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drabblesbyjubs · 8 months

Text

Astarion boundaries Drabble and acespec Astarion headcannons

Tw// mentions of sexual trauma, Astarion’s backstory stuff, some sexual content but not descriptive

Minors DNI please

As much as I love the idea of Astarion and Tav slowly warming up to one another after giving Astarion time to heal from his trauma and slowly becoming comfortable in a sexual relationship, I personally don’t know how likely that would be.

I feel like Astarion is somewhere on the ace spec. He was forced in to using his body to give others pleasure he had no interest in, then lead them to their demises with the trust he gained from them using his body. He is probably very finicky of Tav touching him when things start to get serious; a hand on the hip may be alright one day, but too much the next.

He wont vocalize when things are too much though, much to Tav’s displeasure. He lets it happen, gets a foggy look and his responses become more matter of fact and less teasing and snarky how they always are.

“Look at me.” Tav would say when they notice that look.

Astarion blinks and meets their gaze, silent for a moment before humming under his breath. “What?” He’d huff as if he didn’t love the way they cupped his cheeks in their palms; a warm, soft presence, without anything more to it.

“You’re doing the thing again. What is it? Do you not want me to touch you there?” Tav questioned. They knew how much Astarion hates prying questions, but this wasn’t a conversation they could just put off.

“No, I like it, I-“ he lied, cut off by catching his own fib. The memory of what Tav had said to him once when Astarion feared their anger when he had shattered a plate; ‘You have no need to fear my anger, for it will never show itself to you. I want your honesty, and you will have mine. I will never be mad at you for mistakes. They happen to everyone.’

“I.. it… gods, you know I hate this,” Astarion huffed, pulling himself away from Tav’s warm hands. They hummed in acknowledgment. Of course they knew. Why were they so considerate of how he felt? He knew they had no alterier motive, but perhaps how an old habit dies hard, Astarion couldn’t help but wonder what they would gain from caring so much.

“I like it sometimes. Other times it makes me feel… strange. Disgusted. But not with you,” he hurried, waving his hands before him, “it’s more.. like a bad memory, I guess? Gods, this makes no sense, I-“

Sensing Astarion’s building frustration with himself, Tav stepped in, gently placing their hand on his shoulder. “I understand. You don’t have to explain any more. Here’s what we’re gonna do,” Tav said, taking Astarion’s hand and guiding him to sit on the corner of the bed.

“I’m going to keep all of this in mind. I want you to tell me when I touch somewhere you don’t like, and if later you change your mind and want me to touch you there, all you need is to ask. Deal?” They offered with a kind smile.

Gods damn that smile. So sweet, reassuring, so wonderful.

“…Alright. Deal.”

——————————————

Astarion doesn’t get scared of touches like on his hips, chest, etc; they more bring back a flood of memories, sweet nothings in his ear he had no interest in hearing, followed by their betrayed begging for his help as Cazador had his way with them. It brought him back all too suddenly, those kinds of touches, but only sometimes. At this point, he trusts Tav, but the memories come whether he wants them to or not.

Astarion eventually asks to cease all sexual contact, just for a while. He worries that he’s letting Tav down, denying their desires, making them stifle themselves. But never once do they complain.

Astarion does have desires at times, but he fears the feeling of having to reciprocate. He wants to take his pleasure, but not to have the responsibility of giving it back.

Tav would offer him to use them as he pleases, and would never once ask for anything back, not even their own orgasm.

After Astarion achieves his release, the two clean up, and Tav cuddles Astarion. Even if they are left wanting, they have the satisfaction of knowing Astarion feels safe and at ease in a situation like that, and holding him in their arms is the best pleasure they could ask for.

Astarion takes time to open up, but when he does, Tav can catch a glimpse of the young elf Astarion once was. That side of him may have been ripped apart long before it was ever meant to, but it is by no means irreparable. All he needs is care and time.

——————————————-

Well, that’d be my first Astarion drabble. He’s been rotting in my mind since I started playing this game, and I have may ideas. My blog will likely become where I just dump the random ideas that pop in my head while I rot away at work lol, many of my posts won’t be this long, some will be longer than this, we’ll all see in time. But let me know if you all want more! How I write Astarion will improve with time, promise, I just need to truly deep dive in to his character for now lol

#astarion #bg3 tav #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate 3 #drabble #headcannons

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megistusdiary · 2 months

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Ok I’m sorry to bring up the topic of twilight of all things BUT

Vampire arle would be such a Carlisle Cullen type. Father that just spends centuries amassing a coven of rejected vampire kids- either orphaned after their coven was destroyed, or abandoned by their creator after turning them. Some had been turned by choice; others the victims of unfortunate encounters; and some as an act of mercy, preventing what would have been their demise just before death had the chance to claim them.

Arle loves all of her kids, however they came to her. Most arrived on her doorstep on their own accord, begging as they had nowhere else to turn to. Some came to her seeking shelter from their own coven, hearing that Arle was welcoming and accepting of the rejected, the outcast, the unwanted.

Others she tracked down herself- tales of a young new vampire wreaking havoc on small towns, draining entire village populations in single frenzied nights. She offers these young ones a place to stay, a place to belong. She knows how bad the first years of a vampires new life are, how hard this bloodlust can be to control, but she gives them the opportunity to learn. Come with her, to her coven and she and your new brothers and sisters will help you- will support you- will love you. This world is awfully cruel, specially to those like you, but with patience and practice, you can make this new life feel somewhat normal.

Of course, some turn down the offer, not wanting to be tied down to a coven, or proclaim themselves to be lone-wolves. But she keeps the offer open. Eventually, when they’re tired from dodging the vampire hunters, and fending off what meager territory they have from other, stronger vampires, most will swallow their pride and allow themselves to enter her coven, to enter her home.

I don’t know how to end off this thought,,, Arle is father in all au’s, you cannot change my mind.

-🎭

carlisle!arle...i am frothing at the fucking mouth. dilf arlecchino 🤭🤭🫶😁😁

vampire arle has taken over ong...

also i love the twilight aesthetic...the blue filter always gets me. and the soundtrack is banger.

i like the idea of lyney, lynette, and freminet being part of the coven too. her silly vamp children showing you around and helping you out oughhh aughhh

take me to your father 😔

#🎭─ 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯┊͙ ˘͈ᵕ˘͈#genshin smut #arlecchino smut #💐─𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴 #💌─𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘭! ༊*·˚

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onestepbackwards · 2 years

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WAIT OH SWEET SINNOH ABOVE THE ANGST WITH GHOST READER!

Oh fuck okay

Imagine after you scared your former ‘friend’ by almost killing them on the tracks, the twins have a chat with you.

You’re still angry and hurt by your untimely demise.

You’re being stubborn while they ask you not to do that on the main tracks before Ingo hits you with.

“I understand you’re upset-“

But that’s all he can say before you scowl.

“Understand? I’m dead, I’m not alive anymore! I didn’t get anything! I was written off like some careless brat. I never got to say anything to my family!” Your voice cracks.

“ I broke my promise to my best friend cause that weekend I was suppose to go visit them, and where am I? Oh yeah haunting a subway cause I was killed here. Do you have any idea what it’s like knowing I can’t do anything about it? That I can’t take care of my Pokémon? That I can’t go anywhere or be seen?”

You break into sobs and vanish into the wall, going back into the subway tunnels to be alone.

Leaving Ingo and Emmet stunned at your outburst. They are hurt they can’t do more to help you. Emmet gives Ingo and glare for starting something they both clearly don’t know how you feel about this.

While you sob your nonexistent heart out to your Pokémon.

Your mind screaming insecurities at you. You’re a ghost, you can’t marry them or give them anything they want like a living partner could, you’re tied to the station, there isn’t much you can do other than sit there and cry.

- Jes

YEAH FOR REAL Like yeah horny brain go brr and all but there IS angst. You had everything robbed from you the moment your life was taken. Then your murderers had the audacity to lie about it, saying it was your idea. Your fault you are dead. No one could ever understand what you’ve gone through. What you continue to go through.

The twins try and scold you, though aren’t that strict about it. As sad as it is, deaths have happened in the subway before, people falling onto the tracks and what not. It’s horrifying, yes, but it has happened. And each time it does, there is always a somber atmosphere, and paperwork. Both get that the guy you attempted to kill was your murderer, so they don’t really have any sympathy. But they also don’t want to delay the subway, and have to deal with a corpse on the tracks. And the paperwork. It goes unsaid, if an accident manages to happen to your murderers in the older unused tunnels... Well... They didn’t see anything. However, despite dating you, and know you are, you know, dead, they forget that little details sometimes. Even when literally discussing it with you, it slips their minds that you are not among the living. So Ingo slipping up, it was bound to happen eventually. He feels terrible about it though, and immediately regrets it the moment the words leave his mouth. Especially when you cry out, bringing to light just how fucked up your situation is. When you disappear, not only does Emmet glare at him, he practically tears into Ingo with how careless he had been. Ingo takes the verbal assault, knowing its well deserved. Eventually Emmet lets up, and apologizes for yelling. Ingo tells him it’s fine. He deserved a tongue lashing. However, both are definitely worried about you. You had wandered off, crying. They decide to leave you alone for a few hours, thinking you need space to calm down. However, when you are still missing at 1 in the morning, they start to grow incredibly concerned. Both are growing worried. All attempts to call for you are either unheard, or ignored. So they go to security. Thankfully, being the bosses, they have full access to the cameras, and begin searching. It takes an hour, but they finally find you. You seemed to have made a home with your pokemon in an old abandoned storage room in one of the older, less used tunnels. There, you seemed to be crying, holding your pokemon close.

“How can they even still love me? I’m nothing. I can’t give them anything!” You sob into your pokemon’s fur. “Am I just a pity fuck to them? Do they care? I can’t marry them, give them the family life they deserve...” You seemed to flicker in and out of the existence, your sobs practically ripping their hearts out. Your words striking them deep. You were so much more than that. They never even considered their relationship with you one made out of pity! “I can’t cook for them... I can’t wake up next to them... I can’t even go home with them!” You wanted to scream. Your poor pokemon seemed to surround you, whether it was to keep you calm, or to keep you from hurting yourself, it was unclear. You let out another sob, the electricity flickering. “Maybe I should just stay here. They’re better off without me. I should’ve just stayed dead....” You moaned out. You pokemon cried out at your state, and you let out another gut wrenching sob, before the camera cut out. Ingo and Emmet shared a panicked look. You were spiraling. They had to find you. Fast. You meant too much to them, they had to set the record straight. You were the best thing to happen to them, and they wouldn’t let you do this to yourself. You were the light of their lives. Ingo noted which camera had gone down, and which tunnel that room was located. Tugging on Emmet’s sleeve, they got to work. They were going to pamper you in so much love when they found you, and apologize for days. You, their sweet, kind, incredible ghost partner. You deserved the world.

#pokemon #submas #ingo x reader #emmet x reader #submas x reader #subway boss ingo #subway boss emmet #nobori #kudari #pokemon x reader #ghost!reader #angst #cw depressive thoughts #nsft #spicy stuff🔥#kinda #zed.writes #Jes #ask

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silver-ink-iron-words · 2 years

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Hey, could you please write a continuation of A Touch of Magic?

Hello! Of course I can. Thank you for the request :)

------------

Part 1

Part 2

A Touch of Magic, Part 3

“You must be Gavin’s father,” Lysander said, eying the hatchet in the farmer’s hands.

The prince had always been a talented tracker, and Gavin left a shining trail that would have spelt demise for any wild animal. He'd followed said trail to a picturesque little village of pastures and wheat fields.

That was how he’d found himself here – standing just outside a small cottage, before a burly farmer with a weapon and a menacing glare.

“I would not recommend axing a crown prince,” he said, raising his hands. “I cannot imagine it would go well for you.”

At that, the farmer went pale. Lysander watched as his eyes made sense of the prince’s fine clothing and purebred steed.

Uttering his apologies, the farmer quickly ushered him into the one-room structure.

Lysander first saw the fireplace on the far wall, and the woman and young girl cooking beside it. He then saw Gavin, rising to stand from a nearby table.

“Dad! Why are you letting him in?!”

The farmer walked across the room and smacked Gavin upside the head. “You never said the crazy guy was a prince.”

He then stopped and glanced to Lysander, seeming to realize that he'd just referred to a royal as "crazy."

“Please do not be angry with him,” Lysander said. “I fear that I’m the one who made a poor first impression.”

The family offered him a seat at their table, and Lysander accepted. Sitting before them, he explained the nature of Gavin’s enchantment, and declared his intentions for their son. As he spoke, Gavin’s parents listened in stunned silence, while Gavin stared at him in horror.

When he was finished, Gavin’s father turned to the young girl in the corner. “Agnes, show the prince your potato garden.”

“Dad, I think he’s seen a potato before,” Agnes said.

Her father gave her a stern look, and she got up with a sigh.

He then turned back to Lysander. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. Would you mind stepping outside for just a moment? My wife and I need to speak to our son.”

“Of course,” Lysander said, rising graciously. He followed the girl out the door.

“So, where are these potatoes?” he asked, looking down at her.

“Come on,” she said.

She led him around to the back of the cottage. Lysander expected her to take him further into the fields, but instead she crouched down by a crack in the wall and signaled for him to be silent.

He crouched down beside her, and realized that while he couldn’t see anything, he could hear voices coming from inside.

“We can't eavesdrop,” he whispered in surprise.

“Do you want to know what they’re saying or not?” Agnes hissed. “Now hush.”

With a reluctant expression, Lysander quieted.

“I told you, I’m not marrying him,” they could hear Gavin say. “So will you please stop packing?!”

“Olive, do you think he’ll need his Sunday shirt, or will they give him one at the palace?” Gavin’s father asked.

“Have him bring it just in case,” his mother replied.

“Stop ignoring me,” Gavin said. “I’m not going to get married just because he or you or anyone else tells me to.”

The sounds of rustling and packing paused.

