#i know i know i took some liberties with the concept

[lightlycareless]

Hiii, can i request a scenario on how naoya (when he has reached a point where he loves wife!reader from an arranged marriage) would react to one day not being greeted at all when he comes home? It is completely silent, no response as he calls for her and is getting a bit worried as he starts searching the rooms. But then he sees her laying on the couch, shivering and sweating from a cold that’s so intense she’s barely lucid and can’t even tell he’s there and talking to her

Heya!!

So... I took some liberties when writing this, kind of went a completely different route (the sick part, alongside worried Naoya still remains though), it just occurred to me when reading your ask, but I hope it's still of your liking 🥺!!!

anyways, here are the warnings: mentions of death, miscarriage, a very concerned and overprotective Naoya, a bit of fluff, and everyone wants to spoil you rotten lol.

And without further ado, happy reading!

“Y/N, I’m home!”

Home.

A word he never really cared for, always considering it sappy, alongside the fondness that was usually assigned to it, which Naoya couldn’t think of as nothing but ridiculous, if not hilariously overrated.

For many years, Naoya thought that a home was simply the place that one was raised in and that’s about it. Nothing of the sentimentality others liked to apply to it, brag about it…

Until, of course, he finally came to understand what the word meant; why it was so special, and why it was important to have one.

A home wasn’t made by the people he knew as family, blood related, found in the place he was forced to be in since he was born, and probably die in—no; it’s the one that was made by the people of his choice, people he met through his course of life, connected with, and now, cherished.

Amongst them, you.

He considered himself lucky to have found the love of his life, a concept he considered so… foreign, impossible for someone like him, if not a stupidity of delusional people desiring more from life.

So was Naoya destined to think for the rest of his existence, condemned by his same family to live a life of loneliness, hatred, and die the same way.

But you’d come to show him otherwise, shockingly, and unexpectedly, and in such a way he couldn’t even put up a fight, completely surrendering to you and the wonderful feelings that being in love with you provided.

Now that he’s experienced them, he couldn’t find the reason as to why his family would ever reproach such beautiful thing as harshly as they did—or that he believed them in the first place…

Well, that’s not something that bothers him anymore; the Zen’in clan could continue on in their hard stuck ways for all he cared; he, on the other hand, plans to spend the rest of his days alongside the woman of his dreams, starting by today, finally back in your arms after days of being pulled into pointless missions after pointless missions, which he would not hear of for a few weeks—having earned a well-deserved break for his consistently good performance.

Naoya even prepared accordingly for the occasion, having bought gifts from all the places he’d been to, as well as ideated ways to distract you from the boring estate and his nagging relatives he knows you don’t enjoy being around with, only tolerating them because they were, well, your in-laws, his family—with exceptions of those you do get along, and for them, he’s grateful that they do.

Ah, he couldn’t wait to see you, your face, and the adorable way it brightens up whenever receiving him.

To tell you of his day while resting his head on your lap, with you passing your fingers through his hair, gently soothing his stresses away as you reassure him that he’s the best sorcerer out there, he’s just… unlucky to bump into lesser talented ones.

Get something to eat too, he’d like his favorite for a start, miso soup—and perhaps have you feed it to him? God, it’s been a while since both have done that, and it’s not because he doesn’t like doing it, or you for that matter, but rather, he doesn’t want to risk being seen by others, it has to be in the utmost privacy, after all! He isn’t to be vulnerable in front of his family!!

Oh, he needs wishes to see you—right now. And he’s absolutely sure you’re feeling the same way…

If so… why hadn’t you responded? Why hadn’t you come to receive him in the same manner you’ve always done?

Naoya knows that his schedule can be a bit… unpredictable, making it difficult for you to know exactly when he’ll come back home—but even then, it didn’t take you that long to meet him after announcing his return.

You’d always come to the entrance, no matter if it happened right that moment, or a bit later; you just… did.

But today… it seems that you opted to break the routine by taking far longer than you usually do.

He’d remain attentive to his surroundings, hoping to either hear your approaching footsteps or voice softly calling for him at a distance, yet as time went on, he was received with neither…. And Naoya only begins to grow more worried.

Your husband tries to not jump to the worst conclusion just yet, opting to think that you were perhaps simply caught up tending to the house, maybe even partaking in an unwanted conversation with one of his relatives and having trouble brushing them off—for no matter the times you’d reminded them that your husband was back, and you needed to be there to receive him, still acted as if it wasn’t that important.

Things that implied that even when running late, you were still ok.

Yet…

“Y/N!” Naoya calls once again, hoping for a change…

…

…

…

Silence.

