#And he manipulates all his patients into following in his footsteps? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sweetnothingtm · 1 year

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HUSH// simon riley x reader

pairing simon “ghost” riley x f!reader

word count +5k

content warning +mdni!! nsfw, thigh riding, spanking, light knife play, hair pulling, light degrading, slight orgasm denial

authors note I feel filthy after writing this, in a good way, I hope you throw up you sick freak

heavily based on the song hush by the marias

This all started because of your nasty little attitude. You were leaning against Soap, eyes blinking away exhaustion and yawns slipping past your lips as you waited patiently along the rooftop. A simple hostage experiment, clean cut and a breeze for the rest of the task force. Yet you had to fuck it up by being a brat.

“Stay focused, kid.”

“Is that an order, Lieutenant?” You said, playfulness lacing your tone as your head rests against Soaps shoulder. He chuckled beneath you, his face pressed to the scope.

“You really wanna do this right now?” His voice is steeled over the radio. There’s a silence that followed as you look to the abandoned hotel across the field, a flash of white catching your eye. You smiled, fingers pressing down on the walkie-talkie.

“Affirmative, sir.”

Soap casted a glance in your direction, eyebrow raised. You nudged him softly, a little laugh bubbling up from your chest. It’s always been like this, your quick jokes and comfortable personality stuck to Ghost like a thorn in his side. He takes it with ease, always grunting in response and ignoring the ways in which you manipulate his heart. Every day, except for today. Soap rolled his eyes, focusing back on the task at hand.

Ghost didn't answer. A gentle quiet ensues as you continue to make yourself comfortable against your teammates body. You’re new, but the team has warmed up to you quickly. Like a stubborn child with no remorse, there’s always a little twinkle of mischief in your eyes. Sharp, cautious and playful, you became everybody’s favorite. Except for his.

“Careful, sweetheart. Just might think you need a little punishment.”

You held your breath, cheeks turning a shade darker. His voice was thick, dark and teasing in a way you haven’t heard before. The Lieutenant was watching you from a hundred meters away, teeth grinding together in irritation as your soft little voice rings through the comms once more.

“And if I did? What will you do then?”

»»————-　➴　————-««

You’re alone now, save for the ominous sounds of your footsteps and the ghost that’s haunting you. Unbeknownst to you, there’s a pair of eyes smudged with black paint that watches your every move.

Your boots crunch beneath the gravel and stray debris of what was once a home. Uniform covered in dirt and grime, your breath comes out shallow and even as you sneak through the city of rubble.

There’s a gentle breeze that carries itself through and around your hunched figure, a hand instinctively rubs away the sweat from your forehead. It’s the heart of summer, sweat glistening against your skin and ripples of heat are rolling through the flattened land.

You risk a glance around the corner of a building, eyes scanning for any stray ghost. His ghost.

It’d been two hours since your feet landed on the unfamiliar soil. The haunting gaze of your Lieutenant rests comfortably in the back of your mind. A routine exercise meant to blow off steam within the task force, and to weed out the rookies. You. You knew it too, when he looked straight at you, voice laced with venom.

You need a reminder of who’s in charge.

Fresh meat for the slaughter, you’d nodded your head innocently as he pushed a rifle into your arms, blank rounds falling into your hands. You’ve been on the force for seven months, always underestimated and coddled like a child. You knew Soap and Gaz were waiting for you now, their faces plastered with a knowing smirk as you and the Lieutenant stand on opposite sides of the field.

A game of cat and mouse, and he would do anything to catch you.

The Lieutenant was a grim and foreboding presence that you drank from like a glass of wine. Always eager to please and ready to submit, you dotted on the idea of being his. He’d mentored you, molded you to be everything he wanted from you, the ghost of his fingertips always adjusting the weapon in your hands. A little higher, kid.

He’d catch you in the halls, his dark eyes dancing slowly on your figure as you blushed scarlet. Arms always crossed and gaze demeaning, you melted under him without hesitation. Your little crush for the brooding ghost was building itself into a forest fire. He’s your superior, the one who recommended you for the team, his sloppy signature still stained on the paperwork. You did everything to please him, but it still wasn’t enough.

Darting through the empty streets, you stumble through a door kicked off its hinges, scattered wood crunching underneath you. The home is in shambles, belongings strewn throughout the rooms. The rifle sits heavy in your hands, the rounds of ammunition beginning to dwindle as time slips by.

You climb the stairs, dodging eroded and chipped concrete. It smells like mildew and the summer breeze, and if it weren’t for your heart that tried to beat itself out of your chest, you might feel like relaxing a while. But he’s out there, waiting for you to slip up.

Upstairs, the sunlight seeps through a broken window and casts shadows across the bedroom. There’s a worn mattress flipped onto the wall, and an armchair sits in the corner of the room. You steer clear of the opening, head falling back against the plaster wall. A breath comes loose, slipping free from your lips. You’re becoming impatient, almost a little irritated at the way he’s living up to his name. Ghost.

Soap was caught first, the familiar laughter of Gaz sounding through the comms. The scottish brute had grumbled about needing a cigarette, his post abandoned after being found. His radio was turned down low, body leaning against the side of the pickup truck that carried you here.

Then it was Gaz, hiding at a gas station about two blocks from where you are now. He muttered low curses under his breath, arguing that the Lieutenant wasn’t playing fair. And he wasn’t.

Now it’s just you, thighs squeezing together out of an anxious habit you never kicked. An hour had slipped by since the two were caught, and you felt like Ghost was dragging this out on purpose. He’d counted on your impatience, slowly pulling at the string of your being until you began to unravel. Quite a punishment, you thought bitterly.

You’d never faced him alone, always the buffer of Soap or Gaz between the two of you. It’s not like you were ignoring him, or that his presence was suffocating - although, you realize, it is. But you couldn’t seem to think straight in his presence, body humming with an unfamiliar heat when he caught your gaze. So, you kept your distance. It seemed as though he saved the worst version of himself for you, always a mask of irritation and disappointment greeting you.

He made your knees weak. The implication of him watching you sent shivers down your spine. He’s out there, finger brushing against the trigger as you poke your head out the window, eyes scanning the rooftops.

You draw back, letting the sound of your anxious thoughts guide you. You know he’s there, you just need to find him. Before he finds you. The thought makes your heart skip a beat. Fingers dance along the button of comms, swallowing a breath of fear, you give in and press down.

“Any day now, Lieutenant. I’m waiting,” you say, adjusting the vest that sits right on your shoulders. A dark chuckle follows your words, a breathy laugh that tangles itself along your spine until your teeth sink into your bottom lip.

“Don’t worry, kid. I’m right here. Just taking my sweet time,”

A knot coils inside your stomach, throat clogged with anxiety at his words. You feel like backing down, admitting defeat and ending the day with a shred of dignity. It’s immediately washed away by the shame that would follow should you give up. The boys would joke about it for weeks, and god knows how the Lieutenant would take it. Bad, you think, he would take it badly.

He knows you’re thinking about it. A stupid smile is plastered on his face as he spots you across the way, your hair brushing into your face as you search for him. You’re gonna lose, and he’s counting on it.

He's got a thing for betting on losing dogs.

Ghost left his rifle at the church, propped up against a crate with his tags dangling in the sun just enough to shine. A poor decoy, but one that he knows your pretty little head would fall for. He feels giddy like a child, head hung high as he saunters through the city like a phantom. He’s a block away, footsteps falling silently as he aims himself straight to you.

Peeking around the broken glass once more, you look to the church that stands tall. The windows are busted, spray paint decorating the building. Perfect for a lone wolf like him. There’s a flash of something, quick and glistening off the sunlight that hangs above you. There, at the height of the tower, there’s a glimmer of light and a blur of movement that catches your eye.

“Wanna tell the boys you’ve lost, or should I?” you say, excitement building in your system.

You load the rifle quickly, the palm of your hand slamming the cartridge in as your fingers pull back the bolt handle. A wide grin spread across your face at the idea of having found him. Taking a steady breath, the end of your rifle hugs your shoulder as you take aim. You aren’t certain if it’ll hit, but it doesn’t matter. The Lieutenant said it’s over when you’ve been caught - and you have him right under the tip of your finger.

The blank quickly fires, a flash of light following. You release an eager breath, letting the rifle hang at your side as you look triumphantly to the church. A second passes, then another. Silence laden in the air as you wait patiently for the Lieutenant to admit defeat. You feel like a show dog, having won an award you never expected to receive. You reach for the radio, dumb satisfaction spreading like wildfire. You take a winning breath before you speak, eyes shimmering with satisfaction.

It comes so quickly you aren’t even sure it’s happening until the soft beat of your heart crescendos and lifts itself into full panic.

A warm hand wraps itself around your waist, pulling you flush against his body as your head smacks against his chest. The gentle press of a cool knife is laid on your throat, breaths fanning hot against your cheek. “What the fuck are you-“

He laughs, the dark sound echoing in the abandoned building. Ghost rests his chin on your shoulder, and a little devil whispers to you - tag, you’re it. He presses the knife closer to your skin as you let loose a shaking breath, body completely frozen by the intoxicating presence of your superior.

“Boo.”

The voice sends pure and unadulterated fear throughout you. As your wiggling against his touch and struggling to free yourself, the Lieutenant is pulling you backwards. Your rifle clatters onto the ground, and you’re kicking your feet to try and break free from the death grip he has you in. You almost feel like it too - like you’re going to die.

The window is slipping further and further away from you as he drags you to the back of the room. The rifle looks back at you mockingly. Helpless, alone and completely fucked, you scratch at his wrist in a last ditch effort to run away.

He keeps the knife pressed against you, unmoving and unbothered by your desperate flailing. You crane your neck to look at him and instantly regret it.

There’s a darkness that circles in his eyes. His mask is hiding the dirty smirk that’s started to spread across his face, an unfamiliar emotion brewing on his face. You’re desperate to escape, suddenly overwhelmed at the close contact. You feel like screaming. He notices, the fabric of his mask flush against your skin as his words come out sharp and lethal.

“Don’t even fucking think about it,”

You nod meekly, teeth sunken into your bottom lip as he lets loose another laugh. He’s toying with you, like a cat would a dead mouse.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m so sorry-“ you start to speak, taking careful steps backwards with him as he leads you to a shadowed part of the room. The heat of his body suddenly disappears, but the knife stays put against your throat. He turns you around, little wide eyes staring at the ghost with a haunting fear. Such a pretty little face, he muses - too bad I’m gonna ruin it.

“You’re not sorry. Not yet,”

He takes a seat against the tattered chair, fingers locking onto your vest until you’re pulled into straddling his leg. You squeak at the contact, thighs pressing into his leg as you continue to squirm under his touch. His eyes are locked onto your face, free hand coming to grab your chin.

You wonder why he’s doing this - he’s won, isn’t that enough? There’s still thirty minutes left, Soap and Gaz are waiting for you to show up with your head hung in shame as the Lieutenant takes you home. The close proximity to him builds a fire between your legs, and you can’t help but think of all the filthy little secrets you’ve kept to yourself.

“Wanna stop being such a brat? Huh, sweetheart?” He uses the name mockingly, slipping from his lips effortlessly.

Oh.

Your lips are wobbling, anxious breaths pulling themselves from your chest as you try to remain calm. The rub of his thigh between your legs has your mind going completely blank. You stare at him, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

He’s sitting in the chair casually, one arm resting against the side as he continues to look at you. He’s waiting patiently, as if he’s got nothing but time. You swallow, shifting on his leg and unsure how to approach the situation.

It doesn’t help that he’s pushing his knee into you like that.

Exhaling, you shrink under his gaze. “I don’t understand-“ you begin, but he’s quick to cut you off. He grounds out your name. Ghost glides the tip of his blade against your throat softly, a delicate touch that you’re shaking under. “I asked you a question,” he states calmly.

You try your best to stay still. To understand what the fuck is going on, and how to talk to your lieutenant that’s pressing his knee between your thighs. Every movement sends another shock of electricity through you, cheeks blushing scarlet at the shameful heat that’s pooling between your thighs. “Yes, sir,” you say softly, fingernails digging into the palms of your hands.

He’s grinning like a fool, and you don’t even know it.

Ghost bounces his knee, admiring the way your eyes widen and how your legs squeeze around him to keep balance. The movements are slow, comfortable and paced. You’re biting your tongue, breath held as his free hand comes to rub your thigh softly. “Look at you, following orders like a good girl,” he says, voice velvet and smooth. “Show me how sorry you are.”

A moan slips and tumbles from your lips, hips grinding softly into the touch of his knee that continues to lazily bounce. He moves the knife from your throat, twisting it between his fingers. There’s dried blood on it, remnants of his kindness staining the blade. You’re terrified, about what he’s going to do, and what you’ll do for him. (A lot, apparently)

You shift along his knee, heat continuing to simmer from the contact. He’s bouncing his knee into you, the pace quickening when you grind down softly in defeat.

Your hips grind against his leg, hands cautiously taking place in front you to keep balance. Ghost continues to stare, fingers flipping the knife around. Gentle gasps escape you, eyes briefly fluttering closed as pleasure edges you closer towards him. His hand is rubbing against your thigh, dragging itself up and down your clothed leg. The contact sends shivers through you.

At this point, your mind is foggy with the continuous pleasure that continues to build between the two of you. You’re giving in, hips grinding and rolling against him. His leg continues to bounce with your movements, and your panties are slick and wet with excitement.

“Look at you, sweetheart. Fuck,” he grounds out, fingers digging into your thigh that’s sure to be bruised later. You’re dragging yourself up and along his leg, desperate for friction. Whines are slipping past your lips like it’s the only way to keep your sanity.

You’re so close. So close to euphoria, an arms reach away.

The knife he’s playing with is pocketed, dark eyes trained on your hips until your knees are weak and a heavy cloud of arousal is hanging in the room. His leg stops bouncing, a pout playing at your lips. “Get up,” he spits, flicking his wrist with indifference. Nodding, you peel yourself away from him and stand with a shaky breath. You sit between his legs now, intentionally avoiding his gaze. “Lieutenant. Sir, can I please g-“

“Shut the fuck up.”

The way you say his title makes his dick throb with need. You’re looking towards the door, chest rising and falling quickly with the beat of your anxious breaths.

The loss of contact has you desperate and craving to be near him. You’re soaked now, fists clenching as you try to remain calm. It’s embarrassing, the way you melt against him - you want to run and hide. And he knows.

His hand cups itself between your thighs, rubbing you softly as you moan from the touch. You should run, you think, but it wouldn’t do any difference. You’re scared to death, but a part of you likes it. He’s sitting there, legs spread open and the bulge in his pants growing.

“So desperate and needy for me - are you happy now?” He asks, free hand reaching down to palm himself and groaning. Yes. You want to nod, but you're pinned beneath his stare. The excitement is pooling between your legs, eyes landing to his lap where he’s stroking himself lazily through his clothes.

But you’re also scared. A subtle fear is manifesting within you, the situation weighing heavy on your shoulders. You don’t know what he’s playing at, what you’re supposed to do as your Lieutenant rubs soft circles into you. You could transfer teams, apply for another position, maybe even just up and leave without a word. But somewhere, deep down inside of you, you know that he’ll always be there.

He looks away, irritation spreading across his face. He’s listening to something, brows knit together. The radio, you realize. Curious voices coming to interrupt the moment, saving you for just a breath as the Lieutenant focuses on something other than you.

“Lt, everything okay? It’s been quiet,” You hear Gaz ask. Twenty minutes left.

Ghosts hand pulls itself from you reluctantly, fingers pressing down as his gruff voice responds. “Keep the lines clear,” he grumbles, his hips bucking softly as he continues to stroke himself. “Gone hunting. Out here,” he says.

The moment his focus is taken off of you, you’re bolting towards the exit with everything you have. You’re quick, mind heavy with the intentions of your Lieutenant. You’re an arms length away, fingers so close to grasping the frame of the door to pull yourself out. You’re right there, fingers outstretched-

But he’s quicker.

You fall on his outstretched ankle, tripping and landing face first. Your forehead smacks against the dusty floor as your breath is stolen from you. A deep laugh echoes behind you, your heart in your throat. He shuffles in the background, steps heavy as he saunters towards your downed figure.

A boot situates itself comfortably on your back, digging in until you cry out from the pain. Tears are forming in your eyes, the press of his shoe keeping you in place as you struggle underneath him. You were so confused, head spinning and mind reeling. Yet you’re still wet from the incredible feeling of riding your lieutenants thigh.

Your glossy eyes stare back at his knee as he kneels down. His hand lands on your ass with a sickening smack, a whimper coming free from you. “Wait - please, I’m so sorry, Simon-“ his name slips like it doesn’t belong to you - because it doesn’t, not yet. He grabs a fistful of your hair, forcing you to look up at the terrifying mask that separates you. He doesn’t feel human, like a part of him is disconnected. You’re terrified, but you like it.

“Hush,”

Like an obedient pet, you nod to him with wobbling lips. His vest is off now, cast aside in the room. He rests an arm casually on his propped knee, shaking his head in disappointment. He exhales slowly, your eyes trained on the mask as he speaks low and dark.

“I’ll tell you a secret, love,” he says, pulling at your hair more until your neck is strained. Tears are rolling down your cheeks, palms flat against the floor as you wait for him.

“I’m no patient man, and I tried - I really did,” he confesses, head cocking to the side to mimic your current position. Another hard smack. You can’t see it, but he’s got a stupid grin plastered on his face as he stares at you, helpless and defeated.

“I thought if I was nice enough you would hear me.”

The pressure of his boot is unbearable, lungs pressed tight as you struggle to take a breath of air.

“But you just don’t listen.”

The last smack lands, and you squirm under the pain. He keeps his hand there for a moment, grabbing a fistful of your ass. “I do. I will - m’ sorry,” you whine. “Simon, I didn’t mean it-“

“Maybe not, but I do.”

He forces you to your feet, leading you with his fist entangled in your hair. Your thighs press against the side of the chair, his hand pushing you to bend over, face smushed against the worn cushion.

His groin presses into your ass, hips rolling into you softly as you bite the inside of your cheek. A hand grips down on the back of your neck as he pushes a forceful thrust into you. Intoxicating and overwhelming pleasure returns, thighs squeezing together in a futile attempt to stop the pooling of arousal that gathers.

Ghost drags down your pants, groaning softly at the view of your bare ass, still red with his handprint. He smacks it again - he just can’t help himself. He’s waited so long for this, to get you alone and let all the filthy demons he’s got go loose.

“Gonna fucking ruin you, brat,” he growls, two fingers meeting your clit and rubbing hard circles. Your legs open instinctively, and he laughs at the way you melt under his touch. “Already so fucking wet, how badly do you want it?” He asks, teasing your cunt with the tip of his fingers. You feel like drooling, mind numb from his fingers that roughly tease you.

“Go on, tell me,” he baits, fingers slipping further and further as a moan of ecstasy is pulled from your lips. “So bad,” you whine, throwing your hips back until he's knuckle deep inside you. “I’ll do anything,” you admit, rolling yourself into him as he continues to finger you. You’re soaking, nails digging into the chair as you bite back moans of pleasure.

Ghost’s undone his belt, pulling down his zipper and pushing down the hem of his boxers. Grabbing his cock, he strokes himself lazily while you writhe and plead with his fingers inside you. There’s a sickening wet sound that follows from the action, your cheeks turning scarlet with embarrassment.

God, he’s gonna lose it. All the self control that he’s built, the careful distance that he’s kept from you. It’s crashing down, lighting ablaze with a burning desire as your lips moan his name over and over.

Please. Please. Please.

He smacks his tip onto you, smearing pre-cum on your ass. You’re breaking down, hips grinding and rolling into his fingers. The playful act is dropped, blind obedience and need replaces it. Then he rubs his tip gently into your clit, and you can’t help but lose sight of everything that isn’t him.

“Fuck - don’t stop . Please, please just fuck me-“

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” Ghost asks, curling his fingers until you’re seeing stars. So close. You’re tightening around his fingers, desperate for the touch “mm-hmm,” you mumble, unable to form sentences.

“Gonna beg for my dick like a desperate little slut?” He teases, quickening his pace until your legs are shaking.

Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.

His fingers leave you suddenly, a cry falling from your lips at the loss of contact. You’re shaking, dragging your nails on the chair and begging him - please.