“Did the donkey kick ya in the head, boy?” his father said.

“No, I – ”

“You’ll never have to till a field again. Your sister will be able to marry into a noble family. You’ll be eating weird exotic eggs for the rest of your life, Gavie.”

“I don’t want to eat weird eggs.”

“Plus,” his mother interjected, voice wistful, “the prince is very handsome.”

“Mom, ew.”

“And maybe this way,” she continued, “you’ll stop mooning over the tailor’s boy.”

“Mom.”

“I’m sorry honey, but you know it was never going to happen. He has a girlfriend and everything.”

“I can’t believe this is happening to me.”

“Gavie, do you want to bring your sketchbook?”

“Of course I do. Give me that.”

Eventually, Agnes and Lysander were called back. Lysander wanted to smooth over the situation, maybe suggest that Gavin take some time to think things over. But Gavin's parents worked fast, and he could barely get a word in before a very grumpy-looking Gavin was saddled in front of him, pack in hand.

Lysander peered at him. “Are you sure that – ”

“Safe travels!” Gavin’s father called, and smacked the horse into motion.

The two of them galloped off into the sunset.

Part 4

--------------------

Tag list:

@coolninjavoid , @itsleighlovelove

#writing #writeblr #snippet #writing snippet #m/m #hero x civilian #civilian x hero #villain x civilian #civilian x villain #forced marriage #faerie #fae #villain x hero #hero x villain #villain #that feel when your parents sell you to One Direction #i mean the crown prince #not a prompt

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scarletgemstone · 2 months

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dracula hungry for another one

Disiclamer i own nothing everything belongs to the rightful owners please go and support them and be nice

(dracula’s castle is seen as jonathan wakes up in front of the door with he gets up and gose in )

Narrator” you don’t look like you belong here(jonhathan finds a lantern) did you pinch yourself to see if you’d wake up from a nightmare or could you still be asleep”

(jonhathen is seen sneaking around as the brides and count invite him in a living room)

Jonathan” i tell myself it’s all a dream (he gets sleepy) and monsters are not all they seem”

(jonhathan wakes up in a bed with his candle on a night stand he takes it and leaves the room and walks down the hail way)

Narrator”you took a fall into the maw were hungers always peaking (some vampires are seen feeding) all we got for cargo are the meats for feasting (johnathan hides) lots of chomping jaws and rotten teeth for eating button up your coat this submarine is leaking”

(johnathan is hiding as bats fly around and the brides crawling on the walls)

Jonathan” i’m stuck in the dungeon (sees the bats) with some ugly company watching me hungrily stumbling bumbling (he runs) thundering after me clutching their cutlery ducking and jumping they’re above and under me all of them wanna just smother and butter me gut me and dunk me in gravy to cover me hide in a cupboard but not in the oven i don’t want go in that pot they got bubbling could i be sleeping cause i don't feel slumbery (his seen going through tunnels) tumble through tunnels their gonna discover me i’m on a boat but it’s not any luxury (johnathan opens a door and slides under it before it closes) all that i got is my cunning to comfort me “

(two men are seen loding boxes to the castle as jonathan looks on through a window)

Jonhathan” if i get luckly somebody wil come for me time i depart from my prison under the sea take me away where the sun is abundant and give me some grub that i honestly wanna eat cause i’m fed up with this stuff i’ve been stomaching (his stomtcah growls and holds in pain) sick of this scum my tummy is grumbling (sees a loaf of bread) should i succumb to my hunger i’m wondering will i become a victim of gluttony?”

(john is seen hiding from the castles resentents)

Narrator” this nightmare ain’t over (johnathan looks out a window) i watched my window for the morning sun i know it’s over i’ll just be hunger for another one hungyr for another one (gluttony is over run) hungry for another one (wonder where your coming from) hungry for another one (do you know what you’ll become you’ll become are you hungry for another one)”

(the count is seen holding a mirror)

Dracula” oh mirror mirror how the face you show disgusts me (throws the mirror out the window) find me a child for whose youth my heart is hungry (johnathan hides in a box with earth in it) your vanity will eventually lead to your demise humanity a profanity under watchful eyes “

(johnathan gose through the catcacomes )

Jonathan” how can it be who sent for me a better question why at the end of these dreadful fantasies i hope the sun will rise”

(the count brings a child to his brides and they feed)

Narrator” but until the sun is up we’d better greet our guest with the wonderful buffet where all the meat is fresh they don’t even to eat this is so grotesque at least i’m not alone i hope the nomes know best “

(johnathan is seen letting a a nome out of a cage )

Narrator “hey follow us and you might make it alive (a rat is eating one) even thought not many of us survive (john hugs one) give me a hug tell me it’s alright whatever you do just stay out of sight powerful eyes watch all the time don’t ever step in the light that they shine (johanthan gets hunger again as a nome offers some food) we’ll give you something for your appetite the number six is the end of the line”

(johnathan bites the nomes neck and drink it’s blood)

Narrator” this nightmar ain’t over i watch my window for the moring sun i know when it’s over i’ll just be hungry for another one hungry for another one (gluttony is overfun) hungry for another one (wonder were your coming from) (shadow kids are seen) hungry for another one (do you know what you’ll become you’ll become) are you hungry for another one”

(johnathan is sneaking around the count’s room as the brides try to find him)

Jonathan” i’ve never been easily frighten by the wrost in all my dreams was once a nightmare is bursting at the seams (johnathan trys to sneak past the brides) as i try to get by their eyes stare feel them burning into me did they come to have a good time here or where they force to feed (johnathan’s hair begins to turn white as he clutches his stomach in pain ) stomach is turing and churing with greed (shadow jonathan apperes behind jonathan) has someone cursed me i’m yearning to eat (shadow jonathan”eat) need something fresher than bread or dead meat (sees a rat and grabs it johnathan’s teeth becomes fangs and hair is white as he bit it’s neck) i want it to squirm in my teeth”

(johnanthan is seen with blood dripping from his mouth his hair is white and his eye’s are red shadows spin around as he walks down a hail way)

(he makes it to the count with a mirror and faces him)

Narrator” this nightmare ain’t over i watch my window for the moring sun i know when it’s over i’ll just be hungry for another one (the mirror blasted the count back) hungry for another one (gluttony has over run) hungry for another (wonder where your coming from) (the count grabs jonathan by the throat ) hungry for another one”

Dracula” do you know what you’ll become”

Narrator” you’ll become you’ll become are you hungry for another one”

#crossover #songfic #count dracula #bram stoker #bram stocker's dracula #jonathan harker #hungry for another one #little nightmares au #dracula au #little nightmares #little nightmares shadow six

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dfroza · 2 months

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Today’s reading from the ancient books of Proverbs and Psalms

for february 13 of 2024 with Proverbs 13 and Psalm 13, accompanied by Psalm 55 for the 55th day of Astronomical Winter and Psalm 44 for day 44 of the year (with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 1st revolution this year)

[Proverbs 13]

A wise child is attentive to his parents’ instruction,

but the mocker is deaf to correction.

A person eats well when he speaks wisely,

but the treacherous crave violence.

Those who guard their speech insure they will take another breath,

but those who talk without thinking guarantee their demise.

Slackers crave but have their fill of nothing,

but the hardworking desire and are completely satisfied.

The right-living will not tolerate any lie,

but wrongdoers come to shame and embarrassment.

Doing right keeps the innocent on the path of life,

but doing wrong is the downfall of the wicked.

One pretends he is wealthy but has nothing,

while another seems to be poor but has great wealth.

The rich are targeted and must ransom their lives,

but no one bothers to threaten the poor.

The light of the right-living brings joy as it burns brightly;

the lamp of a wrongdoer will be snuffed out.

Arrogance only produces arguments,

but wisdom accompanies those well advised.

Money earned hastily is easily lost,

but hard-earned money continues to grow.

Hope postponed grieves the heart;

but when a dream comes true, life is full and sweet.

The one who hates good counsel will reap failure and ruin,

but the one who reveres God’s instruction will be rewarded.

Wise instruction is a spring yielding a satisfied life;

those who follow it avoid the traps that lead to death.

Good sense brings blessing,

but the road of the treacherous is long and rough.

A clever person acquires knowledge and then acts on it;

but a fool advertises his folly for all to see.

An untrustworthy messenger stirs up trouble,

but a faithful emissary is curative balm.

A person who turns from correction faces poverty and shame,

but one who regards constructive criticism is well respected.

A dream fulfilled is the sweetness of life,

but abandoning evil is repulsive to fools.

One who walks with the wise becomes wise,

but whoever keeps company with fools only hurts himself.

Trouble eagerly pursues the sinner,

but success rewards the right-living.

A good person leaves an inheritance for his grandchildren,

but the wealth of the sinner is eventually passed on to the right-living.

Though the fields of the poor yield a bumper crop

in a land without justice, it is stolen out from under them.

Those who spare the rod of discipline hate their children,

but those who are quick to correct them show true love.

Those who do right have plenty to eat,

while those who do wrong go hungry.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 13 (The Voice)

[Psalm 13]

For the worship leader. A song of David.

How long, O Eternal One? How long will You forget me? Forever?

How long will You look the other way?

How long must I agonize,

grieving Your absence in my heart every day?

How long will You let my enemies win?

Turn back; respond to me, O Eternal, my True God!

Put the spark of life in my eyes, or I’m dead.

My enemies will boast they have beaten me;

my foes will celebrate that I have stumbled.

But I trust in Your faithful love;

my heart leaps at the thought of imminent deliverance by You.

I will sing to the Eternal,

for He is always generous with me.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 13 (The Voice)

[Psalm 55]

For the worship leader. A contemplative song of David accompanied by strings.

Hear me, O God.

Tune Your ear to my plea,

and do not turn Your face from my prayer.

Give me Your attention.

Answer these sighs of sorrow;

my troubles have made me restless—I groan from anxiety

All because of my enemy! Because his voice speaks against me,

his wickedness torments me!

He casts down misfortune upon me;

his anger flares; his grudges grow against me.

My heart seizes within my chest; I am in anguish!

I am terrified my life could end on any breath.

I shiver and shudder in fear;

I can’t stop because this horror is just too much.

I said, “If only my arms were wings like the dove’s!

I would fly away from here and find rest—

Yes, I would venture far

and weave a nest in the wilderness.

[pause]

“I would rush to take refuge

away from the violent storm and pounding winds.”

Throw them off, O Lord. Confuse their speech, and frustrate their plans,

for violence and contention are building within the city.

I can see it with my own eyes.

They plot day and night, scurrying the city walls like rats,

trouble and evil lurking everywhere.

In the heart of the city, destruction awaits.

Oppression and lies swarm the streets,

and they will not take leave; no, they will not go.

If it were just an enemy sneering at me,

I could take it.

If it were just someone who has always hated me, treating me like dirt,

I’d simply hide away.

But it is you! A man like me,

my old friend, my companion.

We enjoyed sweet conversation,

walking together in the house of God among the pressing crowds.

Let death sneak up on them,

swallow them alive into the pit of death.

Why? Because evil stirs in their homes; evil is all around them.

But I, I shall call upon God,

and by His word, the Eternal shall save me.

Evening, morning, and noon I will plead;

I will grumble and moan before Him

until He hears my voice.

And He will rescue my soul, untouched,

plucked safely from the battle,

despite the many who are warring against me.

God, enthroned from ancient times through eternity,

will hear my prayers and strike them down.

[pause]

For they have refused change;

they supply their every need and have no fear of God.

My friend has become a foe, breaking faith, tearing down peace.

He’s betrayed our covenant.

Oh, how his pleasant voice is smoother than butter,

while his heart is enchanted by war.

Oh, how his words are smoother than oil,

and yet each is a sword drawn in his hand.

Cast your troubles upon the Eternal;

His care is unceasing!

He will not allow

His righteous to be shaken.

But You, O God, You will drive them

into the lowest pit—

Violent, lying people

won’t live beyond their middle years.

But I place my trust in You.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 55 (The Voice)

[Psalm 44]

For the worship leader. A contemplative song of the sons of Korah.

With our own ears, O God, we have heard the stories

our ancestors recited of Your deeds in their days, days long past—

how You saved the day.

With a powerful hand, You drove the nations from this land,

but then You planted our parents here.

You fought for us against people of this land;

You set our parents free to enjoy its goodness.

They did not win the land with their swords.

It wasn’t their strength that won them victory.

It was Your strength—Your right hand, Your arm,

and the light of Your presence that gave them success,

for You loved them.

You are my King, my God!

You ordained victories for Jacob and his people!

You are our victory, pushing back the enemy;

at the sound of Your name, we crush the opposition.

I don’t trust in my weapons

or in my strength to win me victory.

But You rescue us from our foes;

You shame our enemies.

We shout Your name all day long;

we will praise Your name forever!

[pause]

But wait, God, where have You gone? Why have You shamed us?

Why do our armies stand alone?

Without Your help we must retreat from our enemy,

and the very ones who despise us pillage us.

You have offered us up to our enemies,

like sheep to the slaughter, meat for their feast,

and You have dispersed us among the nations.

You sold Your people for mere pennies,

and You gained nothing from the deal.

You have made us a joke to our friends and neighbors,

mocked and ridiculed by all those around us.

You have brought us infamy among the nations

and made us an object of scorn and laughter to our neighbors.

Disgrace follows me everywhere I go; I am constantly embarrassed.

Shame is written across my face

Because of the taunting and berating of those who are against me,

because the enemy seeks revenge against me.

All this has happened to us,

yet we have never forgotten You;

we have not broken Your covenant with us.

Our hearts stayed true to You;

we have never left Your path;

we follow on.

Yet You have tested us, left us defeated in a land of jackals,

and shrouded us with the veil of death.

Even if we had forgotten the name of our God

or offered praise to another god,

Would not the True God have known it?

For He can see the hidden places of our hearts.

On Your behalf, our lives are endangered constantly;

we are like sheep awaiting slaughter.

Wake up, Lord! Why do You slumber?

