imagines#Kuroshitsuji one shot#kuroshitsuji x reader
748 notes
·
View notes
Text
Yandere! Kyojuro Rengoku General Profile
Yandere! Kyojuro Rengoku x fem! reader
Tw: kidnapping, stalking, violence, he breaks your fingers, Kyo feeds you bird-style and it's pretty gross and gnarly, delusions/detachment from reality, Stockholm Syndrome, masturbation, slight misogyny/traditional gender roles, forced motherhood, allusions to non-con, you and Kyo share a toothbrush ugh, lots of references to death, fem reader, MDNI
I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!
WC: 11K
DARLING PROFILE:
Caring
Similarly to most other Hashira, Kyojuro is greatly attracted to honest, genuine kindness.
His world is so full of hatred, death, and pain, and having a darling who is softer, sweeter, more empathetic makes his heart swell.
(And, occasionally, other things will swell when he sees his darling smiling or complimenting or speaking with children - but Kyojuro pays it no mind. So you shouldn’t, either.)
There’s just something so alluring about a darling who genuinely cares for the people around them - he himself is quite positive, if not blunt, and a darling who can match his philosophy of protecting and caring for those who need it would be a perfect match.
He likes the idea of a darling who has the best intentions of others’ at heart; it’s refreshing to see and interact with someone who is so pure and wonderfully kind, because while his fellow slayers are certainly committed to a good cause, his darling is different.
They’re naturally sweet, utterly unaware of the horrors of this world and yet still striving to make others smile, still trying to help undo any wrongs those around them have experienced.
This aspect of his darling is one of the first things he notices about them, and while he’s not a selfish man by any means, he’ll grow to absolutely love when this caring nature is directed at him, particular after long, difficult missions where he’s both physically and emotionally exhausted, only desiring to hold something soft and sweet and warm.
Coincidentally, something exactly like his darling.
Passionate
The specific passion itself is inconsequential – it doesn’t matter what his darling loves, as long as they love something.
He himself is driven by internal motivation and a righteousness to help others, and while his darling doesn’t need to be quite this serious, he likes the idea of them having goals and aspirations.
The most likely way this manifests itself within his darling is through a creative platform – art, music, culinary arts, writing, or any sort of activity in which his darling can express themselves.
He likes that his darling has something they truly enjoy, and he’s the type to want to learn about and indulge in his darling’s passion.
He’ll eagerly listen to everything they have to say, absorbing the information with wide, glittering eyes and a smile, trying so very hard to listen to their words but getting repeatedly distracted by how utterly adorable they look when they’re concentrating.
He can’t stop admiring the way they look when they’re discussing their passion, how happy they become, radiating a sort of joy and glow that only makes him fall harder and deeper, his obsession solidifying with every smile they give him.
And he’ll fully foster this passion of theirs – he’s got access to any resources his darling can dream of, easily providing them and enjoying the way their face lights up, how they become so grateful.
His only caveat is that he has to watch them as they work at their passion, getting a front row seat to watch them enjoy themselves, his bright eyes fixed on them the entire time because god, how are they so utterly perfect?
It’s endearing to Kyojuro because in his mind, his darling looks at him that way, too, with a smile and undying love.
Ambitious
Now, his darling doesn’t need to be ambitious in the sense that they take huge risks, or even that they have high expectations and goals for themselves.
It can manifest this way, sure, but the main core of why he finds this personality trait attractive is because it shows drive.
He likes a darling who has a strong sense of self; he doesn’t want to change his beloved in any way; he wants to be their pillar of support, to offer unwavering help and encouragement for whatever pursuits they’re chasing after, no matter how big or small.
He thinks it’s a wonderful thing to have dreams for the future, just as he does – he dreams of Senjuro once again having a happy family (one he hopes his darling will help provide), and of all demons being eradicated so that the world can live peacefully.
He’ll cherish and respect any dreams his darling possesses, but only if they don’t interfere with what he believes should happen.
He prioritizes his relationship with his darling above many things, and this includes what his darling wants most.
He will be expecting them to dutifully become his loving partner and wife, to bear his children and help him raise them, to be a guiding, loving hand to teach them morality, charity, and all sorts of other things that his darling hardly believes he possesses.
So while he’ll likely crush the ambitions his darling possesses, the mere fact that they have ambitions is attractive to him.
Talkative
It’s not that Kyojuro can’t fall for a quieter darling, but rather that he wants someone who will match his chattiness.
He’s naturally quite loud, truly a boisterous man who loves to interact with others.
He’s constantly peppering his darling with questions, his voice a steady flow as he just talks and talks and talks, throwing compliments and them alongside grandiose declarations of love, all intermixed with small talk about the weather or the flowers on the sides of the village pathways, or even about the pretty birds flying in the sky.
He just likes interacting with his darling, and he needs someone that is willing to return his eagerness to talk.
He likes the way his darling’s attention stays on him when he’s speaking to them; how their eyes stay fixed on his form, how they nod along to his words, how they laugh at his outlandish, unbelievable claims and logic, how they just simply acknowledge him, making him feel comfortable and seen and wanted.
Kyojuro will want to spend hours talking with his darling, and he needs someone who can match this energy. He needs a darling who can pepper him with their own questions, who can keep the conversation flowing and keep the interaction alive.
Besides, Kyojuro has this unwavering, unsatiable curiosity for his beloved, one that can only be partially quelled when his darling is revealing more and more about themselves.
And he’ll eagerly listen, mentally storing away each new piece of information, remembering absolutely everything because everything about his darling is important, something that must be remembered and cherished and worshipped.
They’re just perfect, and if they’re naturally chatty, it only furthers his obsession.
GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:
Delusional
Generally speaking, from the moment that Kyojuro’s feelings for you fully form, he’s absolutely, utterly under the impression that every emotion, desire and draw he feels towards you is returned fully. He honestly believes that you’re just as in love as he is, that the connection he’s so acutely aware of between the both of you is mutual, that you’re just as desperate and eager to be his partner, his lover, his wife and the woman he’ll spend the rest of his life with.
He doesn’t have any real romantic experience - he’s been attracted to women before, sure, but he’s never courted someone before you simply because when he courts, he intends to wed.
And as a result, his only real reference for romance is his own parents’ relationship. And while it was loving, beautiful, healthy while his mother was still alive, time and his changing father have left Kyojuro with a bit of a warped view of love.