“Thought I’d let you cum so quick? Bloody hell,” he muses. “You just don’t learn, huh?”

You’re shaking your head. No. You’ll do anything for him, anything to have him .

He rubs his dick over your entrance, free hand grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling harshly. Ghost eases himself into you, teasing you slowly. Whines and pleads are leaving your mouth, desperate and out of control until his hips are flush against your ass.

Ghost is holding your hip with one hand, fingers digging into your skin as he sits with his cock in you. He doesn’t move, moments slipping by in pure agony as you unravel at the seams. He’s still, patiently waiting for you to come undone. And you do, pressing your ass against him and grinding “fuck me, please. I’ll be good - I promise,” you sob.

He’s laughing at you, and it’s got you blushing out of control. “That’s better, love. I like it when you beg for me,”

The Lieutenant is a greedy man, and he’s takes his sweet time with you.

Ghosts thrusts are harsh and rough, slamming you into the chair as his hand continues to grip your hair. His dick stretches you, mouth hanging open as he’s fucking you senseless.

The knot of pleasure is unraveling, waves of ecstasy rolling through you and eyes rolling back. Ghost keeps a quick and hard pace, and it’s got you dizzy with disbelief.

He smacks your ass, a mewl of approval sounding from you. Ghost likes it rough, and you take it like an eager little vixen. You roll and buck your hips, grinding your wet cunt against him as if you’re asking for more. He’s smiling, pure excitement hitting him like a kid playing with his new pet.

Ghost rubs into your clit, savoring the way you twitch under him. “Just like that, sweetheart. I bet you like it when I’m mean,” he states, your cunt soaking wet from him. “I know you do, taking my dick like this. Fuckin’ hell,” he groans.

“Mm-hmm, please, please - just please don’t stop,”

This time, he listens. He fucks you relentlessly, pulling at your hair and rubbing your clit. Ghost thrusts are becoming uneven, sloppy with pleasure as you both start to feel the orgasms building.

“I wanna feel you cum, you fucking slut,” he spits, fucking you harder. Your eyes squeeze shut, legs shaking as the heat burns into a forest fire. Slick wet sounds are coming from behind you, his dick pushing into you and hand coming down to smack on your ass. “Lemme hear you, love. Tell me what a good girl you’re gonna be.”

“I’m a good girl. I’m gonna listen, I promise. I’ll do anything - please, sir. I wanna cum, I’ll be so good, I-“

Ghost lets out a groan of approval, cutting you off before you have the chance to finish. You don’t mind, head cloudy with a sickening pleasure that crescendos into full grown ecstasy. Moans are slipping free, hips grinding into his thrusts until you’re screaming in pleasure face first into the chair. Nails digging into the side, your orgasm crashing through you until you’re seeing stars.

Ghost isn’t far behind. He’s thrusting sloppily, huffs and moans spilling from him as he rides you through your orgasm. He pushes your head into the chair, growling out filthy curses as he fuck you harder. Deep thrusts and low grunts are pushing you towards insanity. He quickens his sloppy pace, desperate for release as your cunt squeezes around his dick.

He cums soon after, slamming a fist into the wall and rocking thrusts into you slowly. “Think you’ve learned your lesson, sweetheart?” He teases, pulling himself from you. You nod into the cushion, breaths coming out hot and heavy. “Uh-huh,” you say softly.

Ghost rubs the bright red mark on your ass. A moment passes by in a comfortable silence, the air thick with arousal. He carefully pulls you to your feet, your shaking hands dragging up your pants. You’re looking up at him with wide eyes, asking yourself if this is going to be the only time - or just the first time. Ghost glances back at you, a hand coming to grab your jaw. The touch is delicate and gentle, something that catches you off guard. He looks pretty damn pleased, based off of the twinkle in his eyes.

“Times up - good hunting, Lt?” Soaps familiar voice cuts through the radio. You blink, almost forgetting where you are. His hand leaves your face. Blushing scarlet, you look to your Lieutenant. “Who are we buying drinks for?” Gaz questions.

Ghost is fumbling with his belt, slinging the vest onto his shoulders as you wait patiently for him to respond, lip caught between your teeth. He notices, another dirty smirk that you can’t see playing at his lips. “Go on, tell them,” he says, picking up the stray rifle on the ground. You look at him in disbelief, blinking in confusion.

“Tell them or I’ll show them by fucking you over my desk.”

You hang your head in shame, nodding to yourself as you press the radio. “Not me,” you say softly, grabbing the rifle from his hands and looking at him.

“The Lieutenant wasn’t playing fair.”

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fanfic-gallery · 4 months

Text

my captive roommate

alhaitham × yandere gn! reader

|| cw (dead dove): implied manipulation, drugging, kidnapping, stalking

» manager's note: hello again, did you guys miss me? cuz i did~ now before you come at me about the haitus— calm down, let me defend myself- i just had a case of 'following the numbers, instead of following the heart'; i was trying so hard to appease my audience that i forgot the sole reason for my passion of writing; my entertainment— alright- enough moping, hope you enjoy the fic; and as always, stay safe, drink lots of water, i love you guys <3

he never would have thought of him agreeing with someone, especially with that certain someone managing to drag him into this situation; back slouched against a chair with his limbs bound to its wooden frame by course rope.

maybe it was the drug still pulsing through his veins — clouding his mind, causing him to make such a rash decision... or maybe, he really didn't mind your offer; getting to spend his days within this isolated cabin far from the main capital in peace, with necessities all provided for... all with the exception of ur wandering eyes observing his every move.

you weren't a new sight to him; ever since kaveh grew an attachment towards you — with the many times he'd seen that idiot inviting you over to his house, showering you with gifts and gold, he had deemed you a faker... nothing but a con that was screwing his roommate over with your charm and pretty smile.

a pretty smile that's seemingly showing up more often than not — the reveal of you being apart of the akademia was no surprise; instead, it was the fact that you were under the same division of the scholar that he found slightly strange... never once in his lifetime had he noticed you before. despite his clear lack of interest in others, he still does take the time to familiarise the faces around him to avoid trouble; yet, not once, had he seen you.

he had concluded you must have been a transfer; as you had once stated you were from a far off village within the rain forest; invited by the akademia similiar to tighnari. yet, whenever he asked, you could neither confirm nor deny his hypothesis; always dancing around the subject, dragging kaveh into the conversation to avoid his observant gaze.

...there was more that meets the eye...

...and he decided to prove it.

stood within a isle of the empty, enormous library — he waited patiently; fingers nonchalantly flipping through pages of a book he had chosen at random as eyes underneath silver locks glanced around carefully.

tap, tap, tap...

...ears perked at the echoing sounds of scurrying footsteps.

tap, tap, tap...

...left, right — eyes swayed.

tap, tap... tap...

...thump, he held the now closed text.

tap... tap...

...before, punting it straight forward; yet, to his disappointment the thick spine smacked right against the cold, hard marble floor. with a tsk, he took a step back; assessing his failure... is what he'd presumed you were thinking...

THUMP

glassy turquoise stared down the figure stood right by the second tomb at their feet. "...what business do you have here...?" he stated bluntly, carefully making his way towards the intruder.

"..."

"...you must have not been weary of the closing time for the studies..."

"..."

"...you won't be reported if you escort yourself o— out..-"

hand traveled up to his nape, feeling the thinnest of needles sticking from his skin. despite pulling it out without a second to waste, it had seemed whatever had coated the metal's surface was already kicking in... what a bad foresight... he never would have thought of you to be this sly...

thump.

lashes fluttered to what was pitch-black, he groaned softly as the effects of the anesthetics were slowing wearing; letting him to feel the aches of his back and stretched limbs behind him — which resulted in a slight struggle

"...you're awake!" figure froze at the familiar tone.

"oh- let me get that for you," unknown hands wandered to his head; and with a rustle and tug, a flash of light meets his pupils. brows furrowed as he adjusted, slowly coming to his senses.

"you're quite the difficult catch~" you chuckled.

"...but that matters not now... you're finally home...~"

"...what is it that you want from me?"

"come now... we haven't even gotten to introduction, but then again... your straightforward fortitude doesn't stray from what i've gathered..."

"...i'll ask again... what is it that you want from me?"

"...heh~ a stubborn one indeed," you sighed, tumbling back into a chair of your own.

"i'll cut it short... i'm here with a deal for you," arms crossed over themselves as you kicked up your heel

"you'll be able to leave a quiet life within this home far from the bustling city you so despise with necessities all provided by me all in exchange for becoming my little lab rat,"

"...elaborate?"

"you'll be observed full to 24 hours; meaning, little to no privacy... but i'll allow some certainties, of course — and if you question if there's any tests involve, yes and no... there will be no tests involving narcotics or such, all you have to do is life your days here as you would within your own home~"

"...and is this research of yours going into anything? such as the akademia?"

you giggled, hopping off your seat: "...nope, im doing this for my own interest... you see i'm quite a fanatic for the human psyche... how it functions and what those decisions lead to..." eyes narrowed as you trailed over to a corner of the small room dressed in a curtain.

"...and you've been on my radar for quite some time now..." with a swoop, the wall undressed revealing a full portrait of pictures of the scholar plastered across its surface; ones dating back to a few days ago to others dating back since his freshmen year at the akademia.

"...you really are quite a sick individual, aren't you?"

you laughed in response, "why thank you~ im quite proud of this myself,"

he could only sit and marvel at your 'masterpiece' as he thought of what to make of this; arms swayed as he tried to struggle out of his bounds.

"ah- i almost forgot, i'll be confiscated your vision during the observation period as well, can't have you using it on me..."

forced to live out a average life within the confines of a little hut probably far from any civilization within a metre's radius, all without his vision...? you truly were a mad genius, weren't you?

yet, to say he wasn't enticed would be lie; the times he'd internally wished he was whisked away to some place far and distant without needing to think of work, his troublesome roommate and the public eye...

"...is that all?"

"hm?"

"...your conditions?"

"well," fingers rubbed at your chin. "for now, yes~"

"..."

maybe this was his chance to live a life he so desired — no superiors to undermined his own interests, no annoying roommate to disturb him of his peace — with the added bonus of all his basic needs all afforded for...

"...deal"

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josibunn · 4 months

Text

a few days ago I had gotten an anonymous request to do a noncon version of my first evert fic here (“all mine, right?”) but I deleted it because I hated how I rewrote it. I was rushing it bc my own writing made me uncomfortable, so I scrapped it in a whole, sorry anon😭. but i’m thankful for the request bc GOD i HATE that fic!!! even though it was my first I just hate how I wrote it in general. here it is! thank u sm for being patient.

smut! unprotected p in v, noncon, restraining, choking, øystein is really mean here. manipulation, some name calling, a very mean (but on character) threat is made by him to varg, mentions of shooting him. you and euronymous get in an argument, and varg tries to “pick your head up” and it doesn’t end well. please heed the warnings!

you and your boyfriend had been arguing since you stepped out the house. over a fucking dress. you thought you looked good, you knew you looked good, which was why he was on bad timing, you looked too fucking good. so stupid, right?

you weren’t even able to step into your heels before øystein had something to say, which was odd, because he was never one to tell you to change. “what the fuck are you wearing? when did you get this??” he starts, and you stare at him dumbfounded. “what?” “the dress, [y/n].” he says, and off the bat you can tell he’s in a mood, he never uses your name, always stuck with pet names, baby, princess, love, song bird.

(you liked that one, once he let you record vocals over a song just for shits and giggles but ended up loving it and keeping it on the track, “look at you, following in my footsteps.” he praised, cupping your cheeks and kissing you. “just like a little song bird. hm?” he giggled, it was cute.)

“the dress?? what’s wrong with it?” you look over yourself, smoothing it down. it was a velvety white strapless mini dress with a cute bow at the breast of it, you paired it with some heels and a choker and a few bracelets euronymous had gotten you. “it’s cute, right?” you ask, and he circles you, “take it off.” he spits, and you recoil. “what?” “take it the fuck off, you’re not wearing it to the show. that’s dead.” he walks out the room, and you follow him.

you couldn’t believe it, was he actually serious right now? was he acting like this over a dress? a dress he went with you to get, AND paid for?? the fuck??

you guys fought around the house for almost fifteen minutes, of course you weren’t giving it up. his only problem was how see through it was. every curve and crevice could be seen, your dark nipples and tiny pin underwear could be seen through it, had you’d worn it for him and him only he would’ve devoured you open.

“you’re being fucking unreasonable! if you didn’t like it you shouldn’t have bought it!” you shout, and usually his steaming glare would burn holes through you and you’d crumble, but it wasn’t working this time. “[y/n], sweetheart,” he grits. “think about what they’ll say about you! cover the fuck up, you’re not going out like that with your tits out and your ass on display.” he points, and you groan.

to spite him, you grab a shrug cardigan, luckily it paired well with your dress but it only covered your back and arms, acting as just a long sleeve. “better? fucking better?” you put your hands on your hips once you reach the bottom of the stairs. he sighs hard, pinching the bridge of his nose, to be fair, it was what he wanted. he wanted you to cover up, right?

“get in the fucking car.” he points, and you push past him, slamming the door and car door once you step in. and again, you’re arguing all the way to his shop. you loved the scene and the band as much as him, so you knew what he was doing when you two arrive and he tells you, “get in there, sit in the fucking den, and don’t move. ok? don’t let me find you up there.” hes all in your face, and you scoff. “you’re so fucking unbelievable!” you push him away and storm into the shop, and exactly what øystein was afraid of takes down.

eyes are on you the second you step in. you feel them, trailing up your body as your heels click clack click clack through the shop, boobs bouncing as you move angrily past the party goers and down to the den. you hear a few whistles and comments before øysteins shutting it down, some not so empty threats and curses leaving him before he resumes the party.

you groan as you plop down onto the couch, arms crossed and a stuck face, tension basically radiating off you like cartoon stench. the den isn’t so empty, a few people down here on their own, making out, trying to subtly touch each other like they were sneaky.

varg glanced at euronymous before walking downstairs, joining you. “what’s with the atitude?” he asks, and you almost want to scream at him. actually, you don’t hate varg. you don’t not not like him. but you don’t like him because øystein tells you not to. øystein hated varg, and he hated when he was even breathing near you, you never knew why. he was never mean to you, he was as decent as a human can be.

“fucking..øystein made me sit down here because of my dress. so stupid.” you grumble. he looks over you, trailing up your glistening legs, past the way the dress hugged your curves and to your still stuck face, “what’s wrong with it? you look good,” he says, and your anger makes you look past the tone he was insinuating.

“I know! and he was there when we got, hell, he paid for it, so I dunno what the problem is. but he told me to sit down here, so.” you shrug. “well it’s not that bad down here,” he shrugs, and you give him a look before nodding over to the couple perched against the wall who we’re definitely grinding off against each other. “ok it’s-it’s a little bad,” he says, and it makes you giggle.

“lemme get you a drink, maybe turn that frown upside down, yeah?” he nudges your arm, and you roll your eyes with a small smile, nodding. he gets up and re-emerges upstairs, excitement coursing through him. he had been waiting for a moment like this. øystein knew what type of guy varg was, no matter how much of a pussy he actually was. he knew his intentions with you, it’s what anyone would’ve wanted, you’re gorgeous.

and on top of that, you’re his girl. you’re the euronymous’ girlfriend. taking you down would give varg a boost he’d never acquire in his life, no many how many groupie hoes he fucked. he knew what he was doing, he knew why you were down there, he heard what øystein said to you before you two came in, he had a plan the second he saw your angry face shove past people and downstairs.

so you two sat downstairs, your cardigan long discarded as you sip beer with him, laughing together at the display of losers around you. from upstairs, euronymous goes in with the party, drink in his hand and conversing with friends about his joyous accomplishments. all of a sudden, his stomach turns completely, the feeling of throwing up overtaking him, his mouth salivating. for some odd reason he got a gut feeling to check up on you. he hasn’t seen you at all, and though he knew you wouldn’t cross him or make a scene even with your rebellious spirit, he also hadn’t seen varg either, and that was saying something, considering he doesn’t drink and he’s usually at øysteins side at these things, leeching off the spotlight.

so he excused himself rather abruptly and heads downstairs, and anger lights him up from his toes to the folicules on his head, he saw you and realized your cardigan was off. no, he saw varg trailing his hand up your thigh as you look up at him tell some story. though you were uncomfortable with the advance towards you, you didn’t think anything of it really. but øystein couldn’t read your mind, and with the alcohol in his system he didn’t really care.

your eyes widen when you see him storming over, and before you can adjust he’s pulling you out of your seat roughly, your drink falling to the floor as he holds your arm with a bruising grip, holding you up to your shoulder. you let out a small ow, øystein! but his voice overpowers yours as he spits, “the fuck are you doing? the fuck are you doing?!” his free hand points to varg who has a small smirk on his face as he stays at his seat.

“she looked sad, so I was just keepin’ her company. calm down.” he says nonchalantly, but it only makes euronymous angrier. “you stay away from her, you hear? I fuckin told you about that, and if I see you round’ her again i’m gonna blow your fuckin head open,” he points, and it’s the last thing he says before he’s dragging you past people and upstairs. “what’s your problem??” you huff, but he doesn’t give you an answer before he’s pushing you into his office, slamming his door and locking it behind himself.

“are you serious? are you actually serious right now [y/n]?!” he shouts, and luckily the music is loud enough so no one would hear him. “what are you talking about??” you cross your arms as he turns on a lamp. “varg?? the fuck are you doing down there with him??” he throws down his jacket, and you see his flexing biceps and his balled fists.

“I was fucking alone! he was being nice and keeping me company, whatd you want me to do??” you stomp. “keeping you company with his hand up your dress? d’you think i’m stupid??” he scoffs, throwing his arms in front of him. “oh my god, you’re overreacting! I was bored and he was being nice! nicer than you’ve been all fucking night.” you say, backing up to the desk behind you. you cross your arms around your chest, you feel yourself shrinking under him. you knew he’d never hit you, but the way his voice boomed when he got angry like this always scared you.

“nice, [y/n]? nice.” he deadpans, nodding as he steps closer to you, and you look to the floor to the side. “you think a guy like varg would be nice to you? no listen, look at me,” he grabs your chin to make you look at him. “ask yourself, do you really think varg was being nice? like he didn’t have a fucking motive?” hes burning holes into you, and you almost want to cry. you remember how he told you you looked good, and how his eyes flickered from you to your boobs as his hand moves up your leg.

“it wasn’t like that.” you pout, and he grits his teeth together as he sighs through his nose. “you’re a smart girl, [y/n].” his words are harsh yet soft as you look into his eyes. “what do you think he wants? what any guy here would want from you, you’re a fucking gem, you know that. you know that. you want nice? do you wanna know what nice looks like from a guy like him?” he tilts his head, and before you can respond he pulls your dress and your underwear down, lodging his fingers into your hot cunt.

you gasp and choke, a hand on his chest for distance as your legs step apart at the intrusion, eyes big on his as your mouth hangs open in shock, but his face is deadpanned, staring you down as you squirm under his grip. “øystein!” you shriek, your fingers feeling like jelly as you try and push at his wrist, but he’s digging into you fast, fucking his fingers into you. “this is what you want? huh?” he furrows his brows, and you’re whimpering at the stretch of his fingers.

“this is what nice guys like him do to pretty things like you. I know him baby, I fucking know him. he doesn’t wanna be your friend, he wants this pussy.” he spits, and you choke when he grabs your throat. “ack-øystein-” “after gigs, he takes whatever bitch he wants and he treats them like this, does this feel good? you wanna be onea those girls??” he watches your eyes tear up as they roll back, you’re stuttering as you try and plead once more, but he’s massaging your sweet spot, making you all gooey and stupid.

even in his angry state he’s praising you, his cock hard as he listens to your strained moans. “fucking gorgeous, he’d defile you. he’d talk you up, take you home and treat you like some 99¢ hooker. do you want that? is that what you want?” he lets you go, havin you gasp for air as you push at his forearm. “øystein, m’sorry, baby m’sorry just-just slow down,” you whimper, laying your head against his chest to try use your body weight to slow him down, but all it did was make him go harder, a pained moan coming from you as you grab at his biceps.