Get up! Do not reject us any longer!

Why are You still hiding from us?

Why are You still ignoring our suffering and trouble?

Look and You will see our souls now dwell in the dust;

our bodies hug the earth.

Rise up and help us;

restore us for the sake of Your boundless love.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 44 (The Voice)

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af-daemonicus · 2 years

Text

“Care to join me upstairs, darling?”

It’s incredible how easy it was; just six words to seal your fate. Holding your hand as I pull you up the stairs, whispers in your ears serving as empty promises of how I’d give you anything you wanted. As I guided you through the door, I close it behind us, before pushing you back against it firmly, but carefully. I lean in closer, allowing our lips to meet, and it isn’t long before my tongue works its way into your mouth as my hands move to explore your body, eventually resting on your waist as I pull your body against mine. The gentle noise of pleasure tastes so sweet as it leaves your mouth and meets mine. I deepen the kiss, one arm now moving beneath your shirt and up your back before resting on your shoulder, squeezing gently as I bite your lower lip. Already I have you completely under my control, no deception needed, just well-placed holds on you and the ability to make you grow weaker with just a kiss. As I pull away from you, I’m met with what is almost a whine, but that soon changes to pleasure once more as my tongue snakes along your neck and cheek and sinks into your ear. It’s as if I wash away any other thoughts with this movement; your whole body relaxes and leans into mine, and as I pull away you allow me to bring you over to the bed with no hesitation.

I praise you as you work frantically to undress me, relishing the feeling of your hands against my skin as you liberate me of all that I’m wearing. My hands work more slowly, taking my time to undo every button on your shirt, running the tips of my fingers along your waistband as I undo your belt, and my touch lingering intentionally as I rid you of your underwear. Firmly, my hand comes back up to your shoulder as I bring you to your knees and you oblige my desires with no question. My legs, over your shoulders, constrict to encourage your service to me. They stay firmly wrapped around you, holding you in place, but not with any more force than you’d expect. That is, until you go to pull away. Even after I am satisfied with what you have done for me, I keep you there, my grip on you growing stronger, and soon I see panic flash across your eyes. I shift my position, keeping your throat between my thighs, allowing me to begin toying with you. I tense the muscles in my legs and soon you feel yourself running short of breath, unable to even plead for me to stop. I don’t relent until I see you beginning to totally lose hope, consumed now by fear of your own demise, where finally I let go.

Your body drops to the floor, and instinctively you go to pull yourself away from me and stand. For a moment, I let you, contemplating the chase, but your harsh words against me quickly resolve that question. Not willing to let you think your little moment of defiance is anything but a pathetic display of the power you pretend to have here, I pull myself off the bed and crouch beside you, a knee firmly pressing against your chest keeping you from escape. Wordlessly I pull you up, before roughly pushing you right back down onto your front on the bed. My whole weight comes down on you as I lay on top of you, my mouth once more now close enough to your ear for you to be able to feel my breath.

“You are mine, darling. Best you don’t forget that. You are mine to do whatever I please with, and I will not stop just because of some pathetic protest that you make. You are going to lie here, on your front, and you are going to take everything I do to you. You don’t have a choice in that. If you try to fight back, or push me off, or get away from me, I will simply drag you right back to where I need you. Do you think that the fear in your eyes is really going to keep me from using you? Really? Because frankly it is pathetic. You are pathetic. You are weak, and you are good only as a means for my pleasure. So, you are going to take this, and you are going to enjoy it, like a good boy.”

I can feel you squirm beneath me, but my body is still keeping yours pressed against the bed and you have no chance of going anywhere. You feel some of the weight lift from your legs and lower back, and spend that moment trying to find any way to stop me, but you soon realise that it was just so that I may position myself between your legs behind you. Then, my chest and arms come away from your upper back, and you seize the opportunity to prop yourself up… damning yourself in the process. As soon as your chest lifts from the bed, my hands grab hold of your waist and you feel as I force myself inside of you. The moment I do so, your protests begin, but they’re quickly muffled as I push your face down harshly into the bed once more. You have no way to get away now, with my grip on your hips so tight that they leave marks. You feel our bodies be pulled against each other rhythmically and as the sounds of our skin colliding fills the room, you are left unable to do anything but take it, and enjoy it, just as I asked.

As you relax, accepting your fate, your body begins to betray any protests from earlier. The strings of curses and begs for me to stop soon dissipate, replaced now by moans that you try to hide and breathy exclamations of fuck as I completely destroy you. Before long you are a red-face, breathless, sweaty mess, but I don’t stop. I keep going until you grow too weak to keep yourself up, and even then I don’t give in just yet, because you don’t get to have it easy. You get whatever the fuck I give you, and if I choose to fuck you until you cannot take any more, then that’s what you get.

Satisfied with how much I’ve broken you down, I pull out and let you collapse to the bed before I roll you over to your back and straddle you. “Look at you. Look at how fucking pathetic you are. It must be so humiliating, knowing how much of a useless sub I’ve turned you into. Even while you were still pretending not to enjoy it I could feel you push back against me, desperate for me to fuck you like the good boy you are, isn’t that right baby? Hmm? Can’t even use your words for me now? That’s such a shame, I was going to ask if you think you can take just one more thing, but I suppose now I’ll just have to make that choice for you, won’t I? And I know how big and strong you can be for me, so I think you can manage this last bit.”

With that, I lower myself on to you and you feel your cock sink inside me. It doesn’t take much for you to grow desperate, however, and soon I feel what seems to be the last of your strength flow into me. I slap you across the face. “Did I say that you were allowed to cum, baby? After all of that, and you think that was for your benefit? After all I’ve just done for you? Useless, subby boy. It’s fine, I suppose, because despite your little moment of rebellion against me there, I can still take what I want from you. And I will.”

With that, you feel me again begin to rock back on forth on top of you, riding you until I too am satisfied. I feel as you squirm and whimper beneath me, your body now aching from all I’ve put it through, but no number of pleas have any effect now as I completely drown them out. You’re mine, and you’ll take whatever I do to you. And you can’t stop me.

0 notes

twelvegods · 3 years

Text

sick leave

pairing/s; george weasley x fem!reader

warning/s; none

word count; -1k

summary; where you’ve taken sick and george takes care of you.

a/n; domestic tingz always got me feeling a type of way,, what do we think?

“george? is that you?” you mumble sleepily, nuzzling your head further into your pillow as you felt too nauseous to even move. you’d heard the front door open and could only hope that was your fiancé coming home lest you accept your inevitable demise.

george weasley was on you in an instant, your bed now sinking with the familiar weight of him as he gently rolled you onto your back, tutting as you did little to resist. he brushed away the damp hair sticking to your forehead, eyes trailing all over your face worriedly and assessing the situation.

he wasn’t used to being the one with the better immune system, always claiming that he’s never even seen you under the weather even back when you were both in school, much less bedridden. nevertheless he jumped at the opportunity to take care of you, seeming almost giddy, and have just returned from work to tell you he’d taken a two day leave just to do so. you knew this wasn’t something you were going to live down any time soon.

george touched the back of his hand to your neck, comparing it to the heat of your forehead. “you’re burning up. hotter than when i left this morning.”

“i think i have something witty in response to that, but my brain is completely fried.” you groaned, your back aching in addition to the burning sensation all throughout your body.

george lips twitched upwards before leaning down to give you a kiss. before he could do so, your hands reached up sluggishly and pushed him away to the best of your abilities.

“no, otter, you’re going to get sick, too.”

“why do i get the feeling being bedridden beside you, bunny, isn’t as bad as it sounds?”

eventually, a petty argument broke out; where george insisted on his kisses despite the situation and you were just looking out for his well being, but as you were too weak to put up a solid debate, he ended up planting a light kiss on your warm temple, laughing fondly at the pout you were giving him.

that wide grin of his stuck with him as he walked out of your shared bedroom and walked back in carrying a tray stacked with all different sorts of stuff george swore up and down had medicinal properties. you eyed the steaming bowl of soup warily.

“is that...?” your voice was hoarse and george set the tray on the bedside table before helping you into a sitting position, stealthily landing another kiss on your cheek. “hey!”

“i have every right to make use of your weakened state for the sake of my kisses.” george smirked proudly before sitting cross legged beside you. the sight of such a long legged creature in your bed next to your currently frail frame was a sight to behold.

he reached for the soup and began feeding you spoonful after spoonful, not taking any of your disapproval of the particular flavor.

“you haven’t had lunch and you can barely stomach whole foods, so suck it up princess.”

you frowned. “hey, do you like me?”

george blinked at you, spoon stopping in midair. “what?”

“i asked if you liked me.” you averted your gaze.

this time, it was george’s turn to frown, feeding you the portion of soup before dropping the spoon back into the bowl. you watched as it rested comfortably on his lap. “what do you mean? of course i like you.”

“yeah but do you like, like me?”

“bunny, i’m literally marrying you.”

“okay, so are you marrying me as a friend or...? it’s unclear, otter.”

“merlin, has the fever burned so hot that you’re actually delusional, love?”

once the bowl was finished and the soup was a warm comfort in your belly, george tucked you back under the covers, but not before placing a cold towel on your forehead in hopes of bringing the fever down. he quickly undressed and showered before snuggling up right beside you, hair still damp.

“i like, like you so much i love you.” he muttered, pressing a kiss against your neck as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close against his cool body.

the next day, george was sneezing left and right, the button of his nose a bright shade of red. he claimed that his joints were beginning to ache and you resisted the urge to laugh, burrowing your head in his hair instead to cover up the smile on your face.

“that’s what you get for kissing me when i explicitly told you not to, dummy.”

your fiancé shrugged, moving you so that you were face to face. “i meant it when i said being bedridden beside you doesn’t sound so bad.”

george reached up to cradle the back of your head as he leaned forward, lips quite literally melting into each other as the varying heat of your fevers altered the experience. it was like having your first kiss together all over again. or maybe you were truly just delusional at this point.

you were the first the pull away, smiling fondly as the love of your life attempted to chase you back. “good thing you called in for a sick leave to take care of me, but now who’s going to take care of us?”

“i’ll call fred.” george didn’t even bother opening his eyes, moving forward to capture your lips with his once more. he blinked them open though once you physically pushed his face away, your laughter a tinkling bell in his ears.

“then who's going to take care of the shop?”

“... i’ll call ron.”

#harry potter imagines #harry potter one shot #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter fluff #harry potter angst #harry potter smut #hp imagines #hp x reader #hp x you #george weasley imagines #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley one shot #george weasley fluff #george weasley smut #george weasley angst #mine*

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mca-attack21 · 3 years

Text

Semi-Flayed

Steve Harrington x Reader. Season 3 finale spoilers.

The floor was cold, the atmosphere chaotic. The screams of your friends were drowned out by the fireworks and snarls of the mindflayer. Despite the noise, you clearly heard Billy, or the Mindflayer rather, whisper, “Stay still, it will all be over soon," his words sent ice through your veins. You struggled against his grasp, but it was no use. Realizing the imminence of your demise, you felt an overwhelming sadness, not even for yourself, but for Steve Harrington, the first and apparently last love of your life. As the “flaying” began, he was the only thing on your mind. You hoped that he would survive this, that he would get out of Hawkins, that he would be happy. You hoped-

“Y/N!” Steve screamed as he blew his cover to run to your side.

This caught the attention of Eleven, who managed to use her powers to throw Billy away from you. She fell back against Mike. The rest of the kids were still blasting the mind flayer with fireworks. Steve used the opportunity to pick you up and carry you away from the action.

“Y/n? Can you hear me? You gotta wake up okay? I did not survive being tortured by Russians only to have you be flayed before I could even-” his voice broke, and before he could continue, he was rounding the corner to where Dustin was.

“Shit. Is she okay?”

“I don’t know. Billy - the mind flayer- how do we know if she? What if she was?” Steve tried, but his heart couldn’t even handle the idea of you being lost to him.

“She wasn’t flayed.”

“How do you know?” Steve asked reluctant to be relieved.

“The hive mind is activated, she would be awake and trying to kill us if she was,” Dustin explained.

“Then why isn’t she waking up?”

“I don’t know Steve, but we have bigger problems right now,” he said gesturing to the fact that they were almost out of Fireworks.

Steve hesitantly left your side to help the others and watched in absolute shock as Billy sacrificed himself. It was only moments later that the mind flayer collapsed. It was over. Jonathan hugged Nancy, Mike went to Eleven, Lucas held Max as she cried, and both Steve and Dustin turned towards you.

“Y/n wake up!” Steve tried shaking your shoulders. He lowered his head to your chest to hear your heart beating and feel your breathing, “Y/n, c’mon, I need you to wake up,” he tried again, sounding more desperate.

Before he could continue, the FBI came running in and they were all escorted out. Steve barely managed to convince the EMT to let him ride with you. He was stuck in the waiting room for what seemed like forever, shrugging off the nurses who offered to check out his injuries. Dustin, Mike, Nancy, and Jonathon came in, gathering in silence waiting for any news. The worst part for Steve was when your mother showed up, he had never felt more guilty than when he lied to her about what happened.

Eventually, the doctor came out with a flustered look on his face. He asked for your mom, and Steve quickly stood to join them. The doctor protested, but your mom assured him that Steve should come with her.

“So, I don’t know how to tell you this, but as far as we can tell there is nothing physically wrong with your daughter. She is seemingly in a coma with no cause. As such, there is nothing medically we can do other than sustain her condition if you choose to do so,” he then turned to Steve, “Can you run me through what happened again?” Steve managed to recount his story, trying to ignore your mother's sobs. As soon as he finished, he exited the room in shock, he sunk down to the floor, struggling to breathe, replaying the doctor's words over and over again in his head. His chest was filled with immense pain at the thought of losing you.

He sat there a while trying to calm himself down before forcing himself off the wall and back to the waiting room, where Will, Mrs. Byers, and Eleven had joined the others. All eyes went to him expectantly, but with one look at him Dustin said what they were all thinking, “Shit..."