And this is where his delusions stem from - he’s confident, desperate for you to return the passionate feelings he holds for you, and he manages to convince himself of your growing love for him every day.
He’s so sure, in fact, that even as his obsession with you forms (slowly, as he’s a bit picky about partners and can be a bit oblivious even towards his own feelings), so do the beginnings of his detachment from reality. As he slowly begins realizing that he enjoys being in your presence more than most other people, your smiles and greetings of oh hello Rengoku, I didn’t know you’d be here will seem more and more like you expressing your glee at having him by your side rather than a simple, platonic welcome.
As he realizes that hearing you laugh makes his palms sweat and his heart race, he begins thinking your laugh is really for him, that your chuckles are stronger when they’re directed at him than compared to others.
He’s imagining your pretty face lighting up with that radiant smile behind closed eyes when he’s falling asleep at night, and slowly he begins concluding that your every quirk of the lip towards him must mean that you’re happy with him, that his presence alone fills you with a sort of joy that you simply can’t hide.
(And, perhaps you know that it’s you that fills his thoughts at night – maybe you’re purposefully plaguing his thoughts, trying to tell him something - perhaps you want him to think of you and your lovely mouth, the way your lips look when you say his name, how your tongue flicks out to wet them just so…)
It’s mostly innocent in the beginning; his delusions manifest more as simply misreading the signals you send him, honest mistakes that aren’t too uncommon – but, as the relationship (or, at least the one Kyojuro is trying so very hard cultivate) progresses, these slips in judgment become more and more profound, more and more difficult to ignore.
When he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest as he inhales deeply and enthusiastically greets you in a voice just a bit too breathy for your liking, Kyojuro sees your discreet attempts at ending the far-too-long hug as you merely trying to get comfortable.
Surely you just want to feel more of his body against your own, or want him to be closer so that there’s nothing separating you from him, from the love he’s oh so willing to give you.
When you bite your lip and avert your gaze as you politely ask him to stop staring at you so much and following you home, Kyojuro will simply smile, placing a hand on your shoulder and giving you a firm don’t worry, I don’t mind protecting you! It’s my place as a Hashira, after all, so don’t needlessly fret!
He honestly doesn’t understand why you’re not as happy as he is, and frankly he can’t even really fathom the idea that you aren’t happy – how can he, when he’s been searching for so many years for a partner to love and spoil?
How can he, when your body just seems to perfectly fit against his own, your voice like honey and your name a drug as it slips from his lips?
How can he, when he’s seen his father so harshly decline, when the memory of his mother is still so fresh, when he wants so badly to build a family of his own, to give Senjuro another family to call his?
How can he, when you become the sole reason he begins valuing his own life during missions, not being as reckless because he needs to come home to you - you need your lover and husband, of course.
(In more ways than one - who will protect you? Provide for you? Pleasure you?)
Kyojuro honestly latches onto you, his every thought and emotion revolving around you you you, to the point where even once he’s locked you away, deep inside the Rengoku residence with your shared bed and lovely, expensive new kimonos neatly folded in stacks upon stacks (all in shades of reds and golds, of course, to signify your status with him), he still won’t recognize that you’re always crying because you’re scared.
He won’t realizethat you flinch when he touches you because you don’t want him anywhere near you.
He won’t connect the dots that you spend each and every night curled up in a ball weeping because you just want to go home, please Kyojuro, please…
Try as he may, he just can’t fathom that you aren’t as madly, desperately in love – so don’t bother, really, because it’s much more hassle than it’s worth, and in the end he’ll get what he wants. He always will get what he wants, so why don’t you just give in?
He’ll never let you go, never believe any of your pleas to be freed from him, so why don’t you just accept his love?
Protective
Honestly, your personal combat abilities are irrelevant - in Kyojuro’s mind, you’re weak. Defenseless. Laughably unable to keep yourself safe and out of trouble - incapable, even, though it sounds a bit harsh.
He believes that you’re too fragile and sweet and wonderful to be anywhere near a demon, a human with bad intentions, or anything of the sort.
Your strengths lie not in battle, but in your charm and beauty - you’re so sweet, your words melting him like butter and leaving him as putty in your hands, his heart doing backflips in his chest as his fingers twitch to do anything and everything just to keep you smiling.
Your talents lie in the way you effortlessly intrigue him; your words ensnaring his attention no matter the topic, your touch sending electricity up his spine, even your most mundane actions making him stop and stare because every little thing you do is important.
You simply aren’t made for the battlefield, or for confrontation in general - he’s sure of it, and he’s arguably the most trustworthy source of judgment you could find. He’s a seasoned Hashira, seen more death than you can imagine, slaughtered more demons than you can count, so could he really be wrong in his assessment of your abilities?
He sees you as a bit of a baby, in all honesty, because while he’s more than aware of your womanly charms (the not so subtle way his eyes rake over your figure when he forces you to bathe with him is enough to convince you of that, if the way his hands ghost over the bulge of his trousers when you speak to him wasn’t enough), he still can’t shake the paranoia that you’ll one day be hurt.
He’s terrified that you can’t really take care of yourself as well as he can. And frankly, the paranoia isn’t unfounded – it’s difficult to fault him for his overprotectiveness when you think of his past, how often he sees death, and how often he’s the cause of it.
He’s too accustomed to seeing others’ lives lost, and he absolutely refuses to allow you the same fate, so long as he’s breathing and has enough finger strength to grip his sword and send air rushing through his lungs.
He’s determined to a disturbing degree to keep you safe; with every demon he decapitates, internally he’s sighing in relief because that’s one less monster that could potentially sink their claws into you - every demon dead is a step towards keeping you safe, healthy, alive, his.
He’s patronizing in an odd way, because while he doubts your capabilities, he doesn’t treat you like you’re a child. He’s just hovering, always, with his eyes glued to you and that same unnerving, wide smile on his lips that never seems to go away when you’re around him.
His gaze is wide and excited as he sees how you bring the bowl of soup to your lips to sip, the intensity of the way he watches making your hands tremble and a bit of the hot soup spill down to your chest.
He’ll let you feed yourself - for now - but as soon as you flinch, the heat and wetness making you cringe as you get up to clean yourself, he’s on you – a flash of yellow and red as he tut-tuts and uses the sleeve of his haori to wipe up the mess, a thumb against your lip and his face much too close to yours as he tells you to be careful, don’t hurt yourself, my flame.