“nono I don’t think you get it, I don’t think you know what you’re getting into so lemme teach you, lemme teach you baby.” he tells you, and you feel his knuckles against your stomach as he unbuckles his belt. “he wouldn’t even think about being as nice as i’m being princess, you know that? you think this is too much?” he pulls out of you, and you manage to get your shaky hands on the desk.

you watch him stroke his cock through his boxers, eyeing his v-line that peaked under his cropped top before you caught his eyes that still stared down at you angrily, jaw clenched and everything. “øystein i’m sorry,” you sniffle, rubbing your legs together. “m’sorry, I-I won’t talk to him again, I don’t wanna be those girls, promise. I promise,” you squeak as he steps closer, he doesn’t even have to try as he turns you around, his lips grazing your cheek as whispers, “I know baby, I know you won’t, because you’re a good girl, my good girl. but I gotta teach you, ok? gotta show you what guys like him really look like on the inside,” he says, and you gasp when you feel his tip sliding in you, and just as you scream out at the stretch of his thick, long cock bullying itself into you he slaps a hand over your mouth, pushing your head back slightly as you grab onto the desk.

you drool against his hand as he leans you over onto the desk, whimpering and gasping as you already feel him fucking into you, his length stretching you open. his hand runs up your back as he lets go of your mouth, cradling your head and laying you down on the desk smoothly. “ronymous’,” you gasp, “ronymous wait, fuck it’s-fuck,” you moan, drooling against a stack of papers as you ball your fist against the desk.

“I know baby,” he speeds up, and you let out a guttural moan, keeping your back arched as you squirm in your tiny heels, toes bunching together at the rush of the sensation and urgency his cock was giving you. “he wouldn’t take it east on you, know that? he’d be harder, and meaner, because that’s what ‘nice guys’ want in the end,” he pants, cheeks reddening as he closes his eyes, pleasure overtaking him as he takes in your tight pussy.

“wouldn’t even let you relax, would just fuck you,” he punctuates his thrust harshly, making you jump and choke out a loud high moan, tears filling your eyes once again, “like this,” he pants and does it again, continuing his rythem of fucking you like a toy with no remorse to, because that’s what he thought-he knew varg would do to you.

“øystein fuck!” you cry out, it’s too much to handle, you’re not used to him fucking you either such vigor. “I know sugar,” he sounds pained, hurt by your cries, but in all honesty it’s turning it on. if he was being honest, he was almost to the edge. “just take it, ok? gotta teach you,” he holds down your wrist and stops you from moving your top half completely, his other hand heavy on your back as you move the desk with every deep thrust, groaning above you as you continue to clench down on his cock for dear life.

your head was foggy, a new sort of heat erupting from your pussy as he pinned into you like some..fleshlight. sure, it would’ve been terrible with anyone else, but your boyfriend..god.. he grabs onto the back of your neck, other hand tightening around your wrist as he slams into you, and it has you crumbling, a short and whiney “ohh my goddd,” coming from you as your brows raise and your eyes squeeze together, mouth falling open with loud and airy moans, and by god anyone who came a foot within the door could’ve heard the mess he was making of you.

“fuck baby, can’t let anyone have this pussy,” øystein says aloud as he watched himself bully his dick into you, the recoils of your ass against his pelvis driving him wild, not to mention the stickiness of your cunt could be seen connecting with his cock with each time he drew his dick out, you’re so wet. “dyou understand? huh? answer me,” he pulls you up by the back of your neck and leans over to meet your eyes as you look to the side at him, drool hanging off your lip as your low, foggy eyes meet his.

“you understand now baby? why I do what I do, why I say what I say? lot of bad men out there, and they can’t fuckin have you. they can’t fuckin have you, because you’re mine, right? you’re all mine, right?” he nods, and you nod back, a loud, sobbing moan escaping from you, tears littering your face and the desk, and fuck he’s bout to blow at the sight of you. “yes, fuck yes øystein,” you sob before letting out another shaky gasp, brows raising again as you try and open your eyes.

“fuck i’m gonna cum, gonna cum baby i’m sorry,” you cry out, gripping your own fist. “s’ok, you earned it. did so fucking good,” he pants before he leans up, and this is why you love øystein. why you’re obsessed with him. no matter how angry, how into it he is you always cum first, hell edge himself just to make you cum, even if it was your 3 time. he always rewards you, he can’t resist you. why wouldn’t he give his girl, his sweet thing a treat.

he pulls out and hold you to his chest, shoving all the paper off his desk before he lays you on your back and slides back in, and your legs are shaking on the side as you wrap your arm around him and hold him close, his head buried in the side of your head as he grips the ledge of the desk, going back to pounding into you. “got myself a good girl? yeah baby?” he says in your ear, your back arching to his chest as your mouth hangs open with silent moans, “uh huh,” is all he receives, and he takes it because he knows you’re on the wave of your orgasm.

“yeah I do, got a good fuckin girl yes I do,” he whispers desperately, and you squeak his name as you wrap your legs around his waist, grounding yourself as your orgasm washes over you hard, your ears ringing with the music as you coat his cock, and he smiles, hearing your small coming down moans tying in with the wetness of his his soaked thighs hitting yours. he doesn’t give you a warning when he cums in you shortly after no, you just hear his groan and weight press against you as warmth fills you and trickled down your pussy, making you shiver.

you stay like that for a second, arms wrapped around each as you pant, sweaty bodies sticking together until he lifts up, taking in your beautiful face and disheveled body. “you feelin ok sugar?” his voice is low as he brushes hair off your face, watching you nod. he gives you a gentle kiss, and your shaky hand comes up to cradle his face. “I love you,” he says in your mouth. “love you so much, love you so much.” he says, and you smiles in the kiss.

“love you too, won’t..won’t talk to him ever again. ever, don’t wanna be onea those girl, never ever,” you pant, and he chuckles breathily. “I know you don’t, because you’re my girl, just my girl,” he nods and gets up, rubbing your thigh as he pulls out of your wet, warm cunt, the loss feeling making him whine as his cock hits against his thigh before it softens up.

he lifts you into his arm and carries you to the futon, grabbing a random napkin and cleaning you up as you already feel yourself getting sleepy, holding yourself. he pulls your panties up and your dress down, and gets you a blanket, covering you nicely. you expect a kiss, but confusion takes over you as he gets up and closes the door behind him. you wanna cry, did he really leave me like that? was he still mad? you think to yourself with a pouty frown, raising up on your elbow as you look at the door.

but your sadness subsided when he comes back with a snack and a water bottle, kicking the door shut. “whaswrong’?” he asks, seeing you pouty lip. “thought you left me,” he hands you the water bottle and peels your snack out the wrapper. “of course not, well, I am gonna go back to the party, but i’m not leaving. lay down n sleep, ok? i’ll be right out there, and i’ll come get you when it’s time to leave.” he gives you a little kiss and a rub on the back, making you smile ditzily.

“love you.” you watch him get up, “I love you too, go to sleep mama, ok?” is all he says before leaving out, and it’s all you hear before you do crash out.

ok that's soo much better!! also sorry I had to end it on a sweet note, I can't do angst, he's just too simpy for me :3. I hope you enjoyed and thank u sm again anon for being so patient! i'm trying to get better at answering requests faster.

also i've been seeing like emoji anons and if anyone would like that i'd be happy to do so! just ask with whatever emoji you'd like! okbyee :3

join my taglist! @angelsanarchy @sugarinte @monkeyfart @444rockstargf @bambi-horror @auggiethecreator @wonkinoo @auryyz @brithedemonspawn @electra-nevermind

#rory culkin #rory culkin smut #euronymous #euronymous smut #lords of chaos #lords of chaos smut #eurory prompt

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maraschinomerry · 1 year

Text

Distracted part 2

Pairings: Anthony Lockwood x fem!reader

Summary: after Lockwood tells Lucy and George about his encounter at the auction, the three of them set out to find you and the book

Content: making out, deep conversation, mention of manipulation

A/N: thank you all so so much for the love on the first part (which is here, originally requested by @superpositvecloudshipper) and thank you for being patient with me for the follow-up, hope you like it!

Word count: 2k

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor @ettadear + @rinisfruity14 @tigerthealien @honey-with-tea @frogmanfletch @ayoitsmickey

George paced furiously around the kitchen. Deep shadows crossed his face every time he turned away, the blackness of the night beyond the window not providing a single speck of light. "I can't believe you lost the book, Lockwood. Jesus, Barnes is going to kill us. We're screwed."

Lockwood heaved a sigh from the table, where he was scribbling something about you, the mystery woman from the auction, on the Thinking Cloth. "It's not my fault, I got trapped with this relic hunter and she pinned me down and stole it."

The thudding of George's footsteps ground to an abrupt halt and Lucy, on the other side of the table, snapped to attention. Lockwood almost squirmed under their scrutiny.

"She?" George frowned.

"We need to find her. What did she look like?" Lucy listened as Lockwood rattled off a remarkably detailed description of you and fought to keep her expression neutral. "Was she pretty?"

"Yes. Wait. No. I mean-"

Lucy burst out laughing while George stared in horror. "Oh my god, so when you say she pinned you…" Her face split into a mischievous grin.

George slammed his hands onto the table, making everyone's teacups rattle. "Do not finish that thought. But as much as I really don't want to say it, Lucy's right. We do need to find her and the book. And I think you know how we go about it."

—

"You never fail to surprise me, Locky."

The trio were down at the wharf in the early rays of morning, trying to find out if Flo knew you or your whereabouts. Much to Lockwood's chagrin, the other two were more than happy to divulge every detail they knew. Lucy had even put aside her disdain for the other girl to be able to fully participate in the gossip.

"I know, I lost a fight, these things happen. It was a very crowded space."

"I was talking about you finally being intimate with someone."

Lockwood blushed. "I wouldn't exactly call it-" the words died in his throat as Flo threw him a knowing glare. "Okay fine, but that's not why I- why we need to find her. She stole something important, and we have to get it back. Please, Flo."

"Fine. But I'm not coming with you. Being a relic woman was my thing until she decided to steal the idea, along with a bunch of my sources. It won't be pretty if I see her again."

—

Someone was coming. More than one someone. The sounds of multiple sets of feet and muffled voices echoed off the concrete walls of the place you called home, a disused undercroft in South Bank. You tucked yourself behind a pillar, pulling a knife from the holster on your leg.

"Hello?" The voice that called out was deep, but not deep enough to be a man's, and oddly familiar. "I'm here for the book." Oh.

You slipped out from your hiding place to see the boy from the auction flanked by a bespectacled, curly-haired boy dressed all in orange and a pretty brunette girl in a practical blue playsuit and leather jacket. They were both a little shorter than him.

"Hello darling," you flashed him a smile, noting the way the other two people glanced at each other behind his back. How much did they know? "I'm afraid you've wasted your time, though I'm sure I can make it up to you." Knife still in hand, you stepped a little closer. He didn't move, just looked you up and down, but the girl switched from behind his shoulder to in front. He murmured something to her, and you caught the name Lucy.

"You can make it up by not lying to me again."

"Okay, first of all, I never lied to you. I did have fun and you definitely seemed to. Secondly, what makes you think I'm lying now? I don't have the book."

"You're too smart to get rid of something that valuable. Personal insurance, didn't you say?"

"My my, you've got a good memory. Either that or you've been really thinking about me."

"We are still here, you know," the other boy interrupted. "Any time you want to let us know what's going on would be great, or shall we leave you to it?" The girl, Lucy, waggled her eyebrows a little. She definitely knew the whole of it, then. The taller boy pondered for a moment before giving them an apologetic smile and saying it was perhaps best.

As soon as they were gone, you sheathed your knife and took the boy by his tie. He gulped as your fingers ran up and down the smooth silk - not pulling, not forcing, just reinforcing the fact that you were unarmed and right in his personal space. His hand came up, ghosting across your shoulder, before it dropped and he cleared his throat.

"So, what exactly do you need personal insurance for?"

"Oh please, don't say it like you don't know. You're friends with that Bones girl, you've probably dealt with tons of relic hunters. It's just another part of the lifestyle."

There was something soft and sincere in the way he looked at you, a far cry from the angry, passionate boy you'd met the first time. He sat on one of the hard concrete benches and held out a hand. "Then you know you can trust me with it."

You refused the hand, but in spite of yourself sat down next to him with a huff. The last thing you wanted was to go churning out some sob story, especially with a fling so quick you still didn't actually know his name, but if that was what it took for him to leave you alone then so be it. Although, you had to admit, there was a tiny part of you that was pleased he'd come looking, that you'd got the chance to see him again. He seemed nice. Sharp enough to go toe-to-toe with you yet caring enough to know when to stand down. Your world would eat him alive.

"Nothing good comes from trusting others." You half-expected a snappy retort, a speech about the healing power of friendship, but he must have sensed the weight behind your words because he said nothing, simply waited for you to elaborate. So you did.

The long and the short of it was that you'd been an idiot. When you first became a relic hunter, you had only just lost your Talent and had no idea how to navigate the world without it, so you'd fallen in with a more experienced guy a few years your senior. He taught you everything you needed to know, helped get you on your feet and fending for yourself, but he also used your loyalty against you and tricked you into an obligation to give him a cut of anything you earned on a hunt. It wasn't enough that you couldn't afford to eat or anything, but just enough that you'd never be able to break away and gain your dependence from him. The book was your insurance because technically you hadn't got it on a hunt, so it was your nest egg for when you finally got the confidence to break free from him.

"Not that I think I ever will," you added bitterly. "It's too late for me."

"No. I don't believe that." The boy was almost choked up, watching you with the most pained expression.

"It's that relentless optimism that left you without the book in the first place."

"I'm not being optimistic, I'm being realistic. Come with us, we could help you."

"Look, you're sweet and all, but don't mistake me thinking you're hot for me liking you."

He raised an eyebrow and gave you another of those irresistible grins like he had when he first swiped the book. "At least you think I'm hot."

You laughed, genuinely, and it startled you a little. "Stop being so smug and get over here before your mates get impatient."

He was on you in seconds. All the despondency of the conversation evaporated in the sudden heat between you as he dragged you into his lap. You moved with agility, knees either side of his waist and feet between his knees, and twisted your hand into his hair to hold yourself close. He moaned into the kiss and clamped his hands firmly round your waist. Still tasted like bergamot. You savoured him, drank him in, then decided to get a little experimental. Letting go of his hair, you took both hands to loosen his tie and undo the top couple of shirt buttons. The second his skin was exposed, you ducked down and worked a blossoming bruise into that perfect neck. To your delight, he tilted his head back to grant you further access. Once you considered him suitably marked, you trailed kisses up towards his jaw, and he brought his head back down to catch your lips with his. The hands on your waist moved in opposite directions: one up and around your back, the other down over your hip, lower and lower. You shuddered in excitement, but the movement jolted his teeth a little too hard against your lower lip and made you jump.

"Sorry!" he whispered, already deep voice made even huskier by desire and shortness of breath. "Are you…?"

"I'm fine," you reassured him, "but maybe it's a good time to call it quits while we still can."

You disentangled from one another, the tension of unresolved intimacy thick in the air that grew between you as you moved apart.

"You know," he began without making eye contact, "the offer still stands. We could make it work."

"I know. But no, we couldn't." Part of you desperately wished it weren't the case, but you understood deep down that you could never return to his world. You suspected he knew it too. He began to move away. "Wait, what about the book?"

The smile he gave you lacked any of the electricity it usually did, but still had the same depth of feeling. "Keep it. Consider it proof that trust can get you something." He was almost at the edge of the undercroft now, almost out of sight.

"Wait!" you called again, louder this time. Inwardly, you cringed at how needy you must have sounded.

"If you don't want me to go, just say so." That spark was back in his smirk.

"No, I just… I still don't know your name."

"Lockwood. Can I ask for yours?"

You smiled softly, trying so hard to keep up the confident snarky persona but feeling it crumble by the second in the face of his utter sincerity. "Maybe next time, darling." And then he was gone.

—

The letterbox of 35 Portland Row rattled. That was odd. The postman had already been by today. Lockwood pushed himself wearily out of his armchair and made his way into the hallway. On the mat was a single scrap of folded paper. Frowning, he picked it up. The handwriting was unfamiliar, messy with haste.

'Behind the wall'.

There was nobody at all on the street, no matter which way he looked. Whoever had delivered the note had made a point not to stick around. Tucked behind a small bush in the front garden, leaning against the wall as promised, so well concealed nobody could possibly know it was there without being told to look, was a rectangular block wrapped in brown paper. Tucked in the front was another scrap of the same paper, with the same handwriting.

'Lockwood, darling. Proof trust goes both ways. Until we meet again, (name) x'

Blinking back tears, Lockwood peeled back the paper with shaky hands. Hands that were holding the book.

#lockwood & co x reader #anthony lockwood x reader #fem!reader #anthony lockwood #lockwood & co fanfic #lockwood and co #renew lockwood and co

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mothgodofchaos · 1 year

Text

Seen

A lonely god that only wishes for companionship? Coming right up.

God of Night x Blind!GN!Reader, TW: none Words: 622

The temple was quiet when you arrived at the steps. Navigating around the city had been difficult, but you were lucky enough that someone took pity on you and let you ride in their chariot to the temple. They told you it was night time, but it’s not like you could tell anyways. You removed your sandals as soon as you could, the marble cold under your feet, the walls matching at your fingertips grazed along, guiding you along the corridors. It was silent other than your footfalls against the floor, careful and quiet. That was, until you felt the floor beneath you vibrate with a new pattern, a larger person walking around these halls.

“Hello? Is someone there?”

You gripped onto a nearby pillar, waiting patiently for a response or a change in the steps. The pattern did indeed change, the vibrations getting more intense as you sense them getting closer.

“I am blind, is there someone who could help me around the temple?”

The footsteps stop, but only for a moment. When they resume, they’re much softer, slower, as if the person’s mannerisms just changed. They get closer, and you hear a hum of quiet victory.

“There you are, I’m so sorry that no one was there to greet you at the door, let me guide you around, if you will let me.”

“Of course, thank you. May I get your name?”

“My name is not important, my dear. Let me get you somewhere a little bit warmer. I’m sure you’re freezing, your feet standing on the bare marble.”

You nod, as you’re scooped up into the arms of your helper. The cloak he’s wearing is thick and fuzzy, perhaps made of wool. You grip onto the hem of the cloak as his steps are sure, but soft. The gentle rocking of his walk is slowly lulling you to sleep, your head resting against what you presume is his shoulder.

He hums softly, looking down at you in his arms. It wasn’t often when he was actually able to interact with humans that entered his temple. He vowed to protect his followers, but you, you could be around him without him fearing your demise from seeing his true form. Sure, he could be in his human form, but that eventually gets exhausting, and people try manipulating him just because he doesn’t look like a god. He loses more followers that way than any other.

Instead of going into the devotee quarters and getting you set up in one of the beds, he takes you back into his chambers. He sets you on his larger bed, looking down at you as you curl up, draping part of his cloak over you. His hand waves over your head as he sends you into sweet dreams.

He had never been this close with a human like this. Night brought you one of the sets of higher priest clothing, setting it next to you. He watched you, studying you as you slept. His many hands scooped you up, helping redress you as he looked away, allowing you some modesty.

Over the next few months, he learned from you, pretending to be one of the priests of the temple that way you wouldn’t be scared off by his title. As ironic as it was, he finally had someone who was able to see him past his godly exterior. How lonely he was, how he just wished for a companion. A part of him felt guilty for keeping you all to himself, but he made sure the other priests and devotees interacted with you, and gave you the utmost respect.

Because for the first time in the millennia that he has existed, he finally felt seen.

#god of night #night #kollok night #kollok council #god of night kollok #night markiplier #markiplier egos #gn!reader #glowstick god #chaoswrites

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moosekateer13 · 1 year

Text

Chapter 1: Psycho

I breathe a sigh of relief when I finally arrive at my new apartment in Texas. I just hope he doesn't find me this time. Joe Goldberg my controlling ex who I also found out is a murderer.

Guinevere Beck, Love Quinn, Marriene Bellamy.

All of his former lovers are all dead.

Not all by his hand though. Love his late wife turned out to be just as psycho as him and killed two of his former loves Candace Stone and Delilah Alves.

He also went by several aliases: Will Bettelheim, Jonathan Moore, or as I knew him, Irvine Fadington.

I came across the book by his ex Guinevere and then the tale of his late wife Love in the suburb Madre Linda.

I didn't need to see his picture to know he had committed the crimes.