It’s by this time that he decides it’s better to search for you than to stand around and wait for you to magically appear.

Naoya begins by going into the main wing, eyes scanning through the gardens, your usual place of leisure when not busy, where you’d calmly enjoy the diligently tended for flowers (the ones he had changed to your favorite as soon as he found out which ones they were) while snacking on something, or in the company of your loyal staff—if that were the case of your absence, he understood why you didn’t answer.

But he wouldn’t find you near any of the gardens, or anywhere in fact! A statement that weighed even heavier upon finding out that the staff was in the same predicament as him, for when he asked a nearby servant of your whereabouts, he was received with the following answer:

“We haven’t seen her” Naoya’s heart sinks.

“What do you mean you haven’t seen her?” he breathes. “Where could my wife—did she—did she leave the estate?”

No. You… didn’t. Because that’s not what you told him you’d be doing a few hours ago, after letting you know he was on his way back home; if anything, you replied with how excited you were to see him again and that you’d be eagerly waiting for him!

So obviously, their words didn’t make sense. But if so… where were you?

Naoya now frantically searched for you through every wing, room, space, chamber, closet, just— anywhere, literally anywhere you could be while repeatedly calling out your name in hopes of getting a response, or even a glimpse of you; he doesn’t care what at that point, he’s happy with either!

Yet, the longer he went on without an answer, the bigger his sorrow became, to the point where his mind was machinating nothing but the worst-case scenarios, slowly losing his inhibitions as he repeatedly wondered Where were you? How come no one has seen you? Did he have to escalate this situation?

Just—Where are you, Y/N?!

Thankfully, there would be no need to pursue bigger solutions for he’d get his answer soon enough after entering the east wing, passing through the living quarters, and arriving to the laundry room, one of the last places he’d thought you’d be—rightfully guessing so, for you were there, apparently washing whatever garments you had pending, which you hadn’t been able to wash due to a variety of unknown reasons…

But far from feeling elated to have found you, Naoya felt as if whatever he had left of his heart was effectively broken, which felt short compared to the way he found you.

“Y/N!”

The sight that received him is one that will remain imprinted in the back of mind: you were laying on the floor, on your side, tightly clutching to your stomach as you breathed heavily, eyes tightly shut while groaning in what Naoya could only interpret as pain.

As if his worries weren’t through the roof at that point, this last conclusion is what urged Naoya to hastily make way to your side, swiftly kneeling to your level as he calls out for you once more.

“Y/N—Y/N” He’d breathe, firmly yet carefully placing his hands over you with intentions of picking you up, but his hold falters when his fingers briefly graze your skin, making him gasp in return. “Y/N you’re—you’re burning!”

This would be the only time you’d respond to him, barely able to move your head onto his direction, slightly opening your eyes to see him, a gaze that shows how much pain you were going through, barely able to understand what was going on, except for gently breathing the word that makes his heart squeeze out in pain.

“Na—Naoya…”

Any hesitation is effectively thrown out the window by that point, picking you up and rushing you towards their shared bedroom, all while barking orders to the nearby staff, demanding them to call for a doctor, as quickly as possible, unless they wanted to be jobless by the end of the day!

The staff reacts accordingly, and a few minutes later, the family doctor arrives to the estate, guided to your room and seeing that you were already being tended to, or at least that’s the idea he gets from the dampened towel on your forehead, undoubtedly in efforts of lowering your fever—which unfortunately, had been for nothing.

Well, he was there now, and he didn’t waste time either to get to work, quickly assessing your condition by the apparent symptoms, starting by your temperature, the color of your skin, and even the way you reacted to him while doing so, completely uncooperative—apparently, whatever put you in this state had evoked great instability from you, thus the doctor found it necessary to put you under sedatives.

But even when he was able to quickly gain control of the situation, the doctor still couldn’t arrive at a proper conclusion, less when the people around you had an even smaller idea of what struck you.

“I—I don’t know.” Naoya would respond, angrily, frustrated—and rightfully so. How come none of the servants had noticed your absence? Or worse, hadn’t seen anything that could hint as to what your sickness was about?! “Can’t you just—help her?!”

“That’s what I’m trying—I can’t help her if I don’t know what I’m dealing with.” The doctor responded as calmly as he could, but even he had to admit that everyone’s seeming ignorance annoyed him as well. “But I can still say that this seems much more than just a simple… sickness.”

“What do you mean?” Naoya frowns, the doctor looks at the nearby servants, tasked to be on stand-by if needed.

“I’d like to discuss this in private.” He tells them.