He’s not letting you touch anything with sharp edges, for fear that you’ll trip and cut yourself, nor does he allow you permission to speak to anyone new that he hasn’t already extensively vetted in his own way.
(This comprises mostly of just simply observing someone, and the moment he sees something even slightly unfavorable - like a snarky comment or even having their hair be messy - he’s deciding that they’re not good enough to interact with you - you’re better than them, and speaking with them would only taint you, bringing you down from the pedestal he places you on.)
He’s controlling, not allowing anyone into your life that isn’t himself, to the point that he’ll simply show up the second another man or woman begins speaking with you, a strong arm around your waist with fingers digging in much harsher than they should, that familiar smile tight on his lips.
He’s terrified that he’ll one day lose you, and in a lot of ways keeping you safe is his own way of living up to the expectations of his mother.
You’re weak, so damn weak, and you need someone to care for you, to be there for you and take care of you in your time of need, and Kyojuro is more than happy to take on the role, to take responsibility of your life and safety.
It’s a bit overwhelming, how he’s always offering to do tasks for you, interrupting you halfway through to take over with that broad grin of his, that laugh and a rambunctious what kind of lover would I be if I didn’t carry your groceries for you making it difficult to stop him.
And really, eventually you’ll get to the point of relenting and letting him to do as he pleases, because as much as the man may intimidate you, scare you or disturb you, there’s just something about his desperation to please you that’ll get you feeling oddly flattered, flustered simply because of the lengths he’s willing to go.
Because really, while it may scare you how his hand always seems to find a place at your hip, don’t all the stories and movies have chivalrous male leads helping guide the girl through crowded areas, a steady hand to help keep them grounded, just as Kyojuro does?
Sure, it’s weird how he knows the order from every restaurant in town that you like, how he’s always able to show up at just the right time with a steaming bowl of udon or whatever you’re feeling, but doesn’t it feel nice to be cared for, that he thought of you and made the stop to buy you something?
It may be disturbing how he gulps and smiles wider every time he sees you bend over, but isn’t it flattering to know that he finds your body attractive?
He won’t allow you to place a finger on anything or anyone that could hurt you, so you’d better get used to the life of a pampered housewife – because while it will take him a long while to allow you to cook with any sort of heat, there’s something oddly therapeutic about being your big, strong partner that provides for you, while you keep his bed and heart warm, all with that natural charm he finds so alluring.
Clingy
Because Kyojuro’s perceptions of your relationship aren’t exactly realistic, he’ll come off as extremely, extremely needy to you. But it’s in a strange way – he’s not constantly clinging onto you, needing your reassurance and needing your eyes to stay focused entirely on him.
(He certainly won’t discourage this kind of behavior, of course, but he isn’t that outwardly desperate, and he isn’t the type to physically grasp your chin to keep you looking at him. He’ll perhaps grasp your hand or your waist to keep you at his hip, but he’s not quite that blatant.)
Instead, his clinginess manifests in how he’s simply always around you.
His presence will become a constant in your life – you’d be hard pressed to not see those familiar blond and red locks in your peripheral, or to hear that booming voice ringing in your ears. It would be difficult to find yourself in a public situation where Kyojuro isn’t standing diligently at your side, that blinding smile spread across his face, turning just a bit softer and a bit more earnest when it’s aimed at you.
Really, he simply hates being away from you. Not having you within his sight makes him nervous, anxiety itching at his stomach because where are you?
It’s not possessiveness, not a paranoia that you could be talking to other men, but rather an honest, genuine, horrible fear that you could be hurt, that someone could’ve taken you and injured you and touched you and possibly even have killed you.
And frankly, the fear isn’t too unfounded – you’ll understand why he's always rushing to you, literally running to catch up with you when you wander away from him, a steady hand pressing into your back as he pulls you into a hug, the faint smell of woodsmoke and musk filling your nose as the hard planes of his chest press against you.
It’s understandable, so you won’t really wonder why he’s always insisting on accompanying you every free moment he has, his presence acting as your shadow but much, much louder. It might make you uncomfortable, sure, because having someone always by your side is a little disorienting and overwhelming at times, but you’ll tolerate it – how can you tell Kyojuro no, anyway?
He’s so radiant when he’s giving you that smile, his eyes sparkling and his hands soft and gentle as he grasps onto yours, telling you that he’s so excited, we must try the new ramen shop down the street! I’ll order your favorite, you needn’t remind me what it is! I think we should share one, and perhaps a second or third…
(It’s probably not worth mentioning to him that you never even told him what your favorite is, he just seemed to know it, a fact that initially unnerved you, but you’ve found that guessing what you’ll like seems to be a talent of his. It’s not, of course, because he’s spent hours talking with any family members or friends of yours to learn every possible scrap of information about you that he can, introducing himself as your fiancé and charming them enough to get even the most sensitive secrets out of them, including your menstrual patterns, your bathing routine, even your temperament as a child because he’s convinced it will give him insight into the temperaments of your future – and inevitable – children together.)
You’ll disregard his penchant for always staying by your side in the beginning, but as time progresses it’ll become more difficult to let his behavior roll off your back.
Accompanying you to the market is fine, but you’ll bite your lip and find the courage to speak up when he ends up straying a good five feet behind you, his bright eyes burning holes into the back of your head as he keeps pace with you.
(When you turn around to ask him why he’s not walking with you, but rather trailing behind you like some sort of stalker, he’ll just laugh and tell you in that familiar, boisterous voice that he can protect you better this way! Besides, the view from this angle is excellent! Dissecting that last comment will only make you more uncomfortable, so you simply nod and keep walking, picking up your pace and desperately wishes you’d be arriving sooner.)
Him wanting to meet all your friends and acquaintances is fine, but when he’s pushing his way into the conversation and snaking an arm around your waist, you’ll feel just as awkward as your companions, disturbed by the casual manner with which Kyojuro handles you.
(This almost always leads to the assumption that the two of you are together, which you’ll frantically shake your head to, spouting some nonsense about being just friends that makes Kyojuro’s brows cock inwards, sending a glance at you with quizzical eyes. Just friends? You are certainly friends, but you’re more than that – friends don’t daydream about each other, and friends certainly don’t spend nights with ragged breaths, bucking hips, and the other’s name slipping from their lips like a prayer.)