What he calls love is really manipulation. Joe wants you to do things his way and if you don't you end up dead. He was trying to get clean when he moved to the suburbs but Love turned him dark again. She kept having him clean up her messes then eventually she turned on him. In the end, it was a fight to the death he won by injecting her with wolfsbane.

He confirmed my suspicions about the murders just before he was about to kill me.

Flashback 6 months ago…

He catches me with his ex's book on the table and the page opens with the story about his late wife.

"What did I tell you about going on the internet when I'm not home?" Irvine said.

"Not to. Your name isn't Irvine, is it? It's Joe right?" I replied shakily. I have never been so afraid in my life. I feel it in my gut I'm not getting out alive.

He yanks me by the hair and pulls me into the alley behind our apartment.

"Little worm figured it out. I guess you are smarter than I give you credit for. Well, I can't have you spilling your guts. I have worked too hard to cover my tracks."Joe replied as he wrapped his hand tightly around my neck. The last thing I see before everything goes black is a murderous look in the eyes I once loved.

End Flashback

By some sheer miracle, a cop named Noe found me in the alley. It was a close call. After giving my statement, I left the state for my safety.

I'm stocking the bookstore shelves when I hear a familiar set of footsteps.

I turn around to see my friend Eden smiling at me. Her multi-spectrum hazel eyes lit up with a smile on her face. As usual, her blonde hair loosely curled.

She works at the restaurant attached to the store.

We met when I had to grab my morning tea from there.

Eden is always so happy-go-lucky. It breaks my heart that she lost her mother because of a work accident. While attending to a patient during transport, a vehicle hit the side of the ambulance.

Turns out her mom Jessica had a genetic disorder Hemophilia. So that cut on her stomach that they thought was minor ended up being fatal. Her dad Sam ended up raising her by himself. He's a lawyer. Eden is following in her mom's footsteps and going to nursing school.

She's got a chocolate muffin and orange pekoe tea in her hand.

" Thank you, sweetheart, such a sweet thing for you to do. What did I do to deserve a friend like you?" I said with a smile.

"Nonsense Y/N you are amazing and you've always been there when I needed you. I'm lucky to have you too." Eden replied.

And sets the food on the counter before hugging me and going back to work.

I spot a tall brown-haired man with broad shoulders buying something from the cafe. Even though I can't see his face I silently lick my lips. I've always liked them tall. You've just got out of a terrible relationship. It's not the time to be looking. Besides, he probably already has someone.

Fantasizing is harmless though I reason with myself.

I catch a glimpse of his eyes before he leaves. They are the most stunning ones I've ever seen. Those multi-spectrum hazel eyes will definitely be in my dreams tonight.

Chapter 2:

#that won't save us #sam winchester x reader #former! joe goldberg x reader #“Do you know how much I love you?” “Who do you want dead this time?”#tell me story bingo #supernatural fanfiction #moosekateer13 #Angst #Attempted murder #mention of murder #Attempted kidnapping #Fluff #Smut

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professor-trevelyan · 10 months

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✧ ⸻ [ jonathan bailey, cis man, he/him ] ; oh, there you are, professor KYLER TREVELYAN! isn’t your DRAGONKIND class supposed to be starting soon ? at THIRTY FIVE years old, and with the notable signet of HYDROKINESIS, you’re a real master at what you do. hopefully your male, GREEN DAGGERTAIL dragon, RYGOR, doesn’t mind biding their time while you’re busy with classes throughout the day. the cadets and the riders really enjoy your COMPASSIONATE and PATIENT tendencies, but the other staff members know just how PARANOID and CYNICAL you can really be. some say you remind them of hot tea with a hint of vanilla & a dash of cinnamon, scars lining his body baring the proof of a long & rigorous journey, and sophisticated attire more suited for balls than war, but it’s hard to say for certain.

(tw: death mention)

~The Basics~

Full Name: Kyler Alain Trevelyan Nickname(s): Trevelyan, Professor Age: 35 Date of Birth: March 13th Home: Navarre Current Location: Basgiath War College Gender: Cis Male Pronouns: He/Him Orientation: Homosexual Ranking: Staff - Dragonkind Professor Dragon: Rygor - Green Daggertail (male)

~The Appearance~

Face Claim: Jonathan Bailey Hair Color: Brown Eye Color: Brown Height: 6′0″ Weight: 173lbs Build: Athletic Piercings: Has a Helix on his right ear and a basic lobe piercing on his left ear Distinguishing Characteristics: Various scars among parts of his entire body

~The Signet~

Signet: Hydrokinesis: The user can create, shape, and manipulate water.

~The Capabilities~

Greater Techniques - (More strenuous on Kyler, therefore, the more exertion on Rygor. Used in moderation and situational.)

Water Wall: Can create walls of water from nothing or by shaping a source of existing water. He can shape these walls into any form, but often remain unchanging and immobile afterwards. Tidal Wave: Can call forth huge waves to crash down on his targets, washing everything and sometimes everyone away in a powerful torrent. Drowning: Can drown almost anything within a sphere of extreme amounts of water. This can include parts of an object or body and in dire situations; the person as a whole.

Lesser Techniques - (Other than the basics and general manipulation of water. Requires less exertion from Kyler and Rygor, though continuous use over time will eventually lead to both tiring out.)

Omnidirectional Waves: Can release minor omnidirectional waves at once in a wide area to dispatch many foes. Water Cutting: Can manipulate water to cut and/or pierce objects or persons. Water Beam: Can control and project water in a compressed state. Then if necessary, can manipulate the beam to scatter into smaller ones.

Weaknesses

*The distance, precision, and mass depends on his knowledge, skill, and strength of the power's natural limitations. *Controlling and manipulating bodies of water over an extended and excessive period of time can and will become dangerously exhausting. *May be unable to create water in a given area if dry, therefore being limited to controlling from already existing sources of water.

~The Biography~

1. The eldest of the Trevelyan boys which obviously makes him the first of his siblings to graduate from the school as a rider. When Kyler was thirty, his middle brother failed to bond with a dragon, resulting in his untimely demise. This infuriated Kyler since time and time again he had prepped and forewarned his brother. After all, he himself had endured his own excruciating training and studies. This is something Kyler holds himself responsible for given he'd been appointed the sole caretake of his brothers after their parent's mysterious deaths. 2. (Wanted Connection) With his younger and now, only brother entering the school as a cadet, Kyler did not hesitate at the opportunity to take up a position amongst the school's staff to better knowledge all those following in whoever's footsteps and whatever drives them, while also taking this is a way to keep an extremely closer eye on his brother. Kyler has had so much lose over the course of his life; he cannot lose the only thing keeping him going. 3. Although he's taken charge of teaching Dragonkind, Kyler is quite literally the epitome of 'don't judge a book by its cover'. Though he had been deemed more of a lover than a fighter by his old class and squad mates, he can and will fuck you up. There is a slight pleasure found in proving those whom underestimate quite wrong.4. Has done about everything it took to get this far given that survival is not guaranteed. A lesson Kyler has learned in more ways than one and he's hoping to push those lessons through his teachings. Eventually his students will learn, whether they take his words to heart or on their own accord will be theirs to decide. He can only hope to nudge them in the right direction.

#basgiath:intro #;;just caught in the undertow #this is all over the place #pls slap me

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dreamsofminnie · 1 year

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Summary -> Scaramouche? He’s just a wanderer now.. An anemo vision. Full of freedom and his final peace whithin himself.

Tags -> Scara gets his vision, Nahida best auntie, Wholesome, Archon gathering except a certain mother is not in attendence, Scara healing arc, I love him your honor.

Notes -> Scara healing arc, scara healing arc, scara healing arc. I honestly forgot I ever wrote this. I DIDN’T EDIT IT SO IT’S BAD.

Word count -> 855

“Scara clutched the glowing anemo vision to his chest. He shut his eyes in gratitude.”

The wind was quite warm this day, it felt much more happier and free. Barely contrasting to the freedom of the three superiors walking throughout the grassy plains. The ones who hold the most freedom.

“So! How is the Wanderer doing? Your expertise in healing is the best” Barbatos chimed in humming to his tune. Their footsteps rustled the foliage and animals peered over to watch their god lead the two others.

“He’s mending at a good pace. But faster than when he was first placed in the sanctuary.” Buer brushed a parting of vines and entered a rounded area away from any mass. “I was planning on letting him out for a bit, get some fresh air and… You still need to give him something, right?”

Upon entering the sanctuary, the space held natural sunlight, and truly acted as a healing space for anyone. It looked more or less like a wide hollow tree trunk where one could rest their worries away. “Has he been eating well.” Morax looked upon the table to a bowl half full.

Movement shifted and all eyes turned towards the lump curled up in restfulness. They cautiously sat up and looked and the new pressences.

Buer helped him stand and spoke gently. “I was thinking you could take a stroll to soak in more nutrients. Would you like to walk?” He faintly nodded as they headed towards the exit, not minding the other two who followed quietly.

☔️

The sun blazed, not in heat but in warmth, however it could not repeal the slight chilling breeze. It was nice however. A very nice day.

They all sat themselves on the flowerfield, each busily fiddling around with their fingers, a contest has started, each determined to win.

Morax gave up halfway and instead focused on his tea in a weary silence. Barbatos occasionally giggled when crafting and moved around a bit too much while leaning on Morax. The elder spilled his tea not more than twice but he came to no mind when wine was brought out.

Buer was much more efficient and crafted several in a large pile, naming each with a person who she would gift it to. She would peek at the patient and smile in comfort.

The wanderer furrowed his eyebrows a few times when it came out a little off, annoyed at his own fingers and craftsmanship. But nevertheless, he still rather enjoyed this, the nice atmosphere, the peace and tranquility, and his healing state. He never once had a break from his despairs. Not once.

And now, he has eternity—actually, eternity wouldn’t be the right word…

He completed a set of the flower crowns and brought them up to the sunlight in awe. He made something; something that doesn’t correlate to destruction and manipulation. Something warm and meaningless.

He feels much more free.

More at ease.

He closed his eyes for a moment and lay down in the field of flowers, soaking in this feeling.

“Hmm~ Is now the right time then?” Barbatos butted in on the healing silence and approached the wanderer gently.

“You’ve had enough suffering…It’s time to be free from the restraints that are your past”

The wind swirled around mischievously. Waiting.

The wanderer sat up and looked at the God of Anemo. A spark of inspiration hit him.

By freedom.

By the winds.

The yearning of air and it’s power.

A bright teal light enveloped the scene and in plopped a trinket.

His

A vision

For him

He was awe struck

He looked up at Barbatos who granted a large grin. In his head was chaotic. “HEHE, LOOK BEELZEBUB I GOT YOUR SON!!”

“Morax! I have your son to–! ACK!!” A frown formed on the grandpa’s face. “What son.”

Nahida placed a hand on Scaramouche’s head. “You're free now. Free to do as you please, in the aspect that you won’t go back to your previous ways”

Scara clutched the glowing anemo vision to his chest. He shut his eyes in gratitude. He wasen’t very good with words, nor will he ever get used to giving proper thanks. But that’s all the Archons know and will take from him for now.

“Anywhoo~” Venti slipped out of Zhongli’s death wrangling grasp, “It seems like you, my boy! Need a dire change of a new outfit!”

Venti conjured up a wind– no he just pulled some clothes out of a picnic basket. “How did you get that hat in there–??”

“Shusshh shush my child. Here! Put it on!!”

☂️

Scaramouche looked at himself in the makeshift geo mirror, astonished at the two gifts he received. It was a lot to take in.

He was a momma’s boy no more

Venti threw his arms around Scara, giddily. “I knew it’d look great!!”

“...thank you.” He murmmered.

Venti dropped his arms. Instead tackled Scara to the ground. “I SAW THAT LIL TWITCH IN YOUR LIPS!! YOU SMILEDD!!”

Nahida panickly got Venti off of Scara. “Venti! He is still healing!!” Zhongli hit the bard which grew a bump. “Inconsiderate drunk.”

Scara still on the ground, sounded an airy laugh. Small smile present.

“Thank you all. For everything.”

#scaramouche #genshin fic #genshin scaramouche #venti #zhongli #nahida #wanderer

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incredibly-cold · 2 years

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A little (very long) angbang headcannon

Mairon needs to feel like he has earned affection. He is a Maia, which means it's his purpose to serve the Valar. He's very good at it when they are still working on the forming of the world, as his natural drive to create order and perfection is extremely helpful in the constant struggle against Melkor. He earns the name Admirable because of his deeds in those early days.

After Tulkas chases Melkor away, and the Ainur finished making the world, he feels a severe lack of purpose. This is where his loyalty starts to falter. Aulë loves him, but Mairon does not feel that it is for good reason. He cannot accept being loved simply for existing, and it becomes downright unpleasant and patronizing for him to be coddled when he doesn't feel that he is accomplishing anything.

So he joins Melkor. Pleasing him is an accomplishment greater even than laying the foundations of the world, because he is the only one who has ever succeeded at the task. More than that, Melkor isn't one to flatter him for no reason, and he doesn't hide when he is displeased with him, though that is not often. His opinion becomes more important than anything else, and because of his drive to serve, so does helping him achieve his goals. Melkor doesn't have the patience to be truly effective at world domination, he's far more suited to destruction, but with Mairon he becomes much more precise and formidable. That earns him a fair amount of affection, the most that Melkor gives to anyone, as well as a position of greater power than Maiar are typically given. Eventually he's almost singlehandedly turning Melkor's ideas into strides toward world domination. Not because he wants it, but because he wants Melkor to be happy with him. But for all of his wisdom in strategy, the situation Melkor got them into when he took the Silmarils is not one that he can fix, and Melkor finally falls in the war of wrath.

After Melkor is gone, Mairon begs Eonwë for mercy. It is genuine, because in the shock of it all he has a moment of clarity and realizes the truly insane lengths he went to just to feel like he was worth something. Again, he never truly cared about world domination, but rather earning affection by being the best. It was just happenstance that the way to earn that was through world domination. But realizing that doesn't mean he's willing to face consequences for his actions, so when Eonwë says he will have to go before the Valar, he runs.

He is not a complete fool though, and he has no reason to return to his old ways. He decides he will be satisfied with his accomplishments alone and not seek out the approval of others. He leads a fairly simple life, more out of fear of being found by the Ainur and dragged to the Máhanaxar for judgement than a love of simplicity. Unfortunately, being in command for thousands of years has made him ill-suited for the chaos of every day life. People are inefficient and they make mistakes and there is so much waste in the world, and he knows he could fix it if everyone would just do as he says, but no one cares what he says because he's nobody. He's not been patient or understanding in so long and sometimes it's hard to restrain himself from getting his way through violence, which simply doesn't horrify him the way it does others.

So he turns instead to manipulation and seduction to get his way, and he goes to Eregion. Celebrimbor is brilliant and eager to please. The way that he shuts out all other influence in favor of praise from the only one whose he deems worth striving for reminds Mairon of himself. He's so easy to trick and to use and he can see himself reflected in that. It almost hurts him, but self pity won't do him any good so long after the fact, so instead he takes pride in the fact that he is following in Melkor's footsteps. He does love Celebrimbor, but not enough that having one elf wrapped around his finger will satisfy him after being second in command to Melkor. He takes some comfort in that, as a reassurance that Melkor did love him. He knows that one Maia was not enough for the Valar who by right should have been king of all the world, and he can't really be hurt by that when it was his nature. And Melkor could never be truly destroyed, so maybe if he can actually take over the world, he can bring Melkor back, and he will be pleased with him and have all he ever wanted, and then things will be different.

So he manipulates and betrays Celebrimbor, and it doesn't work out the way he wants it to. He tortures this elf who he loves, even if he did use him, and who loved him back for so long; the first person to really love him since Aulë. And he has another horrible moment of clarity. He realizes that he's making the same mistakes as before, and that this time it's worse because he can't claim cluelessness or naïvety. In Eregion he has had power and control, and people did as he said, or at least as Celebrimbor did, and those were one and the same because Celebrimborwould do anything to please him. The city was glorious and prosperous until he destroyed it, and wasnt glory and prosperity his reason for starting this in the first place? Now he is turning to vicious cruelty just to please someone who is lost to the void, probably forever. He sees that on a deep level, everything that has gone wrong in history is because of his own ambition or his need to be loved by Melkor. He helped Melkor destroy the lamps, and if not for that his master might not have been locked in Mandos at all. More than that, it cause Yavanna to make the two trees, which made Feänor create the Silmarils, which made the War of Wrath happen and Melkor get thrown into the void and now he has ruined this chance at a fresh start and the new dream that he had made in his years on his own

But what's done is done, and all he can do is be aware and upset about it. Ever the utilitarian, he refuses to be so unproductive, so he kills Celebrimbor instead of continuing to hurt him. He is already on a path, and he's been on it since before elves came into the world. He will follow it to its end, whether that means his own destruction, his dominion over Middle Earth, or finally getting Melkor back. And he hopes, foolishly, that he will get him back. Melkor will really love him then, like Aulë and Celebrimbor used to love him, and Mairon will know that he is worthy of that love. And once he feels loved by the only one whose opinion he truly values, maybe he will finally be satisfied.

#mairon #sauron #melkor #morgoth #celebrimbor #angbang #long post #silm

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rocorambles · 3 years

Text

Dream Come True

Pairing: Kuroo x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, Non-Con Drugging, Non-Con Somnophilia, Non-Con/Rape, Dub-Con, Manipulation, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Corruption Kink, Breeding Kink, Overstimulation, Sex Toys, Bondage, DDLG Kink, Non-Con Pain Play and Spanking (use of flogger and paddle), Mind Break

Summary: Kuroo wonders if you still would have eagerly accepted the position as his assistant if you knew what your future entailed.

Author’s Note: Gifting this to @royal-after-dark as part of the NSFW Haikyuu HQ Gifting Event! Happy holidays and hope you enjoy~

You could hardly believe your eyes when you had received the acceptance email and job offer with the Japanese Volleyball Association logo emblazoned on top of all the documents. It was a dream come true and suddenly all the late nights, all the cups of coffee, all the exhausting networking in college finally felt like they paid off as you eagerly accepted your dream job as an assistant in the JVA's sports marketing department.

And although you had been warned and had been nervous that you had been looking at it from rose tinted glasses, that it wouldn't live up to your expectations, you can safely say three months in that it's everything you wanted and more as you travel around Japan, meeting and watching the best of the best in the country play their hearts out from front row seats, promoting and sharing the joy of the sport you yourself had grown up loving.

It certainly doesn't hurt that you have an amazing boss.

Kuroo Tetsurou.

You had been unsure of him at first, eyes lingering a tad too long on his messy hair, the intimidating smirk on his face, the calculating gaze in his eyes, feeling scrutinized and picked apart with every word and look he sent your way.

But when he strolled in yawning and plopped a piping hot cup of coffee on your desk without you asking, when you watched him command an entire room with his presence, when you listened to him patiently and kindly teach you your tasks, it's easy to see why he had risen up the ranks so quickly, why he was so well regarded by his peers and managers.

You strive to follow in his footsteps, carefully taking note of all his feedback, always trying to perform above and beyond. And you beam with pride with every compliment and praise he gifts you with, letting your guard and professionalism slip in front of him the more the two of you get to know each other.

Maybe that's why you don't notice the predatory glint in hazel eyes as they stare at you.

Maybe that's why you don't notice the way his hands touch you more than necessary as he wraps an arm around the dip of your hip when he laughs, as he brushes a hand almost on the swell of your ass as he coaxes you to walk with him.

Time flies by and before you know it, you’re staring around wide eyed at the luxurious club the JVA has rented out for their holiday party, taking note of the plush leather seating, the perfectly tailored designer suits adorning professional athletes, the handles of expensive hard liquor gleaming behind the bar and you feel insignificant as you nervously play with the sleeves of your off-shoulder dress. But just as you’re about to get another drink and hide in one of the corners of the club to watch the festivities from afar, a glass is shoved in your face and you instantly feel a surge of confidence as Kuroo winks down at you, playfully whistling as he tells you how beautiful you look.

Hook. Line. Sinker.

He smirks as you practically glow while you bask in his attention, instinctively leaning into his touch when he brushes a stray eyelash off your face, letting him hook his arm through yours as he waltzes you around, introducing you to your favorite players, mindlessly accepting drink after drink that he subtly places in your hand. And when you begin to sloppily stumble and he tires of plastering on his fake smile, you’re none the wiser when he slips a little pill into your drink, carefully watching you as you quickly toss back the drink, brandishing your empty cup at him in glee.

