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#diamonds are forever spoilers
sidleyparkhermit · 2 years
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What if we kissed… at the Homicide: Life on the Street cast reunion… and we were both boys
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Not to speak ill of the dead
But “I did not tell my son the truth when I was on my deathbed so that the idea of revenge would give him a reason to live and then as he got older he would find other things that were more important and would let go of the revenge” is a fucking risky game to play, especially you won’t even be able to course correct it if it backfires
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classyrbf · 4 months
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THE SIX EYES OF SATORU GOJO!
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SYNOPSIS...after the death of your beloved satoru, you come to face the man who took everything from you
WARNINGS...gojo x fem!reader, sorcerer!reader, angst no happy ending, manga spoilers (obviously), talks of death, mental health(?), sad memories, death, sukuna x fem!reader, not proofread
OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated
I haven’t wrote angst in a minute so pls bear with me if this is bad
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You laid there in the plush sheets, taking in the warmth of the body that laid beside you. Skin to skin, holding each other tightly. His disheveled hair put a smile on your face as you looked at him, taking in his angelic features.
“I can see you staring,” he mumbled against the bed sheets, eyes still closed.
You let out a small sigh, running your fingers through his soft hair. “I know,” you said in a whisper. It was times like these that you admired, when it was just you and him, when he was able to come home finally. Involving yourself with Saturo Gojo, you knew it came with responsibilities. The responsibilities of him being the strongest, of him taking on tasks that even he did not want to do, and the responsibility of being away from him for so long.
Each time he’s away, it feels longer than the last. Worry sets in your heart, the worry that he’s pushing himself too hard, taking on too much when he shouldn’t have to. But for the sake of humanity and out of the goodness of his heart, he does it. He puts on the title everyone knows him as, wears it like a badge on his chest, almost how a superhero would.
Some people would call him a superhero, anyone who understood what he was capable of would. But when he’s here, at home with you, he can finally take off that badge and put down his walls. When he feels your arms wrap around him, it makes him feel like everything he’s doing is worth it. If he didn’t have you, a steady ground, he might just lose himself. He was sure of it.
“You’re beautiful, Satoru,” you whispered with a smile.
The six eyes of Satoru Gojo. It was a blessing and a curse. He finds it unbearable, all the overstimulation, all the things he witnesses, but when it was quiet, when it was warm, he’d listen to your breathing as you slept, watch over you like he was your protector, and in a way he was. You were something precious to him, like diamond. He knew you could handle yourself, he knew you were strong enough to hold your own. But he was afraid of losing you no matter what he knows. A woman who puts his mind at ease, makes him feel safe and loved, that’s something he could not lose. No.
The pad of your thumb gently caresses his cheek as he rests against the pillow. You didn’t want to ask, but you had to. You had to know when he’d be leaving you next, just so you could prepare yourself. Your time together was always short but always so well spent. Sometimes you just wish it could be like this forever, wish you could freeze time.
“Satoru?” You tried to hide the frown that was forming on your face.
“Hm?” His eyes slowly opened, revealing their arctic blue color. A soft smile manifested at the corner of his lips.
“When…when are you going away next?” You kept caressing his face, swallowing the lump that was in your throat. “I just want to know…”
Gojo knew why you were asking this, you always did every time your days together were drawing to an end. He doesn’t blame you, and he never will. The woman who takes care of him and loves him so gently deserves to know. “Tonight.”
You nodded in silence, accepting his words even when they dug deep in your chest like they were searching for your heart to hurt, and that it did. “Okay.” You sniffled. “But, Satoru?”
He looked your way again to find your eyes filled with tears, something he hated seeing. You shouldn’t have to put up with this, but you do. You do it out of love for him. “Promise to come back, ‘kay?” A tear slipped from your eye and rolled down your cheek.
He frowned, cupping your face in his hands as he wiped away your tears. A defeated sigh left his lips before he placed a kiss on your forehead, resting there for a few before he spoke, “I always do. I love you.”
━━━━━
The wind blew against your skin, make the hot tears that were streaming down your face cool to the touch. You stood there, staring ahead at the road in front of you, glass shattered, buildings toppling over each other, creaking as they threatened to crumble. The Earth seemed to stand still, the silence deafening, but the cuts that marked your skin were burning.
“What are you staring at, eh?” The deep voice asked with a sinister chuckle. The man stood before you, his demeanor ever so nonchalant and brutal. “Who even are you?” The wind howled over his question as he walked towards you.
Silence.
“Can you not hear?! Speak when you are spoken to!” He shouted, but that did not falter you one bit.
Here in front of you stood Ryomen Sukuna. Destroyer of worlds, the bringer of death, the king of curses. Hate. Hate was all you felt when you stared at him. Not fear, not admiration. Hate. He took everything you had. Everything that was left. You felt a pang in your chest as Satoru’s face flashed before you, an image of him laying on the bed, eyes closed as you caressed and admired him.
“I always do.”
His voice rang through your head like an alarm. It just kept on repeating. He said he’d come back. Yet, he didn’t. The man who was the strongest didn’t get back up. The man who you loved took your heart with him when he died. Now all you have left is nothing. Nothing but anger and hatred towards the man who took away your happiness.
“You won’t win,” he snickered, a devilish grin on his face.
“Neither will you.” You stared him down like a hawk, watching his every movement with sharp eyes. Sukuna gave you a puzzled look, intrigued by your choice of words. Interesting.
“You’ll die like all the others who’ve tried before you. Not even The Strongest could beat me.” He stopped his tracks, smirking at you like he knew, like he knew what those words meant to you. The Strongest. You clenched your jaw, can’t help the new tears that start to roll down your cheeks. “I suspect I hit a nerve.” He was just as sarcastic as anyone would describe. His conniving nature made your gut churn.
“It doesn’t matter if I beat you or not, I just want to make you feel pain.” You unsheathed the katana from your back, taking a deep breath through your nose and out through your mouth. You steadied both of your hands on the sword, holding it out in front of you.
“I love you.” His voice echoed through your head.
You wondered what it be like to have him walk through the door again. You wondered what it would be like if you never got the call that Satoru Gojo was sealed. You wondered what it would be like if you got the chance to see him again when he was unsealed after three years—only twenty days to you. You wondered what it would be like if you were never told he’d been killed. But that’s the thing, all you could do was wonder. Because where you are now is the reality of it all.
Even if you do not survive, you’d get the chance to be with him again. But not without giving yourself a fighting chance. You’d get to see everyone again. Relive life like it was back then. Geto, Nanami, Haibara, Yaga, Gojo. Now, it was only you and Shoko. You’d like to apologize to her, tell her you’re sorry for leaving her too, fighting battles on your own without thinking straight.
It’s highly likely you’d die, go out in a gruesome way. But you were prepared for that. You didn’t expect to win against Ryomen Sukuna. But you expected to give everything of yourself that you had left. To make him feel what he made you feel, even if it’s just a sliver.
Your eyes fluttered shut as you prepared yourself. And there you were, back three years ago, laying on the plush sheets of your bed, skin to skin with him. His bright eyes found yours first.
“Satoru,” you said breathlessly. His hand came up to gently stroke your cheek. Oh how you missed his touch.
“You don’t have to do this. You can walk away from this. I know that you know it won’t end well. So, why?” He questioned you, his eyes scanning your features.
You looked at him with sorrowful eyes. “Because I have to,” you answered.
“You don’t have to do anything. Let yourself live,” he protested. You shook your head at him, clenching your eyes shut as tears streamed down your face. “My six eyes show me the hatred and anger that fills your heart but I also see how your soul yearns for me. I’m sorry that I’ve done this to you.” He wiped away your tears like he once did.
Ah, the six eyes of Satoru Gojo, you thought to yourself. You placed your hand on his, thumb rubbing over his knuckles. Only Satoru truly knew you. That’s one thing you loved about him. But that also meant he knew you wouldn’t take no for answer even if it meant death. “Don’t…don’t blame yourself.” You opened your eyes to look at him. “I’m sorry, but I can’t deal with this anymore.” You placed a kiss on his forehead just as he did to you when you saw him last. “I’ll see you soon, Satoru.”
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huicitawrites · 6 months
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MAJOR, HUGE, GINANEMENOSOROUS SPOILERS FOR JUJUTSU KAISEN MANGA 236!
You have been warned.
SPOIL OF WAR
yandere! Sukuna x Reader (x Gojo Satoru)
Inspired by @stupid-sloot-headcanons and their post:
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warnings: major character death, non-con, kidnapping, yandere.
wordcount: 2,2k
This should not have been the outcome.
Your hands would only ever be delicate and affectionate with him, but this time they were rough- clawing, banging and shaking his chest.
“Satoru, please! You promised…”
You buried your tear-stained face in his blood-stained chest. Unable to take in his familiar scent, your nostrils were tormented by the stench of iron.
You stood waiting at the end of the stairs. A few footsteps away, you heard the sounds of clapping and cheering. The corners of your lips rose a tiny bit, it made you feel a little more at ease knowing they supported Satoru and had his back.
That they prayed on his victory, and so do you, you pray that he will be able to return to your arms again. You clutched the scarf in your hands tighter.
The sound of footsteps going down the stairs stole your attention, and you looked up to meet the pair of radiant blue eyes that always made you lose yourself in the sky- you would never get tired of them, you could not ever dream on it.
He halted in front of you, his diamond eyes softening their gaze on you. A pink blush painted his pale cheeks, and a warm smile spread through his lips.
“Well,” he broke the silence, “can I get a goodbye kiss?”
In the ever, so, aloof attitude Satoru’s voice lacked any worries. He sounded confident, eager even. You differed.
An exasperated chuckle left your lips, “Only if you promise to come back.”
“I promise”
You stepped closer, the tip of your nose brushing against his chest, and you lifted up your gaze. You scrutinised it, staring past through his eyes and into his soul- the white-haired sorcerer felt shivers up his spine.
“Pinky promise and all,” he said and popped out his little finger, “ Cross my heart and hope to die, I’d never lie”
You only raised up a single eyebrow in response.
“Pfft, you don’t believe me? Your lover? The strongest jujutsu sorcerer might I add?” He dipped his face lower, bumping your foreheads. His hands, such calloused, combat-faded, skin fell on your hips and he brought you closer until your bodies were flushed against each other.
You giggled, but the relief was short-lived “It’s not that Satoru.”
Your [s/c] arms snaked around his back and you took in the warmth radiating off his body. He felt cozy, he felt like home.
And he would soon depart to battle.
“What if this time, you don’t come back? What if I’m left all alone-“ your voice began to break in sobs and your throat tightened. “What if I don’t get to see you ever again? What will I do-? And what about Megumi? Oh gods, he must be so scared“
He cut off your overthinking with a kiss. His lips on yours were soft and sweet, you melted into the kiss- into his arms. You wish this moment was forever, and yet.
“[Y/n]” he called out your name calmly. The least he wanted to do was alarm you, he wanted to be gentle with you and comfort you. “- it’s a promise, I’ll win.”
You smiled as he held your cheeks in his palms. Your lover swatted away your tears with his thumbs.
“-And if you are still not sure, I’ll leave you with this” Satoru reached his hand to the pocket in his pants and your eyes widened in curiosity. When you caught glimpse of the little box in the palm of his hand, your heartbeat picked up and drummed against your chest.
“Satoru, are you?”
“Tsk, tsk! Lemme finish here,” he grinned and proceeded to lean on one knee. Without further words, he opened the box to reveal a beautiful, silver ring with a small yet brilliant diamond in the center. Gently, he took your left hand in his and slid the ring in your finger.
You gasped and tears of joy formed in the corners of your eyes, before breaking down in uncontrollable sobs. You shared a passionate, fervent, kiss as he held you in his big, strong arms.
“It’s a promise, I tell you”
As cherished memories flooded your grieving mind, your back shook violently and you clutched his split body tighter. You took a look into his eyes, now they were dull. There was no trace of the shining and lustrous Six Eyes you adored.
“There, there”, a coarse voice interrupted. You froze upon the feeling of a hand petting your back in a sick mockery of comfort.
The voice belonged to no other than Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, the usurper of Megumi Fushigoro’s body and the murderer of your fiancee.
“No use in crying over dead men, darling.” He snickered, “He had a good time, that much I can say. The best fight I had since, well,” he dragged his words, “-ever.”
“Don’t you dare lay your hands on me.”
“Oh?”
When you turned around, Sukuna was met with a nasty glare. Your face was covered in blood and your white irises highlighted your quivering pupils.
The King of Curses raised his eyebrows in amusement and smirked upon sensing the spurt of cursed energy radiating off your body.
“And just what exactly are you thinking about doing?”
He challenged you with his words, and although his usurped body was battered and tattered, his stance was confident. His words echoed in your mind, and flashbacks of Satoru and his promise flooded your mind once more.
Right, you could do nothing.
If the strongest sorcerer to ever exist was defeated, what could you - a retired sorcerer - hope to do?
The flow of your cursed energy vanished and your face fell. Silently, you dropped your body to lay next to your deceased meant-to-be husband. If you could not live a future without your beloved, you might as well follow suit.
The laugh of Sukuna tormented your ears, “You gave up? That easily? I had become excited, I thought you would put up a fight!”
His wicked grin and four mad eyes looked over your form with fake pity as he neared your form, looking over you. He squatted down, arms lazily over his knees and body to close for comfort- not that you paid much attention in your depressed state.
In the shell of your ear, like a cunning, venomous snake, he whispered “Got nothing left to do, now that he is gone… I can change that”
“It’s good to treat yourself after a good fight, after all.”
When a single arm wrapped around your waist picked you up, you began to thrash. ‘No’, ‘stop’, ‘don’t’, and many other words were begged for mercy as you furiously cried and tried to reach the body that became farther and farther away from you.
With your body in his arms, he carried you away. He laughed over the nastiest of insults you spat at him and found your resistance somewhat cute- but also annoying.
Above the two of you, the grey skies turned darker and darker. The sound of thunder boomed through the air as lightning flashed in the clouds. This picked Sukuna’s interest. He sighed.
He tilted your body to his other arm and used his claw to pinch on a nerve cluster in your neck. Suddenly, your thrashing body fell limp and your eyesight was shrouded in darkness.
“It seems I have to deal with some things first, worry not… We’ll have plenty of time later.”
...
...
...
Your forehead felt heavy against the corners of your head, it was throbbing. Still drowsy, you lifted your head off the pillow and squeezed your eyes before opening them wide. Light invaded your sight, blinding you partially as you blinked and adjusted to it.
You took in your surroundings, you were in a strange, lavish room.
What happened? Where is… Satoru...?
Your body woke up as soon as a glimpse of your beloved’s corpse flashed in your mind. In an instant, tears began to fall down your cheeks.
Satoru Gojo had lost the battle against Ryomen Sukuna.
The horrible image repeated itself a couple of times, before you remembered the transpired events and fell on the unknown bed- but not a stranger’s bed per se, his bed.
The strings in your heart pulled and ached as a sense of emptiness overtook your chest. You curled your body into a small ball.
You desperately wished to feel Satoru’s warmth.
You would never feel his warmth again.
“Still thinking about him?” A rough, morning voice spoke and before when you turned around, you met face-to-face with none other than The King of Curses.
You were staring wide-eyed directly at Ryomen Sukuna.
Amidst your shock, you could not mutter any words. However, your throat attempted to make sounds which died down in between your parted lips.
Sukuna chuckled.
“Good morning, darling. Had a good sleep?”
Part of you thought this was all a nightmare, a bad dream. Any moment, you would wake up now and be cuddling in the shared bed you had with your fiancee.
And yet, you franticly blinked your eyes, pinched your skin, all the tricks you knew to get you out of a bad dream all to earn the amused laugh of the King of Curses.
“This is very much real.” He cooed and before you could bolt and make a run for it, a pair- no, two pairs of abnormally huge arms trapped you in their hold.
“I finally have you all for myself.”
His confession did not shock you or washed you in either horror or confusion. No, you were too focused on the fact that you felt four arms around you.
The gears in your head slowly began to turn and click, when the realization dawned upon you, you snapped your head to observe his face.
His body had transformed, this time his four eyes were split- a set of horizontal eyes and a set of a vertical placed ones. Then, you took notice of his hair, it was salmon pink and slicked back- not dark and spiky. The ears beside his face were rather pointed and wide, decorated with black expanders, unlike the smaller ears of a teenager you had grown to care for.
You need not look at his enormous build, four arms, bigger markings, and mouthed belly to notice what happened. Ryomen Sukuna had reincarnated and Fushiguro Megumi, the boy you helped raise, was no longer.
True horror once agained adorned your eyes and with a cracked voice you called out the boy’s name, “Megumi? No, no, you… you-!”
“Oh yes, yes I did”
You broke down crying and sobbing once more and in taunting mockery Sukuna brought your body closer. He placed his chin atop your head and slowly caressed your back, leaving traces with his sharp, black nails.
Your flimsy hands pushed and bumped their fists against his head, all of which felt like a little tickling to the King of Curses. He laughed and mused.
“You are really cute, y’know? Gojo Satoru was lucky to have you.”
“You took everything from me! My husband, even my son!” and your enraged confession only made him chuckle more. As if it were all a joke to him, a mere slip-up or incident. Some bugs he had dealt with.
You continued balling your eyes out and pushing his body, but seeing it led you nowhere- your resolve cracked. You were all alone, stolen from the people you cherished most- the ones you viewed as close family.