Steve repeated what the doctor had said, Nancy pulled him into a comforting hug. While the others started brainstorming. There was an hour of outrageous theories until finally, Will realized something, “She wasn’t completely flayed, but the process was definitely initiated.”

“Obviously,” Dustin chimed in.

“But what is flaying? It’s like your identity being ripped away from you and replaced with the host mentality,” Will continued.

“So maybe Y/n’s soul or whatever was separated. Nothing medically wrong with her, because that’s not a physical connection” Mike added.

“So in other words, we have to jumpstart the connection again,” Lucas agreed, and then all eyes shifted to El.

“Do you think you could try to find her? Like you did Billy or Heather?” Mike asked.

“I can try,” El nodded.

Dustin walked over to where Steve was laying with his head in Mrs. Byers' lap. She ran her fingers through his hair like she had for her sons so many times, mind wandering to Hopper. Steve looked so broke, like he had given up any hope.

“We need to get into Y/n’s room, we think we know how to fix her,” Dustin announced.

It was like that swiped a switch in Steve, and he popped up at once, “What do you mean?”

Dustin explained everything to Steve and Mrs. Byers, and then again in layman's terms. From there the whole group formed a plan. Mrs. Byers and Nancy would go distract your mom. Dustin, Mike, and Will would distract the nurses. Steve and El would sneak into your room, while Jonathon kept watch. For once, everything went smoothly.

El was searching the cabinets for something to cover her eyes with, and Steve handed her the red ascot from his Scoops uniform. She went to your side and took your hand, instantly being transported into your consciousness.

It was dark, unlike anything she had ever experienced before. Every step she took was echoing, the entire reality was glitching in and out, but there was no sign of you.

“Y/n?” she called out.

The blackness would flash to a scene of you and then back to the nothingness, “Y/n, can you hear me?” El tried again, “I need you to focus on my voice, and I can bring you back. I’ll bring you back home, back to Steve.”

At the mention of Steve, the glitching stopped and El could see you know for the first time, you laid on the ground folded into yourself. You were pale and shaking, looking only a moment away from death. As she got closer she could hear you softly repeating, “Please don't, I'm sorry.” There was no indication that you knew she was there. She touched you lightly on the shoulder, but it didn’t phase you.

“Y/n? We need to get out of here, I need your help,” she tried, again receiving no response. The glitching started again, each time putting more and more distance between the two of you. El knew that you wouldn’t survive it much longer.

In the hospital room, Steve watched as blood trickled down Eleven’s face. He didn’t know why it was taking so long. He tried to get an idea of what was happening through the one-sided conversation that he was hearing, but even that was being drowned out by his fear of losing you, What if this didn’t work? The lights started flickering, the machines in the room going nuts, and then suddenly Eleven called his name, “I need you to talk to her, to bring her back.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Steve, we don't have time, just talk to her!”

“Okay….Uhm...Y/n? It’s Steve. Your boyfriend,” he started, feeling extremely uncomfortable, before his emotions took over. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to protect you. I’m here now though, and I need you to come back to me. I need you to wake up, cause you are the best thing that has ever happened to me and I don’t want to lose you. Not now, not ever. Please Y/n. I love you so much, please wake up." As he finished, everything went black, the entire hospital lost power.

In your head, every nightmare you had ever had was playing through your mind. You were cold and afraid, feeling lost beyond anything you have ever felt. Whatever was happening to you it was killing you, you could feel it draining you. A strange numbness started to overtake you. You weren’t giving up, you were running out of fight. Just as you were trying to prepare yourself for whatever would come next, you heard a familiar voice, “Okay….Uhm...Y/n? It’s Steve. Your boyfriend.” Hearing his voice made everything stop. A warmth filled you, and you forced your eyes open, seeing Eleven.

"El?" you asked weakly.

“You’re going to be fine, I’m here,” she reassured, moving towards you and taking your hand.

The next thing you remember was hearing Steve’s voice, “Are you okay?” he asked, you forced your eyes open to see who he was talking to.

“I’ll be fine,” Eleven reassured him, wiping her nose.

“Everything was going crazy in here and then the power went out...Is she okay now?"

Suddenly Eleven’s face lit up, “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

You had never seen Steve turn around so quickly in his life, a wide smile on his face as he practically dove onto your bed holding you like his life depended on it. “Nice to see you too,” you laughed. God did he love that laugh, and that smile, and you.

“I am so glad that you are okay,” he sighed, allowing himself to relax a little for the first time since he had found out about the Russian code from Dustin.

“Are you okay?” you asked running your finger lightly across his cheek. His eye was swollen and undoubtedly painful. His lip was busted and his nose was also bruised and swollen. In other words, he looked like he got into a fight with his hands tied behind his back.

He put his hand over yours and pulled it down to his chest over his heart as he had done so many times before, “It’s worse than it looks, I promise. I’m just glad you're okay.”

You were going to ask him what happened but were interrupted by the kids coming in excitedly. They were vividly telling you everything that happened after you were “Semi-flayed” as Will had coined it. You listened to every word, happy to know that it was all over. Their commotion gained the attention of the nurse, who proceeded to kick everyone out. Well, everyone but Steve who was practically glued to your side.

She went back to find the doctor and notify your mother, promising to bring back the ice that you requested for Steve’s eye. There were more happy reunions, followed by another round of tests, and finally, you were discharged. Joyce took Will, Jonathan, Dustin, and Lucas home. Nancy took Mike and Eleven back to her house. Your mom went back to your house and you went with Steve to his.

You both were exhausted but found it hard to sleep.

“What happens now?” you asked innocently.

“What do you mean?”

“How do we move forward from this? I mean nothing can ever really be the same can it?”

Steve thought for a moment, “I think we grieve and heal, then we start looking for the little victories again until this is nothing more than a memory.”

You nodded, “I love you, Steve Harrington,” you spoke softly.

You missed the grin that spread across his face before he kissed your forehead, “I love you too.”

You laid like that for a while, it didn’t take Steve long to fall asleep. You thought about what he said. Tomorrow would be hard, and the day after that too, but eventually your life would become some type of normal again. You shifted to look at his face, careful not to wake him. You felt a sense of relief, knowing that as long as the two of you had each other, you could work through the rest.

#steve harrington imagines #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #steve imagines #stranger things x reader #stranger things reader insert #stranger things imagines #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things

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chuckbass-love · 3 years

Note

please do #19 with ransom🤭

A/N: Hey, sweet anon. I let all of my requests build up so hence the long wait, which i am sorry for. However, i really hope you love this. I was supposed to upload an Andy Barber request first but it’s a long one and i’m in the process of editing it for y’all. But for now, here is a steamy, short and sweet Ransom fic because he’s my fave, to keep y’all satisfied for now.

Prompt #19: "Do you need me to finger you first?"

Disclaimer: My work is not to be translated or to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader

Warning: Smut, vaginal fingering, brief thigh riding, degradation, swearing and a small mention of murder and prison. 18+ as always guys!

Word Count: 2,210

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @evansensations go check them out💕

Get You Ready

It’s 2:45pm, early afternoon time in Massachusetts and you’re currently held up and pre occupied in the middle of nowhere in a rented cabin with Boston’s most notorious playboy. Hugh Ransom Drysdale.

To say you’ve become well acquainted with the convicted murdered would be an understatement to say the least. He’s dangerous, bad news or a bad egg as your mother likes to say. But you couldn’t bring yourself to abandon him when he got arrested, and so the regular visits began.

At first, you tried to deny him the simplest pleasures of just kissing you, you refused to give yourself to a man with such a unsettling reputation. However, that refusal didn’t last long. He found a way, by somehow coercing you into succumbing to his touch, the slow drag of his lips across yours before he bit down hard on your bottom lip was enough to have you panting and keening for more.

And so it continued...

The kissing turned to touching and the touching turned to more, with your consent of course.

But the haze of white bed sheets and lazy morning sex had to end at some point, that point being the death of Harlan, Ransom’s grandfather.

From the moment news broke of his death, Hugh began to act shady, and although you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, you knew you had reason to be suspicious.

The will reading then fast approached and it only got worse, his restlessness, the way he seemed to be so irritable yet so unable to find anything to help. Nothing would suffice, not even the soft touch of your hand on his shoulders to massage the tension away.

And then Marta was handed everything...literally on a silver platter. Though you couldn’t fault Harlans choice, the same could not have been said for the good for nothing, money grabbing Thrombey's and Drysdale’s. They were angry, seething even. However, Ransom was peculiarly calm, it was worrisome.

Days passed with Blanc trying to solve the mystery of the best selling authors demise but to no avail. No one could figure it out. Fingers were pointed, digs were thrown. But no one knew, just who did kill Harlan Thrombey? It was a mystery.

That was until Hugh Ransom Drysdale was found out, Blanc clocked on eventually, he realised how Ransom had pulled the wool right over his eyes, for far too long.

This same realisation led to his arrest.

But with great lawyers, he weaselled his way out of a long sentence.

The day of his release, and much to your mothers dismay, you rushed into his arms. You wanted to be the first person he saw, the first person he held. You wanted him to know what he meant to you, how loyal you were to him. And you still are.

Throughout all of the shit that’s been thrown at the two of you, you’re still together, albeit in some old cabin in the middle of nowhere, but together nonetheless.

And now here you are on an extremely cold day, wrapped up in his warm embrace as you lay between his spread legs. Your head is rested on his chest as his fingers brush against your clit for the umpteenth time today, you had a taster of his cock inside of you and after days of him being too busy, it hurt a little, the stretch.

See, how you ended up here is a funny story, you dared to tread the waters around him whilst he was working on something in his study and in doing so, you earned a punishment.

He had told you he was busy one time too many and you didn’t listen, you actively ignored his refusals.

The whore that you’ll always be for him just couldn’t resist getting on her knees as he sat there man spreading and looking too good not to touch. And the moment you worked at his belt to pull his slacks and boxers down, his hardened cock sprang free from its confines and he looked too good not to taste.

But before you could wrap your sweet gloss covered and tempting lips around the throbbing tip that leaked his tasty pre-cum, he gripped your face aggressively with one hand. His phone rang in the other and as he answered, his punishing grip relented and he was tapping his lap for you to sit down on it, not before he signalled for you to strip though.

Whilst you undressed, he shimmied out of is slacks, until they dropped to his feet along with his boxers. He stepped out of them and waited for you to straddle him, for you to sink down on his hardened length. But just as you were about to, a better idea rose to light. Instead he manoeuvred the two of you so that you were straddling his thigh, the words ‘ride it’ that he mouthed let you know that that was all that you’d be getting today.

The phone conversation seemed to drag out agonisingly but he’d assist you by moving his thigh just to give you some reprieve, some friction, even if it only lasted a second.

However, once the phone call came to an abrupt end, it was game on. You began to move more, letting moans slip so casually until he stood up with you in his arms. He carried you to the bedroom, taking his time to admire every inch of your face as he walked, you felt warm under his stare.

Reaching the bedroom, Ransom positioned the two of you so that you were between his spread legs, your own legs wide open for his pleasure. He began to toy with your cunt, muttering degrading words while he pulled orgasm after orgasm from you just by rubbing at your over sensitive clit and now you’re not sure you even have another inside of you.

“Does my dumb baby need my cock?”

Your eyes droop as you fight off your spent state, but you still manage a slow nod as you turn your head to look back at him, eyes pleading for just an inch of him to be buried inside of you.

“Beg for it, baby”

With a dry mouth and zero energy, you whisper “please, daddy. Please fuck me with your cock”

Your words, nothing but a whine to his ears but since you’ve been such a good girl thus far, he caves in easily until before you know it, you’re on your back with Ransom hovering above you.

He pumps his shaft a couple times, before tapping it against your sex lightly, making you jolt.

“Are you ready for me?” he asks, lust blown eyes focused on yours as they turn darker. You give a simple nod along with a meek little “yes” to satisfy him.

And with that he slams inside of you, causing you to cry out in pain.

Ransom may be a lot of things, but he can never bring himself to fuck you if you’re uncomfortable. He prefers you to enjoy the sex.

His hips come to a rushed halt as he lowers his head to where yours is laying on the pillow beneath, his thumb brushing your tears away.

“Shhh, what is it, baby?”

“It’s been a couple days since we last did anything, i’m a little tight, it just hurt that’s all” you explain, trying to signal for him to continue. But instead he chuckles, pulling out entirely and pulling your bottom lip down as his other hand roams south.

“Does my dumb baby need a little help? Do you need me to finger you first, hm? Get that tight cunt ready for me?”

His crass words resonate deep within, sending more arousal to pool at your sore entrance and regardless of how bad it hurts, you want him.

“No, i want you now-”

“Hush, baby. Let daddy take care of it for you”

His lips begin to trail from your tear stained cheek to your lips and then down to the valley between your breasts. He sucks a now hardened nipple into his mouth, biting down and flicking his tongue across it with precision but you daren’t get too used to it as he soon moves further down toward your needy and aching sex.

Once he reaches it, your chest begins to rise and fall, your breath growing heavier.

You watch on as he licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit and he repeats this action a couple more times before sucking on the pulse point, flicking his tongue just like he did across your nipple. Your back arches and endless lewd moans slip as you struggle to contain how good he feels.

Two thick digits slip inside of you, scissoring you open and easing you through the stretch to prepare you for him once again. The thing with Ransoms size is that regardless of how often you fuck, he’ll always need to prepare you before he fucks you.

“Tastes so good, baby” he coos, his fingers pumping in and out of you, slowly at first and then the pace picks up until your clutching at the sheets beneath you. His mouth giving your body that extra push toward the edge, the pool of pleasure awaiting you below as you writhe around, enjoying every second of his sinful mouth.

“Ransom” you groan, hips bucking up to meet the rhythm of his fingers, chasing that all important release.

It’s like whenever Ransom is involved, your body ignites and you turn into a blazing inferno, every inch of you so needy for him, it never fades.