It’s amazing how far science has come and he watches in amusement as his gift begins to take effect, watches as you lose control of your body, your speech, watches as you beautifully fall into his arms, drowsily murmuring incoherent ramblings into his neck as you fall into a forced slumber in his arms.

But even among the joyous chaos of the night, he can’t help but notice just how perfectly you fit against him and he’s quick to brush off the concerns of those around him, internally laughing at how easily people trust as he carries your limp form away without any opposition, sneaking glances at you and feeling his cock begin to twitch from just the sight of your vulnerable form.

He can’t get home fast enough, grateful to his past self for choosing a modest home in a secluded quiet neighborhood with no prying eyes as he unceremoniously drags you inside and dumps you on his bed. And despite how he’s at full mast, despite how his body yearns and burns for you, despite how he’s scrambling to rid himself of his clothes, he pauses to just admire how gorgeous you are splayed out before him, in his home, on his bed.

But looking isn't enough and he hovers over your body, inhaling deeply as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, groaning and grinding against your clothed sex as he takes in your scent. You're intoxicating and he worships your body, taking his time to examine and inspect every inch of you with his lips, fingers, tongue, so careful not to leave a mark despite the temptation to completely mark you as his.

It wouldn't do for you to ask too many questions tomorrow.

But that doesn't mean he completely restrains himself, shoving the front of your dress down under your breasts, flicking and tweaking your nipples with his tongue and fingers, chuckling at how they harden despite the condition you're in. Even unconscious, your body can't get enough of him and he sucks on the perky buds while his large hand travels down your body, long fingers hooking underneath your underwear and moaning when he feels how wet you already are as he teases your entrance.

He knows you're a virgin, knows you've never even had a boyfriend and that just makes him even more aroused, the thought of being the first and only cock to stuff you full, the only man to ever have you so intimately, fueling him as he slips your panties to the side and aligns himself with your entrance.

It's almost obscene how big his cock looks as just his tip teases your hole, sliding up and down your glistening folds, and he hungrily watches as he slowly enters your tight walls bit by bit, watching his entire length disappear inside of you, throwing his head back in pleasure as your walls flutter around the intrusion.

He tries to pace himself, tries to let your body adjust to him, but you're so warm, so inviting, so much better than any dream he's had of you and his hips begin to rapidly thrust in and out of you, the obscene sounds of skin against skin and his grunts filling the room. It's amazing he even has enough awareness to pull out before he finishes, not wanting any of his sticky white evidence inside of you, but he smirks at the sight of his seed splattered against your inner thighs, tantalizingly close to your now gaping hole.

Soon. He'd be buried inside of you and breeding you with his seed soon enough.

But for now, he disappointedly sighs as he wipes the thick spurts from your body, readjusting your outfit and tucking you into his bed before opting to sleep on the couch.

He'd just have to play the gentleman a little while longer.

It’s adorable how embarrassed you are the next morning and he hides the smirk that creeps on his face when he hears you frantically scurrying around, racing past him to escape the seemingly strange home you’re in, but he pretends to sleepily yawn and sit up when you reach the front door, drowsily calling your name and halting you in your tracks.

“Kuroo-san?!”

You can’t even meet his eyes as you shuffle back towards him at his request, gingerly sitting beside him on the couch, profusely apologizing and bowing for your unprofessional behavior at the party last night. But he waves off your concerns with a warm smile perfected after years of practice, nudging a pile of his clothes in your hands and urging you towards the shower, telling you to freshen up and make yourself at home while he makes breakfast. He’s setting the table and placing the hot food on the dining table when he hears your footsteps and he turns to greet you, only to freeze as he takes in your appearance.

Red is most certainly your color and it takes every ounce of self control in him not to devour you right then and there as hazel eyes sweep over you, appreciating the way his old Nekoma jersey hangs off your frame, the way his old Nekoma sweatpants are far too long for you, only serving to make you even more endearing in his eyes as you’re enveloped in his clothing and his scent. But he busies himself with piling food onto your plate and beckoning you to sit, subtly gritting his teeth as he wills his body to calm down.

Not yet. There’s far too many steps of his plan he needs to get through first before he can fully claim his prize. He’d gotten a taste of you, a helpful reminder and incentive to push him to the finish line, and that will have to do for now.

And it’s not like he has much longer to wait, not when you so easily fall for his mischievous smile, not when you don’t question why your work trips feel more like a couples retreat as time goes on, not when you’re flinging your arms around him in overwhelming joy when he officially asks you to be his girlfriend.

Kuroo pats himself on the back for his patience and feigned kindness when you nervously tell him you want to take the physical aspect of your relationship slowly, shyly reminding him that you’re a virgin and that he’s your first significant other.

Oh sweetheart, you don’t know how much self-control it takes not to burst out laughing at how wrong you are about half of that statement and he just nods along as his mind drifts away remembering that night, remembering the feeling of your body underneath his.

But he keeps his promise. It’s not his fault that you’re such a needy little thing. And he laughs when you pout and whine about him not holding your hand enough, not cuddling as close to you as you want, not kissing you the way you like. Smug satisfaction races through him when you’re the one who crawls into his lap, when you’re the one chasing his lips after he presses a chaste sweet kiss to your forehead, when you’re the one lightly tugging at his sleeve before he can leave your apartment, meekly asking him to stay the night with you.

You swear there’s something strangely familiar about the way Kuroo’s cock splits you in half the first time you fully give yourself up to him, a faint echo of remembrance in your mind as he drags against your walls, setting a smooth and slow pace that has you deliriously feeling every little movement. But you don’t have time to dwell on it, not when you’re writhing and moaning underneath his toned body, screaming for more, more, more, sounding more like a desperate slut than a shy virgin, not even denying Kuroo’s degrading comments as his demeanor shifts.

“My, my, you’re quite the whore even though this is your ‘first time’, kitten. Maybe you were born to take my cock, be my little cock slave.”

You wail as his pace quickens, the new angle as he throws one leg over his shoulder making your mind go blank.

“Fuck, you’re tightening up so much. Only a slut would feel this good her first time. Come on, cum all over this cock, show me how much you love it.”

And as if his words are direct triggers for your body, something inside of you snaps at the growled command and you scream as your back arches, pussy shuddering and clenching around the length inside of it, eyes rolling back in your head and jaw going slack as he continues fucking you through the waves of pleasure.

But you whimper when Kuroo abruptly pulls out of you, drool pooling in your mouth when he moves until his cock is positioned over your face, lewd moans escaping you as he mockingly slaps his length against your face, smearing pre-cum and your own fluids all over you.

“Stick your tongue out. I’m going to paint this pretty face and you’re going to thank me, okay? Maybe if you’re lucky you’ll get to taste some.”

It’s embarrassing how quick you are to obey, tongue sloppily lolling out as thick strands of drool begin to trail down your face. But you don’t care, too entranced by the sight, smell, and feeling of Kuroo’s cock so close to you, mesmerized by the motion of his hand rapidly pumping the hard length. And you moan as sticky hot fluid splatters across your face, tongue wagging in the air in a desperate attempt to catch as much of the liquid as you can, a litany of thank you, thank you, thank you streaming from your mouth.

Kuroo’s always found you irresistible, but now that you’re completely his, putty in his hands to shape and mold to his liking? You’re absolutely addicting. It’s endearing how obedient and eager to please him you are, never even questioning any of the obscene training and sessions he puts you through as he corrupts every part of your body.

The slightest things turn you on now and he cruelly laughs as you cum from just your nipples, just your ass, just from sucking his cock, teasing you as you come undone from just his voice, his humiliating words, the sight of his cock.

It doesn’t take long for him to turn you into his little cum dumpster and he wonders if you had any pride as a human being, as a female, as you let him bring you to the clinic and just nervously hold his hand as the doctor inserts an IUD into you. And he smirks down at you as you practically jump him as soon as the two of you are back in your shared apartment, lewdly shaking your ass at him and presenting like an animal in heat, a desperate whine in your voice as you beg him to finally cum inside of you.

But he refrains, reprimanding you for being such a desperate, demanding slut and reminding you that you need to wait at least 24 hours before he could do that, before the little contraption inside of you fully takes effect. You pout, but he snorts at how quick you are to brighten up again as he untucks his cock out as he leans back in his armchair as you crawl between his legs.

“If you want my cum that badly, use your other holes for now.”

Needless to say, you are a cum covered and filled mess by the time 24 hours is up and Kuroo whistles as he examines the debauched sight you are, swiping a finger through the hardening white clumps on your face, your breasts, and your stomach, pulling apart your ass cheeks and watching in amusement as globs of sticky fluids leak from your puckered hole.

“You really do look like a cum dumpster now. I think you need to be demoted from kitten. Still want me to fill up your pussy?”

His trademark grin spreads across his face as you eagerly hook your arms behind your knees and pull your bent legs up to your shoulders, putting your messy lower region on full display for him, a pleading look on your face.

“Of course you do. You really are just a cum slut now, aren’t you?”

And who is Kuroo to deny his love what she wants? What he wants?

He swears he’ll never get tired of the way your walls squeeze and tighten around him, the way you scream his name, and as he splatters thick white stripes inside of your tight heat and pulls out, he swears he’ll never get tired of the way your fluttering hole looks as his seed begins to trickle out of you, already feeling his cock twitch in interest again at the mesmerizing sight.

And as he bends you in half, slamming his erect cock inside of you yet again, he wonders if he could breed you enough, stuff you full of so much semen that even your IUD fails to prevent an unplanned pregnancy. His grip on you tightens and his pace only increases at the thought of your stomach bloating from the amount of cum he wants to fill you with, the thought of you waddling around with a stomach round with his seed and children, tits expanding and leaking with milk, the thought of you always being filled to the brim and smelling like sex, like cum, like sin.

But all of that can wait for now. He’ll have a volleyball team worth of kids with you one day soon, already looking forward to a future where you’re nothing but his good slutty housewife whose only purpose is to pleasure him and bear his children, whose only place is in his bed. But for now, for the next few years, he wants to push your body and mind to its absolute limits, completely break you in ways he can’t do if you’re pregnant.

After all, he won’t be an irresponsible husband or father. He knows he can’t be too rough with a pregnant woman, even if you’re more like a fuck doll than a human now.

So he takes out his darkest desires on you now. But maybe he had spoiled you too much, turned you into a pleasure slut. And he scowls as you cry and whine about how mean he’s being, how you don’t like him hitting you as he tests out a new paddle and a new flogger he had bought in pretty pink just for you.

Ungrateful brat.

He tries to calm you down and persuade you with gentle words, asking where his sweet little girl who always listens and trusts him is. Doesn’t he always make you feel good? But you wear away at his patience as you throw a temper tantrum, physically shoving him away from you as you shout and scream.

“Tetsurou, it hurts! Stop it!”

How dare you defy him? How dare you lay a hand on him? How dare you think you have any right to tell him what to do?

Clearly you need a reminder of who’s in charge, who owns you.

You squeal in surprise when you’re suddenly being manhandled into an embarrassing position, unable to put up much of a fight against Kuroo’s much stronger and larger body as he shoves your face into the mattress and forces your ass even higher into the air, pulling back both of your arms and swiftly cuffing your wrists to your ankles. You struggle, pulling at your restraints and moving as much as you can, but your face heats up at the mocking laugh you hear from behind you.

“Keep on resisting, kitten. The view is great from back here.”

You immediately still when you realize that all you can do is wiggle your ass in the position he’s locked you in and tears bubble in your eyes as you plead with him to release you, to just fuck you and make you feel good like he usually does.

“Tetsurou, please fuck me? Make me feel good? I don’t like any of this! I don’t want to be tied up or hurt-”

Your words get lost in the scream forced out of you as Kuroo roughly swats your thighs and ass with the paddle, repeating the motion over and over again until you’re unable to form words, until your entire bottom aches, until the sheets under your face are soaked through with tears and drool. And even then he doesn’t stop, not until your pained sobs turn into quiet hiccuped cries and you stop trying to wiggle away from him, only flinching a bit instinctively with every smack.

You slump in relief when there’s finally a pause, a lull in the rhythmic torture.

“Tetsu-”

You whimper when that earns you another swift hit to your sore and abused ass.

“Bad girls don’t deserve to say my name. Little girls like you need to learn their place. Now tell daddy how sorry you are for being a disobedient brat.”

You hesitate, unsure how you feel about being belittled and treated like a misbehaved child, testing your lover’s new title in your head, but any doubt flies out the window when the flogger is being slapped against your vulnerable pussy and clit.

“Daddy, I’m sorry! I’m sorry for being a bad girl. Daddy can do whatever he wants to me.”

Kuroo watches in satisfaction as your resistance crumbles to pieces in front of him as you alternate between brokenly crying out “daddy” and “sorry” over and over again, unconsciously shaking your hips in both an attempt to escape the stinging pain of the flogger and an attempt to gain more stimulation on your erect clit.

“For all your earlier complaining, babygirl, you sure are soaking wet. Does it feel good? Answer me!”

You wail as the flogger sharply hits your clit.

“Yes, daddy!! Feels so good!”

“See? Daddy knows best. Now be a good girl and cum from having your pussy and clit smacked around like a naughty little pain slut.”

Kuroo is relentless as he continuously flicks his wrist, expertly hitting your throbbing clit with every motion. And wound up, overwhelmed, and desperate for release, you don’t take long to fall apart under his encouraging words and stimulation, panting for breath as relieved tears and drool smear your face as pleasure washes over you.

But your dismayed sobs begin anew when you realize your lover doesn’t intend to stop, shoving a vibrator inside of your still quivering hole as he alternates between slapping your clit and your ass, pain and pleasure mixing together into an entangled mess you can’t separate.

“I’m nowhere done with you yet, sweetheart. We’re not stopping until you can’t tell the difference between pain and pleasure, until your pussy becomes sopping wet from anything I do to you. Would you like that? To be my slutty little girl who cums no matter what horrible things I do to her? Of course you do. Now be good for me and be grateful that I’m even letting you cum as much as you want. Next time you decide to act out, I’ll take away that privilege.”

All you can do is weakly nod your head as your eyes roll back into your head and your mouth hangs loose, unable to do anything else except take everything Kuroo gives you. And maybe Kuroo is right. Maybe he always does know what’s best. Because despite your earlier hesitation and rejection of his cruel actions, it’s like something inside of you has snapped and you can’t stop cumming, breaking apart over and over again despite the lancing pain that constantly tinges the surface of your delirious pleasure. It feels so good, almost too good, and now you’re crying for a different reason as you drown in the unending pleasure, but not daring to lift a hand or open your mouth because you’re not sure you ever want it to end, terrified of Kuroo following through with his threat and denying you of the enslaving pleasure.

But just when your body threatens to collapse, trembling in exhaustion, your heavy eyelids fluttering open and shut as black spots enter your peripheral, it all stops and you take long shaky breaths as warm hands unbind you, melting into the reassuring touch as calloused fingers massage your aching limbs and gently lay you fully down on the bed.

It’s so hard to remember why you had been so scared, so hurt, so angry at Kuroo earlier when he smiles at you like that, when all you see is love in his eyes as he cradles your body. And you curl up into his chest, jolting in pain and murmuring “daddy, it hurts” as he tenderly massages a healing ointment into the smarting welts and marks he’s left all over your body, meekly nodding your head when he coos down at you.

“Daddy knows it hurts, but this will make it feel better soon. Keep on being a good girl for me, okay?”

And you fall asleep like that, lulled to slumber by the soothing patterns he draws on your skin as he continues applying the medicine onto you, unaware of the way he admires how beautiful and broken you look, something dark gleaming in his eyes as he takes a mental note of how you’re still calling him by his new title instead of his given name as you instinctively tuck yourself closer to his body for comfort despite him being the reason you need comfort in the first place.

You really are his sweet and stupid little girl, aren’t you? But that’s okay. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

#haikyuu smut #yandere haikyuu #kuroo x reader #yandere kuroo #yandere kuroo x reader #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: drugging #tw: manipulation #tw: rape

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bubsdolan · 3 years

Note

Woah!!! Part 2 to Reader getting in an accident after an arguement with Gray???

{part 1}

there were many moments in grayson dolan’s 21 years on earth where he felt incredibly blessed to have a twin brother, especially one like ethan. from being his best friend and number one supporter in anything, to sharing food and girl advice, learning and growing together and being grayson’s right hand man through life, he had never been more grateful to have ethan by his side in this moment.

that and the fact ethan had purchases a car that can exceed a speed of up to 199.5 mph, meant they wasted no time in getting grayson to the hospital to be reunited with you.

as he sat in the passenger seat, legs bouncing uncontrollably with fear and anxiousness, tears softly rolling down his cheeks, he clutched tightly to the stuffed animal in his hands. a sight for anyone who would laugh at a 200 pound man, crying and cuddling a teddy.

petal, your stuffed elephant, was a childhood teddy your mother had given you the day you were born. you never slept without petal, she was a third wheel in your relationship with grayson as she offered you the same comfort he did every night being away from family home. home was anywhere grayson was, but petal was also a piece of the family you left behind when staffing a new life with the man you loved.

grayson knew you better than anyone and he could guarantee that when you woke up, because he wholeheartedly knew you were- his strong brave girl and you couldn't leave him- that petal would be the first thing you would want to see as much as his angel eyes. the stuffed animal also brought grayson a sense of comfort and reassurance having her with him.

grayson didn't even allow ethan the chance to drive into the car park of the emergency room before he was taking off and sprinting to the reception desk. teddy in hand as he panted out your first and last name. shocking the nurse at his panicked state, dishevelled appearance and the continuous fidgeting on the heels of his feet.

“y/n-y/n y/l/n… she’s in a coma. pleas-please i need to see her. she needs- she needs me.”

“may i ask your relationship to the patient?”

growing impatient, grayson raises his temper to the next level. the longer he was kept away from you, the more agitated he became.

“my girlfriend is fighting for her life right now! i need to see her, i don’t have time for this!”

“bro-” ethan came running in, throwing the tesla in the first available space before jogging after his fragile brother and coming to be the calm, sensible one in this situation. “let me handle it.”

reluctantly grayson stood off to the side, his ears perking and eyes desperately following every patient being rushed through the automatic doors, every doctor or nurse walking past him with sympathetic looks. he hoped someone would tell him what's going on and where you were. the waiting game was torture, but it was only just beginning.

“they’re gonna take us to her now, c’mon.” ethan pulls grayson down the maze like corridors to where the receptionist who he had to apologise profusely for his twins attitude earlier, lead them to the room where apart of grayson was fighting for her life. fighting for his life. he was nothing without you.

ethan let grayson walk in first, accidentally colliding into the back of grayson as he stood frozen outside the door and mentally prepared himself for a sight he never wished to see. his breathing hitched as he took in the sight of you battered and braised. covered head to toe in a mixture of dirt, dried blood and bandages, as the only thing keeping you alive right now were the medical tubes swarming your precious body.

grayson felt his heart shatter into a million pieces inside him. he couldn’t help but feel tears well up in his eyes, imagining how bad your accident had been to the point where you were put into a coma and how he wasnt there to protect you like he has always promised. he pictured how scared you must have been, all alone and defenceless.

with rushed but easy strides, grayson was at your side before ethan even got the chance to thank the nurse and follow behind. not wanting to cause you any further pain or discomfort, grayson gently placed petal under your arm, keeping her close to your body and secure so you wouldn't lose her even in your unconscious state. with a shakey breath, he plants a soft kiss on yours then petals forehead, his own slient way of commciaing to you that he was there. that you had nothing to worry about because he was finally there to protect you.

“hey my sweet girl. im right here, im here and i love you. so much.”

“fight for me yeah? for us.”

grayson automatically took the seat next to your hospital bed, reaching forward to hold your hand kindly in his own as he vowed to himself he wouldn’t leave your beside until you woke up. no matter how long it was going to take. weeks, months, years, he was willing to wait for you.

grayson vividly remembered being told that the brain of a coma patient may continue to work. it might “hear” the sounds in the environment, like the footsteps of someone approaching or the voice of a loved one speaking. he made sure to continually talk to you about everything and anything on his mind. referencing back to the time you would take late night drives and talk about life hand in hand and contently in love.

when discussing your future together on a late night monty’s run, this definitely wasn’t how he envisioned it would turn out to be. what once was a shared dream, was now a shared nightmare.