“Sh… Don’t cry [Y/n],” he said your name so casually, “It doesn’t suit your pretty face”.
“What do you want from me…” An exhasperated demand left your lips and you feared looking up to meet his four, tormenting eyes. However, your hesitation to face him was ignored as one of his thumbs hooked under your chin and lifted your head.
You were looking eye to eye with the cursed king. You shivered upon clashing your [e/c] with his red eyes glistening with weird adoration, desire, lust, and hunger. An indescribable madness you could not describe, an unsettling obsession.
“If it’s a husband and a kid you are mourning over, I am more than glad to lend you my undivided aid with that.”
His voice dropped decibels lower, as he did his head which he dipped in the crook of your neck. Burying his nose in it, he inhaled in deep your scent and his arms lowered down your body.
Once again, you begged for mercy. Plea's and ‘no’s’ left your lips, yet they were muffled over by his own. His ‘kiss’, if a word of love could be used to describe such a monstrous act, drained you of the oxygen in your lungs, leaving you dizzy and gasping for air as his lips traveled down your unwilling body.
The sheets were cast aside along the torn layers of your clothes and soon, you found yourself bare beneath the devil.
“Don’t worry darling, I’ll take care of everything from now on,” he whispered in your ear as his hand pushed down your back and pressed your abdomen against the mattress. “After all, you are no longer Gojo Satoru’s but mine. You are my prize, my spoil of war.”
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luvrrszn · 7 months
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pov
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MIGUEL O'HARA x FEM READER
summary miguel o'hara is in love with you. so hopelessly in love with you. (spoiler alert: you are, too.)
warnings fluff, pure tooth-rotting fluff, just a bunch of blurbs put together, NOT proofread
a/n feeling peaceful 2day love u all xx (p.s. wrote this listening to "pov" by ariana)
masterlist
mornings with miguel o'hara can only be described using one word: peace.
you'd never think that "peace" would be a word associated with miguel o'hara, but once you've experienced what you have, you wouldn't see it any other way.
miguel is protective of his mornings with you. being such a busy man, mornings with you are sacred.
"can we sleep in a little longer?" you mumble against his chest, almost every morning. his answer is always the same: "of course, my dear."
how could he ever say no to you?
you set your phone down on the kitchen island as you go to grab a glass of water. miguel's gaze leaves his laptop as he glances at your phone screen.
your phone was left unlocked, an instagram post of your high school classmate with a gigantic diamond ring displayed on it. miguel asks you, "mi corazón, does it bother you? we have been together for 8 years, and no ring."
"hmm, not really, miggy. does it bother you?" you reply, setting your glass down as you approach miguel.
"no, but if you did, it would be understandable."
you walk closer to him and he wraps an arm around your waist. you settle down on his lap and stroke his hair, saying, "i don't need a ring to prove that i love you. ring or no ring, we both know that i am yours, forever."
you wake up to the sound of giggling and a thud of something falling to the floor. you drag yourself out of bed and down the stairs. your daughter is giggling as she runs around the living room, being chased by miguel who's holding a...bottle of pink glitter?
a chair at the dining table has toppled over, the culprit behind the "thud" you heard earlier. the dining table has a piece of A3 drawing paper on it, covered in pink glitter glue, light pink sequins and dark pink and purple fairy dust. you've never seen so much pink in your life.
"the glitter monster is coming for you!" you hear miguel call out. you turn around just in time to see miguel pick up your daughter and carry her over his shoulder. she giggles, "papá, put me down!"
you look at the line of photo frames on top of the fireplace, a mere representation of the time that has passed since you first met miguel o'hara
there's a photo of you and miguel in a dark, crowded bar. the night you two met.
there's also photo of you and miguel in front of the eiffel tower. the night of your 5th anniversary.
there's a photo of you and miguel in a chapel in vegas, both of you grinning, his arm slung over your shoulder. the night the two of you were married by an elvis impersonator.
there's also a photo of you in the hospital, miguel grinning next to you, and the most perfect baby girl bundled in your arms. the night your baby girl entered the world.
last but not least, there's a photo of you and miguel slightly hunched forward, with your daughter in between the two of you, holding a huge bouquet and grinning. the day of her very first dance recital.
by the end of the day, your little angel's pink artwork takes its place above the fireplace, joining the array of photo frames.
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Welcome to the official Tumblr for Magical Warrior Diamond Heart! 💖
Valerie Amaranth, an ordinary 16 year old, has her world changed forever when she receives the power to transform into a magical girl: The legendary Crystal Warrior, Diamond Heart! Now with the help of Diana, she must find her allies, defeat the Nightmare Agency, and rescue the missing princess, Rosalia! Magical Warrior Diamond Heart is an otome visual novel inspired by magical girl anime. Play as Valerie and decide the fate of the world, eat delicious donuts, and even smooch lots of cuties! Will Val defeat the Nightmares, make new friends, and find love? Or will she meet her tragic end?
✨ Available for PC, Mac, Linux, and Android devices ✨
💖Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Magical Girl, Comedy, Drama, Action
💖Rating: 13+ for Violence, blood, body horror, drug reference, language, and crude humor. Click here for a more detailed content warning list.
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The free-to-play version of the game will have
FOUR adorable and distinct characters to smooch (Sophie,  Ethan,  Zacharie, and Opal)
A friendship route with the fairy Amber, if you'd rather not smooch anyone at all!
Male, female, and a nonbinary love interests to pursue.
Dozens of beautifully illustrated original artworks
Partial English voice acting from a very talented voice cast!
200k+ words of content!
DLC content to include:
Even more adorable DLC characters to smooch! (Alex,  Liam, Clover, Chandra, and Diana)
Even more artwork gorgeous artwork to admire!
Extra bonus episodes!
400k+ words of content!
🌸 Official Website 🌸 Meet the characters 🌸
🎀 Youtube - Watch clips from the game, occasional devlogs, and other little videos I come up with! 🎀 TikTok - Silly memes and videos about the characters! 🎀 Twitter - General updates, but with way less talking space 🎀 Patreon - Exclusive updates, WIPs, and early access to builds 🎀 Discord - Community server, chat with other fans and post about secret spoilers in the backer build channel lol!
🌸 Tag List 🌸 FAQ 🌸
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Try the game! I've been updating it with new episodes and content so keep an eye out! If you're interested in keeping your build updated, check out this guide!
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dotieeee · 2 months
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The Gamemaker's Apprentice
Level 6
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Pairing: Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow x You, named!Reader
Overall Warnings:
NON-CON, DUB-CON, Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow, Snow himself should be a warning, lots of blackmailing, gaslighting, manipulation, obsession, possesiveness, eventual forced marriage, eventual loss of virginity, breeding kink, canon-compliant major character death, reader is named but has no physical descriptions in the fic so one might also consider her an OC but in 2nd POV, will have canon inconsistencies, and other stuff that may be added
Masterlist
Level 6 Warnings:
Some noncon touching and canoodling (no spoilers)
Replay Level 5
Ready? Level 6 Start:
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A knock on the ornate door reverberates inside the empty lab, giving you a tiny jolt in your chair. This must be him, coming over to ‘collect you.’
Like the Grim Reaper who’s come take your soul.
Or maybe it isn’t him. After all, the door isn’t locked, and he’s used to visiting by now to know he can just come in after a knock or two. You get up to open the door, willing your hands to stop shaking so he doesn’t see that you’re fazed by his mere presence.
How are going to win this if you start crumbling like a stale cookie whenever he’s around?
You yank the door open, expecting the Devil himself disguised in slick platinum-blond hair and a finely tailored suit, but instead, you get a man in a hat and a courier’s uniform.
“Ms Prunella Innis?” He inquires.
“Yes?”
He hands you a clipboard for you to sign and picks up this enormous white box wrapped in a satin crimson bow lying by his feet. He also hands you the bouquet he’s cradling, then strides past you to deposit the box on the nearest table. Judging by the red roses in the bundle of blooms, you know who sent you everything without even asking.
Coriolanus Snow never does subtle.
You thank the courier as he exits the lab, tipping his hat in response as he does. Gingerly, you prod the box with a finger, thinking maybe anything could come flying out of the box and rip your face out. It doesn’t move, so maybe the thing inside is dead and he just sent it for the funsies. You brace yourself as you unravel the bow, eager to just get it over with. You lift the lid and a subtle waft of roses greets you.
You gasp when you discover that the contents of the box are nowhere near what you’d been expecting.
They’re actually much worse.
Inside the box are three smaller boxes, all wrapped in red satin ribbons, placed on top of what looks like fancy crepe paper. A card lies atop the tiniest of the boxes with handwriting you can recognise from a mile away.
To my Sugarplum,
Wear this tonight. A car will pick you up from the Corso III entrance at six. We will talk about your response to my request then,
Your Coryo
The box underneath the note reveals a heart-shaped ruby necklace with a fine white gold chain, similar to the chain of that plum-coloured diamond he gave you. In the confines of the second box lies a small black silk clutch, embellished in minuscule silver beads, and embroidered with fine-spun silver, making up a pattern resembling roses. The third box contains a pair of single-strap black satin high-heeled pumps. Underneath those boxes, covered in what you originally thought was just wrapping paper, is a floor-length slip dress made of silk in the loveliest shade of crimson. Based on the superb craftsmanship of the dress alone, you can tell that it isn’t something one can buy off-the-rack. Tailor-made by Coriolanus Snow’s choice of tailor shop, judging by the logo sticker sealing the crepe wrapping paper together.
There was one time these extravagant gifts would’ve sent you in a grateful, ecstatic mood.
That feels like forever ago, now.
At the moment, your gut just stirs in discomfort, looking at this luxurious mess.
Your trepidation only mounts as you watch the clock trudge slowly from day to night. By four, you get home and prepare for the inevitable. You try not to be surprised with the way the dress hugs your figure perfectly, because then that would mean he somehow got lucky with eyeballing your dress size, or that he got ahold of your measurements through questionable means. By five-thirty, the girl in your mirror is barely recognizable – a girl you’ve never seen before, put together on the outside and nearly falling apart at the seams on the inside.
It certainly doesn’t help that the near-nauseating scent of roses still emanates from the dress you’re wearing.
The reflection staring back at you seems to mock you, telling you this is your life now, all preened up at the behest of a stranger whose pastime is pushing other people under his thumbs. Oh well. You’ll get out of this invasive mask soon, you assure yourself.
The driver who’s expecting you right at your building’s entrance wordlessly opens the car door for you. An Avox, you recognise – a product of one of the Capitol’s many sophisticated ways of punishing dissent. Because sometimes death by hanging takes the rebels out of their misery too quickly, so one brilliant mind in the Capitol one day had this brilliant idea of cutting people’s tongues off and shunning them into the lowest wrung of society so they could live a life of servitude, not subjecting anyone else to their worthless, wayward opinions.
And of course, everyone else agreed with how fucking brilliant an idea it was.
Would you have preferred Sejanus be sentenced this way and still have him alive instead of dead? You banish the thought as quickly as it had come – too morbid, even by your standards. Besides, there was no way the Capitol could’ve shut him up, even without his tongue. He still would’ve fought tooth and nail for the change he wanted to see in the world.
Ten minutes to six and you’re already pulling up to the entrance of what looks like The Palisades Hotel, the grandest luxury five-star hotel in all of Panem. There are many other cars already milling at the entrance, with small crowds forming to presumably greet each other. The Chauffeur opens your car door, and immediately after stepping out of the rental car, you spot the very man responsible for you being here instead of at home, guzzling hot chocolate and stuffing your face with angel food cake.
Coriolanus Snow seems to be engaged in a lighthearted conversation with a group of older men in flashy tuxedos you only vaguely recognise by face, but his attention shifts the moment he sees you emerge from the car. You could see him mouth ‘see you inside’ to them as one of them shakes his hand vigorously. His piercing blue eyes scan your frame a few feet away, his lilting grin never vanishing from his face as he approaches you.
He seems to have lured you into some kind of party under false pretences.
He looks flawless, as he always does: his platinum-blond locks combed back, his sleek crimson tuxedo matching yours, and a signature white rose pinned to his lapel; no wonder he almost fooled you – that blinding charm he has always allowed him to hide something sinister underneath.
You could feel your pulse race with every step he takes in your direction. It takes you a fraction of a second to realise he’s holding out his hand, which you tentatively accept. He never breaks eye contact with you as he brushes his lips over the back of your hand.
You might’ve yanked your hand away a little too fast for his liking, for you see his eyes flash danger before shifting to his usual semblance of warmth.
He leans into your ear and whispers, “Sugarplum, you are a sight to behold.”
You put on the best realistic smile you can muster. “Thank you. And thank you for the dress and...everything else.”
You stay frozen to your spot as he tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear, his fingers briefly brushing against your cheek. “There. Perfect,” he says. “And there’s no need to thank me. I like spoiling my sugarplum with only the best.”
But despite the rather depressing outlook you had coming here, there’s a glimmer of hope you see as an idea strikes you. Maybe you can get out of this early, after all.
“Coryo, Uncle Cas agreed,” you tell him at once. And then make up an excuse and bolt. Anything to get out of here and away from him. “He’s willing to transfer my apprenticeship.”
Coriolanus beams in delight at the news, his eyes twinkling as he takes the initiative to wrap your arm around his. “I’m so happy to hear that, sugarplum. The highlight of my night. Let me take you inside; a lot of people are dying to see you.”
Before you can complain, however, he all but steers you inside the lobby and to the entrance of the Palisades’ grand hall.
“Where exactly are we going, Coryo?” you ask. He never said anything about other people, but maybe they could come in handy in case you need to duck and make a run for it.
He releases a short sigh, looking apologetic and slowing his pace. “I may have forgotten to tell you that we’d be attending Mr Plinth’s birthday party tonight. I’m sorry, sugarplum, I’ve been meaning to invite you in person, but I’ve been so busy lately it slipped my mind.”
Your hand makes its way to your mouth as you gasp. “But haven’t brought him a gift…”
He is quick to dismiss your concern as he waves to someone exiting the hall. “It’s okay. I wrote both our names on the card on my gift.”
“Why would you do that?” you ask, as the massive gold-painted doors open to a grand hall lined with marble and gold, revealing a crowd of people already chatting and enjoying the booze over a full orchestra playing at the corner of the stage. You could feel the blood drain from your face as a sea of curious, ogling eyes trails on you both entering the grand hall, but you power through and smile – there’s no escaping now, at this point.
“I’m simply taking responsibility,” Coriolanus responds in a teasing tone. “Would you rather have come here without a gift?”
You look up at him while you cling onto his arm for some support. He looks every bit at home with all the attention – so undeniably different from the eighteen-year-old Academy Coriolanus fidgeting with his collar all those years ago on the day of the Reaping.
You wonder inwardly if that’s the only thing in him that’s changed, while everything else that’s rotten in him had always been there, if not amplified.
“I guess not,” you acquiesce. “Thank you. Please let me know how I can pay you back.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll think of something,” he says with a lopsided grin.
Coriolanus’s arm veers you to Mr and Ma Plinth, who are both entertaining guests. You give Mr Plinth your well-wishes for his birthday and get a motherly hug from Ma, who gushes over how ‘you look every bit like a princess.’
“My sons sure have excellent taste,” she tells Coriolanus with a wink, earning a hearty laugh from him before she pulls him into an affectionate embrace.
The dress. She’s referring to the dress for sure.
But just when you think you’re finally free to just face the farthest corner and disassociate, his arm wraps around your waist and leads you away to meet other people. People you’d rather not associate with.
The horror.
But as usual, you paint on the demurest of smiles, trying not to be fazed by the flashing of cameras in the hall. The party is apparently heavily covered by the media, so Coriolanus does his best to mesmerise everyone with his wit, his looks and his charisma, while you play the role of the dolled-up, docile arm décor, beaming and chiming in only when spoken to.
It’s nothing short of demeaning, but you’re here to play his game, and losing isn’t an option.
Coriolanus proudly introduces you to everyone you meet as his official gamemaker apprentice, much to their admiration. A lot of them, powerful, important heads in the Capitol and their children, some of whom you know by face at the University. Most of them, unfamiliar faces, but they feel the need to give you unsolicited advice – somewhere along the lines of being seen more among peers of the same societal status.
“How come we don’t see you out that often?”
“You’re so pretty, you should go out more and have fun!”
“Nellie, we usually hang out at this bar, it’s super exclusive, you should come with us sometime.”
The same thing, over and over, and you just go along, nodding or shaking your head and laughing whenever a joke is told, crack a few yourself, exchange toasts over minuscule sips of booze, and tell them through gritted teeth that you’ll see them around, only to be snatched away again by the waist by Coriolanus and be brought over to another clique. Your Uncle Cas would be laughing his ass off at you if he could see you right now.
The cycle goes on, and you find yourself getting better at it with practice. Just like a loop, repeating a set of code for x number of times, automating repetitive, boring tasks on a computer application.
The only problem with loop conditions: when poorly written, can lead to infinite loops, which can cause the application’s unresponsiveness.
You vaguely wonder how long this loop is conditioned to last.
A guy you’ve seen in one of your classes approaches you and strikes up a conversation, just when Coriolanus is looking away, his hand slack on your waist as he speaks with a Mr Rutherford.
“I read your paper on the application of artificial intelligence in automating retina-scanning and other security measures,” he says, adding for clarification when you flash him a questioning look, “It’s in the library, along with your other research papers. It’s so well put together.”