He’s just a lot, and while you knew this from the beginning, time will only increase his behavior, pushing him more and more into spending time with you, into writing you letters while he’s away on a mission (they’re mostly detailing how much he misses you, telling you of each object and person that reminded him of you, and while it would be sweet, the sheer volume and frequency of these letters will make you loathed to open them), even into pushing past your boundaries and being much, much too familiar with you.
(You’ll bid him goodnight after he’s walked you home from the meal he insisted you share, but he doesn’t seem to get the hint and instead waltzes straight into your modest home, settling himself at your tableside and beaming at you, telling you to join me, my flame, I wish to hear about your deepest desires! He won’t insist on staying the night, as that would be too inappropriate for a not yet married couple – which he seems to be insinuating the two of you are – and will eventually take his leave, but not before gently grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss against your knuckles that’s much, much too wet, and far too long.)
His clinginess can be suffocating, of course, but once you’re stuck with him, forced to live in the Rengoku estate and call him your husband?
Well, if you thought he was needy before, it’s nothing compared to the way he treats you then – constantly wandering hands (concentrated mostly at your waist, hips, and squeezing your thighs), compliments that toe the line between heartfelt and disturbing (you are so very beautiful, particularly when you’re asleep – did you know that you smell a certain way when you’re unconscious? It’s sweet, like ripe fruit; I wish to smell it at all times), and those eyes always, always focused on you.
Every free moment he has goes into attending to you, whether you want it or not, so don’t even bother trying to get some distance from the Flame Pillar.
He will invade your space and he will not be regretful, his delusions most often barring him from even realizing that you’re uncomfortable.
He’s simply a man who ardently admires and desires you, and at the end of the day, you can’t even really blame him. Because, as they say, love makes one do crazy things, and he’s certainly, certainly in love with you.
DEALING WITH RIVALS:
When it comes to jealousy, Kyojuro is surprisingly relatively unaffected, all things considered.
He’s not someone who’s biting at your heels the moment another man spares you a glance, and while he obviously doesn’t like the way other men interact with you, he’s not nearly as suffocating regarding his possessiveness as some of his fellow Hashira.
He tends to give others the benefit of the doubt, and while he’s still very protective over you and would immediately step in if another man posed a threat to your safety or comfort, he doesn’t automatically assume that any man who interacts with you has nefarious intent.
And so, he doesn’t immediately grow jealous and snarl at any man stupid enough to come within a few feet of you – he’s not as depraved, at least in that sense.
(In others, absolutely, but if Kyojuro has one redeeming quality, it’s his judgement of character.)
However, this isn’t because of some moral high ground the Pillar possesses, or a firm sense of lucidity – in fact, it’s quite the opposite, as his delusions drive most of his indifference regarding other men giving you attention.
He’s so, so confident in the idea that you’re meant for one another that he honestly doesn’t even register that you could interested in another man, that you could be stolen away from him willingly, that you could fall in love with anyone but the Flame Hashira himself.
He just doesn’t get it, and so he isn’t as suffocating as he could be in these situations – no, not by a long shot, something you’re admittedly equal parts lucky and unlucky for.
Because really, while you won’t have to deal with the isolation that comes with extreme levels of possessiveness, being Kyojuro’s darling is certainly not an easy ride – how can it be, when he’s so blatantly unaware of the signs in front of him that a man is coming on to you, that he’s smiling and flirting with you and reaching out to brush the hair away from your eyes while you bashfully grin and laugh at his lame jokes?
How can you not be unsettled with the way he’s so unaffected, always spouting nonsense about how in love you two are, how perfect of a match you are, how no man would ever dare take you away from me – how could anyone break such a real bond of love?
It’s disturbing, and as time passes slowly you’ll come to realize that while he won’t drag you kicking and screaming away from another man trying to get more than familiar with you, the alternative of watching him broadcast what he perceives to be your ‘relationship’ to every stranger who makes eye contact with you will get old very quickly, the feeling of him almost trying to show you off making your skin crawl and a cold sweat break out over your hairline.
Kyojuro isn’t subtle, not in the least, which is why the minute another man approaches you, you should be ready – the embarrassment will be thick, as will the discomfort of everyone involved (except the Hashira himself, of course).
So you might as well stop trying to converse with other people – after all, Kyojuro has no problem acting on his intuition, so won’t you just not give him a reason to be so extravagant?
The moment the man in the small market stall shoots you a shy smile and approaches you, there’s already a sinking feeling settling in your gut, the knowledge that your self-proclaimed ‘lover’ is only a few stalls down making you bite your lip in anxiety.
He’s polite, by all accounts – full lips a pleasant pink color ask you about your opinion on the newest shipment of melons, the fruit laid out in front of you in a pleasing display. There’s a respectful distance of a few feet between your bodies, and his voice is soft, calming, the complete opposite of the boisterous, loud slayer you’ve come to be so close with. It’s refreshing, and you shoot him a smile as well as you point to a certain melon on the display.
This one looks ripe – you can tell, you know, by the markings on the fruit. The more yellow spots, the better the texture will be.
The man’s still looking at you, but his gaze shifts to the fruit as he nods in agreement. He laughs a bit, then reaches out to pick up the melon. I’ll trust your advice, then.
The interaction is somewhat short, sweet and innocent, and though you get the feeling that the man finds you attractive (the light blush on his cheeks tells you as much), you don’t feel particularly uncomfortable.
But all too soon the peace of the moment is ending, and a familiar call of your name has your spine stiffening, your throat bobbing as you heavily swallow. The call comes again, and all too soon there’s an unfortunately familiar hand settling on your waist, Kyojuro’s muscular arm wrapping around your body and pulling you flush against his side.
Being so close in public would normally embarrass you, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when you know what’s coming.
My flame, who is this? A friend of yours? Kyojuro asks, and before you can open your mouth to answer, the stranger does.
Oh, um, I’m Takeru.
He’s visibly uncomfortable, and as you try to subtly squirm out of the slayer’s grasp, Kyojuro’s smile only widens.
He nods his head lightly, his smile growing even brighter. A pleasure to meet you, Takeru! I am Kyojuro Rengoku, thank you for helping keep her safe at this busy market place!