“e’s here too.”

“hey squirt.” ethan felt stupid speaking aloud to someone who wouldn't respond to him, but the small smile it coaxed on grayson’s face, after hours of sadness, made it worth while. grayson always valued the sibling friendship you and ethan shared. he didn’t even pause for a minute to think about your accident had affected him also, until he hard the nickname ethan often uses to tease you.

swallowing the lump in his throat, grayson spoke up again.

“im sorry. im so fucking sorry. i meant nothing i said earlier, fuck im an idiot. i love you baby, always and forever.”

“we aren't going anywhere you hear me. you come back to us ok, show me those pretty eyes of yours baby. let me hear your laugh, let me see your smile, you gotta wake up for me- please wake up for me.”

grayson begged and pleaded with your unresponsive body. the sound of your heart rate monitor being the only sign you gave him as his eyes focused on your lifeless body. desperately hoping for so much as a flinch from you or a miracle to happen.

he caressed your hand slowly, continuing to cry silently as he looked over to you, feeling like this was all his fault. “i’m sorry” he choked out, resting his head down against the back of your hand. “this is all my fault. i’m so sorry baby.”

grayson wish you could say something back, even if it was to spite him and call him out for his outburst hours earlier. he just wanted to hear your voice again.

“grayson, none of this was your fault!” ethan was quick to jump to grayson’s defence, hating the way his brother was beating himself up over something that was out of his control. ethan feared how grayson would react if the worst case scenario of turning your life support machine off would happen. it didn’t bare to think about.

hearing a knock at the door, grayson wiped his tears quickly before turning to see the doctor was approaching grayson with a warm smile. grayson felt a sense of relief finally meeting the incredible man tasked with saving your life.

“here’s some personal belongings that they recovered at the scene. this seemed to be the only thing to survive the terrible ordeal.” he said, handing grayson an all to familiar box of the watch brand he had non stop being gushing about.

as the doctor made his swift exit, promising to return shortly and check on your progress, grayson opened the box to reveal the item that causes you to end up where you were right now. with no pieces of his heart left to break, grayson felt numb.

the engraving of the date grayson first told you he loves you, joined together by your pairing initials, elegantly graced the under face of the watch. he swapped his old one with the new, staring down at the jewellery on his wrist that held a brand new meaning from the simple pleasure of owning it, he planned to never take it off.

everything seem to make sense now. the guy in the scandalous photo become Crystal clear as he recognised him to be the gentlemen from his brief encounter when trying to surprise ethan with a housewarming gift. much like what you were doing for grayson. he realised it now, when it was too late.

you never cheated on him. you never betrayed him. never used him. he discredited the great lengths you went to in order to surprise him with his dream watch. his own insecurities and the fact he was easily manipulated by twitter fingers and his so called fans, may be the reason you never wake up.

was this watch the only thing to survive the accident? grayson was about to find out.

{part 3}

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lancermylove · 3 years

Text

Geostigma (Oneshot)

Fandom: FFVII

Pairing: Rufus x fem!Reader

Warning: None

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: Ff7 Rufus oneshot request please!!! ACRufus with geostigma. He was once high and mighty but now is a hot shot president who’s fallen from grace. He’s really sick with geostigma (not terminally but needs to act like it is). Scenario of the girl he’s been secretly pining over volunteering at the recovery unit he’s staying at. He’s super conflicted because he wants to talk to her but at the same time doesn’t want her to see him like this. He also doesn’t want to expose his identity as shinras president and doesn’t want to lie to her pretending to be terminally ill with geostigma even though he is legimately suffering from it. What do you think??? Hope this works and makes sense!!! All good if you can’t do it though!!!

A/N: Anon, this was one of the most challenging pieces I’ve written. Keeping Rufus in character while showing his soft side was an enjoyable challenge, so tysm for sending in this request! 😁 I really hope you like it~.

Word Count: 1967

———————————————

In this place, status didn't matter - the rich, poor, females, males, old, young, and kids were all suffering in equal agony. The stigma didn't discriminate. Shinra had grown tired of seeing the same view every day. White walls, white beds, white machines - who chose this design? He couldn't have been more thankful for the hooded cloak, as the darkness had never felt so comforting. For the longest time, the president only saw the world in two colors, white of the recovery bay and black within his hood. That is until you came around and added color to his colorless world.

After losing a dear friend to the stigma, you became a volunteer at that facility. You had seen your friend suffering and wanted to help others, even if it means only making them smile. Though that may not seem much, you knew a smile meant the world to a person who was suffering. For the longest time, Rufus watched you, curious as to why you wanted to volunteer, considering most volunteers were older men or women and military personnel. You seemed like nothing less than a rose in the middle of a battlefield.

Slowly, he noticed the change in the recovery bay - the atmosphere seemed a lot brighter, even more so than the blinding whiteness of the room. Was it your effect? You brought thoughtful gifts for your patients, made them feel comfortable, and gave them the energy to push through their pain. Were people really like this or were you just an angel?

In Shinra's world, the word kindness didn't exist. His father taught him to control the world with money, but he changed money to fear. After observing you, he realized that even kindness could control the emotions of people. The blond-haired man chuckled to himself - what a twisted way to look at a positive emotion. He was sure if you heard his thoughts, you would hate him.

"Hm?" Shinra was surprised at his revelation. Why did he care what you thought about him? Never once in his life had he cared for what people thought about him - had he cared, he would not have committed such nefarious deeds. How peculiar.

That night as everyone slept, Shinra pushed his wheelchair to the only window in the large room. Though there were no visible stars, the moon shone proudly through a veil of ominous clouds. Rufus wasn't sure why he was having such a difficult time sleeping. Was it the constant throbbing from the infected area, or was it due to the heavy yet sweet pain weighing down on his chest?

"You are still awake?" He heard a shaky voice coming from the bed on his right. The voice belonged to the oldest patient in the room - the man that didn't much time left in this accursed world.

Shinra didn't reply, prompting the man to continue talking, "Seems like something is bothering you."

"Tell me, have you felt an indescribable feeling that is troublesome yet pleasant?"

The elderly man laughed softly and turned his body towards the wheelchair, "That feeling is generally associated with love."

"I don't have the luxury to love," his dry chuckle echoed inside his hood. "I hail from a world where I am cursed to sit on a throne, surrounded by naught by darkness."

"Child, no one lives in a world like that."

Shinra turned his head slightly in the direction of the man and said, "You would not say such words if you knew my identity."

"You are Rufus Shinra," the old man mumbled under his breath, not wanting any prying ears to hear. "I never agreed with your methods or ways. I also blame your company for harming the Lifestream as well as the people."

He paused for a moment and exhaled softly, "Sitting on a lonely throne surrounded by the dark was your choice. The only way to get rid of the darkness is to open the curtain and let the light flood inside. Take some advice from an experienced old man: love while you have the chance. I know this sounds cliche, but there is nothing better than being with the person you love. Nothing will bring you more joy, not money, manipulation, and sitting on an expensive throne."

"Seems as though you have loved before."

The white-haired man closed his eyes and forced a smile, "I did but never told her. I left gifts and notes for her, and by the time I gathered enough courage, it was too late. She was engaged to someone else."

Shinra didn't need to look at the man to know he was in pain. Another sigh escaped his quivering lips as the he continued his tale, "I eventually got married and was lucky to have a kind wife. Though I learned to love her, I was not able to fully give my heart to her. That is the only regret I have. If only I could tell her how I felt about her..."

"Where is she?" Rufus asked, unsure as to why he was interested in the man's story.

"Somewhere far away," he promptly replied and changed the topic. "Mr. President, give that young woman you love a chance. Even if she rejects you, you won't regret hiding your feeling."

"Would any woman wish to be with a man in my current state?"

"She won't mind, especially if you manage to win her heart. Besides, she is a kind woman, and if she was the type to judge, then she would not be here helping us," he chuckled, knowingly.

Shinra laughed, not caring if his voice woke the others, "You are quite a sharp man."

The old male grinned, "Now, get some rest, and let this aged man sleep."

The following day, as Rufus debated whether or not to tell you, he heard rushing footsteps of the doctors and nurses. Within a few minutes, numerous people gathered around the elderly man's bed - the same man he had a conversation with the previous night. Silence filled the entire room, except for the occasional beeping of the heart monitors.

Shinra watched from under his hood as one of the doctors pulled a white sheet over the man's face before transporting his body out on a stretcher.

"Rest well, old man," he whispered, letting the words disappear into the darkness of his hood.

You dragged yourself into the room with a heavy heart. It didn't take a genius to deduce the reason behind your downcast mood. Rufus quietly watched you trying your best to smile and cheer up the other patients. When you came to check on him, he observed you for a moment before taking hold of your hand. "It's alright to be sad."

You stared at him speechlessly, not only surprised that he saw through your façade but also because this was the first time he spoke to you. Averting your eyes, you whispered in a drained voice, "I can't let the others see me sad."

"I care not for the others...only you."

Your eyes widened by his unexpected words. "W-Why?"

Rufus stayed silent for a bit as he recalled his conversation with the old man.

"Mr. President, give that young woman you love a chance. Even if she rejects you, you won't regret hiding your feeling."

"Would any woman wish to be with a man in my current state?"

"She won't mind, especially if you manage to win her heart. Besides, she is a kind woman, and if she was the type to judge, then she would not be here helping us."

"I have never felt such emotions, nor have I used such words, but," he whispered gently, surprising himself, "I have not met an angel before, but now, I know what an angel would look like. I wish the angel would learn to be selfish though and think about herself once in a while."

A giggle escaped your lips, "Mister, are you flirting with you, or do you like me?"

Shinra chuckled, keeping his head down as to prevent you from seeing his face, "I am merely trying to get you to smile, and it seemed to work. Also, I do not have the luxury to like anyone."

"Why do you say that?" You asked, confused.

"You would not be asking me such a question if you knew my identity."

"Rufus Shinra? The president of the Shinra Electric Power Company?"

Rufus was speechless, an occurrence that didn’t happen often. You gently squeezed his hand to get his attention and asked once again, "Why don't you have the luxury to love?"

"Miss, take a look around you. The Shinras are responsible for this - first my father, then I. Though I possess power and money, I lack a heart," he stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

"You were trying to make me smile because I was sad, right? You empathized with me, so that means you have a heart."

Shinra chuckled, "Then let me ask, would you love a man with a dark past? A man who lacks humanity and is selfish."

"Mr. Shinra, are you asking me out?" You teased, not wanting to answer his question at that moment.

"And if I am?"

"Great. Where would you like to go?"

Under his hood, Rufus hid a rare expression - eyes wide, cheeks slightly red, and mouth ajar. Within moments, his laughter echoed through the room, surprising everyone. That was the first time in his life he has laughed openly; had you told him a year ago that one day he would laugh in such a manner, Rufus would have called you insane.

"You are truly a strange one."

You giggled in response but didn't say a word. Rufus wondered what you were silent as he couldn't see your expression from within the darkness. Bending down to his level, you cautiously brought your hands closer to him and lowered the cloth hiding his face. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw him; you had heard women mentioning that Rufus was a handsome man, but you weren't expecting him to be drop-dead sexy. Shinra stared at you with a smirk as your cheeks slowly started to glow red.

"My dear, are you not feeling well? Your cheeks seem a bit too red," he teased, earning a pout from you. "Do my bandages bother you?"

"You even make the bandages look good," you absentmindedly replied. "Uh...I mean-"

Before you could retract your statement or give clarifications, Rufus sealed your lips with his. Everyone in the room started clapping and cheering the two of you on. Though you were embarrassed, a warm smile danced on your lips. As you scanned the smiling faces of all the patients in the room, Rufus stared at the empty bed by the window.

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

The two of you had been together for a while, and Shinra had made a full recovery. The situation in the city was improving, all thanks to the mysterious healing rain.

"Rufus, what are we doing here?" You asked as your wrapped your hands around his arm tightened.

"It will only be a moment," he chuckled and freed his arm from your tight grip before making his way to a dilapidated tombstone. Shinra placed a bouquet of white Forget-Me-Nots in front of the grave and whispered solemnly, "These are from a man who wished to tell you that he loved you dearly. His only regret in life was not confessing his feelings to you."

"Rufus?" You asked, taken aback by his words and actions.

"My dear, do you believe in the afterlife?" He questioned curiously.

"There has to be something after death, so yes."

The corners of his lips slightly tugged up, "Then I hope the old man was able to meet her and confess his feelings."

———————————————

➣ FFVII Masterlist ➣ Buy me a Ko-fi? ➣ Commission: Open || Requests: Closed

#ffvii #rufus x reader #rufus shinra

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yandere-daydreams · 3 years

Text

Title: Pendent.

Written for a lovely anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Bokuto/Reader.

Word Count: 2.0k.

TW: F. Reader, Toxic Relationships, Possessive Mindsets, Co-Dependency, and (Unintentional) Emotional Manipulation.

[Part Two]

Bokuto was better, when you were around.

Better at playing, obviously, at spiking and receiving and controlling his temper when his performance couldn’t keep up with his temper, but he felt like he was better at everything, from volleyball to mathematics. He felt lighter, he felt stronger, and rarely, when you sat down and smiled so patiently and let him rest his head in your lap as you helped him study, he might’ve been grateful enough to say he felt smarter, too. You’d never believe him, but he’s a caring boyfriend, like that. He’ll always try to make you feel as good as he does, when you’re next to him.

It was only natural, really. The two of you were soulmates, a complementary pair. Bokuto’d been sure of that since the first time he saw you, following in Akaashi footsteps like a kicked puppy, a transfer student fresh from another city entirely, desperately lost and eager to latch onto as many familiar faces as you could. You’d made friends since then, obviously. Hell, your popularity might’ve rivalled Bokuto’s, but he’d liked those first few weeks. His heart had skipped a beat the first time you came to one of Fukurōdani’s games, and he could still remember the first time you’d spoken to him, tripping over your words as you introduced yourself with that small, endearing smile constantly pulling at the corners of your lips. You hadn’t really liked him at first, even if you were always too nice to admit it. You must’ve been intimidated, put off by the friend of a friend who was, admittedly, far from subtle about his interest in you. But, that’s alright. It’s in the past, and all of that happened before he had you, before you had him.

You made him better. The two of you made each other better, and Bokuto wouldn’t know what to do without you.

You agreed to watch him practice, today, too. He should’ve kept his mind on the drills, on the coach’s critics and Akaashi’s quiet requests for him to try to concentrate on the game at-hand, but it was difficult to stay focused with the love of his life so close, leaning against the nearest guard-rail, waving every time his eyes strayed from the court and towards you, instead. It was an instinct, honestly, a reflex to adore his very own masterpiece. Knowing you were there for him only made it better, even if he’d never pass up any opportunity to be close to you. Still, he liked knowing you cared. He liked having you so close. He liked everything about you, but he liked knowing you were his the most--

A volleyball collided with the back of Bokuto’s head, and instantly, he was pulled out of his thoughts and into reality. He snapped around, finding Konoha with one arm still raised and his mouth already open, cutting in before Bokuto could start to complain. “If you haven’t noticed, we’re taking a break,” He explained, only pausing to pick up the ball rolling idly in this direction. “Stop making eyes at your girlfriend and go talk to her, before she realizes she’s dating a stalker.”

“I’m not a stalker,” Bokuto whined, but he was already fighting the urge to find you again, just to make sure you were still there. Just to ease his own paranoid concerns, even if he knew they’d start to brew again as soon as you were out of sight. “You’re just jealous I go to ‘er first. No one that pretty ever comes to see you play.”

Konoha only scoffed, turning on his heel. “That’s because some of us can play without an audience, dumbass.”

Bokuto almost took the time to retort, but he didn’t get the chance. There was a flash of movement in the corner of his vision, a slight hint of color in his peripheral, and then you were wrapped around his arm, leaning against his bicep as you rested your cheek on his shoulder with a contented sigh. It was routine, you’d always been the affectionate type, but Bokuto couldn’t help but feel special. He wanted to feel special, when you went out of your way to touch him. “Kotaro,” You started, drawing out his name playfully, and Bokuto had to bite back a grin. It’d taken you months to use his given name, but the thrill of it never seemed to wear off. “You were great out there, you have to show me how you--”

“One second, alright?” You fell silent, but you brightened as he took your head, pulling away and beginning to tug you in the direction of the gym’s exit. “It’s just a little crowded in here, ‘s all. I want to be alone with you, for a while.”

Your smile wavered, but you didn’t argue, only sinking into his side as he led you outside, the courtyard thankfully empty. Usually, Bokuto wasn’t the jealous type. He wasn’t possessive, and he’d never want to smother you, but there was something satisfying about having you all to himself, about having your eyes on him as he pinned you against the back of the gym, one arm supporting him and the other snaking around your waist, pulling you into his chest as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, letting himself sigh for the first time since practice started.

Your laugh was like windchimes, like bells, like heaven, ringing out every time he kissed your neck and spurring Bokuto forward despite your attempts to distract him. It was more playful than anything, your fingers tangling themselves in his messy hair as you shake your head, but either way, it didn’t work. It would’ve taken a lot more to rip him away from you, and you should’ve known that.

Still, you scolded him, clicking your tongue before you spoke. “We’re still in public,” You chided, tugging on the collar of his shirt, making a half-hearted attempt to pull him away before giving up, resigning yourself to his eager pecks at your jugular, to the hand slipping under the hem of your skirt, just enough to squeeze your thigh. “If you’re going to be this impatient, I’m going to have to keep you muzzled.” A nip, this time, to the junction of your jaw, and he heard you fight the urge to giggle. “I don’t want your teammates catching us in a… compromising position, y’know?”

Right, of course not. You were always the shy type, too timid to be anything but awkwardly charming, but Bokuto wasn’t. He liked to think he could be the one to break you out of your shell, too, as long as he tried hard enough. “Afraid to show me off?” He laughed, earning a scoff and a soft shove to his chest. “It’s fine, baby. If anyone sees anything, I’ll handle it.”

There was a beat of silence, a tangible deflation. He almost drew back, almost asked what was wrong, but you were talking before he had the chance. “I don’t like the way you handle things, ‘taro.”

You weren’t joking, this time. Your tone was enough to make Bokuto realize that, still stand-offish, but colder, distant in a way that seemed more disappointed than angry. He didn’t let you go, but his grip tightened, blunt nails digging into your soft skin with just enough force to catch your attention. Instantly, you tried to backtrack. “No, I mean, I appreciate it, but you can just be so…” You trailed off, your voice falling into a breathy sigh. “I think you get a little too excited, sometimes. It scares people. It scares me, honestly.”

Something cracked inside of Bokuto’s chest. It wasn’t the first time you’d brought this up, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last, but it always hurt him to hear you talk about him like… like some overly aggressive jerk. He wasn’t, not really. If he approached one of your friends, it was only because he didn’t trust them, because he knew you were delicate and he’d never be able to forgive himself if you got hurt. If he got a little too bold with a few underclassmen, it was only because he’d heard your name brought up a little too casually in a conversation that wasn’t as respectful as it should’ve been. As your boyfriend, it was the least he could do, and he knew you’d understand if explained that. He knew you would. You’d have to.

Because if you didn’t, things would go back to the way they used to be, before you made him better. When you were still so shy, when you were too busy being swarmed by distraction to see him, to realize the two of you belonged together. It wasn’t your fault. You were new to this, knew to him, but back then, he would’ve done just about anything for your attention. He’d been distraught. He couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, and even on the court, he couldn’t play, not if he knew you wouldn’t be watching. The rest of the team had noticed, but they couldn’t do anything to help. He hadn’t been able to pull himself together, not until you came up to him, white envelope in your hands and your eyes on the floor. Not until he knew you cared about him. Not until he knew you loved him.

Not until you made him better, whether or not you’d meant to.

He knew you liked being popular. It was fun, he’d be the first to admit that. You liked having friends, having fans, having people who left gifts at the foot of your locker and offered to help you study and saw you, even if you rarely let yourself indulge in the privilege. He knew you liked it, but he liked you, he loved you, and all of that, all of them threatened to take you away from him. He’d be a wreck without you. Bokuto didn’t know much, but he knew that. He wouldn’t be able to breath if you left him, if he just sat back and let you leave him.