He has you right where he wants you and you feel absolutely no shame in that.

Your bodies are drawn together constantly, like a magnetic pull is responsible. And as much as your family don’t approve, you adore it.

The feel of his fingers curling inside of you, the tips poking that spongy spot deep within you that has the power to send your body into a shaking mess. You crave that release now, you’re starving for it. And you’re going to make sure he gives it to you.

The continuation of your hips rolling and bucking alerts Ransom of how close you are and a smirk appears on his sinister face... here comes trouble.

Without missing a beat, he withdraws his fingers from your tight cunt, lifting them up for you to see the way your slick covers them beautifully. His tongue dips out to wet his lips as he ogles the sight of your arousal before he takes them into is mouth, his tongue working expertly, making sure that every drop hits his tastebuds.

An overly satisfied and deep guttural groan rumbles from him and you feel your eyes widen at the hottest sight you’ve ever seen. Ransom in his element, pleasuring you until you break for him.

There’s just something about the way he fucks, the way he teases, the way he touches and kisses. It’s him in all of his glory.

He merely has to look in your direction with those darkened lust filled orbs and you’re a goner, weak at the knees. Some people’s talents lie in photography or creative writing, but Ransom’s lies in the art of seduction and pleasure. He knows exactly what he’s doing and no other man has ever come close to him.

It makes you question how you coped all that time before you met him.

“You think you can handle me now, hm?” his degrading tone doesn’t skim over your head, but somehow you live for the way his entire demeanour switches when it comes to these things.

He hovers above you once again, his hands braced either side of your head as he urges you to lift your legs up as high as you can before he drapes them over his broad shoulders.

Your breathing picks up, your chest rising and falling as your eyes remain locked on his, the tip of his impressive size nudging at your entrance. The edging he put you through now a distant memory as he eases in, or at least for the first 2 inches. Then he slams in, forcing you to take the rest of him, all the way.

“God” you scream, hands scrambling around again, searching for something to claw at as his hips snap into you, his pace nothing short of unforgiving.

“God can’t save you now” he grumbles, mouth falling open as he scrunches his face up in reaction to the feel of your pussy wrapped around him in a fist like grip. Wet and perfect.

The noises filling the room are making you grateful that you’re well away from everyone else, your own little safe haven in the middle of nowhere, no one can interrupt you now.

And It’s bound to be a long night....

-----------------------------

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#ransom drysdale #hugh ransom drysdale smut #hugh ransom drysdale #knives out #chris evans #chris evans smut #ransom drysdale smut #request #ransom drysdale x fem!reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x reader #reader inserts #x fem!reader #x female reader #fanfiction #smut #cevans

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chasingpj · 3 years

Text

𝐜𝐨𝐳𝐲

pairing: percy jackson x gn reader

requested?: yes

warnings: implied sex, and uh, that's it

category: headcanons, fluff, established relationship

one thing that’s never changed between you and percy is that no matter how old you get, you’ll always be the playful 13-year-olds when you first met at heart

some nights felt like you’re just unsupervised children causing havoc in your shared apartment in new rome

there’s this running inside joke between the two of you that you guys can never sit through an entire movie without getting distracted

sometimes you're interrupted by the restlessness of wanting to do something else and other times, you get distracted doing, ehm, wink wink other things

either way, you guys have never gotten through more than 40 minutes of a movie in one sitting

one night, you thought you were going to change that for good

you had set the goal to watch mulan in its entirety without stopping

but then you became a factor in your own demise

you watched through, maybe, the first ten minutes of the movie before you said, “you know what would make this better? a blanket fort.”

percy raised an eyebrow at you, taking in the small living room before turning toward you

“you, y/n, are a person full of great ideas.”

his finger booped your nose softly, and he gave you a boyish smile that made your heart skip a beat

as you jumped up from the couch, you began listing all the things you needed: snacks, the fairy lights in your bedroom, dining room chairs, pillows, and every stuffed animal you have in your place

“yes, sir/ma’am!” percy said before running off to help you collect the materials

it doesn’t take long to put everything together after you established the blankets over the dining chairs and the back of the couch

you laid down blankets on the floor, fluffed the pillows, lined your space with stuffed animals, and decorated everything with fairy lights

by the time you peered into the fort, percy was already covered in blankets and cuddling with a squishmellow

“i’m a little jealous of puff the penguin right now,” you joked as you crawled in, joining him under the blankets

percy gave you a dopey smile, tossing the squishmellow to the side before pulling you into his arms

he pressed a soft kiss on your forehead. “you’ll always be my favorite squishmellow.”

you snorted, finding what he said to be super corny

you don’t tease him though and instead, you pull him into a slow, almost feather-light kiss

the sweetness of the kiss made your cheeks radiate with heat and the husky hum that vibrates from his throat sends your stomach into a frenzy of butterflies

somehow, through the haze of the intimacy, you remembered what you were supposed to be doing,

and that is watching mulan

you wiggled in his arms, reluctantly pulling away as much as his hold allowed

“the movie,” you reminded him

percy looked at you through the dark lashes of his half-lidded eyes, “oh... right.”

he gazed over at the opening of your cozy fort as if he was about to move

then he just waves his hand, plopping his head right back onto his pillow.

“eh, we can watch it later. i’m more interested in you.”

“but... don’t you want to find out if mulan brings her family honor?” you joked

“of course she will. when does a disney movie ever have a sad ending?”

you were ready to prove him wrong, but you couldn’t come up with an example at the moment, “fine, i guess you’re right.”

percy’s lips that rest against your forehead curl up into a smile, and he gives you another groggy hum, “so, let’s just stay here.”

his thumb caresses your cheek before it slid down, taking your chin in its hold to gently tilt your head back

percy is quick to connect your lips once again, not giving you much time to study the fondness in his expression in the white hue of the fairy lights

the kiss you share increasingly becomes lazier, the heat and comfort of one another making the both of you sleepy

percy eventually pulls away to yawn and you smiled, amused as he mumbles a suggestion to take a nap

it hadn’t been your intention to nap here but after reflecting on the long week of late nights studying for the midterms that just passed, you figured you and perce could use a nap

with your face nuzzled against his neck and percy’s strong arms around your body, it doesn’t take long for you to drift off to sleep

… so much for watching a movie

masterlists taglist: @xxyrr @nct127bee @mochabreezeee @minamisulemisa @yanfeisluvr @Slytherclaw-kitten @zhethugisa @-thatgirloverthere- @sanovr @passionswift @nanskidoodle @idk-bye-no @ilvermornyidiot @all-hailreyna @blackpopcorn @autmngirlworld @sunkissedskin1328 @Hermioneswifeee @quteez @hajigayy @aleksanderwh0r3 @drayshadow @tonyedwardstarkk @londoncherry @ashookykooky @lotusnegra666 @loverstyless @t0xicmuse @ohmydamgods @jordannfields @tomriddles-wh0re @pixietilly1924 @amy-writes-blog @muted-mayham @shawkneecaps @cbmelody @dreamerball @earthtokace @thehighladyofday @theverydramaticcabbage @lala-llama123 @tootsdoll @slytherindaughterofposeidon0 @black-rose-29 @somekidnamedkai @possiblylostchasecousin @silver-gemini @vodkavanity @hamdehlesmis @shadowsndaisies @cami05sworld @does-anyone-hear-me @scarlets-widow @sol-the-salmon

if your username is bolded that means i can’t tag you ! you probably have your visibility settings on!

#percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy x reader #pjo x reader #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson oneshot #percy jackson fic #percy jackson × y/n #my writing #pjo #percy jackson fluff #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson and the olympians fanfic

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dameronology · 3 years

Text

you have my number {bucky barnes x reader}

summary: bucky barnes' memory is a little selective, thanks to all the brainwashing - but one thing he'll never forget is his love for you, even if you're a complete & utter pain in the ass. his ass. (based on deja vu by olivia rodigro)

^even tho this fic refers to bucky as having a new gf, the reader is still g.n :)

this is spoiler free! enjoyyy

- jazz xx

Your relationship with Bucky Barnes had been nothing short of a train wreck.

And frankly, that was putting it nicely.

It had been a short & passionate affair; intense and sweet and filled with so much emotion in such high concentrations that you'd both almost drowned in it. For every euphoric moment, there had been one so low that you'd scraped your knees on the ground. Climbing a ladder to heaven whilst simultaneously digging your own graves had taken its toll on you both, and eventually, you had no choice but to go your separate ways. It had been for your own sanity, really.

So there he was, tucked away in a neat little box in your brain, labelled don't touch, ever. Even when you were completely wasted, surrounded by your friends and their respective lovers, you never dared to venture back down that particular memory lane. Forgetting all the bad parts and selectively remembering the good parts was easy enough to do, but you had the common sense to remember why you'd broken up in the first place. Because Bucky Barnes, despite being easy on the eyes and having a charming sense of humour, was a pain in your fucking ass. He managed to press every one of your buttons without even trying and his ability to bring out the best in you was completely and entirely wiped out by his tendency to bring out the worst. That wasn't even getting started on his emotional hold-ups; a can of worms neither of you had dared to open until it became the very reason for your demise.

Six months had passed, and you'd managed to expertly avoid him. You worked different missions and Sam Wilson, god bless his sweet soul, went the extra mile to ensure your paths never crossed in a professional sense. On a personal level, however? That was a little more difficult. New York City felt a lot smaller after your break up. You found yourself occasionally ducking under your hood when you saw him on the F-train, or rushing to cross the road when you saw him coming towards you on the street.

That was when you had the whole city to lose yourself in; streets and shops and little food carts to distract yourself with should you need to. Being confined to the same room for a work party was a different story entirely, and one you didn't want to read. Yet, thanks to some insistence from your boss and a little grovelling from your colleagues, you found yourself rocking up to the former Avengers tower on a Friday night.

"So you do exist outside of your work uniform?" Sam Wilson greeted you with a quirked eyebrow.

"Yeah, yeah - nice to see you too, Wilson."

Despite your initial attempts to elbow him in the rips, he wrestled you off of him and pulled you into a tight hug. Sam was one of your favourite colleagues and oldest friends - he'd witnessed the rise and fall of your relationship with Bucky, and been there for you both during the break-up. That had been an exhausting few days, running between your respective apartments in an attempt to offer emotional support to you both.

"D'you want some champagne?" He asked.

"I'm good, but thank-"

You froze, eyes widening at the sight of James Barnes across the room. He looked quintessentially the same, bar for the fact his hair was a little longer and he had a fresh, pink scar under his left eye. Having ditched his usual attire for a black blazer, he looked good. Annoyingly so, in fact. It made you secretly grateful that you'd chosen to dress up a little more than usual too.

"- on second thoughts." You took the flute of champagne from Sam, also grabbing a shot of vodka from the same trey. It was gone in seconds.

"Need I ask?" Sam gave you a playful frown. His brown eyes followed your gaze over his shoulder, landing on the man you'd been staring at. "Ah. I need not."

"Sorry." You murmured. "We haven't actually spoken since, y'know."

"Since you had a break-up that made Ross and Rachel look good?"

"I don't think Bucky has ever seen Friends." You quipped.

"His loss." Sam shrugged. "You should talk to him."

"Nope." You snorted. "Absolutely not. I don't even know if he's moved on."

"Judging by the pretty blonde on his arm, I think he has," Sam replied. "Would you look at that! They're headed right for us."

That was a lot of information to process at once. You would have needed a week alone for your poor, tired brain to deal with the fact that Bucky had someone else on his arm, and a further three days to big yourself up enough to talk to him. Alas, that was not the case tonight. Instead, you had about five seconds between Sam finishing his sentence and your ex-boyfriend reaching you. It was just as well you found the energy within that timeframe to down your champagne.

You could see the woman on his arm clearer now. To give credit where credit was due, she stunning. She looked like the sort of girl who smelt of strawberries and Chanel, and grew her own vegetables on the fire escape. The kind of person you swore to be with every New Year that came, but quickly ditched after a week, returning to drinking coffee from the Starbucks under your apartment rather than going to the organic, vegan place a few blocks over. There was an ethereal glow about her and fuck. You were mad.

"Sam!" Bucky called out to his friend - for a minute, you thought he was ignoring you, before you realised he genuinely didn't recognise you. Your name rolled off his tongue with a tone of uncertainty, as though he was learning a new language and still learning how to pronounce things. "Wow. You look...different."

"So do you." You shot back. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Katie." He awkwardly smiled. "My...my girlfriend."

"It's nice to meet you." You forced an equally pained grin, taking her hand in a shake.

"How do you and Bucky know each other?" She asked.

"Work." Bucky quickly said. You thinned your eyes at him, almost in disbelief.

"So you're an Avenger like these two?" Katie asked, clearly not picking up on the tension. "That's so cool."

"Not in an official capacity." You replied. "But they'd be fucked without me."

The night only got longer from there, really.

There wasn't enough champagne in the world to help the void in your soul. It was a gaping wound that Bucky Barnes had both filled and widened - and tonight, he was doing the latter. It sounded as though him and Katie were having a grand ol' time of it. From the parts of the conversation that you'd actually bothered to listen to, you'd gathered that she'd arrived in New York from London just over three months ago. That meant she had a fucking accent. Of course she did. It made everything she said a thousand times more interesting.

"We were in Paris, in this little cafe. What was it called, babe? Maison de vie?"

"Maison de l'amour, doll." Bucky corrected her. It had only sounded right when he was calling you that.

Your eyes shot up from your drink, immediately staring daggers at them both. The slimy bastard. You had been the one to show him that place. You'd been in Paris for a mission, and after realising it was your four-month anniversary, you'd taken him there for pancakes. It had been a slow morning, filled with hazy eyes and pink skies, and it had ended with him dropping the L-bomb for the first time. The photo you'd taken of Bucky, sat beside a pile of pancakes the same size of him and with whipped cream on his chin, had been your phone background until the day you broke up.

"I've been there." You didn't break away from his gaze, holding cold blue eyes in a trance that he found to be almost suffocating.