He holds out his hand as he introduces himself as Ovidius Browne, the youngest of three sons of business magnate Octavius Browne. The Brownes own a number of factories in District 6. You shake his outstretched hand. He reveals himself to be in his junior year in computer engineering, a career he decided to take to help improve their company’s factory conditions. He wonders if such levels of automation would be possible in basic manufacturing tasks like quality inspection and inventory scanning without taking jobs away or being too invasive to factory workers. It’s a terrific concept, you say, and you get so pumped with exchanging ideas that you forget to put up your facade and instead engage wholeheartedly, at least until a cold hand travels from the back of your neck down to your spine, settling on the small of your back and tracing circles with a finger.
“Browne, is it?” Coriolanus Snow’s baritone chips in.
You introduce them formally and they exchange a brief and polite handshake.
“I’d like to discuss more of that with you Ms Innis,” Ovidius says. “If we could perhaps exchange numbers – ”
“Of course, we’d love to chat, Mr Browne. I can give Nellie your office number and she’ll get in touch,” Coriolanus interrupts genially. His fingers are still drumming over your back as he continues, “Apologies, I have to take my apprentice away; there is someone I’d like her to meet.”
He grips your waist to pull you away without waiting for a response from either of you.
You shoot him a confused look. “Coryo, he was just – ”
“About to ask you to put in a good word on his behalf to your uncle? Yes, he was.” He says with an eyebrow raised in disapproval.
“But we were just talking about...tech stuff. Are you sure?”
The conversation you had with him didn’t seem like it’ll branch off into that territory.
He nods once. “A little bird may have chirped to me about a certain Browne sibling’s internship application getting rejected twice by the Dean of Computer Sciences. It’s like you said before, sugarplum: just another one of those sycophants complimenting you in exchange for something.”
How much inside information does he have stockpiled on other people? Maybe he keeps them stashed in his closet labelled ‘in case of emergency, break glass.’
Just when you thought you could talk to someone about something you’re genuinely interested in for once this night.
You’re recognised by a surprisingly pleasant, popular senior and it-girl from your college, Ursa Talbot – daughter of Labor Solicitor Ursinus Talbot – who ropes you in with her gaggle of girlfriends, chatting to you about the exclusive, invite-only social clubs she’s joined and offers to vouch for you.
Ursa’s fiancé, a fresh graduate now working for her father, joins in the conversation, rolling his eyes as the women around him start giggling and making suppressed squealing noises at someone behind you. Before you turn around to see who it is, you feel a gentle squeeze on the waist.
“Ladies, my apologies, but I’d have to take my apprentice away,” he declares with a wink, and they swoon and blush behind their hands. “I hope you enjoy the night. Nellie?”
“Yes?”
Like you’re programmed to do, you look at Coriolanus with a cheerful smile and let him haul you off.
He tells you something you don’t quite catch. With the music now reaching its climax and the chatter getting livelier, it becomes hard to hear anyone, so you have no choice but to lean closer to him to make out what he’s saying. He takes this further and tugs you close to his chest by the waist. The proximity makes you inadvertently place a hand on the lapel of his waistcoat, while he whispers to the side of your face close to your ear, “I said I’m going to introduce you to Dr Volumnia Gaul.”
You peer to your side, to where he’s eyeing, and true enough, Dr Gaul herself was there, wearing a purple and gold brocade dress cascading to the floor and leather gloves to match, her straggly, greying hair adding to her distinct look. She’s chatting away with an animated Strabo Plinth holding a dainty drink in one hand and a beetle-shaped clutch in the other.
Even in something as completely innocent and normal as a birthday party, she still stands out against the crowd as a formidable presence.
She’s what you think Coriolanus is trying to be, except for the speaking-in-riddles-and-rhymes part. Wouldn’t it be funny, a snide voice in your head says, if Coriolanus one day just starts saying ‘hippity-hoppity?’
The thought is enough is cheer you up a little bit.
Volumnia Gaul’s mismatched eyes roam over the two of you as you near her spot.
“Dr Gaul, it’s a pleasure to see you tonight. I’m glad you could join us,” he says with a tip of his head. “I know we mustn’t talk of work, but I’m sure you’ll be happy to know I have secured myself the apprentice of my dreams.”
“Mr Snow, what delightful news you bring me,” she drawls toothily. “Oh my, oh my. Prunella Innis!”
Her unnerving gaze lands on you, her gloved fingers lifting your chin as if to get a better look.
Just smile, dammit.
“The apple of young Snow’s eye. I was wondering when we’d get to meet. Finally putting a pretty face to your name is such a treat!” She releases a pleased, throaty chuckle.
You try to keep your voice as steady as you can. “Pleasure to be of your acquaintance, Dr Gaul.”
The grin she has from ear to ear does not extend to her eyes. “Clever little girl, this. I can see why...” she trails off, then flicks an odd, knowing stare at your friend. “Keep your eagle eye on this one, Mr Snow; you wouldn’t want her flying away with her teensy-weensy wings...”
Seeing as this friendly, albeit bizarre banter isn’t in your list of programmed interactions, you settle for the automated smile, careful not to let it falter.
“Of course, Dr Gaul. I’m not planning on letting her go anytime soon,” he responds just as playfully.
Thankfully, the exchange ends there, as you’re both called by party ushers to your table where the Plinth couple are sitting. Odd sitting at the table for what seems to be family and close friends only, but you keep your thoughts to yourself while the ceremony begins. The night goes on with well-wishing speeches from the Plinth senior’s closest friends and colleagues. Then, the dinner courses are served right after an honorary toast for the celebrant. Everything brought to the table by the servers looks expensive and sumptuous – all a grand display of opulence that is the seemingly infinite Plinth fortune.
And yet you find yourself only able to nibble at the food, having your appetite diminished by the stress of interacting with so many people in just less than two hours.
“You’ve barely eaten anything,” Coriolanus’s voice floats from beside you. His eyes are laced with worry as he asks, “Can I get you anything you’d like?”
Plus, having to deal with him dragging you from one place to another.
You shake your head once and assure him you’re fine. You partake of the food a little more when the dessert course comes around, much to his approval.
“I’d hate to see my sugarplum getting sick,” he says as he watches you eat a tiny forkful of birthday cake.
This you ignore in favour of savouring the cake’s decadent caramel frosting and rich custard filling, balanced with an airy lemon-and-orange-flower chiffon base. You figure if you can’t have fun tonight, the least you can do is enjoy the cake.
With the food out the way, more booze comes flowing, and it isn’t long before the orchestra plays a lively tune, and the dance floor gets filled with delighted, slightly inebriated guests waltzing and tapping to the beat, and while Strabo doesn’t join in, he and Ma both look thrilled to see everyone in high spirits, before they’re pulled separately into light chit-chat by their friends.
If Sejanus was here now, you’d both be sulking together in a corner of the grand hall sharing what would’ve been your third slice of cake, arguing over who gets the side with more frosting.
You take advantage of this moment to extricate yourself from everyone – mostly Coriolanus and his imposing presence – and excuse yourself to the powder room. Locking yourself inside a bathroom stall, you let out a drawn-out exhale of absolute relief.
Alone, finally.
You gaze wistfully at the bathroom window to your left. It’s too high for your reach, but you figure you could use one of the large potted plants as a booster and get as far away from this place as you possibly can, even if you had to go on foot.
Groaning to yourself, you stew in the fact that this freedom of yours from your deviously charming companion is short-lived. He’d soon be wondering where you’d gone, and he’d likely tear the place down just so he could find you. You doubt he’d appreciate it if he hears that you’ve locked yourself in a bathroom stall plotting your escape.
The dancing is on full blast as you step back into the grand hall. You make yourself as inconspicuous as you can, strategically darting between people to reach the open bar. You choose a bar stool that conceals you from everyone in the room and order a drink on impulse. The bartender is kind enough to humour your request for an alcohol-free concoction, which he serves with maraschino cherries on a toothpick.
“Rough night?” he asks as he wipes a glass, smiling sympathetically at you. With his greying hair and the lines on the corner of his eyes, he seems to be wearier than you are, probably from having to be at the beck and call of thirsty, snotty Capitol High Society all night.
“Very,” you sigh. “I hope it isn’t as rough as yours.”
“Are you kiddin’ me?” he shakes his head with a chortle. “I had a lady just a few clicks ago demand I make the same drink four times because she wanted a Cosmo without the cranberry juice and the lime. Coulda just ordered a shot of vodka and Cointreau, but what do I know...”
You let out a suppressed, dry laugh. “I’m sorry you to had deal with that. Thanks for the drink, it’s delicious.”
“Eh. It’s nothin',’” he shrugs. A server enters behind the bar and whispers something to him, and he promptly takes his apron off and exits, but not before bidding you a good night. He is replaced by someone younger and more stern-looking, who resumes the abandoned task of wiping the other glasses.
Just as you’re about to bite a cherry off the toothpick, a sudden waft of roses floats in your vicinity, followed by a cold hand on your lower back and an airy baritone whisper over your ear.
“I was afraid you had walked out on me.”
Coriolanus Snow’s lopsided grin is inches away from your face as he leans against the counter beside you, his eyes eventually landing on the drink you’re still halfway through finishing.
“Hmm. What would my sugarplum be drinking liquid courage for?”
You shake your head. “This is alcohol-free.”
“Good.” He straightens his posture to full height and, bending to a stiff, formal bow, he extends a hand and asks, “Prunella Innis, may I please have the honour of this dance?”
You hesitate, but knowing that every move you make is now under public scrutiny, saying no and leaving him out to dry isn’t an option.
He sweeps you away to the dance floor as soon as your fingers touch his.
With the orchestra blaring their lovely rendition of Strauss II’s Voices of Spring, you both begin swaying lightly as you place your palms on his shoulder while his hands encase both sides of your waist.
Coriolanus beams down on you as his cobalt eyes search your face.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice mixed with a tiny tinge of concern. “I really hope I haven’t overwhelmed you, I know you never liked these kinds of parties.”
Your lips thin to a wry smile. “It’s a change of scenery, alright,” you admit. “What about you? You look like you’re having the time of your life.”
His eyes twinkle as he lets out a throaty chuckle. “That’s only because I brought good company with me.”
“Really? I thought this was your whole scene.”
“Well, if you keep going with me to the next ones, it might just be.”
His air of mischief continues even as the music ends and you join in applauding the musicians. When he doesn’t make a move to cart you off the dance floor, that’s when you figure out he isn’t done dancing with you just yet.
The orchestra begins their rendition of the Snowstorm waltz, so you both exchange a curtsy, as is the norm. With his hand clasping yours and his other hand on your waist, you begin to dance, spinning and waltzing to the beat. You’re aware you shouldn’t be making a big deal out of something as trivial as a dance, but you’re still unable to meet his eyes, afraid of what you might find. You settle for staring at his tux collar and concentrating on your footwork.
Thank goodness those etiquette classes in your early teens are proving to be worth your uncle’s money.
Soon enough, your surroundings become a blur, and all you can see is him, beaming down at you as you dip, then pulling you flush to his chest so he can spin with you some more. His gaze is heavy, feverish, never leaving your face. You see a split-second flash of the entire hall, which throws you further into a daze, discovering that eyes are trained on you both and most of the dancers have vacated the floor to give you room. The heady smell of roses, courtesy of the one pinned to his lapel, blurs your sense of reality, and you beg, you pray, that you don’t hurl what little food you ate and make a fool out of yourself. He angles his head in time to another dip and he whispers to ear in a low voice.
“You’re so intoxicatingly beautiful.”
Then he pulls you close again, your foreheads almost touching as he drinks all of you in with those half-lidded blue eyes. A few more trots on the floor and the waltz ends, and you curtsy as he bows, trying not to show just how lightheaded you are and how shallow your breathing is despite the dance itself being undemanding. The animated applause that follows echoes in the hall, and you join in mechanically.
Guests come milling in pairs to fill the dance floor once more just as the next waltz plays. Coriolanus entwines his fingers with yours.
“Come with me,” he says vaguely, and you both manoeuvre your way through the dancers and ignore some of the whispering and the staring that follows you as you exit the grand hall through the several ceiling-to-ceiling doors made of glass panels. He leads you down to the marble staircase and into the hotel’s expansive inner gardens.
“I figured you needed the fresh air,” he says as soon as you both reach a wall beside a well-manicured hedge, away from leering eyes and all the gossiping.
Your posture sags against the stone wall, letting out an exhausted exhale. “Thank you,” you say.
He just watches you wordlessly, his hands behind his back, as you compose yourself. When your head clears, you become aware that you’ve strayed a tad too far from the grand hall and are a little too alone with him than you’d prefer. Eventually, you straighten, your decision to go back to the party already made.
But Coriolanus is on you the moment you do.
“I want to show you something,” he says.
He gives you no time to complain, and he all but drags you by the arm further into a dimmer section of the garden, where you can barely hear the music and the chatter from the grand hall. A few more steps and you reach a large stone greenhouse covered wall-to-wall in creeping wisteria. Surprisingly, it’s unlocked, so he easily pushes the opaque glass door open and ushers you in first, with him following closely behind.
“The roses are to your far right.”
You hear the door’s dull click as it closes.
You shouldn’t be here, you think. But you get to the edge of the greenhouse, anyway, where the nearly overwhelming odour of a mishmash of different types of roses invades your nostrils. Despite the very little light coming through the opaque glass panels of the enclosure, you see the flowers sprawled in between a narrow path leading to the back of the building. Just more stone and glass panels, no doors.
No exits. No escape.
Your heart leaps to your throat when you feel a warm breath tickle the back of your neck and a pair of arms snake around your form. Tensing up in an instant, your breath hitches when that warmth reaches your ear.
Coriolanus’s deep, hushed tone sends shivers down your spine.
“I’ve been dying to have you all to myself the moment you stepped out of that car.”
In the blink of an eye, he turns you around and captures your lips with his.
It takes a while for you to realise what he’s doing, so he takes advantage of your momentary unresponsiveness and slips his tongue inside your mouth. As he’s moving his tongue all over yours, your back hits a hard surface. He’s pinned you against the stone wall, his body hunched over as he presses himself on yours, giving you no space to slip through or to push him away. His hand wraps around the side of your head to change the angle, allowing him to deepen the kiss.
Coriolanus Snow is kissing you, passionately and possessively, and he kisses like he’s running out of breath and you’re his only source of air.
And all you could do in your state of denial, paralysis, and fear is to close your eyes and wish he was Sejanus instead.
When he shifts his angle, you tilt your head to the side so you can catch your breath. Perhaps he sees this as an act of defiance, for he cups both your cheeks with a growl, making you face him, and goes back to kissing you just as fiercely as before. This time, you instinctively keep your lips shut, but a light nip of his teeth leaves you gasping in surprise, enabling him to tangle both your tongues.
Your hands manage to wedge between your bodies, so you push him away with all the strength you have. As he reluctantly pulls away, he has the gall to look affronted, but you could’ve slapped him, too, or clawed his eyes out for putting you in such a vulnerable position; only reason prevents you from lashing out.
“I’m sorry, sugarplum. I’ve had quite the drink tonight,” he whispers breathlessly, resting his forehead on your temple.
Liar. You can barely smell anything alcohol-related on him; just the sickening scent of the flowers he’s partial to. This is all just a part of the game to him, to make you feel isolated and powerless against him. A play for power and control, and one he’s currently winning.
“We should go, Coryo.” You hate how close to begging your voice sounds. “Please, it’s a school day tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow is Saturday.”
Fuck.
Of all the excuses, that’s what you come up with?
He begins planting butterfly kisses on your temple and your cheek.
“Not for my uncle,” you scramble to correct yourself. “He often has Saturday classes and I sometimes help.”
“Skip it. You’re my apprentice now. Mine,” he says sternly. He seems to immediately amend his tone by asking, “I mean, doesn’t he have interns for that?”
Damn it.
“Yes, he does.”
You could feel him smirk against your cheek, seemingly counting this as a win. With you still effectively trapped in between the wall and his unrelenting embrace, he takes your chin with his forefinger and thumb to make you face him and latches his lips on yours.
His hand finds its way to your back, brushing against the groove of your spine. He then grips the back of your neck and turns your head to the side, allowing him to leave a trail of open-mouthed kisses on your jaw, before moving down to the column of your neck.
You cave in and beg as soon as you feel his tongue on your skin.
“Coryo, please...please stop...”
It comes out as a broken whimper, making you hate yourself even more. The dread you felt when you opened his gift, the way you had to put on a mask that you hate for people you don’t care for, the way you had to pretend to him that you don’t despise how he kept making you feel so exposed and defenceless the entire night – everything you’ve been bottling up since this morning seemed to come spilling into that plea, rendering you to feel even more helpless and alone. It takes every ounce of self-control in you not to burst into tears.
You’re not supposed to act this pathetically in front of him, but here you are.
His grip on you grows slack and he draws his head back to observe you, his jaw clenched in disapproval. You don’t care; you try to wriggle away from him, your bodies still too close for your liking. You still refuse to meet his eyes, because if you do, he might see right through your crumbling facade.
He sighs and takes a full step backwards, finally giving you space to breathe in relief.
He still finds the nerve to let out a restrained chuckle. “I’m sorry, I let my emotions get the better of me. You’re right; this is neither the time nor the place.”
Neither the time nor the place. Does that mean he’ll do it again? At this point, you can’t bring yourself to care.
“Can we go back? Please?”