The servants don’t wait for Naoya to repeat the order before they’re already out the room and away from their earshot; a request that while didn’t raise any concerns from Naoya —if anything, he was glad their pesky, useless presence, was finally away from you— the doctor’s face was quick to convince your husband that something far worse than what met the eye.

And this made Naoya’s nerves reach a new limit.

“I told you; I don’t know what happened—” Your husband is quick to defend, believing the doctor was to interrogate him once more, only to be interrupted.

“You don’t need to tell me for me to know what happened.” He interjects, Naoya’s eyes widen.

“I’m lost.” Naoya scowls. “Stop talking cryptically and get on with it!”

“I’ve seen these symptoms before, Naoya. And as I said, these are not from a simple sickness, an allergy or any of the matter” He takes a deep breath. “I heavily suspect she was intoxicated—and not accidentally, but rather, intentionally.”

“Excuse me?” Naoya frowns.  “I told you to stop talking in riddles, say what you—”

“Poisoned, Naoya. I believe your wife was poisoned.”

Naoya’s world comes to a screeching halt.

You…

You were poisoned.

According to the doctor, you—You were attacked, besieged, with malicious intents.

Taken advantage of in the one place you’d never be on edge, your home, the same one he had repeatedly reassured your father that you’d be safe in—the Zen’in estate, home to the prestigious Zen’in clan! There was no safer place in the whole world! There couldn’t!

No one— no one wouldn’t dare do such a thing here—they knew better! Naoya would force them to now better…

Yet, someone dared to commit this transgression against you.

And to make it all worse….

Almost got away with it.

Who would even think of doing such transgression against you?! You?!

You had no quarrels with anyone, and even when you did, you handled things in such an amicable way just so you’d live peacefully, free of nonsensical arguments—you had no space for them in your life!

And yet, this still happened, and right underneath his nose….

There’s no doubt that he’ll put an investigation into order to find the bastard responsible for your suffering, and once he does, he’ll make him regret his existence, to the point he’ll have him begging for mercy—and even then, it wouldn’t be enough for Naoya.

However, that is something that will have to wait until he knows you’re safe, healthier, which the doctor had slowly began to help you with by giving you something that will immediately trap the poison from being further absorbed by your blood—activated charcoal, so he remembers— as well as some other prescriptions for side effects he wishes to prevent.

“Your wife was very lucky to survive, have you waited a second more—”

“I wasn’t waiting.” Your husband immediately responds, offended by his wording. “I wasn’t aware of this until I returned.”

The doctor presses his lips together, taking notice that throughout his whole visit, Naoya has never left your side, nor freed your hands from his.

“And I’m not surprised.” He silently admits.

Naoya hates the notion the doctor was implying, that this was an inside job. But considering the odd behavior of the staff, their seeming ignorance of your location and your status… it all pointed to that same conclusion.

The boiling fury inside him grows bigger.

“How could this be?” Naoya seethes.

How could someone get this far, this close to you, and no one suspecting a thing?

Your husband might’ve reproached the way the doctor expressed himself, but there was an undeniable truth behind them; he truly was lucky to have gotten back home just when he did, for had he taken a second longer, just one, you could’ve die—

Outside of that, the second most important question regarding this whole situation was…where was your staff? Why, of all days, were they absent?

Naoya is confident that if Mariya, your closest confidant, had been around, this would’ve never happened in the first place; the moment she saw anything out of the ordinary, she would’ve pulled all the stops and acted accordingly.

Yet, she was nowhere to be seen, and this makes Naoya both highly suspicious, and furious.

Where was she?  Where are the rest? Why would they leave you in your most needed time? Did they plan this? Plot against you?! Where the hell could they possibly—

“They’re going to be away for the weekend to visit their families.”

He suddenly remembers; you told him so earlier that week through a text.

“Will you be ok?” Naoya also remembers asking; he didn’t feel happy knowing you’d be alone without your most trusted staff.

“It’s just a few days, Naoya. Besides, they deserve a break! I don’t want them to get tired of me, you know?”  you laugh. “But you better come back quickly, ok? Just because they’re not around doesn’t mean I like being alone…”

“I won’t take long. I promise.”

If only he’d kept his word…

Well, if that was to be the answer to their absence, then it wasn’t fair to hold any level of animosity towards them, a weight being lifted from his burdened shoulders upon realizing your staff could strill be trusted in.  

Now all that was left to worry about is finding the culprit… and the status of that too.

“Is she ok?” Naoya would ask.

“She is, I managed to—”

“No, I mean… that.” Naoya’s voice hints to a silent agreement between the two. “Is… that ok?”

The doctor quickly catches what he means, affirming so by a nod. His reassurance lifts an immeasurable weight from his heart, even greater than the alleged betrayal of Mariya and the rest. One less thing to worry about.