The man – Takeru – shifts awkwardly, unsure how to respond to such a strange comment, but it doesn’t seem to stop your unwanted companion.
You see, she has such a habit of wandering away in crowded places, and it makes it hard to keep an eye on her! You’d be amazed at how often I’ve seen her trip and fall in places like these!
He laughs at that, and you feel a new kind of embarrassment eat away at you. Does he really need to be sharing all this information?
Yes, it’s very crowded, Takeru agrees, and you silently send him a pleading look. He blinks at you, discomfort clearly swimming in the black depths of his dark eyes, and internally you beg Kyojuro to just drag you both away from the stranger.
She can be so forgetful, but that’s the wonderful thing about love! Despite her clumsiness, she is still graceful and elegant to me, and that’s a sign of true love, wouldn’t you agree?
Takeru nods, hesitantly, and you grit your teeth.
Kyojuro sighs dreamily from beside you, squeezing you even tighter against his side. And I do love her, of course! She is my soulmate, the future mother of my children, and every time I gaze at her, my devotion only grows deeper!
You’re visibly embarrassed now, trying to cover your face and desperately willing the interaction to just be over, but Kyojuro doesn’t seem to hear your silent prayers.
He grabs your wrist gently, his lips pressing kisses against the inside of your wrist, and immediately you’re eyes grow wide. Surely he wouldn’t, not in a public setting –
He cuts your thoughts off with a press of his lips against yours, the groan that he releases against you making you shiver in anything but pleasure. Your eyes are still open, and you see Takeru staring with a dropped jaw, evidently shocked at Kyojuro’s blatant display of affection.
Your brows furrow, and as he slips his tongue past your lips, you find yourself only able to focus on the way Kyojuro is growing louder, his groans getting more pronounced as the kiss grows hungrier, more desperate, feeling less like a tender, heartfelt sign of love.
After a good two minutes he finally pulls away, your lips feeling sticky and wet from his saliva. He stares down at you with heady eyes, his tongue licking his lips as he whispers your name under his breath.
You go to say his name, to ask him if you can just leave the market, but he cuts you off with a laugh.
Oh my flame, where did Takeru go? We must have scared him off with our display of passion! My sincere hopes that he’ll one day find a love like ours.
You very much don’t wish that, but as Kyojuro grasps your hand and guides you to the edge of the market place, passing through the spot Takeru had departed from during your sudden and overtly steamy kiss, you’ll find yourself sighing.
The blatant act of romance was unwarranted and unwanted, of course, but somehow your lips are tingling, your heart racing in shamefulness and something else – something that grows stronger and Kyojuro turns to look back at you, a grin stretching across his lips, his cheeks tinted pink as he gazes at you.
It’s wrong and you’ll hate it, every part of you screaming to not be fooled by the boyish look he’s giving you; he’s a slayer, a grown man who very clearly doesn’t understand that you are not future spouses, that you are not in love.
You’ll hate yourself for it, but even as he leads you back to your home, guiding you and not letting your hand go the whole way (even though you you’re very familiar with the route and don’t need his navigational help), you’ll find yourself almost, almost wishing he’d kiss you again – just not in front of a stranger this time.
TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:
Because he’s on the more delusional side, Kyojuro’s view of your relationship is warped.
He’s already eager in the context of romantic relationships, but in yours, specifically, he’s rushing through all the steps, too excited to get that gold ring on your finger and his last name replacing yours to really take his time with you.
And this becomes problematic particularly because you will have no idea, at least at first, that the Flame Hashira believes you’re courting one another, that it’s simply a matter of time before you’re keeping his bed warm and nursing his children.
And because of this quick timeline of your relationship, Kyojuro is actually quite quick to propose living together. Of course, it’s a bit taboo to be living under the same roof before you’re wed, but he’s willing to bend the traditional rules a bit if you put up any sort of opposition.
If you decline his blatant requests to live with him, he won’t relent. Initially, he’ll bluntly ask you in the middle of a shared meal if you’d like to move your belongings into the Rengoku mansion - I can have a few servants come to assist in the moving process, if you’d like, and of course I’ll be there to help carry anything heavy!
When you stare at him like he’s grown two heads, he’ll be a little confused, and curiously asks you why you seem to be shocked.
When you honestly respond, at a loss as to why he’s asking you to live with him when you’re very, very firmly just friends, Kyojuro will only laugh in response, his hand coming down to slap his knee because oh, you’re so funny, you sweet, coy little thing.
He’ll drop the subject that day, moving on to ask you about your thoughts about the weather or your favorite color or anything at all, greedy to hear your voice and bask in your attention.
But the next day, when he suddenly pops out of nowhere and accompanies you on your walk into town to buy a few necessities, the question is prompted once more.
I only have two separate futons, but I’m sure we could push them together! Similarly, I only have two blankets, but I’m sure my body heat will keep you warm!
You’ll be confused, giving yourself just a hair more distance between your bodies (he’d gotten very close without you noticing), throwing him a glance and worryingly asking what are you talking about?
He’s so nonchalant when he answers our sleeping arrangements, of course that it makes you wonder if you’ve missed something, if you’re somehow not in the loop because when the fuck did you agree to sleep in the same room as him, much less in such a position where you could feel his body heat?
You’ll negate his questions and try to change the topic once more, but Kyojuro is relentless - everyday there will be a new question of when you’ll inevitably be living together, and with every day he gets more and more restless to finally have you in his arms as he sleeps, to come home to you after long missions, to relish in the sight of you peacefully reading or crafting in the morning sun, wearing his clothing and smelling like him.
He’s a patient man, yes, but even Kyojuro has his limits - and he finally reaches this limit when one day he can’t seem to find you anywhere.
It’s like you’ve disappeared off the face of the Earth - he’d wanted to spend some time with you (really, he’d just finished his allotted training for the day and had been idly daydreaming about holding your hand the whole time, and was now in desperate need of finding you to intertwine your fingers with his), but your home was empty and none of your neighbors seemed to remember seeing you leave.
Immediately worry is eating away at him, because his sole job as your future lover and husband is to keep tabs on you and protect you, and he’d been too busy focusing on himself and getting stronger to fulfill his duty.
He searches for you in all the common spots he knows you visit, and with each empty location his desperation gets a bit more extreme, his panic slowly engulfing him because where the fuck could you be?