He stopped thinking, for a moment. It might’ve been a little too impulsive, looking back on it, just a touch too rough, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop, not as he jerked forward, slotting his mouth against yours before you could pull away. He tried to make the kiss as gentle as he could, once he realized what he was doing, but there still must’ve been that jolt of neediness behind it, that undeniable desperation. He could barely bring himself to pull away, but he tried to remind himself that he’d have more time. If you loved him, he’d have more time, and you had to love him.

“I’m sorry.” He was gasping, fighting to turn awful, blurring emotions into something coherent while you stared on, your expression a mix of stun and halting concern. “You know I’d never want to scare you, right, baby? You mean so much to me, and the last thing I’d do is hurt you. I just thought I could help.” He forced himself to stop, after that, to take a breath before he started again, attempting to sound more composed, this time. “You know how much you mean to me, don’t you? And you know I love you, right?”

You seemed reluctant, but you answered. “I know, ‘taro.”

“And you know I’d be a mess without you, right?”

“You’re a mess with me.” This time, there was a hint of something playful, just a ghost of a smile as you went on. “I just need you to promise to be a little more considerate, next time. I know you’re just trying to do what you think is best, but I really need you to try to think these things through. For me.”

You might’ve hesitated, but Bokuto didn’t. He didn’t need to. You were the love of his life, his soulmate, the only person in the world he’d ever cared about this much, and he’d do anything for you.

He was better, when you were around, and he needed to be better.

“I promise.”

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aspoonofsugar · 3 years

Text

Emerald + Mercury = Cinder

BEGINNING OF THE END = MIDNIGHT

The episodes Beginning of the End and Midnight can be seen as complementary.

Both share a similar structure with the first part telling Cinder’s story and the second part showing how past events are influencing the present. At the same time, they show the links among Cinder, Emerald and Mercury and explore their changing dynamic.

In Beginning of the End it is shown how they came together and we reach the climax of their cooperation. The Fall of Beacon is when the trio is at its strongest. It is only because of their coordination and teamwork that the plan succeeds. In Midnight instead we are shown the beginning of their separation.

For different reasons (fears and wishes) both Mercury and Emerald are about to leave Cinder. Mercury already has and it is probable Emerald will soon.

The two episodes also give us two opposite and complementary visions of Cinder.

In Beginning of the End, we have the way Cinder wants to appear:

Cinder: (stepping forward slowly, glass anklet shifting with her footsteps) I've already told you. And I don't like repeating myself.

Salem: I would like to think I have shown a great deal of patience over my many years walking Remnant. But I do hate repeating myself.

Mercury: Is this how you treat a patient? (Emerald reaches over and twists the screwdriver in his leg, causing him to wince) Ah, too tight!

Cinder: Enough. Our Mercury put on a wonderful show. He was quite brave.

Salem: Do you find such malignance necessary?

Watts: I apologize, ma'am. I'm not particularly fond of failure.

Salem: Then I see no reason for your cruelty towards young Cinder. She's become our Fall Maiden, destroyed Beacon Tower, and most importantly, killed dear Ozpin. So I'm curious, to what failures are you referring?

In Midnight we see who she really is. Moreover, it becomes more and more clear that her imitation of Salem is different from the original:

Salem: I will tell you when and where you are needed.

Cinder: Both of you, get out. I’ll let you know when you’re needed next.

Mercury: Yeah about that, Salem’s got other plans for me. I’m not gonna be taking orders from you anymore.

Why is this being shown through her interactions with Emerald and Mercury? Why are they important for Cinder’s character?

First of all, Mercury and Emerald are Cinder’s kids, at least narratively speaking:

Roman: Oh, look! She sent the kids again! This is turning out just like the divorce!

Roman calls them so when they first appear and later on several characters refer to them as kids in relation to Cinder.

Raven (about Emerald and Mercury): Two children you've tricked into following you.

Tyrian: (chuckles as he slowly walks toward Emerald) Careful, little girl. Cinder isn't here to protect you anymore.

Tyrian (mocking Mercury): Oh yes, the world is mean, and I'm a big, bad man now just like the others.

Salem (to Emerald): Speak, child.

In short, they are meant to be the last link in a chain of abuse that starts with Salem, goes on with Cinder and finally arrives to them.

At the same time, as the title says Mercury + Emerald = Cinder because they are nothing more than parts of Cinder herself, both in their backgrounds and in their personalities.

CINDER + “HUNGER” = EMERALD

Cinder: Follow me, and you'll never be hungry again.

Cinder: It's... an emptiness. It burns. Like hunger. I like it.

In Beginning of the End Emerald and Cinder are shown to share a hunger motif.

Emerald is presented as a street rat who survives through stealing. She is poor and starved, so she accepts Cinder’s offer to be taken care of and to be given food. That said, it is clear that other than food what Emerald is truly starving for is love:

Emerald: I just... (sighs) Cinder was the only family I ever had. She cared about me, taught me things...

I'm the one Who rose out of filth and was loved by no-one

Similarly, Cinder too is shown to be hungry. More specifically, she is hungry for power:

Cinder: I want to be powerful.

It is meaningful that in the episode where Cinder tells Emerald she won’t have to starve anymore, she herself is starving. This contradiction conveys the tragedy of Cinder’s character aka a traumatized girl taking in a kid similar to her and becoming like her past parental figures.

As a matter of fact Emerald and Cinder’s first meeting has parallels with Cinder meeting both Madame and Rhodes.

When Cinder meets Madame she asks for food, but is negated it:

And she is later shown to have survived through leftovers.

In contrast, food is the first thing Cinder offers Emerald, who she recognizes as a girl who has survived in poverty, like her.

In their first meeting, Cinder also treats Emerald pretty much like Rhodes treated her. Both discover a young girl, who has just committed a theft and confront her. However, instead of punishing the girl, they both offer to be the girl’s mentor and become her idol.

As a matter of fact both Cinder and Emerald are shown to idolize their saviors to the point that both girls try to look like them by changing their hair/clothes:

So, it would superficially seem that Cinder is acting like Rhodes and in the opposite way of Madame. However, the reality is far more complex. Deep down, Cinder is acting like her adoptive mother because she is targeting a girl and thinking about how she can weaponize her. At the same time, there is a key difference between her behaviour and Rhodes’s. Rhodes had Cinder give the sword back, while Cinder never stopped Emerald from stealing. If anything, she encouraged her criminal activities changing her from a thief to a terrorist. In other words, Cinder radicalized Emerald.

This is once again linked to the motif of hunger both girls share:

Cinder: You Atlas elites are all the same! You think hoarding power means you'll have it forever, but it just makes the rest of us hungrier.

Cinder’s trauma is rooted in the unfairness of the world. She was made to starve simply because she was born in the wrong situation and society completely failed her.

What is more, when Rhodes refuses Cinder as well, she too refuses his vision of the world. Rhodes, pretty much like the Prince of the original fairy-tale, offers Cinder a way to social-climb. In the fairy-tale, Cinderella marries the prince and so becomes a princess in the end. Here, Rhodes is telling Cinder she can reach her own castle. Cinder can escape her misery and reach Atlas. However, this is seen as a lie by Cinder the moment he attacks her.

So, Cinder giving food to an orphan like her and trying to destroy the current order are both coherent with the idea that the world is unjust and needs to be changed. However, Cinder is using the same problems she criticizes to her advantage. What is more, she is exasperating them in order to fulfill her personal agenda, which is only about herself and her self-image.

Let’s see now, what do our two young thieves steal? What are they “hungry” for?

a) Emerald steals a ring:

Salesman: A beautiful ring... for a beautiful woman.

Interestingly, the ring itself might be a reference to the original story of Aladdin, which is apparently Emerald’s allusion.

In the original story Aladdin meets two jinns. The first one is in a ring and Aladdin uses it to save himself and to escape with the magic lamp, where a stronger jinn is. So it makes sense for Emerald to steal a ring (something she wishes) just to meet a woman that promises her she can have more (her personal jinn aka someone that can realize Emerald’s dreams).

Why does Emerald steal the ring?

It is possible she just wants to sell it in order to buy some food, but I like the idea that she steals it also because she wants some beauty (”a beautiful ring for a beautiful woman”) in the harsh and horrible world she lives in (“filth”).

b) Cinder steals a sword:

Like in Emerald’s case, the object of Cinder’s theft can be seen as part of her fairy-tale’s allusion.

As a matter of fact, in Cinder’s adaptation of Cinderella the swords are nothing, but her glass slippers.

This is made clear later on when Rhodes (both the Prince and the Fairy Godmother) gives Cinder the first sword. It is meant to be a prize on his part. He is showing Cinder she does not need to steal it anymore because she has gained it. Moreover, weapons are said to be extensions of a person by Ruby, so it makes sense that the slipper of the original Cinderella becomes a sword in this version. It fits the personality of our Cinder, a fiery young girl, who wants to become a huntress.

Finally, since Cinder’s story uses both inversion and deconstruction when adapting the fairy-tale, it is interesting that in the end the Prince refuses to give Cinder the other sword (slipper) and Cinder takes it by force:

In this way, Cinder goes back to stealing, which was what Rhodes had originally tried to avoid.

Why does Cinder steal the sword in the first place?

She steals something to defend herself with and to hurt her tormentors. Violence is rooted in Cinder’s first theft.

In short, Emerald wants something beautiful, while Cinder wants something powerful.

This difference is coherent with their respective semblances since Emerald creates illusions, while Cinder is able to overheat objects, so that she can create explosions and manipulate their shape. Both powers are representative of their user’s flaw and coping mechanism.

Emerald is a person who has reacted to her traumatic life by chasing illusory dreams of warmth and love. She tricks others and is tricked because she refuses to dispel her self-delusions.

Cinder is instead a person, who has been molded through violence just like the glass statues in the hotel. She is forced to endure until she can’t take it anymore and she explodes:

She herself is the Glass Unicorn, which shatters like Cinder’s innocence when too much pressure is added. Not only that, but Cinder too has started molding others to her will. She has been grooming both Emerald and Mercury for her own ego. This is why the name Scorching Caress fits her so well. It is because behind every act of care it is hidden an act of manipulation. And this happens because Cinder too has been treated utilitaristically and the only kind of love she experienced (Rhodes’s) was a “weak” love Cinder ended up perceiving as fake.

In short, Emerald and Cinder have different coping mechanisms and aim for different things. However, this does not mean that one is better or worse than the other. Their main difference is that right now Emerald is more in touch with her own needs and wishes. Ironically, the delusional girl has never lost sight of what she truly wants.

Emerald wants a family. She has been looking for it in the wrong places and she has been pursuing it in the wrong ways. However, Emerald has never forgotten what she is truly after and she is starting to realize she won’t have it, until she stays on Salem’s side:

Salem: It's important not to lose sight of what drives us: Love, justice, reverence... but the moment you put your desires before my own... they will be lost to you. This isn't a threat, this is simply the truth. The path to your desires is only found... through me.

Tyrian: Shh, shh, shh, shh, shh. I want to tell you both a little secret. Your question is all wrong. (laughs)

Emerald: What?

Tyrian: "What do you want from this?" Children, please, if you're not loving what you're doing, then you're in the wrong field.

Salem promises to fulfill Emerald’s wishes, but Tyrian has already told her that pursuing a wish while working for Salem is useless. Emerald is starting to realize it and this is why she will probably leave.

Cinder has instead forgotten what she originally wanted:

Cinder: Like you? You can do whatever you want, go wherever you want.

Cinder’s original wish was to be free and also to be loved, like Emerald:

You're no good I hope you know That your life is of no use And the truth is that No one's ever loved you

However, her being failed by the adults has twisted her wish into a desire for power.

This difference is well conveyed by Cinder and Emerald’s respective line in Beginning of the End:

Cinder: Follow me, and you'll never be hungry again.

Emerald: Thank you...

Cinder: The Huntsman severed the connection before it was complete. (pause) Yes. It's... an emptiness. It burns. Like hunger. I like it. (pause) Yes. I will claim what is ours. (pause) Thank you.

Emerald thanks Cinder because she won’t have to be hungry anymore, while Cinder thanks Salem because she is able to feel a hunger she likes.

This fits well with Cinder’s last words to the Madame:

Cinder: You’re right. Without you I am nothing. But because of you, I am everything.

Emerald does not want to be hungry, while Cinder has been tricked into thinking that being hungry is the only way she can become not even “everything”, but just “something”.

CINDER + “EVERYTHING” = MERCURY

Cinder: Because of you, I am everything.

Mercury: So I got strong, but I never got it back! I've had to work harder than anyone to get where I am.

Cinder’s way of thinking is very similar to Mercury’s. Not only have they both endured their parents’ violence, but they have tried to give this violence meaning. It is because of Madame that Cinder has become “everything” and it is because of Marcus that Mercury has become “strong”. They must believe that it was not all for nothing and that the pain they felt made them stronger instead of weaker.

This is why Cinder thinks that deep down her “hunger” is good. It is because it drives her, but she ignores that it blinds her too.

This is why Mercury keeps going back to his father:

Mercury: Bad hair, used a scythe, and smelled like my dad after a long day. It was him.

Mercury: My dad always said... "if you need to know a city, ask the rats."

He mentions Marcus here and there and uses his teachings to solve problems. That is because those teachings must have some value, right? If they don’t, then Mercury’s life means nothing.

The nature of Cinder and Mercury’s foiling is clear in their first meeting:

Like in Emerald’s case, Cinder finding Mercury calls back a moment of her past.

In particular, it parallels the murder of her adoptive family and Rhodes discovering it. Mercury, just like young Cinder, has just killed an abusive parent and is confronted by a person after the fact.

Once again, Cinder seems to act differently from the adults that let her down. Rhodes was horrified and attacked her, while Cinder praises Mercury and has him join her group.

However, she is deep down acting as Rhodes did. As a matter of fact what truly hurt Cinder about Rhodes’s reaction is that he convinced her that she is irredeemable.

The whole scene plays with the Cinderella’s allusion and inverts it:

The clock strikes midnight and just like in the fairy-tale, the magic is over. In Cinderella, the protagonist goes back to her true self and runs away not to be seen. However, in the end, the prince recognizes her through her slipper (a symbol of her innate beauty and kindness) and marries her despite her humble condition.

In Cinder’s story, midnight is when she reveals a part of herself to Rhodes. She shows all the anger and violence she has been repressing. Cinder is not a “good victim” like the Cinderella of the fairy-tale and Rhodes can’t accept it. Not only that, but he negates Cinder’s dream to be free:

Rhodes: You can run, but you’re going to be running for the rest of your life.

Cinder: I won’t have to run now.

Rhodes: That’s all you’ll ever do.

This shatters Cinder’s hopes and self-perception. She internalizes that she will have to live in opposition to society because she is somehow “a bad person”. She is not a huntress (a princess), but a nobody who’ll have to use violence to survive. And she starts doing it immediately. As the song that starts playing implies, she has been awaken from the “fragile lies in bones”. However, this “truth has broken her soul in two”. This wound is still there and it has influenced, among other things, her reaction to Mercury.

When Cinder meets Mercury, she associates him to his father three times:

Cinder: And you're his son. We saw your fight from the treeline. He's taught you well.

Mercury: Guess so.

Cinder: What's your name?

Mercury: Mercury.

Cinder: Mercury... Tell me, are you anything like your father?

In this way, she strengthens the connection Mercury tried to cut by killing Marcus. She is indirectly convincing him that he can’t be different from his father:

Tyrian: All you ever learned was pain and violence, and now you're too afraid to leave it. Such a tragedy.

Tyrian spells it out clearly for both Mercury and the audience. The only reason Mercury joined Cinder and is now working for Salem is that he is scared. Not only is he scared for his own survival, but he is scared about failing to be anything else than what his father taught him.

Cinder is deep down scared too by Salem and her group:

However, she too, like Mercury, has given up on being anything different than a criminal. She puts up a strong demeanor, but is actually really frail. She is like glass that has been bended through heat (violence) and can easily shatter.

Both Mercury and Cinder are two violent victims. This duality is kind of conveyed also through their names and colors.

“Cinder” is something that has only partially burnt. They tried to reduce her to ashes, but failed and a part of Cinder is still burning. This is why her main colors are black and red. She is black because she was burnt. She is red because she can burn. She was both hurt and has hurted others.

Similarly, “mercury” is a silver/gray metal and this is Mercury’s main color. This choice gains a possible deeper meaning when one considers that his aura is white and that his surname is Black. His aura can be seen as Mercury’s nature, while the surname “Black” is a symbol of the “nurture” he received. Mixing these two factors made so that Mercury turned out like he is (a gray character).

So, Cinder and Mercury have been shaped by their abuse and this is clearly visible on their bodies as well:

Cinder keeps the scar on her neck hidden, while Mercury has chosen to weaponize his missing legs.

It is telling that Mercury made of his own mechanical legs his weapon and that he mostly uses kicks to fight. It is another detail that shows how he is reducing both himself and his trauma to weapons he can use.

Cinder too shows how frail her sense of self is through weapons. It is not by chance that her current weapons are made of glass. In her backstory her swords were a symbol of her true self and of who she could become. Right now, they are nothing, but glass imitations of that ideal.

In short, Cinder and Mercury are both victims and murderers and they needed to have both sides of themselves accepted by their mentors.

However, Rhodes and Cinder failed to do so. They both refused the victimhood of the child in front of them, but they did so in opposite ways.

On one hand Rhodes refused Cinder’s violence and its reasons. He ignored his feelings of affection for the girl and steeled himself, so that he could fight her.

On the other hand Cinder gladly accepted Mercury’s violence and groomed him (Scorching caress), so that he would completely embrace it too.

The difference between Rhodes and Cinder lies in them having different reactions to the violence perpetrated by a child. However, they both fail to address the child’s pain. Rhodes does so because his vision is too black and white. Cinder does so because she is not even able to address her own pain.

However, both Cinder and Mercury need to address their own victimhood. Still, they refuse to do so because it would mean to accept their vulnerability. It is easier to convince themselves that they are the strong and violent ones. They are the ones others are scared of:

Mercury: We're the guys you should be afraid of.

But it is precisely because of this refusal that they are currently caught in dynamics similar to the ones they escaped:

Salem and Tyrian are nothing, but more dangerous versions of Madame and Marcus.

Salem treats Cinder as a pawn, rather than a person. She strips her of her personhood and agency and punishes her violently.

Tyrian is a killer, who enjoys his job like Marcus. He keeps invading Mercury’s personal space and threathens him. Moreover, his own semblance is similar to Marcus’s. It might not steal people’s semblances, but it still messes with their auras (with their very souls).

Cinder and Mercury struggle to recognize their own situations because to do so they must accept they are still stuck in their horrible childhoods:

Mercury: You may not like it here without Cinder, but I think I'm right where I'm supposed to be!

Cinder: I don’t serve anyone. And you wouldn’t either, if you were built that way.

However, this refusal is confusing them about what their true needs and wishes are:

Cinder: I want to be strong. I want to be feared. I want to be powerful.

Mercury: So what's in it for me?

In Beginning of the End both characters receive a line where they express some kind of wish.

As stated above, Cinder’s wish is not her original one, but a twisted version because she thinks she can’t reach her true desire.

When it comes to Mercury, he is not even sure of what he really wants. This is made clear even later on:

Emerald: I mean, there has to be something you want from this, right?

Mercury: Salem's promised us everything. We win this thing for her, we'll be top dogs in her new world. What more do you want?

He says Salem will give him all he wants, but he still fails to answer Emerald’s question. What is it that he wants?

He wants “everything” Cinder can offer him and later on “everything” Salem offers him. However, this is just another way to say he’ll take anything he is given, be it even something as basic as survival:

Mercury: Look, even if what he said was true, we can’t stop Salem. You told me yourself, Hazel tried. He failed and he got in line. Big guy’s not going to pick fights he can’t win, and neither should we.

This is because Mercury is so scared and hurt he can’t even start to think about what he wants.

Similarly, he goes back to a fatalistic vision of the world:

Mercury: Just made sense.

Emerald: It made sense?

Mercury: All my life, my father trained me to be a killer, an assassin like him. And then moments after I killed him, you two showed up looking for someone with my exact skills. Just felt like it was meant to be.

Let’s highlight that Cinder does the same:

Pyrrha: Do you believe in destiny?

Cinder: Yes.

Cinder: You know, Neo, someone once asked me if I believed in destiny. And I'm happy to say I still do.