“What now, then?”

“Since the damage was limited, to say the least, it won’t be necessary to move her to a hospital, however—”

She’s still in danger. Naoya concludes. More so if the attack came from someone inside… And what makes him think that just because he’s back they’ll stop trying?

If anything, seeing how close they got, they could try once again!

The mere thought is enough to push him into taking what is perhaps the most radical decision he could’ve taken in this situation, something that might come to torment him in the future, but until then, he won’t care, not even a bit; not when he had your safety to worry about:

That is… Naoya fired everyone, effective immediately.

He took no heed if any of them had been serving the family for years, if they were close friends of his father, or if their livelihood would be affected— Naoya just wanted them out of his sight, the estate, and as soon as possible, less they wanted to receive more of his anger, before continuing with the rest of his plan.

Due to the gravity of said situation, Naoya knew he had to contact your family; he also knew that you would’ve refuted the idea as soon as he mentioned it to you, not wanting to worry them if you’ve truly been attacked, but he couldn’t do this to your father; not when he was amongst the few people in the world he knew had your wellbeing as utmost priority— as well as holding a great amount of respect and appreciation for him, specifically for the way he welcomed him into your family.

Eiichi, your father, had to admit that getting a call from the Zen’in estate that didn’t come from you surely surprised him beyond any comprehension, and yet, that would be nothing compared to the shock he’d get upon knowing the motive behind said call; Naoya swore he almost heard your father passing out, or at least, in the process of.

“Poisoned?!”  Eiichi gasped, tightly clutching onto the phone—he might’ve as well passed out and dived into a nightmare! “Is she ok?! Where is she right now?”

“At the estate, with me—the doctor didn’t think it necessary for her to be hospitalized since he was able to stop the poison from spreading any further, but she still needs rest.”

“And the baby?”  the referenced secret between Naoya and the doctor; your pregnancy.

“Fine.” He breathes, swallowing. “The doctor didn’t tell me of any damage done to the baby…  but I’m—I’m still taking her to the doctor, just—just to be sure.”

“How could this happen?” Eiichi laments, heart breaking not only for you, but for Naoya as well. Your father knew all too well what it was to lose the love of his life, a pain that he would never desire on anyone, not even his own enemies…

One that he could slowly begin to hear in Naoya’s voice; oh, he could only imagine the pain he was going through, or what waited for him if he had lost not only you, but his child too.

But, well, the worst is over… at least for now.

“Someone from the staff did it.” Naoya declares, Eiichi’s heart sinks even further. “But I’ve taken care of it, I’ve fired everyone.”

And your father, contrary to Naoya’s relatives, did not question him. If anything, he seconded his decision, because had he been in your husband’s shoes, he would’ve done the same thing.

“Was her staff involved?” Your father asks, feeling a slight… anger with the idea that the ones you greatly cherished could’ve plotted against you.

“No, they were not; in fact, they were out of the estate when all this went down.” Naoya responds. “But I know that if they had been here, this would’ve never happened in the first place.”

“Bring her here, with me.” Eiichi immediately suggested, Naoya blinks, startled by the idea, if not against it.

“Father—"

“We can take care of her while she’s recuperating, take her to the doctor too. I’ll make sure that she has everything she needs. And not to misjudge your staff, or lack of, but the people here would never hurt her—they’ve known her since she was a child! There won’t be another safer place for her to be than here, Naoya. At least…  until she’s better.”

Previously, Naoya would’ve questioned the veracity of his words, done all he could to prove you were much better with him, but after this occurrence… he had to agree.

As much as it hurt him to know you’d be away from him, especially when you were pregnant… he knew this was the right decision to make. He couldn’t expose you to another similar situation—not even if he got a completely new staff… or if you didn’t want to leave.

So, Naoya accepts Eiichi’s suggestion, alongside buying him a ticket for the earliest available flight to Kyoto; a few hours later, your father would arrive to the estate, rushing to your side, keeping you company while tending to your every need as Naoya prepared everything for your departure.

When you eventually regained consciousness, you were (although a bit surprised) overwhelmingly elated to see your father visiting you, for it had been so long since you’d seen him, probably around the time you announced your pregnancy!

However, that excitement would soon diminish when Naoya told you why he was there… alongside the cryptic explanation of your “sickness.”

“It was an allergy.” Naoya would say, not wanting to stress you by the fact that you were intentionally poisoned, although that excuse did little to stop you from doing so. “Rare, but it can happen, especially with pregnant women.”

“An allergy…? But I didn’t…” you frown.