He takes your hand in his with a nod. Stepping outside the greenhouse, you both stop in your tracks as you spot another couple nearby, seemingly trying to stay hidden in the bushes and in the middle of making out. It’s Ursa and her fiancé. They both pull away from each other and Ursa waves at you spiritedly while her partner looks away in embarrassment. She then drags him by the arm to the now-vacant greenhouse, both of them bursting into a giddy laughing fit.
Coriolanus just smirks at the sight. With him refusing to let your hand go, you continue your trek back to the grand hall, where the party is still in full swing, and the guests are still drinking and dancing the night away.
Your feet are sore, your lips are numb, and your soul is drained.
Yet you still put on a good final show until the party ends as if nothing happened. By eleven thirty, Mr and Ma Plinth instruct Coriolanus to call it a night and get some rest, but not before he escorts you home. Like the dutiful Plinth heir he is, he gladly obliges, and that’s how you wind up with the same car ride as he, the tension in the air so thick you could cut it through with a butter knife.
Coriolanus breaks the silence.
“I will have a car escort you from your home the Citadel starting Monday,” he says matter-of-factly. “As per Dr Gaul’s instructions, you will be excused from any summer class you’ve enrolled in.”
“But I took those classes for extra credit,” you protest mildly.
He encases your hand on your lap. “You will be granted full credits for all of them if we succeed. This is, after all, for the cause, not only of the Citadel nor of the Capitol, but of all of Panem.
“This Monday, sugarplum, is the dawn of a new era.”
You refuse point-blank to look at him or even acknowledge the comment, but judging by the excitement in his tone, despite everything he’s forced you to do this night, you already know he’s smiling and extremely pleased with himself.
After long agonising minutes, the car pulls up before the Corso III lobby entrance, so you bid him good night, which he returns with a swift peck on your cheek. You don’t even look back at the car once you get out; you run straight to the elevator, lock your apartment door and head to the safety of your bedroom.
Your first of two tasks as soon as you lock the door is to rid yourself of everything that reminds you of that accursed party – the dress, the shoes, the clutch, the necklace – and chuck them all into a corner where you hope you’d never see them again. You have a half-mind to shower to get rid of his smell on you, but you’re so tired to the bone you move on to the second and last task of the night:
Curl up in your blankets and cry your heart out.
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Enter Level 7
Author notes:
Please reblog and comment, it's always appreciated!!
Next Level will include a portion of the ball in Snowball's POV!! I wanted it to be here but then it'll get too long so...🫣 also reader is going to have to work this incoming Monday lol and more sympathetic I cannot be, esp with Snowball observing 😛
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Sex With Spencer Reid All Seasons (Season 6)
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If you are under the age of 18, please do not read this story. Thank you.
This will cover what I believe sex would be like with Spencer Reid from season 1 to 15. Warning contains adult situations, Sex. Dirty talk, Orgasms, Crying, Spoilers for all seasons and Spencer Reid being a sex God.
Also includes fingering and oral sex. (Female receiving only.)
These are a little bit longer than I anticipated them to be because I wanted to give a back story as to why the sex is the way that it is for each season. To give it in depth feeling of why Spencer was the way that he was in bed that season.  So I will be posting them by each season rather than all at once. I hope this gives you something to look forward to, and please leave comments,  I will be leaving links to the next season below.
You are a new agent at the BAU and Spencer Reid's girlfriend, the one who takes his virginity and has sex with him for all 15 seasons and beyond.
Spencer Reid knew the first time he saw you walk through the doors of the BAU that you were the one that he was going to love forever. The first time you smiled, he knew it was the only smile that he ever wanted to wake up to. The first time he touched your hand, he knew yours was the only hand he ever wanted to hold. The first time he kissed you, he knew your lips were the only ones that he ever wanted to have pressed against his own. and the first time he made love to you, he knew you were the only one he ever wanted to do this with, and he also knew he would never be the same you or his life now, his love and his only desire.
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Season 6
In season six, there is a lot going on. There is the Doyle storyline which really stresses him out since he loves Emily like a sister. And JJ has left again, leaving him to meet new agent Ashley Seaver.
 He gets along with her since she kind of reminds him of JJ. There is also his headaches that he has told no one about except for you. He does eventually tell Emily, but she promises not to tell 
the rest of the team because he doesn't want to be babied. He is also upset that the headaches may be leading to schizophrenia, since his mother has it and that is one of his biggest fears.
There is also the fact that he was told that Emily had been murdered by Ian Doyle. That broke his heart and left him empty. He cried a lot, and you did what you could to try to make him happy. Of course sex was the farthest thing from his mind. So you tried cuddling him, holding him, running your fingers through his short hair.
 The only thing that could comfort him was knowing how much you 
loved him and talking to who he thought he could trust his friend JJ. Not knowing that she was in fact the one that made the whole lie up. Of course she was only doing it to save Emily's life, 
but it still hurts Spencer knowing that the one person that he could trust (other than you) had lied to him and hurt him more than anyone ever could. He was so bothered by the fact that he thought Emily 
was dead that he almost went back to diladid, something that he never even told you that he was considering. You tried to be there for him and made sure that he ate, drank and got some 
sleep, but never knew that he was thinking of going back to the drug that almost destroyed the two of you.
During this time a lot of other things had happened, such as Spencer asked you to marry him since the loss of Emily, he wanted to make sure that he didn't lose the one person that meant 
the most to him in this world You. He asked you over a candlelit dinner in your shared apartment. It was the most romantic proposal you could have ever hoped for. He got down on 
one knee, despite the fact that he had recently recovered from his knee injury. As soon as he asked you, you jumped out of your chair with tears in your eyes and screamed " Yes" the man that 
you have loved for the past six years has finally made you his. He slid the heart-shaped diamond onto your finger, picked you up and spun you around with tears forming in his own eyes. He 
kissed you passionately on the lips and carried you to your shared bedroom where he made love to you for the next three hours. Sure there was some time in between the rounds of passionate 
love making, but that gave you to an opportunity to admire your ring, talk about the future and be so happy together. He is also a lot more confident in season six, despite everything that he has gone through.
When he is with you solely focusing on your lives together and how happy you are is the only time his head really stops pounding. It may still be hurting just as bad. He just doesn't notice it 
because he's blissfully happy with you. 
He is also a lot more confident in the bedroom now. He knows exactly what makes you happy and gets a little bit cockier sometimes. Like when he's licking you and you start moaning 
uncontrollably, running your hands through his hair. Instead of asking you if he's doing it right, he's smirks and says "I know you love it baby."  "Can't get enough of me can you?"  "You know I love being the only man that can do this to you right?"  and when he is inside of you he says things like "That's right. Just relax. I've got you." "You're so wet Is all of this for me?" "You take me so well, it's like we were meant to be together." 
and it drives you wild and he loves it.
Despite the fact that you are now engaged to Spencer and He has gotten more adventurous with sex. You can sense that Ashley Seaver Is into him and rightfully so. your fiancé is sexiest man to ever live. Not to mention sweet, kind, loving and smart.
The way she asks Spencer things about her father, it makes comments about how he can remember everything. You know that Spencer would never ever cheat on you, but still this girl is making a play for your man. You began making a point of making sure that whenever you were around her, you would kiss Spencer, hold his hand, rub your hand up and down his back.
So one day on the jet on the way home, you whispered in Spencer's ear as You both sat on the jet couch. "Meet me in the bathroom".
To which his eyes widened and he grabbed your hand saying "we can't do that. The Jets full of our coworkers."
You looked around the jet and saw that the whole team was sleeping.
"You mean all of our coworkers that are sleeping? No one will know I just have to have you baby. You know what you do to me".
So Spencer gets up and you both slowly walk to the bathroom. You pull off your pants and underwear and Spencer does the same. He easily slides inside of you as you are so wet for him.
"How are you already so wet?" He asks you. as Is he slides right in While also kissing your neck.
The sex feels so amazing despite the fact that it's in a jet bathroom. You both can't help but let out your moans, hoping that no one on the jet will hear it. Well you kind of hope that at least one person on the jet hears it.
After you both orgasm, moaning loudly. Spencer helps you get cleaned up and you both put your pants and underwear back on. You walk out of the jet bathroom and you see Morgan cracking an eye open. "Way to go pretty boy. I can't say I'm not proud of you."
Spencer's face turns cherry red from embarrassment, but you look over at Ashley and hope that she heard it, knowing that you are the one and only woman that Spencer Reid will ever love.
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fireheartwraith · 10 months
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🚨🚨QSMP SPOILERS!!!🚨🚨
Some people are confused about what happened today, so I'll try to break it down (additions welcome!)
Cellbit got really mad with Maxo and Forever about the prank, and then even more mad when them and Richarlyson tried to blackmail him to take it down. My twitch crashed around this part, so this may not have been exactly what happened, but the gist of it is thar Cellbit feels like he got betrayed by the people he trusted the most.
He said something about "if they went looking for my past, they are going to get it," alluding to his character in the TazerCraft series Fuga Impossível. F!Cellbit was a prisoner in a max security prison that committed some war crimes to escape it. We already knew that Q!Cellbit was F!Cellbit after therapy (the picture of him in the prisoner outfit, mentions to him being a cannibal, etc)
Today there was going to be an audience with Cucurucho regarding the creative items from the super computer next to Luzu's house in Forever's possession. Cellbit was supposed to be his lawyer. The initial argument was the the computer was broken by the Federation itself while they were trying to stop them from messing with it. The items were floating near the floor when Forever took them, so he didn't break the rules to acquire them, and if the Federation wants them back they'll need to give the players something in return. After some arguing Forever asked for a diamond chestplate with protection VIII to give to Richarlyson. This what the audience was about.
However, Cellbit turned on Forever and told Cucurucho that he had broken the rules by harboring forbidden items and that he deserved to be punished. In return for his help, Cellbit wanted 100% paternity rights to Richarlyson and for Forever to be forbidden from coming within 100 blocks of Richas. Cucurucho determined that there will be a trial to decide who gets Richarlyson. Unclear how Richas' four other dads will play into this (especially since one of them is missing since he was taken by the Federation)
Forever was keeping the creative items in an enderchest. From now on, enderchests are forbidden within the QSMP.
Cellbit went to get support for his claim on Richarlyson from Maximus and Roier using unconventional means. With Maxo, he changed SOFIA's password and is blackmailing him. To Roier, he said he would try and use his newfound trust within the Federation to get Bobby back. We don’t know if he was sincere.
Forever went to BadBoyHalo for help. BBH agreed to testify on his side. Forever was also worried that Cellbit would have an advantage because he is more skilled in English, so BBH will also help with that.
Cellbit was talking with Richarlyson and explaining that he was now allied with the Federation when a code attacked them. Richarlyson managed to teleport to where Forever was, and he activated projected 13, locking both Richas and Pomme in their rooms. Cellbit was killed by the code entity. The entity's name translated to 'C' proving that a) the codes work against the Federation; and b) Cellbit was the target, not Richarlyson (or Pomme).
A meeting of Ordo Theoritas was held. Forever, BadBoyHalo, Maximus, Roier, and Baghera were in attendance. They discussed the night's events and Cellbit's possible motivations. Forever said that he wants to believe that Cellbit has a bigger plan and wants to investigate/take down the Federation from the inside, but that he doesn't know if he can trust Cellbit after his stunt with Richarlyson. Regardless of his motives, the order will try to save Cellbit and gather allies for whatever is to come.
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pepper-mintzyy · 3 months
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WELCOME TO THE 3RD AND LAST [not really] SESSION FOR THE PISSA LAB AU! If you don't know what I'm talking about here's the link to the previous session and then some. Also notice there were some mistakes on grammar, words, and spellings-- sorry. Another thing if your interested in seeing more content on my AU's look up the 'qsmp au' tag on my blog and you will find all the brain-rotting I have put up here.
ANYWAY! ON WITH THE FINAL SESSION FOR THIS AU! [at least until I am able to share more]
Okay! Thinking this might be a bit short but we shall see. But lets move on to some drama. Specifically Missa and Forever drama. Yes he's in this AU. NOW-- gathering notes from my old rant over at the discord here- I mentioned before that Missa has somewhat of a special ability to create bonds with hybrids on a level that is almost like a fuckin disney movie. Give the man a hybrid to work with and do research on and you will see said hybrid cling and follow Missa around like a puppy within a minimum of 2 months. 3 months max. It's why he's placed in the hybrid research department when Cucurucho took notice of this talent, and it's the very reason why he was offered Phil in the first place. Now this event took place during a meeting in the grand meeting room just below Rucho' office, here he summoned all the diamond ranking workers from all the departments. Missa being one of them. 'How long did it take Phil-?' I ain't answering that question, moving on. UvU
To congratulate, and test, Missa, Rucho brought Phil to him as a gift for reaching diamond rank and to simply see how the man would react to see-- a familiar face. Now Missa has worked with other avians before, as mentioned in the previous session, so this should be fine. Its just another avian he has to look after... Right? But no, its not JUST another avian, this was someone Missa had seen before, someone similar. Someone he thinks he cherished as a friend, and someone Forever valued. You can probably take a guess at where I'm going with this but let's keep going for now =]
If you've stalked my blog and hunted down all the posts I made about my au's you will find particular asks about Brunim being part of this AU etc etc. YES he is here! And yes, Brunim was indeed under Forever's care. I can hear the gun in your hand- relax. SO, when Phil was showed to everyone, mainly Missa, inside the meeting room, did Forever jump to ask Rucho if he could take Phil under his care instead? Yes, yes he did. But was denied due to his- work history. Now before you go feral hear me out, Forever in this AU is known for gaining his status through money and cheating. Forever isn't all that successful with any of the projects given to him, specifically the ones what involve watching and taking care of another living being. To which Forever doesn't view as living beings at all. Forever in this AU is cruel and selfish, he sees hybrids as monsters, subjects, tools, stepping stools for his own success. Everything that goes against Missa's moral code. Everything that Missa fights against and despises.
Do you see the drama yet? No? Okay let's keep going. [This session aint short for shit-] Missa, albeit a bit hesitant, accepts Rucho's offer and took Phil under his care. But you know this part of the lore already, what you don't know is how Forever reacted, and the history between the two scientists and their war with each other. Buckle up. Now as I mentioned Missa was hesitant to take on this project, for reasons I won't disclose cause spoilers, but he took the risks and accepted, this made Forever MAD. Listen to me, he was FURIOUS, but not for the reasons you might think. Here's where the core of the drama/war between two reside. [Or at least SOME context of it]
Missa gained his status and power through hard work, perseverance, courage, and maybe a tiny bit of luck that he took advantage on and got to where he is now. Forever gained his status through money, cheating, and even going far as to use the work his assistants made and called his own. Before I go on, I'd like to add that Missa came in 2 years later after Forever had recently reached Gold ranks, and he was Forever PREVIOUS assistant...let that sink in. SO, how does this explain the war? The hate between the two? Why is there hate to begin with? I'll tell you. Jealousy. There is no other explanation than that. Forever is jealous of what Missa has, what he's achieved in the span of let's say 4 years. 4 years of working here in the company and Missa has achieved SO MUCH all on his own where as Forever has only barely done anything that was in his own name or anything that didn't involve money. Here he is staring at someone who used to work under him getting, not only promoted, but getting a gift that he wants. Something he's twisted mind thinks he can use to right past wrongs. Wrongs that CANNOT be fixed just because he's found a substitute.
==============
Sorry I'm checking the rants I made on discord that I could add here? But I can't? Cause all of it is SPOILERS for the fic- DAMMIT! HAHAHAHA-- I can't add more! Nooo haha! Well that's fine. This has gone on long enough anyway, hope you all enjoyed this final [again not really] session on Lab AU aka "The Safety of Your Arms"
I'm still in the process of making the fic so if you're wondering why you can't find it on AO3 it's because its in within the 5 different google docs I have stored away-- ANYWAY! Thanks for reading, if you made this far-- until the next session o/
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lees-chaotic-brain · 4 months
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Vacation (Nanami x Reader)
Part four of the you die in Shibuya mini-series
CW: angst, death, injury, jjk season two spoilers
YDIS Mini-Series Masterlist | JJK Masterlist | Blog Navigation
Taglist: @starlightanyaaa @unforgettabie (let me know in the comments or send me an ask if you want to get added)
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There have only been three times that Nanami Kento has truly not been in control of his emotions. The first took place when he was in high school, and his best friend died before his eyes. The second took place mere hours ago, when he found Ijichi’s crumpled body on the ground. And the third?
Well the third was right now.
Right now as he knelt over your charred body, ignoring his own severe injuries. Just how cruel could fate be, making him watch as his beloved was incinerated before him because he wasn’t fast enough?
In disbelief he reached out and touched your cheek. Your skin made a dull crackling sound and stuck to his fingers when he pulled them away. You didn’t move. You didn’t breathe. He leaned down and pressed his ear to your chest, searching for a heartbeat.
In that vast and terrible silence, his imagination began to fill it with the steady thump of your heartbeat, the reassuring whoosh of air entering and leaving your lungs. Because you couldn’t be dead. He simply couldn’t comprehend it. He had bought that diamond ring for you mere days ago. You hadn’t worn it yet. He had awoken this morning to your warm body in his arms. He couldn’t accept a world where you wouldn’t be back in his arms at the end of the day.
Eventually the imaginary sound of your breathing was replaced by the sound of waves lapping on a beach, and his last thread of sanity snapped.