Eventually he’s sprinting around the general area you reside in, running mile after mile as his smile slips away and his entire body grows sweaty, his heart racing and even a few tears threatening to well in his eyes because he can’t stomach the thought that you’ve been hurt somehow, that someone has stolen you, that you’re simply gone.
It’s not until the evening that he eventually stumbles upon you, your pretty kimono stained with a bit of dirt as the bottom hem and your shoulders a bit slumped from the heavy bag slung over them, your limbs aching from the long journey it’d taken to visit a friend a few villages over.
He happens to run by you along the path, and immediately he’s stopping and staring, his chest visibly heaving, his eyes wide and vulnerable as he blinks, pinching himself to make sure this is real, that you’re really standing in front of him, that you haven’t been devoured like he’d been imagining.
But all too soon he’s rushing forward, the wind knocked out of your lungs as he tackles you to the ground, clutching you against his chest as he bombards you with questions, slurred and rushed as he asks if you’re okay, are you hurt? Where were you? Why didn’t you tell me you’d be gone today? Did you speak to anyone? Did anyone touch you? Were you scared without me?
He’s speaking so quickly and loudly into your ear that you can’t even get a response in, his voice slightly uneven and betraying the influx of emotion swimming through his chest. He’ll pull back to gaze at you, thumbs brushing over your cheek, before smiling softly and pressing a soft, long kiss to your forehead, whispering to you that you’ll be safe now, my love, forever.
Then it all goes black, and you wake up dressed in a much too nice kimono, sleeping in an ornate room in a futon you don’t recognize, familiar eyes trained on your form as his seated figure watches you slowly wake up beside him.
As a captor, Kyojuro is mostly just suffocating.
Because he still heavily believes in the delusions he’s been nursing since the beginning of his infatuation with you, he doesn’t see anything wrong with what he’s done. He doesn’t see his relocation of you as kidnapping, nor does he understand why you seem so unhappy to be with him.
It was inevitable that you’d be sharing the same home and bed, didn’t you know?
Why do you seem so surprised when he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you flush against his body, spooning you and sighing your name into your ear with just a bit too much reverence?
Why are you flinching away from him when he pulls you close for a kiss, his calloused fingers gently grasping your chin as he whispers between wet, loud kisses that he loves you, that he’s more in love with you than you could possibly imagine, my flame, you are my light in eternal darkness.
He’s sappy and too much and always hovering around you, his presence smothering you in every sense of the word. He’s clingy and needy, always wanting to be watching you and simply observe you, because even though he now spends nearly every hour of every day he has off in your presence, everything you do is still special to him, interesting and wonderful and important, and he has no sense of boundaries.
He will be standing close to you, practically breathing down your neck. He will ask you all sorts of personal questions, ranging from things like your greatest fears and most embarrassing moments to your menstrual cycle and which spots feel best when you’re touching yourself to the thought of him.
(He assumes you must pleasure yourself while thinking of him, because he does, too, religiously, every night, your pretty face and voice and body at the forefront of his thoughts as he paints his fist white over and over and over.)
He doesn’t see any reason why there should be any sort of barriers between the two of you, because you’re soulmates - made for one another, destined to spend your lives together, your fates irrefutably intertwined and brought together by the unyielding, passionate love you possess for one another.
And, unfortunately, this lack of barriers manifests itself in some pretty undesirable ways - you’ll be sharing one singular toothbrush, for example, Kyojuro insisting that it’s romantic and sweet and becoming of a young couple to share everything with one another, even their saliva.
He’s having the two of you share undergarments; they’re all made of soft, smooth cloth, in a variety of neutral colors that he’ll wear for the day, then shuffle up your legs the next day, smiling and licking his lips because the fabric that spent all day pressed up against him is now pressed up against you.
(And, on days where you’re particularly unlucky, sometimes Kyojuro lets his thoughts run a bit wild once he’s wearing them, his eyes fluttering closed as he imagines you and subtly ruts against his palm as he waits for nightfall in the small village his next mission is in, the time passing slowly until he’s gasping your name and staining the undergarment with wet warmth, already giddy and excited to have you wear them tomorrow, unwashed.)
He’ll even sometimes share food - and not in a sweet, romantic way, but rather in a raw, connected way; he’ll take a bit of food and chew it, then press his lips against yours and push it into your mouth, encouraging you to chew as well, before eventually kissing you once more and swallowing it all himself, his grin nearly blinding because now he’s eaten both the meal and you, or at least a bit of your spit.
He’s just weird, and while he’s constantly showering you in compliments and spoiling you with anything and everything under the sun, it’ll be hard to adjust to this new, strange lifestyle simply because he doesn’t really allow you time to adjust.
He’s expecting everything to be sunshine and roses from the moment you wake up as a freshly kidnapped darling, his expectations high that you’ll be pliant and willing and happy to learn that you’re finally, finally together.
And while it takes a lot of disobedience from you to snap him out of his rose colored view of you, Kyojuro is doing everything in his power to make sure that your relationship is perfect, that he’s taking good care of you and loving you as he should.
Which leads to another important aspect of being his darling - he doesn’t see women is inferior in any way (Shinobu and Mitsuri alone have dispelled that image), but he likes the idea of you being his housewife, fulfilling traditionally feminine duties.
He likes the idea of you taking care of the home, making sure dinner is cooked and served for him in the evening (he’ll often send a crow your way when he’s heading home after missions, just so that you can prepare for his arrival - normally, this means a meal and very little clothing adorning your frame, so that he can feast on your delicious food and then your delicious body), and attending to his every need as he does you.
He likes the idea of you keeping the mansion clean and eagerly awaiting his return home when he’s away, your devotion to him keeping you motivated to make sure everything is perfectly in order for him.
He’s trying for children very, very early on, his thrusts slow, deep and meaningful as he kisses you and promises that this will finally be the load that takes, because the mere idea of you swollen with his child and needing his help to do things even as simple as sitting down makes him giddy and unbearably excited.
And he doesn’t want just one child - oh no, he wants many, as many as you’re willing to give him.
He wants the perfect family with you, and as your captor, he won’t try to hide this wish. You will be made aware that he wants you to dote on him, that he wants you to spread your legs and conceive his child, that he wants you you you.