"Oh, nice!" Katie beamed. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Yeah." You sniffed. "The company was shit, though."

"Oh, man." She replied. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's not your fault." You gave her a sweet smile - to Bucky, it was a look of venom. "So, tell me more about your trip to Paris."

He quickly cleared his throat. "We didn't do much. Just a weekend getaway-"

"- are you forgetting that we saw Billy Joel?" Katie cut him off with a laugh. "The Billy Joel!"

"Right." It looked as though his mouth had gone completely dry.

"He told me he loved me for the first time to Uptown Girl-"

"-excuse me for a moment." You shoved your glass in her hand, before backing away from your little huddle.

Your brain was focused on getting away and only on getting away. The room suddenly felt a thousand times hotter, and a thousand times smaller too, as though the walls were closing in on you. Maybe that wouldn't have been so bad if they'd just collapsed around you and swallowed you fucking whole. Anything to get away from this situation.

Making a beeline for the balcony doors, you elbowed them open and stepped outside. The cold air of the rooftop gardens was a welcome contrast to the stuffy indoors, biting, night air hitting your face like an icy hug. The sounds of the city rung below you - sirens and yells and tourists - and tangled into the faint sound of the music, all parts of a world that your brain was working overtime to block out.

You focused on the city instead, using the bright lights of the surrounding buildings to anchor you to reality. None of it really even made sense - you were over Bucky. Had been for a long time. It was just the thought of him doing all the things that he'd done with you, with someone else. It made you feel a little bad for Katie, too.

"I was going to tell you about Billy Joel."

You glanced over your shoulder, giving a derivative snort. "Piss off, Bucky."

"I'm serious." He ignored your demand, cautiously approaching you.

"I brought you those tickets!" You turned around to face him. "We were meant to go together. Billy Joel was our thing."

"We broke up!' He reminded you. "Like I said, I was going to tell you that we went together-"

"- I don't care." You cut him off. "I genuinely don't care."

"That was a lot of storming off for someone who doesn't care."

"Okay, maybe I care a little bit." You huffed, taking a seat on a bench. "It's not even that you're with someone else, it's that you're doing all the things we did. The nicknames, the pancake place, the concert."

"I..." Bucky took a seat beside you, pondering for a moment.

"And declaring your love for someone to Uptown Girl is fucking weird." You muttered.

"Do you have a better suggestion?"

"Vienna, obviously."

"You're such a pain in the ass." Bucky replied. "But for what it's worth, I wasn't thinking of Katie in that moment."

You glanced up at him, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"D'you remember that morning when we were in New Orleans?" He asked. "And we had a few hours to kill before our flight, so you started dancing around the hotel room to Uptown Girl?"

"I remember." You softly smiled.

"That was when I realised I loved you." He admitted. "I was replaying that in my head at the concert, and it just kinda came out, and Katie heard."

"Damn." You muttered. "Sucks to be her, huh?"

"I like Katie." He said. "Truth be told, doll, I'm still stuck in the past a little bit. With you, and with what we had."

"We fucking hated each other by the end, Buck."

"I know, but I mean all the stuff before that." He explained. "You were the first person who saw me for who I am and not what I've done. The first person that actually made me feel loved and worthy."

"I do try."

He lightly elbowed you "I'm serious. I think I'm just projecting my longing for what we had onto my current relationship."

"You're being painfully honest tonight." You observed. "It's fucking weird."

"Who taught me to be painfully honest?"

"Right." You rolled your eyes. "So this is how Frankenstein felt when he created his monster."

"You're the worst," Bucky muttered. "I genuinely am sorry, though. I shouldn't be recycling our memories. I should make new ones.'

Dusting off your trousers, you stood up. "You're right."

"Thank you, though."

"For what?"

"For finding me first," He replied, "and for teaching me what love is."

"Well, if you ever need to be reminded? You have my number."

#why am i low key in love with katie?#i want a tall woman who smells of strawberries :(#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x gn!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers fluff #avengers angst #avengers imagines #avengers imagine #marvel imagines #marvel imagine

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

An Impostor In Love

Sequel to ‘Love For The Faceless’ (’Body Reveal’)

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing (maybe)

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Rae can’t stay mad at her best friends forever. Them being absolutely adorable doesn’t help her ‘pissed off’ act either. Y/N’s outing Corpse like she’s a human lie detector. Corpse is gushing about her every second word that comes out of his mouth. And the rest of the lobby are getting one hell of a kick out of the Among Us romantic comedy - An Impostor In Love

Requested but, once again, not in a typical way. I honestly wasn’t expecting all the positive feedback I got for Love For The Faceless (Body Reveal). I was star-struck! You guys are so amazing I have no words to describe just how much I love you all! Thank you for everything! This story is for all of you 🥰🥰🥰

“Mr. and Mrs. ‘Totally not dating’ have entered the call!“ Sean announces when I hop into the Discord call to play Among Us with the usual gang. I hear Corpse’s laugh from down the hall, bringing a smile to my face.

We’ve gotten used to playing in this arrangement, a few rooms away from each other, ever since we moved in together - Corpse is in his recording room and I am in our shared bedroom. When one dies, they go in the other’s room to troll them. I’m usually the one dead, but that’s besides the point.

“Hi everyone!“ I say in my typical cheery tone before kicking it done a few notches, making it an octave deeper just to say: “Hi Rae.”

The whole lobby laughs, they all know what I’m trying to do here. Everyone’s aware this is the first time Rae is in the same call and lobby as Corpse and I after you-know-which incident. Sure, I’ve been poking sticks at her, waving a white flag and admitting I was wrong several times by now. Who knew my sweetheart best friend could act so cold? I know it’s a front. I know she’s fighting to stay mad. There’s a ton of pressure on her to finally forgive us, but she’s been holding up better than I would be if I were in her situation.

I honestly felt, and still feel, slightly guilty. I know best friends are supposed to tell each other everything. They are supposed to be the first ones to know whatever’s going on in each other’s lives. And I know I broke one of the main rules of friendships, but the decision wasn’t only mine to make. I’m sure she understands where I’m coming from, she’s just giving me and Corpse a hard time.

“Hello, Y/N.” She replies, her tone strictly formal.

“Progress, people! Progress!“ I say joyously, the smile turning into a grin

“Don’t worry, babe. We’ll get her eventually.“ Corpse reassures me as he’s done for the past week or two. He knew I wasn’t as unbothered by Rae’s anger towards me as I tried to appear - a pro and simultaneously a con of living with someone: they pick up on everything about you. You become as familiar to them as the back of their hand.

“I know, I know.“ I giggle, “She’ll cave.“

“Yeah, good luck with that.“ Rae has dropped the formal tone, now sounding like a stubborn child which is something I’m way more familiar with. I’ve dealt with her tantrums and childish outbursts - I don’t know which number it is, but it’s somewhere in the rule book of friendships - and I at least the approximate meaning behind it.

Ken puts an end to our friendly, stick-poking, sorta one-sided banter, ushering us to start the game. We all oblige, muting our mics and getting our heads in the game as though we’re about to enter an actual warzone with upmost stealth.

To my dismay, the screen flashes ‘Crewmate’. I head out of cafeteria to do my task in Weapons, staying weary of anyone within my proximity. Once I’m done, I head on down to Shields and complete my task there as well. I cringe when I’m done, knowing my last three tasks are in Electrical. Like, the fuck kind of luck do I have?

I make my way through the halls, running into Sykkuno and we circle around each other a few times to show we’re safe before we each continue our own way. I enter Electrical and.....oh Felix is dead. And oh lookie who’s right there...

I report the body before the impostor can and we all unmute our mics.

“Found him in Electrical.“ I say nonchalantly, “Didn’t see anyone in there though.“

“Anyone sus?“ Sean asks

We say our ‘no’s and ‘I don’t know’s and skip the vote. I’m smirking to myself as I head back down to Electrical. Walking in, I see the same person as before - Rae. I stop dead in my tracks and we just stare at each other for a few seconds before she comes towards me, circling me twice, bumping visors with me and venting out of the room.

“You’re welcome.“ I mumble, smiling widely.

I finish my tasks and leave Electrical just as Corpse enters our bedroom, giving me this tired-parent look like he’s half disappointed and half amused. “You just threw the game, didn’t you? Don’t lie.” He raises his eyebrows, fully adopting his parent role.

I giggle, shaking my head, sending him the briefest of glances before my eyes fixate on the screen in utter shock - Sean just killed me. Oh, for fuck’s sake...

“I was gonna come clean eventually, but I guess they won’t hear it from me now.“ I shrug, lifting my laptop and setting it aside so Corpse can join me on the bed. I snuggle up to him immediately, drawn to him as though he’s a human magnet.

“Who was it?“ He asks me, running his hands through my hair in a soothing manner.

I frown, pulling away from his chest to look him in the eyes, “Wait, how did you know I threw the game if you don’t know who I threw it for?”

He smirks, shrugging, “I didn’t know. You were smiling downright evilly when I came in so I just assumed.” He boops my nose. “And you ratted yourself out.”

I narrow my eyes at him, blowing some air out my nose - a gesture that has become my only way of showing anger towards him. I literally can’t even voice when I’m upset with him cause the grudge lasts like .5 seconds. I let him get away with more than he should.

Seeing as how I can’t argue to his statement, I lean back into his chest and pull out my phone to pass the time while I pretend to give him the silent treatment. Among my notifications is one for Rae’s stream. I smile and tap it, being taken to her YouTube channel and her live stream.

Just when the stream loads, Rae finds my dead body in Storage.

“Oh, nooooooo! Y/N!“ She wines as she goes over to it, “Sean must’ve killed her.” She reports the body and unmutes herself in game, “The body’s in Storage. I was on my way to call an emergency meeting cause I saw Sean vent in Security.”

“WHAT?!“ Sean exclaims in shock, “I didn’t! Rae’s lying. I swear I didn’t! I wasn’t even in Security!“

“Sean has been following me around this whole time. Just saying.“ Ken joins the discussion, throwing even more suspicion on Sean.

“We gotta vote someone.“ Charlie says, “Might as well be the most sus person at the moment.“

The voting results show all the little astronaut icons on Sean except his which is on Rae. Sean gets launched into space and the game continues. Having muted her mic in-game, Rae speaks up: “Y/N has been avenged. No one kills my best friend.”

I’m staring at my phone screen, eyes wide, eyebrows raised, a huge smile on my face. I take a glance at Corpse out of the corner of my eye and see he’s just as pleasantly surprised as I am.

“For those of you asking if I’m still mad at her and Corpse, the answer’s no. Actually, I think I was never mad. I was just in shock and a little hurt that I wasn’t made aware sooner.“ Rae says as she keeps wandering around the map, “Then I realized not talking to my best friend hurt more than the betrayal, you know. The only reason I still pretend is because it’s really funny to see her trying to soften me up.“ She laughs, “But yeah. I don’t know what I’d do without her or Corpse in my life. I love them both and love them even more together. My best friends are dating, I still can’t wrap my brain around that! They are sooo cute, you guys! I wish they posted more content of them together. I’m literally simping over their relationship! But shh, don’t tell em I said that.”

I laugh, overjoyed by what I just heard. I knew she couldn’t still be mad at us. I know she has every right to be, but she’s too sweet to actually hold a grudge against anyone ever.

I suddenly want nothing more than to give her an enormous hug and hold onto her for as long as she’d let me. I just now realize how lonely it feels to have never hugged your best friend because you haven’t hung out together in person. The only reason Rae now knows what I look like is because I sent her a full body picture of myself as one of my sad attempts to get her to start talking to us again. We have never met in person, and that thought kills me. It makes me impatient for this pandemic to end even more than before.

“Told you there was nothing to worry about.“ Corpse’s arms tighten their hold on my body, pulling me even closer which I didn’t know was possible. The most fulfilling and endearing feeling - being in the arms of a loved one. Being held so close and so tightly that you feel like you’re untouchable. Like you two can’t be hurt by anything in the world as long as you have each other.

“Yeah, you were right.“ I sigh in content, putting my phone down and covering his hands with mine, our rings clinking quietly when they touch.

“As usual...“ he whispers theatrically with his lips against my hair.

I playfully roll my eyes, catching glimpse of the screen showing Rae’s demise.

“Oh no, they caught her.“ I say, a bit disappointed she didn’t win and more than a bit responsible for her defeat.

I somehow manage to convince myself to get untangled from Corpse’s embrace and join the new round. I hear him groan as I settle my computer in my lap, unmuting my mic.

“See ya, kitten.“ Corpse kisses my temple, standing up.

“Oh my God, you two are too cute.“ Poki says sweetly, having heard what Corpse said to me.

“SIMP!“ Sean and Felix shout in unison causing the whole lobby to laugh. Corpse is as red as Rae’s avatar as he exists our room, running down the hallway.

“Ok, ok, ok. Hold on. I have to address this. I really hadn’t stepped foot in Security, let alone vented in there. Rae why were you lying?“ Sean’s voice cuts through the teasing directed towards Corpse and I.

“While we’re on that topic...“ Felix speaks up as well, making me break out in a nervous sweat, “Y/N, you literally saw Rae kill me, but you said you didn’t see anyone.“ He laughs, “Not gonna lie, I was a bit pissed.“

The call falls silent for about five seconds until Rae and I speak simultaneously.

“I was avenging Y/N.“

“I was helping Rae.“

Silence follows our statements, not for long though, as our friends break out in amused laughter.

“Fuck’s sake, you two make a good team.“ Sean says through genuine laughter which Rae and I soon join him in.

Felix and Sean and the rest of the lobby forgive us for throwing the game from both the crewmate and impostor’s side and we move onto another round. This time I have only one task in Electrical which I leave for last as always. I don’t feel like dying right from the get-go. I start by doing the card swipe in Admin and then the fuel task in Storage. As I make my way to Upper Engine, Corpse leaves Electrical, falling in step with me. I immediately get nervous, but still make my way to where I’m supposed to go, hoping he’d go his own way eventually.