Of course none of this was happening. He merely had a bad dream while napping on the beach. The two of you had honeymooned in Malaysia. You were waiting for him in the beachfront hut the two of you had purchased. All he had to do was travel this last stretch of beach and he’d be back with you forever.
Staggering to his feet he began the long trek back to you, stumbling and twirling in an elaborate and deadly dance as he went. Unaware of anything happening in the real world, his body functioned on autopilot. Unrelenting in his determination to reach you, he ignored reality until finally, finally, he was so close to reaching you. But something stopped him and drew him back into the real world momentarily.
“N-Nanamin?”
A quiet broken voice broke his trance. Blankly, he stared at the teenage boy who had spoken. The boy seemed familiar…right. His name was Itadori. Itadori took another shaky step forward.
“Nanamin?”
Suddenly everything came crashing back onto Nanami. Looking away, he closed his eyes, willing all the memories away and waiting to be reunited with you. Exhaling deeply, he relaxed, preparing to be at peace, but a pair of familiar hands cupped his cheeks.
His eyes snapped open, and once more he found himself gazing into your beautiful ones.
Breathing your name, he reached out and attempted to touch your face, but you stepped back before his fingers brushed your smooth, unmarred cheek.
“My love.”
You gazed at him with such love, Nanami felt a great gaping pit in his chest.
“You’re not done yet. Help our Itadori one more time.”
Nanami’s eyes widened and you smiled sweetly at him.
“You’ve got this.”
From behind you, Haibara shot him a thumbs up. As the two of you began to disappear Nanami’s best friend called out to him.
“We’ll be waiting for you!
Taking a deep breath, Nanami turned slowly and offered Itadori Yuji some final words of encouragement.
“Itadori.”
He rasped with a comforting smile, gazing upon the boy he cherished like his own son.
“I’ll leave the rest to you.”
And with those words, he departed to join you and Haibara on an eternal vacation.
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quigonswife8 · 1 year
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New home: Namor x reader
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warnings: wakanda forever spoilers, swearing, death.
-
The world around you is so much different than the surface world. Life is different. The atmosphere is different. People thrive in this kingdom, people are happy. K’uk’ulkan’s people, which now includes you. It's so beautiful, more than the surface world.
When his people had arrived on the bridge, to kill the 'scientist' the words 'i'll go, just let the princess live' fell from your lips. So quick it was like you hadn't even said it. Still they had agreed, and brought you to his- K’uk’ulkan’s kingdom.
"Holy shit."
Riri's eyes, widened, her expression was full of panic but awe. You couldn't contain the awe on your expression either. You'd found the place to be beautiful, and felt drawn to it.
When he had called for you to see him, an outfit was held out for you. Then you had told Riri to stay and 'stay calm', before leaving to speak to the ruler.
When you met, he’d smiled at you, and it was like all your defences came crashing down, and all you could do was look at him with wide eyes.
His words had snapped you out of your 'trance', which only returned when he had shown you his kingdom. Something you had never witnessed before- words couldn't even describe it.
"This is why I must kill the scientist."
Those words. Words that should have scared you, brought your defences back up...but they didn't. 'Cause all you could do was be on his side. He'd had a way with words, but you could see where he was coming from at the same time.
He'd suffered too long, and only wanted to protect his people.
You'd been pulled into the world of the Wakandan's when the queen had hired you for your technological skills, much like shuri. Just not as advanced as her.
The queen had found your skills to be an asset, and had offered to let you work there because they'd needed 'as much help', despite already havcing a lot of help.
Shuri had become a close friend pretty much straightaway: you'd been there for support when her brother passed, to let her vent to scream to cry. She considered you like a sibling...but you knew it would never be the same as her relationship with her brother, or even Okoye, or Nakia.
Still, after all these years, you felt like an outsider. Which you knew you shouldn't have been feeling like. Never really having someone who understand you...until Namor. Who understood that you knew what it was like to be an outsider amongst others, who only wanted to do what was right.
Namor sits next to you. One hand on his knee, the other by his side. His eyes on you.
"I just want to do what's right for my people..."
Pushing your cape away slightly, you adjust your position.
"...I understand you, Namor. I...understand what that's like..."
He is intrigued. He'd expected you to get annoyed.
"...for most of my life..." you begin, looking up at the ceiling, water reflecting off it like diamonds. "...i've been an outsider. So when I was asked to come and work for wakanda, for the queen, I thought I would feel like less of an outsider.."
Memories of years past flicker in your mind. The times where you'd been privy to conversations between the wakandan's, your friends, had felt special. Only now, thinking back, you still had been an outsider.
"...but I'm not any less of an outsider than when I was before. I’ve…never felt like I’ve belonged..."
You look at him, expecting him to be bored...but there's a look. A look of something in his eyes that says otherwise. He looks down at the water, sighing.
"...I'm sorry you've felt that way, but I understand you (y/n). I know what that is like."
He doesn't look away from the water, but he still pays attention to you.
"...I thought all surface dwellers were different...but it seems like we are more alike than I thought."
Then, he looks at you again, and a smile flickers onto his lips.
You were soon rescued [well not really rescued, since you'd gone willingly] after that, and you hadn’t seen K’uk’ulkan again until he attacked Wakanda. Killing the queen, destroying the rest of Shuri's family, separating Wakanda, forcing you all to flee.
Still as you had stood at the queen's funeral, all you could think about was the feathered serpent god. Hell you were angry for what he did, but at the same time, you'd felt conflicted. Wanting to yell, scream at him, but wanting to give him another chance. Like the chance he had offered you.
When the fight happened between his people, and the wakandan's, he'd been seperated crashing on the desert with Shuri. So you had followed wanting to make sure the princess- the new black panther- would be alright...but also wanting to make sure K’uk’ulkan wouldn't be killed.
By the end of it Shuri had spared him, and he'd yielded. You can still remember that look on his face when he'd seen you standing there...
"I yield."
Shuri nods, and then drops the spear. Offering a hand, which he takes.
Shuri glances over at you, a smile falling on her lips, then she nods. You give her a thumbs up, the other hand pressed to your side to relieve pressure on the large cut running down your side.
You look away from her, then to Namor. Who's standing in the water, but the look on his face makes you absent-mindedly smile.
He nods towards you, and then disappears into the water. It's now that Shuri comes up to you, her hands moving to rest on your arms.
"…I did it…"
You smile.
"I'm proud of you, Shuri."
After the treaty had been signed everything slowly resumed to normal. Wakanda returned to normal, you could all heal. That was all that mattered. Though you couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. No, someone.
[back to 2nd person pov]
The winged god remains in your thoughts, in your dreams, even though it's been weeks. You miss him-despite everything, you miss him. Like crazy. That you wish he would show up one day, would be able to convince you to join him.
Which is what he'd offered you…but maybe his mind has changed.
-
It's a beautiful night. You sit near the shore in silence, hands pressing into the sand softly. Shuri had let you take a few days off to finish healing, though no amount of time would ever heal the wounds you have.
Head tilted back, eyes to at the sky, a sigh falls from your lips. The water has always been calming, to you. Maybe that's why being in K’uk’ulkan’s kingdom sorrounded by water made you feel that more connected. How it had called to you.
Crash. the waves crash, loud. You pull your eyes away from the sky, instead to look at the water. It's dark, but you are still able to see pretty clearly.
Then your eyes go wide, and you scramble to your feet unable to contain the surprise that's so clearly on your face, and through your body language.
A figure emerges from the ocean, silhoutette blanketted by the darkness. The figure walks towards you, a hand pushing back some hair. Then they stop at the edge of the shore, watching as you step back a moment.
"…K’uk’ulkan?"
You want to hug him but refrain from doing so. Instead standing there taking him in since it's been weeks.
"…I…"
The winged god steps out of the water. Brings himself in front of you and you catch how his eyes sparkle in the moonlight.
"…didn't think i'd see you again."
He chuckles, his head lifting up a little.
"I would never leave without saying goodbye…"
and you realise he's right. He wouldn't do that.
"…so…" you reply, a pang of sadness hitting you in the chest.
"This is goodbye…for good?"
Of course it is. Though it's nice he'd come and say goodbye before leaving, at least. Or…that's what you think. He moves closer, bringing a hand out for you to take.
"(y/n)…" once he's holding your hand, he starts to trace lines on your palm.
"…when I offered you to come and live with me, with my people, I was not lying…"
He flicks his eyes back to you.
"…when everything happened I had wondered if you had changed your mind…but I have not."
He moves closer, closing your hand.
"…if you would like to, the offer is still open. I would love to have you in my kingdom, as one of my people."
Then, he lets your hand go, and takes a step back waiting for your answer. Which doesn't come straightaway because you're too busy standing there in shock.
He actually wants you to live there? He thinks you deserve that? K’uk’ulkan trusts you enough to let him back into his kingdom, to live rather than to visit?
He has never trusted surface dwellers, until you. You became the first he trusted, wanted to have in his kingdom. Which doesn't happen at all.
"…you will not be an outsider with me…"
After a moment you take a step towards him, glancing back.
Back through where you had come from, where Shuri had dropped you off. Had wished you well. If you would do this you would be leaving everyone, leaving your home, those you loved. If you join him you'll rarely see Shuri, or anyone else for that matter.
Though when you think back to the times you felt like an outsider, you remember feeling like you belonged more when you had been in that cave with him. All the times you'd seen eachother you'd belonged. Something you have craved for many years.
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yandere-writer-momo · 10 months
Note
Did you do Yandere Hector Doyle headcannons? If not may you please do it? ☺️
I think I’ve done like 3 different head canons in Doyle tbh but we can do then again!
I didn’t forget, I just had a hard time deciding what to do for this one.
SPOILERS!
Yandere Baki Head Canons
Hector Doyle edition
Doyle with a master thief s/o. I think it’s a fun idea
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Hector Doyle
You’re a thief. The best of the best. You’ve been a part of numerous large scale heists and you’ve stolen billions of dollars. But this was the first mission you’ve ever had that didn’t involve money. Your mission was to break out a death row convict out of a maximum security prison. His name was Hector Doyle
Imagine your surprise to meet this man who was completely blind and mostly deaf. How was he supposed to be of any value to your employer? Oh well… you didn’t question it
It was easy to pretend to be a guard (you were a master of disguise after all). You slipped in and freed the inmate with ease. He tried questioning you but you put your finger to his lips. Questions are for later once you two are safe
You lead him through the vents of the prison and onto the rooftop where your employer waited for you.
Before you could deliver him, your employer tried shooting you, but Doyle intercepted the bullet. You had no idea how he knew where the bullet was going to hit you but he gave you enough time to disarm the man who hired you. You throw the employer out of the helicopter and point his gun at the driver
After the two of you hijack the helicopter and make it out of prison. He finally asks who you are so you tell him. You apologize for disrupting him and taking him away with no purpose but he just smiles. Doyle tells you how he’s happy to be free
Doyle asks if he can tag along with you on your exploits so you let him. He proves to be a master of disguise as well and an amazing accomplice. Doyle begins to develop feelings for you as time goes on. You’re so kind to him and you didn’t abandon him despite not getting paid to free him anymore. He was indebted to you
The two of you steal more than you’ve ever stolen before. It’s a lot of fun having someone beside you who was as capable as he was. You didn’t have anyone on your tail either! (You had no idea he eliminated anyone who tried to harm you)
Doyle uses some of the money you two have stolen to fix his hearing and sight. He’s so happy to finally see what you look like and be able to hear your voice better. It makes him fall deeper in love with you
Doyle will not make his feelings known for you unless you show a romantic interest in him and if you do, he’s confessing to you on the spot. He’s present you with some of the biggest diamonds in the world (that he’s stolen) for you to be his forever. Doyle never wants to leave this life with you and he’d do anything to protect it
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snowymav · 2 years
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things i noticed: after seeing bullet train four times!
spoilers? (probably)
tangerines cuff links are little gold chains.
the prince’s ‘makeup bag’ shown on the table is a momon pouch.
tangerine has a west ham (football club) sticker on his phone case.
^^ during the flashback to the twins as kids they’re watching a west ham match, their club song is ‘im forever blowing bubbles’.
^^ which is why it plays during the count of the seventeen body’s they killed before getting on the train.
^^ im also pretty sure one of the tattoos tangerine has on his forearms is the west ham clubs initials and something above it that is significant to their team (considering im from england you’d expect me to know abt stuff like this, i don’t)
ladybug is wearing three necklaces, one has big diamond beads on it :]
maria, ladybugs handler, calls him ‘little ladybug’ when she first assigns the nickname.
ladybugs socks are white with little yellow stripes.
in the book, the briefcase is actually a suitcase, in the movie, when lemon confronts prince about the case he says something along the lines of, “most people would assume it’s a suitcase with the train being overnight.”
the momon plush tangerine uses to silence his gun when he shoots the door is then used by one of the men with the white death to try and suffocate yuichi, he then kills the same man using the plush.
ladybug has his wasabi pees in a little glass bowl before the fight with hornet.
the only time tangerine seems threatened is when lemon talks back to him.
the marks on yuichis neck are visible from when prince tased him.
ladybugs hair starts to go curly after getting wet from wrestling the snake into the toilet (i thought it was cute okay im sorry).
im pretty sure the prince had another bag on the train, a bigger bag. you can see it in one of the luggage cubbies (im not sure if it’s when tangerine gets kicked out of the train or not but it might be that scene) it has a hot pink pompom keychain attached to it.
ladybug wears a big silver ring on his right (might be left, you never know these days with mirror imaging and stuff) ring finger.
ladybug does a little wiggle when he’s trying to fix the wires on the train.
and for all my fellow tangbug shippers
when ladybug finds tangerine and prince, tangerine immediately says ladybugs name.
at the end of the film, after prince gets hit by the truck, yuichi throws a tangerine to ladybug and ladybug smiles.
if i remember anything else i’ll add it!!
it was said in an interview that they experimented with a sea urchin but didn’t keep it in, you can see it on the counter during the ladybug and tangerine fight scene, when tangerine goes to grab the chopsticks (i assume this means tangerine was going to be the one to use it on ladybug)
when tangerine pays for ladybugs water his money is in an envelope not a wallet.
lemon shouts at kimura about the prince being “kiera knightly!” (i thought it was funny because aaron is in a movie with her!!)
at the end of the film when the prince is still alive, ladybug recommends a book on “surviving borderline personality disorder.” insinuating he also has bpd.
703 notes · View notes
callsign-madusa · 4 months
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it's a slow build, baby, until afterburn (61/?)
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Story banner by @bettycooper!
Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Female OC (original character) StorySummary: Some things were inevitable. Living, dying. Flying. Bradley Bradshaw never doubted he'd sit in a cockpit one day. It was inevitable. He hadn't counted on colliding with Maddie Maitland over and over for the better part of a decade until, eventually, he realized the inevitable wasn't the sky; it was her.
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MDNI banner by @cafekitsune
Overall story Rating: Mature to explicit. Spicy, vulgar language. Violence. Mature themes (war, sex). Minors do not interact. (18+ ONLY you have been warned. Back out NOW if these make you uncomfortable. You are responsible for your own content consumption.)
Notes: This story is a giant Work In Progress, and absolutely, purely, entirely self-indulgent, full of tropes, full of cheese, and a self-insert OC who I wish I could be as cool. I make no apologies. I also haven't written it in chronological order (haha sob), so hopefully, I can fill in the blanks soon so we get to the good (sexy) stuff.
Warning: VERY SLOW BURN, VERY LONG (so many words!), spoilers for Top Gun and Top Gun: Maverick
Previous Chapters: Master List
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Chapter Summary: With the wedding just around the corner, Maddie helps her dad through some divorce challenges and discovers that her mother's deception and selfishness affected Maddie's relationship with the Master Gunny more than either of them realized.
Chapter Rating: 🚨Explicit for sex and language. Minors back out, back away, leave. 18+ only.🚨
Warning: War, combat, PTSD. Men being sexist/misogynist. Parental emotional neglect/abuse. Narcissistic parent and triangulation. Mentions of homophobia and bullying. Emotional trauma.
Chapter Word Count: 10,221
Notes:  Welp, I couldn't let us have fun forever, apparently. This one will be mostly focused on Maddie and her relationship with her dad and her mom; he brother Aaron makes a short appearance. We will learn more about why Maddie and her dad were estranged and how petty her mother can be. It deals with emotional abuse, emotional neglect, triangulation, and growing up with a narcissistic parent, so please heed the warnings and skip this one if you need to. I know it's a topic that does hit home a lot and understand it can be hard for some. I promise that we're heading into fun chapters after this: Squadron Challenge Day, the Squadron bbq (those may be the same chapter, but we'll see), and then: WEDDING.
—Madusa—
The sky was dark, with gray looming clouds above. The air was sticky and damp. It wasn’t how this was supposed to go, but there was nothing to be done about it now. She needed to get dressed. It took no time at all, barely more than a blink. She looked down and then up and—blink—she was dressed.
Looking at herself in the mirror, she could tell it was all wrong.
Her dress was big. It sparkled. It was big. It was strapless. It was big. It was fluffy. It was big, so big, it could swallow up a whole city.
Her hair was wrong too.
It was big. How could hair get so big? It was up in curls with cascading ringlets around her face down to her shoulders. If she moved too quickly, the ringlets wrapped around her throat. Her hair sparkled, too, with diamonds in it. Or glass. She wasn’t sure which. Her hair was tall. It was so tall, she had to duck to go through doorways.
Her feet were also wrong.