Both Mercury and Cinder have convinced themselves that there is a “destiny” written for them and that they must play that role (the role of an assassin, the role of the Maiden). However, in this way they are just chaining themselves and accepting to Do As They Are Told by adults and mentor figures, who do not really care about them.

EMERALD + MERCURY = SOUL + BODY

I'm the one That was born in a nightmare a murderer's son Got no gun But I gleam like a blade and I'm harder than iron I'm the one Who rose out of filth and was loved by no-one Delusion I'll steal til your blind and defeat you from inside your mind

I'm the one That was ripped from the earth and exposed to the sun Overrun By the hate and the beatings defiled by a father I'm the one I'll race with your eyes and you'll never outrun Illusions Will conquer your mind and will make you fulfill my design

Mercury and Emerald’s song says several things about them.

First of all, it conveys the idea of two kids that feel let down by the world and have decided to retaliate. They mock their opponents and praise their respective abilities. However, it is clear from the verses above that it is just a mask to hide their pain.

This fits with them appearing for the first time in Best Day Ever where Ozpin says this:

Ozpin: And they will be, but right now they're still children. So why not let them play the part? After all, it isn't a role they'll have forever.

Differently from out protagonists (at the time), Emerald and Mercury are not playing the part of kids, but they are acting as big bad thugs to prove themselves to the people around them.

Secondly, the song is useful to explore Emerald and Mercury’s foiling.

I'm the one Who rose out of filth and was loved by no-one Delusion I'll steal til your blind and defeat you from inside your mind

I'm the one That was ripped from the earth and exposed to the sun Overrun By the hate and the beatings defiled by a father

Emerald was never given love, while Mercury was given hate:

Mercury: I'm sorry you didn't have a mommy that loved you, but I had a father who hated me!

This difference is at the root of their different personalities.

On one hand Emerald attaches herself to the care Cinder gives her and takes it as the most love she’ll ever receive.

On the other hand Mercury is just content with not receiving hate and violence from the people around him.

Emerald is more open about her connections with others, while Mercury is more disillusioned. She is strongly driven by them, while Mercury is too scared to fully embrace them.

Emerald has clear wishes, but she is deluding herself about them. Mercury has fears that do not let him realize what he wants.

This difference stems from the different nature of their traumas. Who was never given anything accepts whatever they are offered, while who received pain thinks even nothing is better than more pain.

Still, we are currently seeing an inversion of this dynamic. Emerald’s wishes and their not overlapping with reality are making her doubtful. Mercury’s fear and survival instinct are making him refuse the truth:

Mercury: And all of this is pointless, anyway. Salem’s not ending the world.

In the end, facing one’s own feelings, being them wishes:

Or fears:

Is still better than repressing them, even if it might be painful.

I'm the one That was born in a nightmare a murderer's son Got no gun But I gleam like a blade and I'm harder than iron

I'm the one I'll race with your eyes and you'll never outrun Illusions Will conquer your mind and will make you fulfill my design

The song I’m the One has four key verses. In the first two ones both characters tell a little of their past and then discuss their abilities, while in the other two Mercury mostly talks about his past and emphasizes it, while Emerald highlights her semblance more.

This ends up foreshadowing the importance of Emerald’s semblance and Mercury’s lack of one (”got no gun”).

Emerald’s semblance is important on different levels. As stated above, it perfectly embodies Emerald’s flaw:

Mercury: You're in denial.

And it is linked to unconscious aspects, like wishes and fears. Finally, it is a semblance linked to trickery and lies and these are among the causes of The Fall of Beacon:

Cinder: Our Kingdoms are on the brink of war, yet we, the citizens, are left in the dark.

It is not by chance that this semblance specifically has been so instrumental in Cinder’s plan, after all.

Similarly, Mercury’s lack of a semblance is one of his defining traits:

Mercury: He never went easy on me! Every day of training was a beating. And when I unlocked my Semblance, he stole it with his!

Ironically, this would make for an excellent narrative objective for Mercury’s character. However, he is so sure his semblance can’t be taken back that he has completely given up on it. This even if he is clearly bitter about having had a part of himself stolen.

The key aspect here may be that Mercury has failed to get his semblance back through his father’s teachings:

Mercury: He told me I could have it back when I was strong. So I got strong, but I never got it back!

And he is now considering it lost forever. It is possible that the path to find his ability again is instead another one altogether.

That said, while Cinder mostly used Emerald’s semblance in her plan, she also made great use of Mercury’s skill and of the peculiar nature of his body:

The first step in her plan, after all, uses both Emerald’s semblance and Mercury’s prostethic legs to spread negative emotions. This tendency continues in PvP where Emerald uses her semblance and Mercury, unhurt because of his legs, prevents Ruby from interrupting the fight.

In short, Emerald mostly relies on her semblance, while Mercury mostly relies on his legs and fighting prowess.

This detail adds to the idea that Emerald and Mercury have been acting as a unit and have been complementing each other. Emerald acts as the “soul” and Mercury as the “body”.

The soul is one’s personal essence (like the semblance). It is where (once again) wishes reside. The body is what protects the soul and is animated by instincts and self-survival.

They complement each other. This complementarity is shown in Emerald and Mercury’s fights.

In the Vytal festival, Mercury takes on both Coco and Yatsuhashi for a short while, so that Emerald can size her chance to fight Coco at her own terms (and she wins by using her semblance).

In the Battle of Heaven, Emerald uses her semblance to help Mercury fight and, in a sense, she compensates for his lack of one:

This perfect complementarity used to make them strong, but right now it is clear that it has become limitating:

Blake: When you’ve been at someone’s side for so long, after a while they become a part of you. But that’s just it, they’re only a part of you. Don’t forget about the rest.

This is why they are currently being separated by the narrative.

On one hand Emerald must learn not to be so emotionally dependant from others and must make her own choices. This is also why her using the lamp might be meaningful:

Qrow: This last great creation would be given the power to both create and destroy. It would be given the gift of knowledge, so that it could learn about itself and the world around it. And most importantly, it would be given the power to choose, to have free will to take everything it had learned and decide which path to follow - the path of light or the path of darkness.

The whole point of the relics (and of the journey we are going through) is to learn about the world, about creation and destruction, so that in the end a choice can be made.

This is why the first relic we saw is the relic of knowledge. Now, Emerald is a character that has been dependant on others, so that she could realize her wishes. Aladdin itself is a story about a character depending on a Jinn to make his dreams come true. However, it is possible Emerald’s arc will be different and it will be about gaining the knowledge to act and realize one’s wishes.

On the other hand Mercury must face himself and learn what he really wants. He must start living instead of simply surviving. In a sense, he must take the soul his father stole back.

Mercury quoting Marcus: "This is a crutch!" "This makes you weak!"

Marcus was wrong. One’s individuality (semblance) does not make them weak. If anything, Marcus’s abuse of Mercury made him need a literal crutch (since he lost his legs) and the boy is still hiding behind this violence to avoid any real choice about himself. This is what prevents him from becoming strong:

Yang: You might be powerful, but that doesn't make you strong.

Raven: Who do you think you are, lecturing me?! Standing there, shaking like a scared little girl?!

Yang: Yeah, I'm scared. But I'm still standing here!

His connection with Emerald might still play a role in this. After all, Mercury is, among other things, the god of thieves and this allusion has been played with by making him protective of Emerald (whose surname means “thief”). It might be used in a deeper and more meaningful way later on.

Emerald and Mercury must grow because if they don’t, they’ll end up as their dark foils:

Both Hazel and Emerald ended up joining Salem out of a feeling of love that was twisted. Emerald joined Salem because of her loyalty to Cinder, who is using her. Hazel joined Salem because of the death of his sister that he blames on Ozpin. Their semblances are even symbolic of their respective flaws since Emerald is caught up in her own delusions, while Hazel is unable to properly grieve, so he can’t “feel pain” on more than just the physical level.

Both Mercury and Tyrian are assassins and Tyrian is who Mercury might become if he truly chooses to live only to kill and does not find a different goal.

It is also telling that both Emerald and Mercury are currently put in similar circumstances as their two foils. As a matter of fact Mercury is leaving with Tytian, while Emerald and Hazel have been given the password to use the lamp and must choose what to make of this information.

At the same time, Emerald and Mercury have also some traits of respectively Tyrian and Hazel as well.

Emerald is fiercely loyal to Cinder like Tyrian is to Salem:

Tyrian: So devoted to someone so incompetent.

Hazel wanted to protect Gretchen (and is still acting on these unfulfilled feelings of protectiveness) like Mercury is trying to protect Emerald. Moreover, Gretchen and (probably) Emerald’s choice was/will be to fight an enemy that can’t be beaten, going against Hazel and Mercury’s wishes.

All in all, Emerald and Mercury have had interesting interactions with both Hazel and Tyrian that can be (ironically) seen as two incomplete and flawed mentor figures.

On one hand Hazel has been acting as a protector of sorts. He carried Emerald when she lost consciousness after the Battle of Heaven and he tried to protect both Emerald and Mercury from Salem’s rage after their failure.

On the other hand Tyrian is seen tormenting the two kids whenever he gets the chance. That said, he ironically ends up spelling out for them truths the two must face:

Tyrian: Do what makes you happy children... please? I'm begging you...

Tyrian: Of course she is! You’re surprised? Salem is destruction incarnate! Our mistress wishes to see the end of it all! There is no ideal more beautiful.

In short, some kind of interesting foiling seems to have been set-up for the four of them and it will be interesting to see if/how it develops.

MIDNIGHT = BEGINNING OF THE END

In a sense, when the clock stroke midnight it was the beginning of Cinder’s end because she entered a spiral she has not been able to stop since then. Not only that, but she has dragged other people in that same spirals and those people are now struggling against it, just like her.

At the same time, midnight signals the end of illusions and that may be a fitting description for where we are in the story so far.

Ruby has just announced the existence of Salem to the world, Emerald is uncovering several truths about Salem, Cinder and herself and the Ace Ops are being forced to face their emotions. Of course, when some illusions end, new ones appear. However, it is clear we are in a pivotal moment, which will hopefully lead to some changes.

Similarly, Cinder, Mercury and Emerald will probably go their own ways soon and it will be interesting to see how their paths will foil and where they will meet again.

As for now, it seems that because of Emerald’s allusion to Aladdin, she might use the last question to Jinn. If so, she will probably aquire knowledge and wisdom (emeralds are the stones of wisdom apparently).

Mercury will probably spiral a little bit as for now, but I wonder if he will receive some pivotal focus in the Vacuo’s volumes. Other than him going there with Tyrian, there is also the fact that it would make what is currently just a juxtaposition with Penny (thank you, @hamliet for noticing) a more interesting foiling.

Penny is an artificial human, a creation who was given life because her father loved her so much that he sacrificed a part of his aura for her... twice. She is at the centre of the theme of creation and it represents the good sides of it. She is a creation with a soul, a child, the fruit of parental love. It is because of the love she received that she is willing to protect creation:

Penny: That is not… I choose to fight for people who care about me.

Penny’s arc is about self-actualization. She struggles to be her own person outside her role, her purpose and even her parent. However, even if she has been objectified and keeps being objectified, she has also been given affection and this is why she fights.

Mercury is her opposite. He was the target of his father’s violence. Marcus not only stole his legs (while Pietro built Penny a body), but even a part of his soul (while Pietro gave Penny a part of his). He taught Mercury hate and violence and this is why he is currently helping a witch to destroy the world. Because of this, it would be interesting for such a character to receive focus on the volumes about destruction.

Finally, Cinder, as the Fall Maiden, is linked to the theme of choice. This has already been explored a little bit in her being obessed by destiny, as said above. However, the theme of choice is one which must still be fully explored.

In particular, there are several references to choice and destiny when it comes to Cinder’s foil aka Pyrrha:

Cinder (about Pyrrha): Hmm... People assume that she's fated for victory, when she's really taking fate into her own hands.

Cinder: It's unfortunate you were promised a power that was never truly yours.

Pyrrha: When I think of destiny, I don't think of a predetermined fate you can't escape. But rather... some sort of final goal, something you work towards your entire life.

Red-Haired Woman: She understood that she had a responsibility... to try. I don't think she would regret her choice, because a Huntress would understand that there really wasn't a choice to make. And a Huntress is what she always wanted to be.

Pyrrha’s arc is about making a choice. She must choose if she wants to become a Maiden. She struggles, but in the end she accepts this responsibilty. She embraces her idea of destiny and tries to be a Maiden even without powers.

Cinder’s idea of destiny is not fully explored. In a sense, just like Pyrrha, she has taken destiny in her own hands. However, she also seems to use the idea of destiny to nurture her self-image as the Chosen One and as the Worthy One.

At the same time, Pyrrha’s choice led to her tragic death. Not only that, but in the end her death accomplished little. Even Ruby activating her silver eyes has more to do with her wish to protect life, rather than with death. Why is that so? It is probably because Pyrrha’s choice was made without knowledge. She had been explained only a fragment of the truth, while the whole point is that one should learn, meet creation and destruction and then make a choice. This is why we have yet to meet the relic of choice.

My guess is that the theme of choice will mostly be explored through Cinder’s character, who will be asked to choose her destiny in the end.

#rwby #rwby meta #cinder fall #emerald sustrai #mercury black #my meta

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pookiepoodle · 3 years

Text

Samples - Osamu x Reader

This is for the Bad Doctor’s Collab run by @gourmetrat. Firstly, I’d like to thank them for giving me the opportunity to participate in such a cool event! I had a lot of fun writing this and I’m excited to see all the other submissions! Now, let’s get down to buisness!

This is a piss kink fic, with dub-con. It’s written for a female reader but in the future I’m gonna try to rewrite for a male reader (no promises).

Please enjoy, check out my masterlist and send in requests!

You were the perfect patient, to Osamu Miya.

When he’d called out your name to the crowded waiting room, you’d timidly stood up, shyly making your way over to him. Everyone knew that he was a urologist, but he had the decency to not say it too much. After all, most of his patients were quite embarrassed to be seen in his office. You weren’t an exception to this rule with your flushed cheeks and nervous glances.

His eyes lit up, his mind racing with possibilities as he led you to his office, locking the door behind you. You were so beautiful… so sweet. You’d be easy to trick, to manipulate into his little toy. Being a Urologist meant you had to tolerate piss, but Osamu did more than tolerate it.

“So, what brings ye here today?” Osamu exclaimed, his loud voice filling the otherwise quiet room. The only sound for a moment was his footsteps as he made his way to the desk littered with lab reports and pens.

He could barely hear you whisper something under your breath, unable to meet your handsome doctor’s eyes as you mumbled.

“I’ll need ya to speak up if I’m gonna help ya,” he chuckled, leaning back into his leather chair. The view was spectacular as he gazed at your chest, following the curves and lines all the way down to your shoes before meeting your eyes.

“I… I think I have a UTI,” you finally said, only slightly louder. But it was enough to have Osamu understand. It wasn’t too uncommon in his line of work and he quickly stood, the chair squeaking with the sudden motion. He began moving to the cabinets behind you, making your breath hitch. You didn’t dare to turn around as he began to hum, the sound of plastic being moved around.

“Well, I’m gonna need a sample to send to the lab, just so we can decide if we need to give ya an antibiotic,” he explained, moving back to his seat. With a little flourish, he placed the plastic cup onto the table.

Maybe he was being a bad doctor… but, god, he wanted to push you a little as you stood up. You’d grabbed the empty container, mumbling your thanks before turning to the bathroom attached to his office.

But just as you rested your hand on the handle, his voice filled the room, making you jump.

“Bad news, sweetheart, that’s not gonna be an option.”

“Huh?”

“Something’s up with the bathroom, I can’t let ya in their…”

“Oh…” you mumbled, letting go of the handle and taking a step back before glancing to the door,” I could always… is their public bathrooms?”

“There are,” Osamu grinned, enjoying the brief relief on your face before he continued,” but you’d have to walk through that crowded waiting room and back.”

It took a few minutes for it to dawn on you what exactly he was implying and your face suddenly paled. Oh.

You’d have to walk through the waiting room, with your cup of pee for everyone to see.

“But… Do you have a bag or anything I could use?” you exclaimed softly, cringing as you asked. Osamu shook his head, closing the cabinet door which did contain brown paper bags. Better to let you think he was the good guy rather than a liar.

“Sadly, all I’ve got are plastic ones,” he smiled, the apologetic expression the exact opposite of his true intentions.

You couldn’t help but whine, sinking back down onto the check up table with a look of despair.

“I’m going to need that sample today by the way, the lab is going to be closed this weekend and the last shipment of samples is going out tonight,” Osamu continued, lying through his teeth.

“But… I need to get the train home, there’s no way I could make it back in time!”

“That’s a pity… but I do have a small idea.”

Before you could ask what this small idea was, Osamu had rolled his chair right in front of you, his brown eyes following the dips and curves of your body.

“It’s a bit unusual but I don’t mind letting you use my office,” he drawled, his thick hand reaching out to rest on your knee. The gesture appeared to be one of comfort, but there was a far less innocent intention as he gave you a small squeeze. You could have cried for joy - this wonderful, handsome doctor was so kind…

“But I can’t let ya be in here alone, of course.”

That made you freeze, your eyes widening as you met his jaw agape. Surely, he couldn’t mean…

“Hell,” he grinned, suddenly standing up and towering over you, his lips pressed against the shell of your ear as he continued,” I’ll even help ya collect a sample. My treat.”

“Wait, I couldn’t… that has to break a rule, this isn’t right!” you squeaked, flushing as his hand began to make its way up your thigh, slipping under your skirt.

“Not at all, I’m a doctor, Miss Y/N,” he chuckled, his fingers running along the edge of your panties,” Trust me, I’ve helped plenty of patients, though none as pretty as ya.” It was actually true. Osamu was used to this, especially with his more elderly patient who needed some assistance. Normally, though, the task was mundane - this, he felt, was going to be the complete opposite.

“So… this is normal?” you whispered, wriggling when you felt his thick fingers run along the edge of your panties.

“Mhm. Completely,” he assured you, knowing that you were so close to agreeing. You just needed a final push.

“Besides,” he continued, meeting your eyes and giving you the smallest smirk,” you wanna be a good patient, right?”

…

That’s how you found yourself standing in the middle of his office, your skirt and panties folded neatly on the check up table and Osamu behind you, cup in hand.

“I… I don’t know if I can do this,” you whimpered, unable to look down. You’d never been in such a position before, especially when you were about to do something so taboo.

“Of course ya can, it’s easy,” he hummed, gazing down at your thighs and the little mound of curls which hid your precious holes from his sight.

“I know, it’s just really embarrassing,” you continued, pouting slightly as you looked over at his desk.

“I know, but remember, I’m your doctor,” he continued. His hand resting on your thigh suddenly darted between your legs, making you squeak and clench around him.

“Ah, wait!”

“Come on, Miss Y/N, we don’t have all day,” he smiled, ignoring your protests as he began to push your lips apart. Osamu wanted to groan, you were soaked.

“I know, but still, I’ve never…” you started, pausing.

“Never what?”

“I’ve never… been touched like this,” you confessed, blushing brightly.

“Well, lucky me,”

You shivered when you felt his fingers slide against your holes, before the cool rim of plastic was pressed against you.

“Now piss.”

If this were a cliche fanfic or storyline, you’d have protested, still trying to cling to any dignity left. But you’d been told before the appointment to drink plenty of water so you’d be able to give a sample no problem.

So, with his crude words, the floodgates opened, much to Osamu’s surprise. He had expected you to whine and protest, begging for some privacy. But instead, you were pressed against his firm body, an expression of relief gracing your face as you quickly filled the cup.

Perhaps you’d drunk a little too much water…

Your eyes suddenly snapped open when you heard splashing against the lino floor, making you jump back and gaze down. The cup was overflowing and you were still peeing, an embarrassing puddle forming on Osamu’s sterile office floor.

“I-I’m so sorry, I can’t-” you whined, bright red as the stream began to taper off. Soon, only a few drops echoed in the room, but all you could hear was your frantic heartbeat. You had just peed on his floor… like an animal. God, was that a wet spot on his coat?!

But before you could say a word, a hand cupped your hot face, forcing you to meet the doctor’s eyes.

“Do it again.”

#bad-doctors-collab #haikyuu x reader #osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #p e e #dub-con #osamu is a urologist #haikyuu!!#osamu #osamu miya

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