I stay wary of my boyfriend as I do my task, praying he won’t take my head off. When the task is finished, I find I’m trapped in the room with the doors shut. And Corpse right there. With every right and opportunity to kill me and vent. No one would know. No one saw us.

That nervous sweat is back.

I’m counting my last seconds of being alive.

And it happens...

A body is reported

“Oh than you so so so much! Corpse was gonna kill me in Upper Engine!“ I don’t let the person who reported the body speak, thanking them for my survival. “I was sure I was a goner.“

“Babe, come on now. You know I wouldn’t kill you even if I was an impostor. I love you too much.“ Corpse hurries to defend himself, “I’m following you around to keep you safe.“

I can tell he’s capping, but I have no concrete proof. He knows I’m onto him. His best bet is having me killed by the other impostor. He might have been capping the majority of his defense, but I know he won’t kill me.

“I’ll vote for myself because of that one.“ I mumble

The vote is skipped except the one vote I placed on myself and the round continues. I follow Corpse around the whole time, making sure he’s completing tasks - not that I can be 100% certain he’s actually completing them.

All is well until we walk into Admin and find Felix there, uploading data. Corpse, dead-ass, goes up to him and kills him, reporting the body right afterwards.

“IT’S CORPSE!“ I don’t give him a chance to start his brainwashing of the rest of the players. “Felix, this is my redemption for leaving your death unavenged last round.“

“Yeah, it’s me.“ Corpse laughs, that adorable laugh of his melting me despite the need to stay strong and carry out my argument, “Just vote me out so I can go troll Y/N.“

“Sounds like a plan to me.“ Ken says, the remainder of the crewmates, and the impostor probably, agreeing with him.

The votes are put in, all on Corpse obviously, and he is sent off into space. Not even five seconds later I hear his footsteps approaching.

I look up when he pops his head in the room and says, “I have come to annoy you to death with my love for you.”

I can’t help but laugh, shaking my head. The things this man does to me are insane. It’s insane that I let him.

It’s amazing, really. We’re amazing.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I pat the spot on the bed next to me, “I’ll allow it. But only cause I love you too.”

@susceptible-but-siriusexual @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @hacker-ghost @itsminniekat @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

Prompt 1) NMJ is the son of the concubine, NHS is the son of the legal wife, who had difficulty conceiving because of an old night hunting injury, and picked out a concubine for her husband who was big and strong and healthy as on ox - the strength got passed on, her more even temperament didn't. The legal wife conceived later, with much difficulty and they weren't entirely sure NHS would live at first

ao3

“Are you well?” Nie Mingjue asked Jin Guangyao, his voice stiff, and Jin Guangyao looked at him sidelong, surprised by the question, as well as the fact that Nie Mingjue was talking to him at all.

Normally, he would assume that Nie Mingjue was doing it because Lan Xichen was encouraging him to get along with Jin Guangyao again, but Lan Xichen was in the Cloud Recesses, had been in the Cloud Recesses for quite some time. Officially, he was helping oversee the rebuilding; unofficially he was caring for his brother, who had officially entered seclusion and unofficially was healing from a punishment so grievously terrible that Jin Guangyao was reminded all over again why one could not trust the righteous facades of the wealthy and powerful Great Sects.

Not that he needed much reminding, here in Jinlin Tower…

At any rate, Lan Xichen couldn’t be the reason Nie Mingjue was asking Jin Guangyao about his well-being, and that meant that his stern, grim-faced oldest sworn brother was doing it on his own, for reasons of his own.

Naturally, Jin Guangyao mistrusted that even more.

“Of course, da-ge,” he said with a practiced smile. “Is there a problem?”

“No,” Nie Mingjue said, somehow, impossibly, even stiffer than before. ��No, I just – I meant – with Jin Zixuan’s death. It must have made it – hard. Here. For you.”

That was a staggeringly perceptive insight, and the fact that it came from Nie Mingjue, who thought ignoring rumors until they went away was a valid strategy, was something of an uncomfortable surprise. Even Lan Xichen hadn’t really thought of Jin Guangyao in the aftermath of Jin Zixuan’s death and the ensuing calamity, with the Nightless City and Wei Wuxian’s final downfall and everything with Lan Wangji taking away his attention; at best, he’d penned a careless letter belatedly expressing that he was sad that Jin Guangyao hadn’t had more of an opportunity to get to know Jin Zixuan better before his untimely demise.

Not even Su She had said anything, taking Jin Zixuan’s death as an unmitigated good – an obstacle out of their way, and nothing more. Easy enough for him to think as sect leader of his own sect, however small.

Not so easy for Jin Guangyao.

Not so easy when Madame Jin’s dislike of him had turned to full-blown maddened hatred, when his father looked at him like filth on his shoe, when they wouldn’t let him anywhere near Jin Ling as if his mere touch were some sort of toxic poison…

“…thank you,” he said cautiously. “I’ve been doing fine.”

Nie Mingjue jerked his head in a nod. “Avoid the sect elders for a time,” he said, and when Jin Guangyao looked at him, he was staring straight ahead, not looking at him at all. “Be careful with what you eat and drink. Some people don’t like to take chances.”

Was Nie Mingjue – Nie Mingjue – warning him about a possible assassination attempt? The man who had barely consented to using spies during wartime, who thought politics could be conducted through above-board dealings, who thought bribery and blackmail were unacceptable crimes? Him?

The world had truly turned upside down.

“I’ll be careful,” Jin Guangyao said, and found to his embarrassment that his tone had unconsciously softened, revealing the sudden fondness he was feeling for no good reason. He could rationalize it as a deliberate move, because allowing Nie Mingjue to do him a favor and sounding touched about it was a good way to get closer to him, to get back through those iron defenses of his. The problem was that it wasn’t a stratagem, not really, and that was dangerous.

Nie Mingjue nodded again, and Jin Guangyao expected him to move on – he and Nie Mingjue might be sworn brothers, but they didn’t chat – but he didn’t. He lingered, instead, clearly wanting to say something, something he was chewing over and not quite able to spit out.

Unusual, for someone who normally prided himself on being straightforward and direct.

“Is there something else?” Jin Guangyao eventually asked when Nie Mingjue didn’t seem to be actually making any progress towards saying anything.

Nie Mingjue grimaced and took a step – off to the side, to a corner of the path that was a little more secluded than most. Interestingly, he didn’t make the amateur mistake of going for one of the obviously secluded alcoves, which of course had all sorts of hiding-holes for eavesdroppers, but rather ended up in one of the few areas where the architecture created a natural dead space for sound.

Intrigued, Jin Guangyao followed him there.

Once they were there, Nie Mingjue still looked awkward – he was still refusing to look directly at Jin Guangyao, as if they wouldn’t be talking in hushed tones in a secluded corner if he didn’t admit that that was what they were doing – but finally said, “Would it help or hurt if I said anything?”

Jin Guangyao frowned a little, not following. “Said anything?”

“About the inheritance,” Nie Mingjue said, and Jin Guangyao’s eyes widened. “You’re the only recognized son left; you ought to be named heir until Jin Ling is full grown. But that doesn’t mean people will let that happen so easily.”

Jin Guangyao would have been less surprised if Wen Ruohan had spontaneously resurrected himself from the dead and performed a brothel fan dance on the front lawn of Jinlin Tower.

It had not even remotely entered his calculations that Nie Mingjue would be anything but an obstacle to his ambitions for power over the Lanling Jin sect – at best, he had hoped only that Nie Mingjue would be convinced that Jin Zixuan’s death was wholly Wei Wuxian’s fault and not find some way to blame Jin Guangyao for it, and that he wouldn’t immediately suspect that Jin Guangyao of scheming to kill Jin Ling and take the whole thing for himself.

He’d never dreamed that Nie Mingjue might think that he deserved it.

“I’ll support you, of course,” Nie Mingjue said, as if it were obvious, when it was the least obvious thing that had ever happened in Jin Guangyao’s life. “But I’m not actually any good at this sort of thing, you know – playing politics with the internal affairs of other sects. I don’t want to make things worse for you just because I don’t know what the right approach is, especially not here.”

Jin Guangyao stared at him.

Nie Mingjue, not hearing a response, glanced at him and scowled. Lowering his voice still more, he said, “Think on it carefully. Sect Leader Jin hates me personally, but my Nie sect isn’t nothing, not even in Lanling. It’s still more so after the war, after all those battles I won to save the Jin sect’s rotten – that is, after everything I did to help. Even if your father doesn’t like it, he still has to give my sect face, and his sect elders know it. You’re a war hero, and my sworn brother; if a public stand on my part would help make things easier for you…”

“I’ll think on it carefully,” Jin Guangyao assured him, his mind already racing over the possibilities. Nie Mingjue underestimated himself – he wasn’t just a war hero, he was the war hero, the righteous and unyielding war god that had won an impossible war for the rest of them. He was Jin Guangshan’s chief rival for the position of Chief Cultivator and he wasn’t even trying to get the position; he probably wanted nothing more than to go home to Qinghe and sleep for three months and yet practically every single sect leader that Jin Guangshan felt out on the subject invariably dropped his name as the possible alternative. Assuming he was serious, and Nie Mingjue was always serious, his public support would make it extremely tricky for Jin Guangshan to refuse to name Jin Guangyao as the official heir, even if he tried to claim that this was a private matter. The rest of the sect would force him to do it, even against his will.

Moreover, Lan Xichen would follow Nie Mingjue’s lead, or at least could be easily encouraged into doing so. He was so distracted with his brother, if Jin Guangyao went to him and pointed out that Nie Mingjue thought it was a good idea to stand behind him…no, he wouldn’t even need to do that. Everyone knew how much better his relationship with Lan Xichen was in comparison to Nie Mingjue; if Nie Mingjue stood behind him, everyone would assume that Lan Xichen did as well, and then he would have two of the remaining Great Sects backing his right to inherit – even if only in the interim – the seat of power for Lanling Jin, as the only recognized son…

Except, of course, Jin Guangshan had already accounted for that.

Jin Guangyao’s eyes flickered. Perhaps there was a way to test Nie Mingjue’s sincerity.

“There is one issue,” he said, and Nie Mingjue turned his head to look at him directly. “My father has – decided to bring home another son.”

Nie Mingjue stared at him. “Another son?”

“From a minor noble family of commoners –”

“He brought one home now?” Nie Mingjue said, and he sounded angry. He always sounded angry, but this time he sounded angry on Jin Guangyao’s behalf, something he hadn’t been since Langya, since Qinghe, and it thrilled Jin Guangyao’s heart to hear it. He’d always secretly enjoyed having someone as physically and politically strong as Nie Mingjue in his corner, the power of it going to his head; it was even more so now, when he was finally in a position where he could really use it. “That’s a deliberate insult to you, and for what? Some untried boy…”

One who isn’t the son of a prostitute, Jin Guangyao thought, but of course Nie Mingjue wouldn’t think about it that way. He never had, not from the beginning.

“Father is of course within his rights to bring home whoever he wishes, for the best interest of the sect,” he said diplomatically, and Nie Mingjue huffed and rolled his eyes. “Da-ge…”

“It doesn’t change anything,” Nie Mingjue said curtly. “Think on it, and tell me what you want me to do.”

With that he turned away and strode off towards the main hall, a scowl firmly on his face.

Jin Guangyao watched him go, pleased – Nie Mingjue was really too easy to manipulate, if you knew him well enough. He’d keep quiet during the opening ceremony of the conference, but if he was really sincere about standing up for Jin Guangyao’s right to inherit, there would be no way he’d be able to refrain from expressing his views to Jin Guangshan at some point later that evening.

Sure enough, Nie Mingjue seethed throughout most of the complex and beautiful ceremony Jin Guangyao had arranged to show off Lanling Jin’s wealth and strength and taste – all wasted on him, naturally, so Jin Guangyao didn’t take any offense – and through dinner as well, and afterwards found a reason to make his way over to Jin Guangshan. After a few words, they both retreated to one of the receiving rooms.

Jin Guangyao made his excuses very shortly thereafter and slipped away: the receiving rooms, at least, were not dead spaces, and he knew all the ways to listen in there.

By the time he arrived, they were already arguing.

“ – what business of yours?” Jin Guangshan was snarling. “These are my private family matters!”

“He is my sworn brother,” Nie Mingjue said in return, his voice stiff as always. It was interesting to Jin Guangyao that he still didn’t seem happy about admitting that fact; he was still resentful of Jin Guangyao, still suspicious, and yet he supported him regardless, just because he thought it was his right. Ah, the foolishness of good people! “When you refuse to give him face, that becomes my business.”

Jin Guangshan spat, audibly. Jin Guangyao, still carefully moving into a position where he could see as well as hear, hoped he’d aimed it at the floor and not at Nie Mingjue’s face.

“Oh, I’m sure it is,” Jin Guangshan said. “I suppose I really shouldn’t be so surprised to find you supporting him, should I?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nie Mingjue demanded, and Jin Guangyao wondered the same.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Jin Guangshan said. Jin Guangyao had never heard his father sound so cruel – and he had quite a bit to compare it to. “They do say like calls to like, don’t they?”

Jin Guangyao had just finally gotten into view position, which meant he was just in time to see all the blood drain out of Nie Mingjue’s face as if he’d just been stabbed.

“You may have won some merit,” Jin Guangshan said, and he was smirking now. “But they do say blood always tells – or did you think that people would forget that it’s your brother that’s the true-born son, and you merely a concubine’s get?”

He was what?

Nie Mingjue was –

It was impossible. Surely, it was impossible.

And yet Nie Mingjue was not denying Jin Guangshan’s words, was not getting angry at the slander, was standing there stiff-backed and grim-faced –

“I still remember how disappointed your father was when his beautiful, beloved, delicate wife couldn’t get a pregnancy to last the term,” Jin Guangshan said, picking up one of the jars of wine and taking a swig. “He didn’t want to take a concubine at all, thought it’d be disrespectful to his wife, but what could he do? He was the sole heir, with an obligation to continue his lineage…they bought your mother for the breeding, like bringing in a cow for the farmyard bull.”