She wore big shoes. They made her tall. They hurt her feet. They hurt her calves. They made her so tall that her head hit the ceiling. The tall shoes and the tall hair were hideous.
That wasn’t all. Her face was wrong.
Her eyes were sparkly with shadow and powder. Her cheeks were a deep pink that shimmered. Her lips were blood red. Her skin was pale white and powdered. She looked like a character she saw once in a movie.
“May the odds be ever in your favor!” she said to herself. It was fitting for some reason. The dress, the hair, the shoes, the face…they all made her feel like she was going to war. Like her life was on the line.
“There you are,” a woman said. She recognized the woman, who wore a big, white, fluffy dress just like hers. That was strange. Why would they be wearing the same dress?
“You shouldn’t be wearing that,” she pointed out.
“Nonsense! Your day is my day. I have to wear the part!”
“No, that’s wrong.”
“It’s not,” the woman insisted. “Now, let me look at you.” Without questioning it, she stood at attention, ready for inspection. The woman glided around her; her dress moved effortlessly, like it was made for the woman and like the woman was made for gliding. The woman tutted. “If only your chest was more impressive,” the woman chided.
She looked down at herself. The woman was right: her chest wasn’t impressive. In fact, it was barely there and not enough to keep the giant dress from sliding off her. She kept pulling it up. It kept sliding down. She pulled it up. It slid down. Somewhere in the distance, she swore she heard a voice yell, “THEY’RE PERFECT!”
The woman snapped her fingers in her face to get her attention, the yell immediately forgotten. “Have you been practicing? This wedding will make or break our social standing for the rest of the decade. Of course, we’ll outdo ourselves at your next one—“
“There won’t be a next one,” she insisted.
“Yes, there will.”
“No, there won’t be.”
The woman waved her off. She knew the woman didn’t believe her, but it didn’t matter because she believed it: one marriage. She had been waiting her whole life for this one marriage. She would’ve waited forever for it because it could only happen once. It could only happen with one person.
Where was he? (“They’re perfect!”)
Of course. He’ll be waiting for her at the end of the line.
“Now, I’ve sent Brittany to keep him company—“
“Why?”
“Because she’s stunning,” the woman answered truthfully. “He’ll want to see what he’s missing.”
“He’s not missing anything.”
“Yes, he is. He’s missing children. He’s missing a wife who’ll cook for him. He’s missing a wife who will stay home. He’s missing a wife who will take his name. He’s missing—“
“He doesn’t want any of that.”
“He is missing a family,” the woman insisted. “You won’t give him that. But, that’s okay. He’ll run to Brittany later. She’ll look stunning in that dress!”
She didn’t believe that. Well, the part about him running to Brittany. She did think that Brittany would look stunning in the dress.
Before she could say anything else, there was music. “It’s time!” the woman said, clapping her hands with excitement. “I’ll go first because it’s my day.”
“It’s MY day,” she insisted.
“Nonsense. I’m your mother. It’s my day, not yours.”
The woman spun around, and walked (glided) out, leaving her alone in the room. Then, she had a panicked thought: they were wearing the same dress! She rushed out of the room, tripping over the tall shoes and the fluffy dress. The tall hair stopped her egress out the door. She had to duck. She had to crouch. She had to crawl. Only then would the tall hair let her leave.
Once out of the room, rushed to the aisle. The woman was at the end with a tall, beautiful man made of sunshine and wearing a black suit; he looked like he was going to a funeral. His brow was knit and his nose was turned up like he smelled something bad. He knew it was wrong. He knew it wasn’t what it should have been.
“STOP!” she yelled.
The one made of sunshine turned toward her voice. When he saw her, he smiled. The clouds above parted, letting his sunshine beam through.
“Perfect,” he said.
She wasn’t perfect. She was wearing tall shoes and had tall hair and had a fluffy, big dress and sparkled powder all over her face. But. When he smiled at her and said those words, she felt perfect.
“Perfect,” she agreed, but she meant him and his sunshine.
“No!” the woman said, stomping her foot. “No! This is MY day. MINE. I’m perfect! She’s DEFECTIVE!”
“No, I’m not,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m not defective.”
“You are! Defective!” the woman accused, pointing a finger at her. Her nails were sharp like talons. “Why can’t you do what I tell you?!”
“Because,” she said. “I’m me and this is our day.”
“NO! MINE!”
The woman stomped her foot again and grew in size.
“MINE!”
Another stomp and the woman was now twice as tall as she had been.
“MINE!”
The next stomp popped her out again, doubling her size once more. The woman was huge now, so big, that she tore the roof off the building. People screamed and dove for cover. The giant woman kept screaming, “MINE!” She pointed at a large, ornate flower arrangement. “MINE!” The flowers exploded.
This?
This, she knew. This, she understood.
Explosions and screams and rubble were where she lived.
She couldn’t run in tall shoes or a fluffy dress or tall hair. She didn’t have to. When she looked down at herself, the tall shoes and the fluffy dress were gone. She wore a desert pattern combat utility uniform with an armored vest. Her tall hair was gone. A helmet sat on her head. When she caught a glimpse of herself in a window reflection, she noticed that combat paint had replaced the shiny powder on her face. She held a rifle in her hands.
A plane streaked across the sky. An F-35. She recognized the sound of the engine.
This was right.
This was who she was.
“MINE!” the giant woman screeched. She pointed. There were rows of gaudy, tiered cakes lining the flanking aisles. As she pointed, one of the cakes exploded, sending frosting and cake everywhere.
She dove behind a pew for cover. “Hi,” the one made of sunshine said. He was behind the same pew. He smiled at her brightly.
Her heart melted. “Hi,” she greeted.
Cake and frosting sploshed around them. “You’re pretty,” he told her. He was still smiling.
She blushed. “You’re handsome and made of sunshine,” she told him. He wasn’t in a funeral suit anymore. He wore a shirt full of colors and roosters.
His smile brightened. “You’re mine,” he told her. She nodded because it was true. “I’m yours,” he added. She nodded because it was true. She felt it in her soul. “Made for each other.”
“Made for each other.”
People around them screamed and ran. Frosting rained down, hitting one person in the back. They fell to the ground, covered in pink buttercream.
“What do we do?” he asked. He scooped up some icing onto his finger and flung it toward the giant woman.
“First? We save her,” she told him. She pointed at a small little girl in a dinosaur onesie. The little girl was wailing and screaming her anger into the world. She hadn’t been hit by frosting yet.
“Copy that,” the one made of sunshine acknowledged.
“On my count,” she said. “One, two, three…”
They popped out of cover. Around them, Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture filled the air. The giant woman screeched and pointed in time with the piece’s cannons.
“MINE!” BOOM! There went another cake.
“MINE!” BOOM! Another cake, gone.
That was okay; she could handle explosions. She lived here.
BOOM! (Cannon!) She dodged.
BOOM! (Cannon!) She rolled.
BOOM! (Cannon!) She ducked.
BOOM! (Cannon!) She ran.
They made it to the front without frosting taking them out. She picked up the little girl in the dino onesie. “You can do this,” she told her. “You’re made for this. You live in this.” She felt the little girl’s rage and welcomed it into her chest. “We’re made of fire and fire burns bright.” (Like sunshine.)
BOOM! She covered the little girl.
“We can do it together,” she told the little one. She took the one made of sunshine’s hand in hers. “On three. One, two, three…!”
BOOM! (Cannon!) The little Bride and Groom topper on one of the cakes exploded.
***
Madusa gasped awake. It took her a few seconds to orient herself, blinking against the still soft morning light pouring in through the bedroom window. Outside, the garbage truck rumbled as workers threw in the contents of cans that were lined up along the street. She blew out a breath and ran her hands over her face in frustration. The garbage trucks always startled her awake these days. Thankfully, this dream’s explosions hadn’t been as unpleasant as the past ones, though probably way weirder than anything her brain had ever come up with in the past. It was more than likely that her wedding anxiety triggered the dream; the wedding was just a few days away, after all.
She wasn’t worried about marrying Rooster. No. When it came to marrying Rooster, she was one hundred percent sure. Maddie was worried, though, that her mother would find a way to ruin it because her mother found a way to ruin almost every good event in Maddie’s life. The besties had assured her they had everything under control. Gretzky wasn’t going to let her mother anywhere near the wedding, even if he had to throw her mother out himself. Still, Maddie worried. Her mother was very skilled at finding new and improved ways to hurt her.
Shifting, she grabbed her phone to check the time. She groaned softly when the numbers on the screen confirmed it was still very early morning. Setting the phone back on her side table, she rolled over onto her side to watch Rooster. He was snoring lightly, sleeping deeply. Maddie smiled. He wasn’t a morning person on a regular day; after last night’s Truth or Dare, she expected he’d sleep in a while. He looked so peaceful. So happy. He should look happy; he nailed her real hard after everyone left last night. The thought left Maddie smirking.
As soon as Maddie closed the door on the last of their friends last night, Bradley was right behind her. When she looked at him, he growled. She felt that growl zing down her spine and all the way down to her toes. It made her belly clench and fueled the throbbing ache between her legs. Before she could do anything about it, he picked her up, and threw her over his shoulder. She laughed. He smacked her ass hard. She moaned. He rubbed the smacked area. She purred. He tossed her onto their bed, making her bounce twice before her body settled. They watched each other like hunter and prey. Most nights, Madusa was the hunter. That night, she was the hunted. The thrill of it crackled over her skin like the sensation of frisson when hearing a moving musical piece, the kind you feel deep within your soul.
Rooster stalked her from the edge of the bed, with dark eyes and a feral smile. She bit her bottom lip. He licked his, eyes raking over her like he was appraising his favorite meal. Her heart pounded in her chest. When he approached, his fingers curled into the waistband of her (and his) favorite denim shorts. He popped the button and pried them open roughly, completely ripping through the zipper. This time, she growled. He smiled.
It didn’t take him long to divest her of her shorts and panties. He stepped in spreading her knees open wide for him. Rooster’s hands slid down her inner thighs; her hips lifted up off the bed in response, her calves rising to rest upon his shoulders, much like the Catapult position from earlier. His touch stroked all the way up to her t-shirt. With fingers dipping beneath the hem, his hands caressed north, pulling the shirt up with him until her breasts were exposed. “I want to see those pretty tits, Madeleine,” he rasped. Since her man wanted to see her pretty tits, she was going to give him her pretty tits. Maddie lost the shirt quickly, tossing it overboard. Bradley hummed his approval, lips brushing against the skin on the inside of her ankle. Maddie had never thought her of her inner ankle as an erogenous zone, but damned if it didn’t send a jolt all the way up between her legs whenever he kissed right there. When she whimpered in response, she saw, in Bradley’s smile, the moment he won. The moment he claimed victory.
Roughly, he unfastened his belt, the buckle clinking like chimes signaling his feast was ready. The melodious sound of the buckle’s metal on metal sent waves of electricity caressing her skin. With one hand on his belt, and the other on her ankle, he freed himself from the confines of his jeans, pulling them open and letting them fall past his hips and ass to pool around his thighs. He didn’t bother kicking them off. Instead, he grabbed the base of his cock, rubbed it along her slick pussy, and guided himself within her, filling her up deliciously. Then, he fucked her like it was his purpose in life.
He nailed her so hard and thoroughly that she came screaming his name. He praised her, lips to her ear and voice rough and tumble, whispering to her that he’d never tire of hearing his name on her lips. She rewarded him with fingers in his hair and his name again, this time breathless. He didn’t last long after that.
It didn’t take much for them to collapse together, spent and well-sated. With legs wrapped around his waist, she stroked his hair and kissed his ear. He buried his face against her neck.
Eventually, they had to rearrange and clean themselves up, much to Rooster’s protests. Madusa had to point out that he was hanging off the edge of the bed with his jeans barely clearing his ass; it didn’t look comfortable at all. He pouted and told her he wanted to stay like this forever. She laughed softly. She won this argument when he practically wiped out off the edge because his knee slipped. Fifteen minutes later, they were all cleaned up and naked in bed, spooning themselves to sleep with Madusa the little spoon to Rooster’s big. He declared this was his favorite thing. Everything was his favorite thing when it came to her. It made her smile.
Now, it was barely morning, just past 0600. She wouldn’t get back to sleep now, not after that jolt awake. She was a morning person, anyway. When she tried to slip out of bed, Rooster pulled her back, mumbling something that sounded like, “Warm.” Quickly, he followed it with, “Sleep.” Rooster was not a morning person.
She brushed a soft kiss to his lips, felt his smile against hers, and shushed him back to sleep. He was snoring softly a few minutes later. Satisfied he’d lulled himself back into a snooze, she eased out of bed and dressed in some shorts, sports bra, t-shirt, ball cap, and running shoes to run her usual morning route.
About an hour later, she finished her circuit and made it back home. Instead of hitting the shower right away, she decided to clean up after last night’s festivities. Usually, the squadron helped with the clean up but both she and Rooster had been eager to kick everyone out. It’d been worth it. Madusa decided to let Rooster sleep a while longer, going at it solo to tackle the job at hand. She worked efficiently and methodically, taking out trash bags (a bit annoyed at herself for not cleaning up last night because they missed the week’s garbage collection by this time of the day), and collecting empty beer cans and bottles, stacking the boxes and bags of empties in the garage. She even scrubbed the kitchen and living room from top to bottom. She worked very quickly and with purpose; they were used to cleaning thoroughly while on the Boat or else everything would get filthy in a blink.
Satisfied with her cleaning job, she took a quick shower. Later, she stepped back into the kitchen with freshly blown hair put up in a loose ponytail; she wore loose-fitting dark navy blue track pants, with white racing stripes down the leg, and a light gray, fitted Dolly Parton t-shirt. Dolly wasn’t a band, per se, but Madusa respected the hell of the woman. No one was allowed to disparage Dolly in Madusa’s presence. No one.
After popping a pod in the Keurig for her morning coffee, her phone pinged with a text notification. It was her dad asking her if she was free that afternoon. Instead of texting him back, she picked up her freshly brewed cup (hazelnut), settled down on the couch in the living room, and decided to call him up instead.
“Hey, Hot Shot,” he greeted on the other end of the line. She felt warmth bloom inside her chest; Maddie didn’t think she’d ever get tired of her dad calling her that.
“Hey, Pops,” she greeted happily.
“Didn’t wake you, did I?”
“Nah. Been up since 0600.”
She felt and heard the frown in his voice. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“It’s garbage day,” she said simply. Maybe most people would’ve assumed she meant she had to rush to get the bins out for collection. Not her dad, though.
“Ah. Yeah. Garbage day is tough.” He understood. “Dreams?”
“Yeah. This one was weirder than the others. I dreamed that Mom ruined my wedding. She grew into a Godzilla-sized version of herself wearing a giant wedding dress and making wedding cakes explode. I was suited up in full kit and dodging frosting like it was incoming heavy fire!” She chuckled. “Honestly, I’d rather have exploding cakes and frosting over exploding limbs and blood spatter. Frosting tastes better.”
There was a long, heavy pause. It was so strange how silence could weigh so much. She probably shouldn’t have said that. Probably shouldn’t have made such a flippant comment about war and the things she’d seen and experienced. About things her dad experienced.
“Sorry,” she mumbled after a minute. “Gallows humor.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” he assured. She’d never heard her dad’s voice sound so gentle or understanding. “I’ve been there.” He had, more than once. Fallujah had been the worst, but it hadn’t been the only combat theater her father had served in.
“Yeah,” she agreed quietly.
“If you ever want to talk about it with me, you can,” he offered.
“Do you want to talk about it?” There was a little edge to her voice, hackles rising.
“You’re very good at that.”
“At what?”
“Answering with a question instead of answering the question.”
“I learned from the best.”
He snorted. “I do that too; I know. Busted.”
She relaxed some, toning down the defensiveness. “I don’t really want to talk about it right now. The dreams. The stuff that went down,” she clarified. “I just want to focus on the good things going on like the wedding. There will be time to wade back into the shit later.”
“Okay,” he acquiesced. “It’s a standing offer, though.”
“Copy that.” Maddie blew out a sharp breath. “So, what’s up? Why did you want to know if I’m free this afternoon?”
Her dad grunted. “I wanted to see if you and Rooster might be free to help me out this afternoon. I want to swing by the house and pull all my tools out of my shed before your mother lets Peggy Lawson’s degenerate husband put his grubby paws all over them. I was browsing social media and saw a picture of him holding what suspiciously looked like my jigsaw.” She heard her father’s annoyance on the other end of the line.
It always amused her to find out her father browsed any kind of social media. Mostly, it was to follow sports groups and stats, but now that she’d been paying more attention to what he did on social media, she found he was pretty funny, especially when he smacked down Peggy Lawson.
“Interdiction mission? Got it,” she replied easily. “I’m surprised you’re not asking my brothers to help out with this.”
“They’re all working and I don’t really like putting them in the middle between me and your mom.”
“But, you have no problems putting me in the middle.”
“You’re the one who offered to help out and body block your mom,” he pointed out. “Plus, you don’t ever hesitate to butt heads with her when it’s needed.”
“My brothers do have trouble with that.” They did. They hadn’t written their mother off yet, still hoping that their mom would show care and love for them. No matter how many times Maddie tried to talk Jackson into going fully No Contact with their mother, he resisted. He wasn’t ready, yet, to remove her from his life. Maddie had only kept their mom Low Contact instead of fully No Contact because of Tommy and his girls, but now that her mom tried to take over her wedding, called her defective, and essentially said that her dad wasn’t her dad, Madusa had enough.