(He’s discussing potential names with you within the first week of having kidnapped you, his fingers idly tracing over your stomach as he tells you that the first born must be named Shinjuro, then perhaps we’ll have a daughter, and she can be named Hana! But we must also have some named Takeru, Ucharo, Nakagome, Watabe, and of course Shigeru! And after that, if you have any names in mind, we can surely name the following children them!)
Kyojuro isn’t necessarily bad, per se, as he does genuinely spoil you and give you all the time and attention and physical affection he can, but you’ll feel weighed down, crushed, drowning in the way he always seems to take and take from you.
But eventually, you will grow dependent on him - how can you not? He’s still so sweet with all the compliments he gives you (a little deranged, perhaps, but the sentiment is there), the reverence in his eyes when he gazes at you, the gentleness and eagerness in his touch when he has his hands on you.
He’s complicated, yes, but life with him will be so very simple - just bend to his whims, and perhaps you’ll even enjoy the way he hugs you so tightly it nearly hurts, or how he limits the number of servants who are allowed to speak with you - he just loves you, and is it so wrong to enjoy being loved?
PUNISHMENTS:
As his darling, you’re somewhat lucky that Kyojuro is as delusional as he is, if only because it keeps him mostly blind to any misbehavior and attitude you can throw at him.
Of course, he has his limits, but in general he’s able to write off any snarky comments of yours or slight attempts to put distance between the two of you as you simply you trying to be funny, barking out a laugh and moving even closer to you, pressing into your space even more, making sure there’s not an inch of space between your bodies.
Or, sometimes, he interprets your very blatant rebellions against him as you simply trying to test his resolve – he thinks you’re trying to force him into showing just how deeply he loves you, as if you’re testing just how strong his feelings for you are.
And while he finds this just the slightest bit offensive (you’re doubting his love for you – his passion for you; can you not tell that his heart beats only for you? Can you not see that alongside his duty to the Corp, you’re the reason he breaths, the reason he wakes up in the morning, the reason he’s alive?), it mostly serves as motivation for him to love you harder, to become more expressive with his feelings.
It pushes him to hug you tighter, his fingers nearly leaving bruises with the strength of his grip around you, the hugs going much longer and getting more intimate, if the brush of something big and hard against your thigh is any indication.
It pushes him to compliment you more, the words falling from his lips with such conviction that it’ll almost make you flustered, if the content wasn’t so unnerving.
(There’s lots of you are so beautiful, my flame, but there’s also a lot of you look so peaceful in your sleep, it makes me want to lock you away forever and keep you mine and deep inhales followed by your scent sets me on fire, my love, you don’t know what you do to me.)
He views most of your rebellions as simply you trying to catch his attention, perhaps being a sign that you feel you’re being neglected by all the missions he must leave you and attend to.
And frankly, Kyojuro doesn’t blame you – he wishes he could give you more attention too, because although he feels his job is wildly fulfilling and the morally correct thing to do, a more selfish part of his heart yearns to spend his days with you in his hands instead of his sword, your body curled up against his while he keeps you warm and tells you how deeply he loves you.
And because of all the different avenues he employs to simply disregard any negative behavior from you, punishments with Kyojuro are extremely rare. It takes quite a bit to push him into reality for even a brief moment, to force him to come face to face with the fact that you aren’t happy and that you don’t love him.
He only has a few triggers that can be powerful enough to force him into this mindset – you harming yourself, and you attempting to escape.
When you injure yourself, it’s difficult to rationalize why you would have done that, but he’s normally able to scold you (with condescending words and tone, that same smile stretched across his lips), telling you to be more careful and let me prepare your bath next time, all burns from hot water must be avoided in the future! But you trying to escape is not so easy to twist into a pleasing fantasy of his.
It’s much harder to understand why you’re ceaselessly trying to break open the windows of the estate, to the point where your knuckles bleed and your elbows bruise. It’s harder to understand why you try to work at the lock keeping the main doors sealed, your poor fingernails splitting and aching from all the tugging and pulling.
He’s not sure why you’re going through so much trouble – surely there must be easier ways to get his attention. Surely there must be less painful and pitiful methods to get him fawning over you and proving his dedication to you – so why aren’t you taking them? Why are you choosing this difficult path, one that makes him apprehensive to leave you alone for more than thirty seconds?
(Not that that’s the only reason he’s hesitant to leave you alone – his clinginess and desire for your physical touch is the bulk majority – but it’s still a major player.)
And when he asks you, with his arms wrapped around your abdomen, your own arms flailing and your legs kicking at anything you can reach, your answer will have him pausing for a moment, an unwelcome feeling of reality washing back over him.
Because I hate being here, I want to go home! Please, let me go home!
His spine goes straight at that, his eyes widening ever so slightly, your punches and kicks to his shoulders and thighs doing nothing to faze him. You want… to go home? But aren’t you already home, by his side?
His grip tightens on you, a sort of displeased hum ringing in your ears. He’s carrying you away from the front doors and down the convoluted hallways of the estate, his grip on you never weakening.
Your words repeat over and over in his head, each replay confusing him more and more. You aren’t happy being here? With him? He bites his lip, bright eyes glancing down at you in his arms, with big tears slipping down your cheeks and your shoulders shaking with poorly concealed sobs.
This doesn’t seem like an attempt at gaining his attention – why would you go through such lengths? In all his time of falling in love with you, he’s never known you to be such a good actor.
Your tears look real, as does the sound of your voice when you whisper his name and weakly pound your fist against his chest, begging him to let me go home, I can’t be here any longer, I can’t stand it!
He sets you down onto the bed of the bedroom he’s brought you into – the bedroom where he forces you to sleep beside him, your nightclothes sticking to your skin with the heat that radiates from his body and the sheer proximity his forced cuddling creates.
He’ll watch as you scramble away from him, curling your knees to your chest and looking up at him with such raw, pained eyes, and for a moment it makes Kyojuro’s heart clench, genuine regret rushing through him.
Has he made you this upset? Is he the reason for your anguish? It makes something heavy and uncomfortable settle into his chest, and it’s that driving force that pushes him to come closer to you, matching your every scoot away from him with a step towards you.
Eventually your back hits the wall and he kneels before you, his face mere inches from your own.
Tell me, my flame, why are you so displeased?
His question makes you gulp, but before you can stop yourself your mouth is already moving, every repressed thought and emotion you’ve felt the last few weeks you’ve been stuck with him finally coming to light.