He laughed.

Nie Mingjue said nothing.

“Healthy, I think he said about her. Healthy and big, good hips for bearing children, good tits to nurse them – that was all he cared about, squeezing a few sons out of her, and she didn’t even manage that. Ran away after the first one, didn’t she? You ever figure out where she went, whether she ended up married to some dumb farmer as illiterate as her, or else lying on her back in a brothel? Dead in a beggar’s grave somewhere, perhaps?”

Nie Mingjue said nothing.

“No, it’s no surprise: of course you’d back the little son of a whore for the position of rightful heir, as if letting him take it would help cover up for the way you stole your own brother’s –”

“Watch your words,” Nie Mingjue said, his heavy voice slicing through the air like a saber.

“Still pretending it wasn’t theft, then?” Jin Guangshan laughed again, pacing the room back and forth, prowling like some sort of beast. “You were supposed to step down when he was ready – you had to swear never to have children, never to marry, all so you could warm the sect leader seat until he was grown up and ready to take it himself. But a weakling wastrel like that, he’s never going to be ready, is he? Very clever of you. I bet your sect elders hadn’t thought of you getting around it like that.”

“You dare –”

“Oh, I dare! And I’d dare more, if you think you can push me around!” Jin Guangshan bared his teeth. “Let me tell you now, Sect Leader Nie, if you dare make a public statement of support for Guangyao, I’ll remind the whole world that you’re no better than him, that you ought to be one of the Nie sect’s servants, not its sect leader –”

“Go ahead.”

Jin Guangshan stopped.

“Go ahead,” Nie Mingjue said again, stepping forward, and Jin Guangyao had never actually seen him purposefully use his height against someone, wield it like a weapon to remind the other party which of them was the more terrifying. “I’ve already had half a dozen public arguments with Huaisang about the fact that he needs to take the role of Sect Leader; everyone in my sect knows that he’s the one who keeps refusing. Do you really think everyone is like you? Scrabbling for every scrap of power you can get, like a rat in the rubbish bin?”

Jin Guangshan took an involuntary step backwards as Nie Mingjue continued to advance.

“When there are those who speak against you, you must do so well that they have no choice but to shut their mouths,” Nie Mingjue said, and it was the very same words he had spoken in encouragement to Jin Guangyao, all those years ago when they had first met. At the time, and thereafter, Jin Guangyao had thought him naïve, of not knowing of which he spoke. “Tell me, Sect Leader Jin, if you go out and spew your poison to your sycophants, do you really think any but the most loyal and brainless will open their mouths to condemn me now? Now, when I’ve just won the cultivation world a war, when I saved Lanling Jin a dozen times or more? Do you really think people will remember my mother instead of my saber?”

“You’d be amazed what people remember,” Jin Guangshan said, even if his voice was weaker, more desperate than it had been before. Less mighty and more pathetic than before, as if Jin Guangyao were suddenly seeing him in a brand new light: seeing him as what he was, as a man who would never looked beyond a person’s birth, no matter what their merits. “In the end, public arguments or not, you were the one who raised Nie Huaisang, now a good-for-nothing, a waste, and you sit in his throne, managing his Nie sect. People will remember that! Your sect will still lose face, be dishonored!”

“Fine. Then I’ll just kill you,” Nie Mingjue said, and Jin Guangshan gaped at him. “Why not? You’re right. To protect my brother’s birthright, I vowed never to have children, never to marry; the only ambitions in my life were to allow Huaisang to live well as he grew older and to avenge my father, and I’ve accomplished both. Even if they execute me for your murder, what’s it to me? What will I have lost?”

Jin Guangshan’s mouth moved open and closed, mute in his shock, and Jin Guangyao couldn’t blame him.

Nie Mingjue’s lips twisted into a sneer of his own.

“For once in your life, Sect Leader Jin, just do the right thing,” he said, sounding tired, and Jin Guangyao felt something loosen inside of him that had gone inexplicably frozen and pained at the idea of Nie Mingjue breaking all those morals and principles he always seemed to hold so dear.

It was strange. Not a day earlier, Jin Guangyao would have sworn that he would’ve liked nothing more than to see Nie Mingjue pushed too far, forced down into the muck and mud that the rest of them trudged their way through, and now that he saw a hint of it, he’d never wanted anything less.

“Name Meng Yao your heir until Jin Ling is grown,” Nie Mingjue continued. “Reap the benefits of the alliance he brings with him and have us all honor you as an elder, if that’s what you want. But playing games like this…I’d say it’s beneath you, but I’d need a shovel to get that deep. So don’t think about it. Just do it. Or I’ll make you.”

He left, Jin Guangshan still gaping after him. It wasn’t long before he finally started moving, throwing around expensive teacups and furnishings and shouting for servants to bring him a drink and a whore, even though it was early; Jin Guangyao returned to the party, knowing there would be nothing more for him to learn, not when his father was in a mood like that.

Later that night, when the party was over and all cleaned up, he went to the quarters assigned for their guests from the Nie sect and was unsurprised to see a light still lit within the one assigned to the sect leader.

He knocked, and a familiar voice beckoned him to enter.

Nie Mingjue was dressed in a sleeping robe, but he was at his desk, writing a letter; he’d clearly been unable to sleep. He looked up when Jin Guangyao entered.

“What?” he asked, short and sharp and rude as always.

These days, Jin Guangyao usually planned out his encounters with Nie Mingjue in advance, hoping to minimize awkwardness and achieve his goals without too much of a scolding. He’d done that at the very beginning of knowing him, only to rapidly give up during his time at Qinghe – Nie Mingjue was both predictable and yet somehow an utter mystery, and it was easier to just go with the flow, adapt to the circumstances, than it was to plan in advance. Only after he’d left did he start planning once again.

He wasn’t planning now.

“Your mother,” he said, and Nie Mingjue barked a laugh, reaching up with a hand to rub at his eyes.

“Did your father tell you?” he asked. “Or did you just listen in?”

Jin Guangyao shrugged, and Nie Mingjue for once did not seem inclined to demand an answer.

“Is it true?” he asked instead, even though he already knew. “That she was…”

Like mine.

Not exactly like, of course. Jin Guangshan wouldn’t have hesitated to call Nie Mingjue the son of a whore directly if he thought he could get away with claiming it was merely fact, and had managed to imply as much nonetheless. Jin Guangyao’s mother’s shame could never be washed away, not in his lifetime; Nie Mingjue’s birth, being merely low, was not the same.

And yet.

“Oh, it’s true,” Nie Mingjue said mirthlessly. “Right down to the fact that they all but bought her based on how fertile she looked, for all that my father later pretended it wasn’t that, and the fact that she ran away.”

Jin Guangyao blinked. If he was playacting, he might have bitten his lip, averted his eyes, and he still considered doing it, but for the moment he was still feeling too off-balance to really commit to it. “Is she – still alive?”

Nie Mingjue shrugged.

“Have you looked for her?”

“I’ve been sect leader for over a decade,” he said, which wasn’t a denial. “If she wanted to find me, she knows where I am.”

That was a good point, Jin Guangyao supposed.

“Was it hard?” he asked, and Nie Mingjue frowned, clearly not understanding the question. “For you, when it was you. Was it hard to convince them to let you inherit?”

Nie Mingjue’s eyes slid half-shut in pained memory. “Yes.”

Jin Guangyao nodded, and went to sit down next to Nie Mingjue, who allowed it, returning to his work. He didn’t say anything.

It was rather atypical for Jin Guangyao – he was always thinking of something to say, when it came to Nie Mingjue, trying to bridge the gap between them with clever words. Perhaps it was only that the gap had shrunk, or had never been as large as he had thought.

After a while, Nie Mingjue said, “You know I wish you were better than you are,” and Jin Guangyao looked at him sidelong. “But in the end, you’re my brother. Isn’t that what matters?”

“Yes,” Jin Guangyao said, and there was that uncalled-for fondness again. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

#mdzs #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #jin guangshan #my fic #my fics #alternative backstory #dead spaces #jessaramine

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dfroza · 1 year

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Today’s reading from the ancient books of Proverbs and Psalms

for may 13 of 2023 with Proverbs 13 and Psalm 13, accompanied by Psalm 55 for the 55th day of Astronomical Spring, and Psalm 133 for day 133 of the year (with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 1st revolution this year)

[Proverbs 13]

A wise child is attentive to his parents’ instruction,

but the mocker is deaf to correction.

A person eats well when he speaks wisely,

but the treacherous crave violence.

Those who guard their speech insure they will take another breath,

but those who talk without thinking guarantee their demise.

Slackers crave but have their fill of nothing,

but the hardworking desire and are completely satisfied.

The right-living will not tolerate any lie,

but wrongdoers come to shame and embarrassment.

Doing right keeps the innocent on the path of life,

but doing wrong is the downfall of the wicked.

One pretends he is wealthy but has nothing,

while another seems to be poor but has great wealth.

The rich are targeted and must ransom their lives,

but no one bothers to threaten the poor.

The light of the right-living brings joy as it burns brightly;

the lamp of a wrongdoer will be snuffed out.

Arrogance only produces arguments,

but wisdom accompanies those well advised.

Money earned hastily is easily lost,

but hard-earned money continues to grow.

Hope postponed grieves the heart;

but when a dream comes true, life is full and sweet.

The one who hates good counsel will reap failure and ruin,

but the one who reveres God’s instruction will be rewarded.

Wise instruction is a spring yielding a satisfied life;

those who follow it avoid the traps that lead to death.

Good sense brings blessing,

but the road of the treacherous is long and rough.

A clever person acquires knowledge and then acts on it;

but a fool advertises his folly for all to see.

An untrustworthy messenger stirs up trouble,

but a faithful emissary is curative balm.

A person who turns from correction faces poverty and shame,

but one who regards constructive criticism is well respected.

A dream fulfilled is the sweetness of life,

but abandoning evil is repulsive to fools.

One who walks with the wise becomes wise,

but whoever keeps company with fools only hurts himself.

Trouble eagerly pursues the sinner,

but success rewards the right-living.

A good person leaves an inheritance for his grandchildren,

but the wealth of the sinner is eventually passed on to the right-living.

Though the fields of the poor yield a bumper crop

in a land without justice, it is stolen out from under them.

Those who spare the rod of discipline hate their children,

but those who are quick to correct them show true love.

Those who do right have plenty to eat,

while those who do wrong go hungry.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 13 (The Voice)

[Psalm 13]

For the worship leader. A song of David.

How long, O Eternal One? How long will You forget me? Forever?

How long will You look the other way?

How long must I agonize,

grieving Your absence in my heart every day?

How long will You let my enemies win?

Turn back; respond to me, O Eternal, my True God!

Put the spark of life in my eyes, or I’m dead.

My enemies will boast they have beaten me;

my foes will celebrate that I have stumbled.

But I trust in Your faithful love;

my heart leaps at the thought of imminent deliverance by You.

I will sing to the Eternal,

for He is always generous with me.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 13 (The Voice)

[Psalm 55]

For the worship leader. A contemplative song of David accompanied by strings.

Hear me, O God.

Tune Your ear to my plea,

and do not turn Your face from my prayer.

Give me Your attention.

Answer these sighs of sorrow;

my troubles have made me restless—I groan from anxiety

All because of my enemy! Because his voice speaks against me,

his wickedness torments me!

He casts down misfortune upon me;

his anger flares; his grudges grow against me.

My heart seizes within my chest; I am in anguish!

I am terrified my life could end on any breath.

I shiver and shudder in fear;

I can’t stop because this horror is just too much.

I said, “If only my arms were wings like the dove’s!

I would fly away from here and find rest—

Yes, I would venture far

and weave a nest in the wilderness.

[pause]

“I would rush to take refuge

away from the violent storm and pounding winds.”

Throw them off, O Lord. Confuse their speech, and frustrate their plans,

for violence and contention are building within the city.

I can see it with my own eyes.

They plot day and night, scurrying the city walls like rats,

trouble and evil lurking everywhere.

In the heart of the city, destruction awaits.

Oppression and lies swarm the streets,

and they will not take leave; no, they will not go.

If it were just an enemy sneering at me,

I could take it.

If it were just someone who has always hated me, treating me like dirt,

I’d simply hide away.

But it is you! A man like me,

my old friend, my companion.

We enjoyed sweet conversation,

walking together in the house of God among the pressing crowds.

Let death sneak up on them,

swallow them alive into the pit of death.

Why? Because evil stirs in their homes; evil is all around them.

But I, I shall call upon God,

and by His word, the Eternal shall save me.

Evening, morning, and noon I will plead;

I will grumble and moan before Him

until He hears my voice.

And He will rescue my soul, untouched,

plucked safely from the battle,

despite the many who are warring against me.

God, enthroned from ancient times through eternity,

will hear my prayers and strike them down.

[pause]

For they have refused change;

they supply their every need and have no fear of God.

My friend has become a foe, breaking faith, tearing down peace.

He’s betrayed our covenant.

Oh, how his pleasant voice is smoother than butter,

while his heart is enchanted by war.

Oh, how his words are smoother than oil,

and yet each is a sword drawn in his hand.

Cast your troubles upon the Eternal;

His care is unceasing!

He will not allow

His righteous to be shaken.

But You, O God, You will drive them

into the lowest pit—

Violent, lying people

won’t live beyond their middle years.

But I place my trust in You.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 55 (The Voice)

[Psalm 133]

A song of David for those journeying to worship.

How good and pleasant it is

when brothers and sisters live together in peace!

It is like the finest oils poured on the head,

sweet-smelling oils flowing down to cover the beard,

Flowing down the beard of Aaron,

flowing down the collar of his robe.

It is like the gentle rain of Mount Hermon

that falls on the hills of Zion.

Yes, from this place, the Eternal spoke the command,

from there He gave His blessing—life forever.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 133 (The Voice)

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