“You’re kind of fearless when it comes to this stuff.”
She shrugged, though her father couldn’t see the gesture. “I just learned a long time ago that there’s no reasoning with Mom, and I don’t negotiate with emotional terrorists.” Master Gunny snorted on the other end of the line. She couldn’t help cracking a small smile. “I’m definitely free to help out this afternoon. Don’t know about Rooster yet; he’s still sleeping.”
“Not a morning person, huh?” Her father sounded amused.
“No, he is not,” she replied, smiling her own amusement. “Plus, we had a Bachelor-slash-Bachelorette event with the squadrons last night.”
“Hit the sauce a bit too hard?”
“Not too hard, but he was definitely feeling good! Figured I’d let him sleep in a bit while he can still enjoy it on leave. Once we hit the Boat, it’s a ‘sleep when you can’ type situation.”
“I hear ya.”
“What time do you want to do this?”
“Was thinking about 1100?”
“Sounds good to me. I’ll let you know before then if Rooster—“ Almost as if summoned, Rooster shuffled into the living room. He looked sleepy, rumpled, and disheveled. He wore a loose pair of pajama bottoms that hung low on his hips (Madusa’s favorite!) but decided to skip the shirt entirely. His hair was sticking up every which way and he had cute pillow creases on his cheek. “Speak of the devil,” she announced to her dad.
Rooster rubbed sleep from his eye, shuffled over to her, and greeted with a rough, raspy voice, “Mornin’, Sweetheart.”
“Good morning,” she replied with a big smile that widened even brighter when he kissed her. Her man nodded toward the phone in her hand, his brows scrunched together in a silent question. “It’s my dad.”
“Morning, Master Gunny.”
On the other end, her father chuckled. “Tell the kid ‘Good morning’ for me.”
“My dad says good morning.” Rooster nodded, then flopped on the couch beside her. He shifted to lie on his back and shimmied enough to end up with his head in her hap. Maddie ran fingers through his hair; he smiled so serenely that it looked like he was floating off to heaven. She relayed the afternoon’s plan to Rooster who gave a thumb’s up to indicate he was in for the scheduled interdiction at the tool shed. “Okay, we’ll see you at 1100, then.”
“See you soon, Hot Shot.”
After hanging up the phone, she tossed it on the coffee table so she could concentrate on the man in her lap. “Did you sleep well?” She stroked his hair.
Rooster nodded. “I did until you left and then it was tossing and turning and being lonely.” He pouted like a cute puppy.
She chuckled. “I’m sorry I left you cold and alone.”
“Why’d you get up so early?” They’d finally gotten to bed pretty late.
“Garbage day,” she said simply.
He understood immediately. He took her hand in his and brought her knuckles down to his lips. “Want to talk about it?” After a bad dream or being startled awake, Rooster always asked her if she wanted to talk about it. What he really meant was that he wanted to talk about it. Usually, it irritated her. Today, she decided to tell him all the absurd details. “Your mom’s not going to ruin the wedding,” he insisted.
“I know.”
“And even if she does manage to show up, bypass Gretzky’s security lockdown, and cause a scene, she still won’t ruin the wedding because it’s me and you and that’s all that matters.”
Madusa smiled, nodding. “I doubt she’d get past Gretzky anyway; he sent me an entire Wedding Security Operations Order, complete with schematics of the Hard Deck’s layout, watch rotations, and sentry positioning. I had to put my foot down when he suggested we booby-trap the Hard Deck with remote-activated glitter bombs in the event she snuck past his defenses.”
Her man was silent for a good minute as he considered this. “Do you really think he listened to you about the glitter bombs?”
“No,” she replied immediately, completely exasperated; she threw her hands up. “I’m convinced he’s gonna have that whole place wired top to bottom with glitter regardless!”
“Maybe he’ll let me remote activate one.”
“No.”
“Just one!”
“No.”
“But, it’ll be cool!”
“No! I don’t want to be picking glitter off me for the next decade.”
“You know what? Don’t worry about it! I’ll talk to Gretzky.”
“Rooster!”
“Don’t worry about it!” He grinned up at her. “I love you!”
Jesus Christ.
—Rooster—
Master Gunny drove up to their house at 1100 sharp to pick them up. Rooster, knowing his lady as well as he did, climbed into the back of the massive four-door pickup truck, leaving the shotgun seat for Madusa. Master Gunny’s brow quirked at him, but he didn’t ask or say anything, likely deciding that this seating arrangement was between Rooster and Maddie; it was. She hated sitting in the backseat with two men up front. The trio chatted along the way.
“Thankfully, your mother won’t be home since today’s her hair appointment day. She should be gone for a few hours at least.”
“Didn’t want to have to deal with her, huh? I don’t blame you.”
Her father grunted his acquiescence. “She’s been enough of a pain in the ass to deal with on the phone and through lawyers; I don’t want to deal with it in person.”
“She is a lot more potent in person,” Madusa agreed. “At least on the phone, you can hang up.”
Master Gunny grunted again, nodding.
Eventually, they made it to the Maitland home after about a forty-five-minute drive. Master Gunny backed his pickup into the driveway and then into the empty garage to make unloading the backyard shed easier.
“How do you want to do this?” Madusa asked. “Are we only emptying out the shed or do you have other stuff in the house you want to clear out?”
“Shed first. We’ll grab the rest of my clothes and other important things once the heavy stuff’s loaded up.”
The trio moseyed on into the backyard where Sam unlocked the shed. When he opened the shed doors, the three of them stood there silently. Staring. Madusa was the first to speak.
“Holy shit.”
The shed was empty.
Honestly, Rooster shouldn’t have even been surprised with all the stuff Madusa said her mother had done in the past. Even Master Gunny suspected it could’ve been a possibility since seeing Peggy Lawson’s husband post on social media with a jig saw was what sent him running to preserve his tools. Still, despite all the warnings and knowledge it could happen, seeing the phenomenally empty shed surprised them.
“That fucking bitch,” Sam spat after a long moment of stunned silence. He saw Maddie bristle slightly, though likely not because the sentiment was aimed at her mom; Madusa hated gendered insults toward women, but she held her tongue. Rooster suspected she only did so not to pile onto her dad right then. He was sure she’d have a discussion with him later. Shaking his head, Master Gunny walked into the shed, and spun around slowly twice to really absorb the reality of the situation. Rooster gathered that the Master’s Gunny’s tools and the shed had been a sanctuary for him and that, with the contents’ removal, he felt violated. “I don’t know why I’m even surprised but I am,” Master Gunny said finally.
Maddie blew out a sharp breath. “Because,” she started gently. She reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. “You expected her to be reasonable like a normal person. She’s not reasonable.”
Master Gunny looked down at Maddie, frowning. To Rooster, it looked a lot like regret. He didn’t think it was about the tools, this time, however. It seemed like regret that Maddie had to experience how not good of a person her mother was. That Maddie was an expert in this situation.
Having reached the bargaining stages of shed-grief, Master Gunny tried to rationalize this. “Maybe she needed money and felt she couldn’t talk to me about it?”
“Dad.” Maddie sounded exasperated. “It’s not about money.” Looking up at her dad, Maddie asked, “You realize she did this to hurt you, right? Because you decided you had enough and left, she decided you needed to be taught a lesson.”
“But—“
“There’s no ‘but’ here, Dad. She did this to me when I left for college. Got rid of the drum set I bought with my own money from my after-school part-time job. I couldn’t take it with me in the dorm, so I left it here. When I came back to visit at Thanksgiving, I saw the set was gone. Mom said she was ‘decluttering’ but if she wanted to declutter, she could’ve put the kit in storage. Instead, she got rid of it because she knew it meant a lot to me.”
Her dad studied her. “I don’t remember this.”
Maddie sighed. “You were deployed.”
“Oh.”
Madusa looked around the empty shed once, then shrugged. “C’mon. Let’s go see if touched the stuff inside the house.” She squeezed her dad’s shoulder again and headed inside. Rooster was right behind her, but Master Gunny stayed out in the shed for a few minutes, likely coming to terms with what his wife had done.
The house was a split-level type, with a short set of stairs up to the bedroom levels. Maddie navigated through the family room and kitchen, taking a left toward the front door and sitting room and then another left up the short flight of stairs. The house seemed to have four bedrooms. There were two bedrooms opposite each other right as you cleared the landing; Maddie explained that those had been her brothers’ rooms. Down the hall, there were two other bedrooms. The last bedroom to the right seemed to be the main bedroom. Madusa stopped at the door of the last bedroom on the left.
When he reached her, he looked inside. He recognized it from the videos they’d watched, but nothing prepared him for the reality of being there live and in person. “Oh my god,” he blurted out in absolute horror.
There was pink everywhere.
Madusa snorted and looked up at him. “Yep, pretty much.”
It wasn’t that Rooster had an issue with pink. That wasn’t what triggered his aversion. It was that this room did not reflect the woman he loved one iota. With wide eyes, he looked at his future wife. “This is not you at all.”
“Nope,” she said, agreeing with him. “This is all my mom.”
Rooster stepped inside. Sure, the style of it (all that pink!) wasn’t Maddie, but she lived here as a teenager, so it was, at least, a place that made her who she was now, and he wanted to soak up any and all versions of Maddie to hold them close to his heart. He gave the room a quick once over, immediately noticing a few things that were different from the video he’d seen.
First, the drums were gone, but Maddie already explained that one; her mom got rid of them. Second, all the band posters had been peeled off the walls. Even the Matrix poster Maddie had of her movie boyfriend Keanu was nowhere to be seen. In their place were flowers and unicorns and anything pink. Third, he noticed there weren’t any traces of Maddie left here, period. No sports equipment. No knick-knacks. No school-aged artwork. No trophies. No ribbons. There were pictures of Maddie in giant, sparkly pageant dresses, though. There were a lot of those. She looked miserable in every single one.
“I can’t imagine you living in all this frilly stuff,” he said finally.
“Eh,” she said with a shrug. “I didn’t have much a choice. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t the worst, but I didn’t love it either. Now, the girls use this room when they stay over.” She meant her nieces. Rooster figured that Unicorn Princess Ariel probably loved this room, something that did make him smile; he loved that kid. From what he knew of Payton, however, Rooster suspected she probably did not love this room. Payton was a lot like Maddie.
“How does it feel being here?” he asked. Rooster studied her carefully. She seemed pretty solid, despite her earlier dream, but that shouldn’t surprise him; Madusa didn’t show vulnerability easily even when she should.
“It feels like it always does: detached. I lived here my whole high school life but it never felt like mine, even then. Definitely not now. For the most part, I just try not to think about this room.”
He wanted to reassure her that she could talk to him about it if she wanted, but Master Gunny was stomping up the stairs, pulling them out of this pink nightmare. “Let’s get this over with,” Sam growled, clearly still pissed.
They all piled into the main bedroom. When Master Gunny opened the door to the walk-in closet, it was a repeat of the shed. All of Mrs. Maitland’s clothes and shoes were there, taking up most of the closet space. A small section of the closet was completely stripped bare except for a few garment bags.
“Well, at least she fuckin’ left the uniforms,” Master Gunny snarled.
“She probably didn’t want to have to deal with the military coming after her,” Madusa said.
With a set jaw, Master Gunny snatched the garment bags and tossed them onto the well-kept bed nearby. There were about a million pillows. This room didn’t fit Master Gunny either, likely decorated to only Judy Maitland’s tastes.  Sam dug deeper into the closet and found his uniform shoes—a small consolation—then moved to the dresser. He pried open some drawers to find those empty too.
“She got rid of my underwear! Unbelievable.” Master Gunny wrenched open another drawer. It was empty. “Socks are gone too!” He roughly pulled open more drawers until he stood there with a clenched jaw. “Everything. Everything’s gone. She better not have gotten rid of my mother’s jewelry or else I’m gonna…” he snarled and made a motion to indicate he wanted to strangle the perpetrator.
That was when Maddie intervened. “Dad.” When Sam began pacing the room like a furious, caged animal, she stepped right into his flight path and tried again. “Dad.” She sounded more insistent this time, but she didn’t cut through his fury; the man was so angry, that his neck and face were red. “DAD,” she snarled, getting right up in his face. That got his attention.
Rooster could tell the man was still pissed, but at least he’d stopped pacing. “The tools and the clothes are one thing, Maddie, but that jewelry…Grandma Betty willed it to me when she died so I’d give it to you,” he told her. “It was my mother’s.” That last statement earned a hitch in the Master Gunny’s breath and composure. Honestly, Rooster could relate. He didn’t know what he’d do if someone stole the items his mother left him when she passed. He had her jewelry and wedding ring safe and sound in a safety deposit box, along with some more precious pictures, because it was the safest place he could think of. Rooster sympathized with Master Gunny deeply.
“I know,” Maddie said. Her voice was calm and measured. No one would ever know she’d just been told an inheritance of sentimental value might’ve been permanently lost. Rooster wasn’t all that surprised; Madusa was always calm and collected when other people got angry. She told him once that rage was where she lived. He hoped that one day, she wouldn’t have to. “You are rightfully pissed off right now, Dad. You’re angry and you want to rage and tear everything apart. You can’t do that.”
“But, I’m so fuckin’ angry right now,” her dad yelled. It was impressive how loud he could be; the man had a great set of lungs. Now, Rooster understood where Madusa got it from. 
“I know,” she said again, acknowledging her dad’s fury. “I get my temper from you so I know. As much as you want to lose your shit right now, you’ve got to calm down.” Her father snarled because no one ever took to being told to calm down well. “DAD,” she snapped when Sam’s fury was powering up again. “You can’t,” she reiterated. “That’s what Mom wants you to do. She wants you to get angry and fly off the handle because then she can cry her crocodile tears and whine and weep and tell everyone how scared she is of you. Then, you get screwed in the divorce.”
Her logic seemed to make sense because the tension in Master Gunny’s jaw loosened just a touch, and he didn’t seem as ready to explode as he had been. It seemed the reality of things were starting to settle in, albeit slowly. Maddie nodded, glad her father was listening to her. “Good. You have every reason to be pissed, but for right now, you need to push it down. I know that’s not healthy and not what a therapist or whatever would tell you to do. When it comes to Mom, healthy communication is useless. Push the anger down, don’t let her see you pissed, and don’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction. Then later, when you’re alone, rage as much as you want.”
“I don’t know what to do about all of this,” Sam said, motioning to the empty drawers. Madusa simply began closing them all up.
“First, we’ll go up and check the attic to see if she got rid of stuff up there. Then? You need to call your lawyer.”
So, that’s what they did. The trio climbed up the stairs to the attic. They were the pull-down kind from a panel up on the ceiling in the hallway. The space up there was cramped and looked to have been the preferred place for storage for things like Christmas decorations and things of that nature. It was where Sam had found the box of videotapes when he was by the house last time. Judging by the dust, it didn’t look like much had been moved up here.
In a corner, Maddie found something and let out a soft chuckle. It was a graduation cap.  She showed it to Rooster. “Mine, from high school,” she explained.
“I’m a bit surprised she kept it considering how she scorched earth your room of your presence,” he pointed out.
“I don’t think she knew it was here. I’m the one who put it there for safe keeping. I guess I should take it with me to keep my college cap company.”
“I always regretted missing your college graduation,” Sam said as sat back after pushing a few boxes out of the way.
“You did?” Maddie asked skeptically. She was watching him sideways, with her brow knit and her nose scrunched up.
Her dad nodded. “Yeah. I understand why you didn’t want me there after the whole enlisted thing…” When he looked down, Master Gunny seemed ashamed. He should be for how he reacted back then, but Rooster was starting to understand why. He wouldn’t forget the hit; he could try to forgive it for Madusa’s sake. “…but I still would’ve liked to have been there.”
“What are you talking about? Of course, I wanted you there! I coordinated the whole thing with Mom for weeks,” Madusa replied. Her skepticism shifted into confusion. “She assured me that you both were looking forward to attending. She even said she’d make sure you requested leave time. I offered to book the hotel and plane tickets, but Mom said she had it all under control. And then…neither of you showed up. I’d saved my tickets for you two but you didn’t come. I had two empty seats and no one to watch me cross that stage. To make matters worse, I saw Mom post pictures of her at Brittany Lawson’s graduation on social media.”
This time, it was Master Gunny’s turn to seem confused. His brow was scrunched up together tightly, eyes scanning like he was searching his memory. “No, that can’t be right. Judy told me you made it clear you didn’t want us there. I wanted to call you to clear it up, but she said that I needed to respect your wishes. So, I didn’t reach out.” He looked at his daughter. “You wanted me there?”
“Yeah, I wanted you there. I was devastated when you weren’t.”
Both Maitlands looked stricken. Hell, Rooster was sure he looked it too. He couldn’t understand how a mother could do this. Maddie’s mom had stolen something from her; she’d stolen something from Master Gunny, too.
“I’m sorry,” her dad said quietly.
“It’s not your fault. This is all Mom.”
“It is my fault. I should’ve reached out. I knew it didn’t sound right when your mother said it, but I was angry at myself and that made me angry at you. I should’ve…” He shook his head. “I should’ve been a better father.”
Maddie reached out for her father’s hand. “You’re a better father now.” Rooster knew she couldn’t absolve him of the past—deep down, he didn’t think Maddie wanted to either; there was still anger there—but she could make the present a little easier. “Because you’re a better father now, you get to come to my wedding. And, Mom is not welcome.”