Because you’re a monster! You’ve kidnapped me and forced me into being your wife, and you have the audacity to ask me why I’m upset? I can’t stay with you, Kyojuro, not here, not anywhere! We aren’t in love – you’re mistaken, I don’t love you and whatever this is, it’s not love, so don’t tell me you love me! Please, just let me return to my home and family, I beg of you.
You cut yourself off with a small sob, and as your eyes flutter closed for a brief moment, your blood runs cold when they reopen.
You’ve never seen Kyojuro look like this – gone is that familiar grin of his, instead replaced with a harsh, straight, tight lipped expression. His eyes no longer hold any of the warmth and adoration he normally gazes at you with – rather, they seem unbearably cold, the heavy weight of his stare making you shrink in on yourself despite your rather brave speech. And something about his presence feels much larger than you’ve ever experienced it – it’s in this moment that you realize just how defined and huge the muscles he’s sporting across his upper and lower body are, the man before you holding more strength in his pinky finger than you in all of your body.
It’s crushing, the sick, horrible feeling that something is terribly wrong making your every hair stand on end, your breath ragged as you wait for his next move. Kyojuro nods slowly, his expression not changing.
I see.
You bite your lip, anxiety making a pit form in your stomach.
You need to be reminded of what’s important, my flame. You’ve become misguided – but don’t fret, I will help guide you back to the path. This will hurt, but with time you’ll understand my actions and perhaps even thank me for them.
His words have red flags raising immediately in your mind, but before you can really even process your own questions, his hand is shooting out grasping on of yours, fingers pressing against the pad of your index finger and pushing pushing pushing –
There’s a sickening crunch noise that fills your ears, and everything feels numb for a moment before white-hot, acute agony rushes through you, your finger already swelling and throbbing from the broken bone now within it.
Kyojuro watches as you sob harder, your eyes red and puffy as you look at him, your gaze weak and, quite frankly, pitiful. He only takes a deep breath, his Adam’s apple bobbing, before moving to the next finger, a matching crunch sound only making you cry harder.
Eventually, each finger on your left hand is broken, his hands already moving to start on your right. He’s quick about each break, not letting the pain linger any longer than absolutely necessary, but it doesn’t matter.
By the time he finishes with your right thumb, you’re nearly numb from the pain, your tears having run dry as you shake and jerk with every hiccup and sob that wracks your frame. The sight hurts Kyojuro, truly – and he’ll tell you as much.
Shh, oh my flame, don’t cry – I know it hurts terribly, but so does my heart. Do you see now? Do you see that I love you? I’m showing you that our love is real and pure – I will nurse you back to your proper health. I will be your hands when you cannot touch, and I will stay at your bedside every free moment to keep you company and ensure a quick recovery. Do you understand now? This is your home – no one can care for you in the way that I can.
His voice is soft, with a certain condescending lilt to it that only makes you dumbly nod, the pain still rendering you numb to your surroundings. And as Kyojuro carefully picks you up once more, moving you to your shared futon and gently tucking you under the covers, he’ll quickly gather some small sticks and medical gauze, wrapping each finger and cooing at you all the while.
And as he places a kiss onto each finger tip once its wrappings are complete, you’ll find yourself considering his words.
The conviction to individually break each finger of your lover is certainly no joke – perhaps he could be correct? Is this love?
Is the way he'll carefully feed you your meals as your wounds heal a sign of his truly undying feelings for you?
Is the way he bathes you (with wandering hands and stuttered breaths) a sign that he does truly care for you?
Is the way he helps you use the restroom without the use of your own hands a sign that he’ll truly stand by your side through darkness and light?
Your brain screams no, every ounce of your independence fighting the stream of questions, but some part of you finds comfort in the notion, in believing Kyojuro when he says that he loves you.
And as the days pass and your injuries slowly heal, your captor’s constant presence by your side helping to keep you clean, healthy and well fed, you’ll find that part of you growing louder and louder, drowning out your mind.
Because really, does it even matter? Kyojuro Rengoku is a man of dedication and unwavering devotion – and if he wants you to love him, isn’t it only a matter of time before he succeeds?
After all, who are you to stand your ground in the face of someone like him?
OVERALL DANGER:
6/10
Kyojuro isn’t necessarily dangerous, or at least in the sense of being a threat to your life. He’s clingy and needy and out of touch with reality, of course, but he doesn’t enjoy the notion of hurting you. He’s willing to, if it’s his only choice, but you’ll never need to worry that any hidden sadistic tendencies of his will emerge. He’ll never suddenly develop the desire to see you cry, nor will he suddenly discard you should his feelings dissipate.
Once his infatuation begins, Kyojuro is committed to making sure that you stay healthy, happy, and – most importantly – by his side.
He’s convinced that he’s the one that can make you happy, that he can give you the most perfect, loving future, filled with laughter, kisses, stolen touches and even a few children with bright yellow and red hair running around the estate.
He’s convinced that he can make you happy, that he already does make you happy, and it will be extremely difficult to snap him out of this fantasy he’s created for the two of you.
He’s an influential man with extreme importance, and you’d be extremely hard pressed to find anyone who would even believe you if you were to somehow escape him, if you were to somehow catch on to his nefarious intentions before he’s stolen you away.
It’s the combination of being surrounded by death, and a yearning to be happy and build a loving family that pushes him to pursue you, developing a future with you feeling so fucking important that he simply can’t resist the drive to court you, to wed you, to see your gorgeous smile and the pretty golden ring with flames engraved on it around your finger.
He’s simply a man in love, and if that love means his hands on your body, pulling you closer and closer and closer until you can hardly breath, so be it.
It’s only natural for something as powerful as love to create such a strong devotion, and isn’t it oddly romantic, in a way? To know that someone as powerful, important and revered as Kyojuro is in love with little old you?
Doesn’t it make you feel good to know you have the Flame Pillar wrapped around your finger, that he’d get on his knees for you at just the merest flutter of your lashes?
He’s truly in love, so embrace it with open arms – he sure is, and things will be much, much better for you the sooner you accept the love he’s so frantically delivering to you.
543 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
chinakids
China Kids
thelingodingo
The Lingo Dingo
princess-jo
♥ Stop, Baby Dont Stop ♥
thoughts-reasons
Thoughts-Reasons
purble-gaymer
the knights guy