They were silent for a while before Sam nodded, his earlier anger now just sadness. He was probably mourning the relationship with his daughter that could’ve been. The trio climbed out of the cramped attic (Rooster’s legs rejoiced!), and Sam went off to call his lawyer while he and Madusa headed outside to wait for him.
“Your mom sucks,” he said as he pulled Maddie into a hug. She hugged him right back.
“Yep. Just be glad she isn’t here because that would’ve made all of this about a thousand times worse.” Maddie burrowed against him; he gently ran his knuckles over the curve of her nape. The quiet neighborhood moved slowly since it was daytime and kids were still at school. It was slightly cloudy outside, shielding them from the usual heat of the SoCal sun. She let out a long sigh. “I wonder how many times my dad and I fought each other because of a lie my mother orchestrated?”
“Honestly? Sounds like a lot,” Rooster pointed out quietly. “Sounds like she spent a lot of time and energy keeping you two on separate ends of the battlefield. You even told your brothers this: that she gets you all fighting to keep you away from each other because, otherwise, she loses the advantage.” He brushed some hair from her forehead. She nodded.
“Yeah,” was all she said.
“What the hell are you doing here?” A man walked up the driveway.
“Oh, this day just keeps getting better,” Madusa mumbled as she disengaged from their hug.
He wasn’t sure if this had been a conscious act on her part or not, but she kind of pulled him behind her and physically put herself between him and the approaching man. Rooster noted a few things about the man. One, he was taller than Maddie but only by a few inches. He was about Maverick’s height. Two, he was blonder than she was. Three, he was dressed in civvies but Rooster spotted the shoulder holster beneath the leather jacket and a badge clipped to the man’s belt. And four, if looks could kill Maddie would’ve been…only slightly wounded; no one had a better glare than Madusa and this guy’s glare couldn’t hold a candle. Obviously, the two knew each other.
“So? What the fuck are you doing here?” the man snapped. “And who’s that?”
“I’m helping Dad. And, this is Rooster, my fiancé. What are you doing here? It’s a weekday afternoon. Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere violating someone’s rights or arresting an innocent person?” she snarked. It struck a nerve. Rooster spotted the man’s barely contained snarl.
“Mrs. Lawson saw Dad’s truck so she called Mom at the salon. Mom called me to check on things,” the man said. Ah. Now, Rooster knew who he was: the mysterious brother Maddie wanted nothing to do with. Aaron. Now that he took a few moments to really study him, Rooster noted that Aaron seemed to favor their mother in stature and coloring while most of the other Maitland kids favored the Master Gunny with that dark brown, almost black hair, and strong build.
“Still doing Mom’s dirty work, huh?”
“Someone has to look out for her. Not like you give a shit.” 
“I care about her as much as she cares about me, which is to say: not at all.” Madusa crossed her arms over her chest.
Aaron snorted derisively. “Says the one who got everything handed to her.”
“I never asked for any of the shit mom gave me. Honestly, if you wanted the Barbie Dream House, all you had to do was ask. I would’ve given it to you because I never wanted it and never asked for it.”
“God, you’re so full of shit,” he sneered. “You lived for Mom’s attention.”
“Oh please. If anyone’s got lips permanently attached to Mom’s ass, it’s you. I hated all that girly shit and made no secret about it, but why would I expect a law enforcement detective to actually use critical thinking skills?”
“You’re a fucking cunt, you know that?”
“Aw, call me a cunt again. It hurts my feelings,” she jeered, her mocking voice making it clear that her feelings were not hurt in the slightest.
“I should fuckin’ arrest you.”
“For what?” she snapped. “Insulting a police officer? Contempt of Cop?”
“How about trespassing?”
“It’s not trespassing if I have the property owner’s permission to be here, Genius. Didn’t they teach you the basics in cop school?”
Scoffing, Aaron stepped all the way up into Maddie’s personal space. If he thought it would intimidate her, he was wrong. She took a step forward and stared him down. Rooster’s hackles were raised, wanting to intervene, but he knew Maddie wouldn’t want that and would be upset with him. It took every ounce of self-control he had not to punch this brother in the nose; it was clear to him that he was an asshole and that he and Maddie had a lot of animosity toward each other.
The escalating tension between siblings broke when Master Gunny stepped outside, hanging up his phone with one hand and holding his uniform garment bags with the other; he’d been wrapping up a conversation. He spotted Aaron and smiled. “Hey, Buddy,” Sam greeted. “What are you doing here?”
Immediately, Aaron disengaged, taking a step back from Maddie. “Mrs. Lawson saw your truck, called Mom. Mom called me to check in on you.”
“Really?” Sam deadpanned.
“She’s worried about you.”
Both Master Gunny and Madusa snorted at the same time. “If she’s so concerned, she wouldn’t have gotten rid of all of Dad’s stuff,” Maddie interjected.
“What do you mean?” Seemed like Aaron possibly hadn’t been made aware of the disappearing tools and clothes.
“I came over to go through my shed and put the tools in storage,” Master Gunny started. “But, the shed’s completely empty. All my clothes are gone. Can’t find Grandma Betty’s jewelry.” Master Gunny wiggled his phone. “I was on the phone with my lawyer about it. When I served your mom with divorce papers, there was a summons prohibiting the disposal or sale of items. So, unless those items are recovered, she’ll be in contempt of a court order.”
That got Aaron’s attention. From here, Rooster could see the wheels turning in the man’s head, his eyes scanning side to side and around the garage. Finally, he let out a long breath and stood up straighter. “I’ve got your tools. I’m doing some renovations at my place and Mom said I could take them.”
“You’ve got my tools?” Sam asked. He was studying his son sideways, one brow quirked.
Aaron nodded. “Yeah, I should’ve told you.”
“You emptied out Dad’s shed?” Maddie asked incredulously.
“I just said that, didn’t I?”
“You took everything? Even the shelves and the hooks on the peg board? You need those for renovation?” She crossed her arms over her chest. Maddie was never one to suffer bullshit.
“I don’t answer to you—“
Sam interrupted him quickly. “Listen. I know you’re covering for your mom, Aaron. I don’t want to come between the two of you, but she’s out of line with this. The tools and my clothes, I can replace, but not your grandmother’s jewelry. That was not communal property since it was an inheritance. If your mom can’t produce the jewelry, my lawyer is advising I file a police report.”
Aaron scrubbed his hands over his face and sighed. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. After a beat, Aaron nodded. “I’ll get everything back,” he promised Master Gunny. “I just need a week or so.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Master Gunny assured. “I meant it when I said I don’t want to get between you and your mom. I can let the lawyers handle it.”
“No, it’s fine.” Aaron seemed pained. Rooster suspected he didn’t often challenge Mama Maitland, but it was that or contempt of court and possibly theft charges. “Gimme a week,” he pleaded.
Master Gunny studied his kid. After a short internal debate, he nodded. “Okay, Buddy. I’ll give it a week but after that, it’s up to the lawyers.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“I’m sorry you’re in this position,” Master Gunny told him.
“Someone’s gotta look out for her,” Aaron replied. Maddie’s eyes rolled so hard, that Rooster thought she’d strain a muscle.
After a beat, Master Gunny reached over and pulled Aaron into a side hug. He ruffled the man’s hair a bit; Aaron tried to dodge it and fix his slicked-back hair back into place. “It’s nice that I got to see two of my kids today,” Sam said. Aaron and Maddie glared at each other, making Sam sigh, shoulders dropping. “I know you two don’t see eye to eye most days, but it would be nice if you both tried to bury the hatchet.”
“No,” Maddie responded simply. “I’m gonna wait in the truck. Here, gimme your uniforms.” She took the bundle from her dad, shouldered past Aaron, and pried open the back seat of the four-door pick-up to hang the uniform garments on the hook up by the ceiling.
Sam sighed again. Aaron smirked, watching her go. “Nice try, Dad, but you can’t reason with her.”
“What happened between the two of you, anyway?” Sam asked, eyeing Aaron carefully. Rooster was definitely curious.
“I don’t know what her problem is,” Aaron replied smoothly. “Must be on her period or something.”
Rooster heard enough. He left the two men and joined his lady in the truck, climbing into the backseat behind the driver’s side seat while Maddie sat in the passenger seat up front. “You okay?”
“Yep.”
She wasn’t okay.
He reached over to squeeze her hand, silently telling her that he was there and would be when she was ready to talk about it. They sat silently together like that for about five minutes before Master Gunny climbed into the truck to drive them home.
The drive back to San Diego was tense. “You gonna tell me what happened between you and Aaron?” her dad asked at about the halfway point.
“Nope.”
“He says he doesn’t know why you’re angry with him.”
“He knows what he did. Trust me.”
In the rearview mirror, Rooster saw Sam frown. “If it’s about Jackson and the bullying in high school, Jackson has forgiven him—“
“Jackson hasn’t forgiven him,” she corrected. “Jackson tolerates him because, otherwise, he has to deal with Mom. And anyway, it’s not just the Jackson thing—which is reason enough, thanks—“
“Maddie—“
“Dad,” she snapped sharply. “It’s been almost twenty years. Let it go.”
“If it’s been almost twenty years, maybe it’s time for you to let it go,” he countered.
“No.” She looked straight ahead. “I’ll never let this go. So, stop asking.”
The rest of the drive was silent, which honestly surprised Rooster a little. Both these Maitlands were creatures of fury. They got angry, they yelled, they raged… This was quiet. It was worse than erupting anger. When Maddie told him she lived in rage, what Rooster hadn’t admitted was that he lived in rage too. His looked a lot different than hers. His was like this. Quiet. White hot. Dangerous. It was the kind of rage that destroyed from the inside out.
Once the pickup pulled into the driveway, Madusa wrenched open the passenger door, ready to stomp inside. “Maddie,” Master Gunny called out through the open passenger door window, as Rooster joined his lady. Madusa stopped her egress and faced her dad head-on with her jaw set and her arms crossed over her chest, ready to go toe to toe with her father if it came down to it; she never backed down from a fight. “I’m sorry I put you through this today.”
She shrugged. “I volunteered to body block for you when it came to mom.”
“I know, but I kinda feel you got hit with a lot of emotional shrapnel and I’m sorry about that.”
“I can take it,” she replied simply.
“I know. Doesn’t mean you should have to.”
Her posture relaxed slightly. “Thanks.”
“Am I still invited to the wedding?”
“Are you going to keep trying to get me to make up with Aaron?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re an adult and you can decide who you want in your life.” Rooster suspected her dad didn’t push this further because, if he had, it would signal the end of any relationship between them.
“That’s right.”
“So?”
“You’re still invited to the wedding,” she said after a beat.
“Thanks,” Master Gunny replied with a small, relieved smile. “I’ll see you two tomorrow for your squadron challenge day?”
That earned a smile on Madusa’s part. “Yeah. We’ll see you tomorrow. You better bring your A-game, Pops, because Navy’s going down.”
Rooster let out a little indignant sound in protest. “Hey, Navy can hold its own!”
“Against Marines?” she challenged.
“It’s not like we’re going through tactical combat or anything! It’s trampoline dodgeball!” he pointed out with some incredulity.
“Yeah,” Madusa replied with some sass. “And if you think me and Gretzky are going to lose to Navy, you’ve got another thing coming at you, and that thing is round, rubber, about this size, and aimed right at your face!” She grinned at him.
“Not the face!” he protested. “I gotta look pretty for our wedding.”
“Good point,” she acquiesced. “We’ll aim low.”
“Not the goods, either!”
“Okay, we’re skirting ‘I don’t wanna know’ territory,” Master Gunny interjected. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Hope you know how to duck, Son.”
“I have a very healthy sense of self-preservation, don’t you worry.”
Master Gunny snorted. He was about to shift the pickup into reverse when he stopped again and called out to Maddie once more. When she nodded toward him, her dad said, “You’re the toughest person I know, Hot Shot.”
“Thanks, Pops,” she replied with a small smile. Once her dad finally drove off, they went inside.
In the living room, Madusa stood there for a few before scrubbing her face with her hands and rolling her tense shoulders. “God, this was such a garbage day.”
“C’mere.” Rooster placed hands on her shoulder and maneuvered her toward the couch, where he had her lie against him, back to his chest. He massaged the tension in her neck and shoulders and buried his nose in her hair.
Madusa was a tense person in general; the fact he was one of the only people in the world she could truly relax with pleased him. It took a while, but eventually, her shoulders weren’t all the way up in her ears anymore. She sighed. “I’m sorry you got stuck in the background of more Maitland family drama,” she told him.
“I don’t mind.” It was true. “It gave me a window into who you are and how you got here. I’m happy to be there to support you when you need it.”
“Thank you.” She looked at him over her shoulder. “Just having you there helped. I know I lectured my dad about flying off the handle, but I gotta tell you: I wanted to lose my shit so many times today. I only kept my cool because you were right there with me.” Maddie shook her head. “I can’t believe she lied about my graduation. To both me and my dad! I’ve been blaming him for so long when I should’ve been blaming her.”
Rooster kissed the top of her head, as he wrapped his arms around her more tightly. “I think, after today, it’s safe to assume that everything that comes out of your mom’s mouth is pure bullshit.”
“Yeah,” she replied with a nod. “If I believed in that sort of thing, I might start wondering who I cosmically pissed off to get saddled with a mom like that.” She snorted softly at the thought, likely thinking it absurd.
Tenderly petting her hair, he kissed her temple. He really, really wanted to ask about her brother. It was so hard not to, but they’d already gone ten rounds about this very topic not long ago, and he wasn’t eager to revisit her disappointment. She already had a rough day; he didn’t want to make it rougher.
“Bradley?”
“Yes, baby?”
“The thing with Aaron…”
“You don’t have to tell me,” Bradley assured. He wanted to know, but not if she felt she had to tell him.
“You sure?”
“One day, when you’re really ready to tell me, I’ll listen, but I don’t need to know now.”
He felt her relax in his arms. Maddie was silent a really long time before speaking again. “Bradley?”
“Hmmm?”
“Thank you for making garbage day easier.”
Rooster kissed her temple and vowed to always make garbage day easier on her. Forever. Next Chapter
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blackswan446 · 1 month
Text
worth it - three.
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→ pairing: yan!knj x reader
→ wc: 679 (😰)
→ cws: heavy descriptions of gore and murder, heavy descriptions of cutting (not as sh)
→ notes: im just pulling all this stuff out of my ass this story has NO set plot and i don't even know how it's gonna end #lol after writing: AAAJGSFGJ ITS SO SHORT IM GONNA CRY
--
collapsing onto the ground, namjoon struggled to catch his breath as his back touched the cool, grimy metal of the dumpster. even though it was a fit guy, who made time to work on his physique and be healthy, the heinous act he had just committed really took the wind out of him. it was worth it, though, every last second of it, and as he set down the bat, now covered in a thick coat of blood and flesh, he took a slow, deep breath.
he observed the scene in front of him, taking in every detail of the guy's limp form. he laid there, in a sticky pool of crimson growing quickly below, crumpled up with his limbs sticking out in directions unattainable without a broken bone. every inch of his skin and body was covered in gashes, from which ruby red liquid flowed like water. a gaping hole sat on the back of his skull, clumpy brain matter spilling from it, leaking out onto the asphalt. his hands, the same disgusting hands that had been used against you, were broken and bleeding, fingernails cracked and broken from his earlier attempt to claw at the ground, away from his assailant.
he was dead, alright. and as the light of the moon casted a ghostly glow onto his battered corpse, namjoon felt a sick sense of pride in his actions. despite this feeling, he still felt weirdly...unfulfilled. like he could do more for you, more to devote himself to you as your guardian angel and dedicated lover. although his entire reason for doing all of this, for the gifts, and for the entire obsession, started because he fell victim to his own curiosity, he had grown an intense adoration for you. the more he learned about you, the harder he fell. so he felt obligated to do more to prove himself, he wanted to do more for you.
pondering what else he could possibly do to further intertwine you and him forever, his mind wondered to the small switchblade in his pocket. he had brought it just in case he needed something a bit more to use on the...thing...that he had dealt with just moments before (spoiler alert: the bat was more than enough).
maybe he could make it useful now. he had heard plenty of fiction plots in which someone carves their lover's name into their skin...why not make it reality? sure, it would hurt like hell, but if you're giving someone a beautiful rose, you're bound to get pricked by its thorns. and the pain of his skin splitting beneath the steel is nothing more than a drop of ink in the ocean of passion namjoon held in his heart.
he didn't think twice before taking the dainty blade from his back pants pocket and rolling up the left sleeve of his long black shirt. the click of the blade filled the silence around him, the shiny metal glinting in the moonlight like a diamond, glittering in the damp, dusky alleyway. taking a deep breath and pressing the cool blade to his clear, unmarked wrist, namjoon didn't have to pray for the courage to press down.
biting back an array of curses and complaints as a thick drop of blood rolled down his wrist, he slowly carved out the lines and swoops of your first initial. combined with the darkness of the sky and his own warm lifeblood staining more and more of his wrist as it flowed freely from his new, red oblation. he didn't care about the pain, or the blood, or the scars it would leave. this is what he wanted, no, what he needed to do.
continuing the excruciating yet addictive action, over and over until he was left with a scarlet mess and beautiful testimony of his affection. with every cut he made into his clean, porcelain skin, he became more and more enslaved to your very being. through his eyes, you were his divinity, and he the humble worshipper, who was fully prepared to do anything in your honor.
anything.
--
taglist: @teugiie
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