“It happened to your mother, once.” Eiichi followed Naoya’s lead. He hated lying to you, but… he concurred that keeping you safe, both mentally and physically, was worth doing so. “It’s nothing but hormonal changes, so don’t worry much about it.”

“I guess…” you frown, pressing your lips. “But that still doesn’t explain why I have to leave.”

“We need to check what caused your allergy” Naoya responds. “It might be something about the food, the flowers, or even the wood; I rather you be safe than to go through that scare again.”

“But is… all this really necessary?” Naoya gives you a tight smile and a nod. “Naoya, I—"

“It’s not all bad, Y/N.” Naoya says.

“Besides, don’t you want to spend time with your papa? It’s been so long since I’ve spent time with my adorable pumpkin!” Eiichi laments.

“Dad!” you gasp, flustered by his words. “Don’t—don’t say that in front of Naoya…”

“What? It’s true! And that’s all I’ve ever wanted to do since I learned I’m going to be a grandfather!”

“Stop it!” your face becomes redder. “You’re embarrassing me!”

Naoya chuckles; it’s not like he’s seen you in… worse situations. Or better?

“But… I guess a visit is overdue.” You eventually concede, Naoya and your father sigh out of relief. “Though what about Mariya, Haruko, and Hitomi?”

“They’ll go with you, if you want.” Naoya says; he doubts they’ll say no, especially after knowing of the whole fiasco that occurred when away, might even offer themselves before he suggests the idea.

“If I didn’t know any better, sounds like you want me gone.” You jest, Naoya frowns. “It’s a joke, of course…”

“There’s nothing more I would like than you staying here, but until we figure out what caused that reaction from you, I’d rather not risk it.”

“It’s only temporary, Y/N. Besides, look—I brought you gifts!” Eiichi says, taking out the bag he brought from home seemingly out of nowhere, filled with things he knew you’d love, such as sweets, your favorite mochi’s of course, alongside some plushies that would always brighten your day when you were a child. “And there’s much more back home…”

Naoya can’t help but feel relieved you had your father for support, but at the same time, a bit jealous and, well, threatened. Not for bad reasons, of course, it was simply because how the hell did he not think of bringing you gifts first?!

“Dad… you’re embarrassing me in front of Naoya.”

“Ah, that’s a parent’s bane, isn’t it? To always embarrass their children—you’ll see what I mean when you both have your baby.”

Perhaps the main reason why you ended up agreeing to leave was because your pregnancy did not seem affected by your supposed allergy; had it been you would’ve refused to leave your husband’s side!

… Well, you still would’ve refused either way, but perhaps a bit more. You hate the idea of being away from the father of your child for too long, after all.

“I don’t think so—Naoya and I are going to be the cool parents, you’ll see.”

“That’s what your mom and I thought, and look at me now, can’t even say anything without you telling me I’m embarrassing you!” Eiichi says, you chuckle.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, mom was cool! You were always the funny one!”

Naoya smiles.

Now he knows for sure that there’s no safer place for you to be in than with your family, even if that were to be on the other side of the country…

After Naoya prepared everything for your departure, the three eventually made way to the exit, where you and your father would bid their last goodbyes.

“Won’t you accompany me?” you ask, a slight pout on your face, he smiles in hopes to cheer you up, but really, he felt miserable.

“I want to, but I can’t.” He explains. “I have to deal with this as fast as possible if you’re to come back quickly.”

“… Will you visit me over there, at least?” you frown.

“Yes. As soon as I have a chance, I’ll go see you.” Naoya promises.

It had all been too soon, just a few hours ago he arrived at the estate, and now, you’re leaving. Naoya laments that he couldn’t spend a day with you before your departure… but he guesses this to be a rightful sacrifice for your well-being.

“I wouldn’t dream of keeping away from my wife and baby for too long.”

At those words, Eiichi couldn’t help but frown out of sorrow.

It wasn’t fair that neither of you had been able to enjoy this wonderful occasion as you should.

He still remembers the excitement in your voice, the glint in your eye, and the beaming smile on your lips when announcing your pregnancy—alongside the nerves that came with it, of course, which Eiichi eased by reminding you and Naoya that their enthusiasm was nothing but indicative they were already on their way of becoming the loving and supportive parents their baby needed.

But as excited as both were, Eiichi had to cruelly put a stop to their celebrations, especially after Naobito was made aware of this, who wished to proceed by announcing the news to the whole community.

“I have to disagree, Naobito.” Eiichi would be the first to reject the idea, much to everyone’s surprise—yours, specifically.

“And why is that?” He’d ask back, not understanding why the father of the expecting mother, of all people, would be the one to reject so.

“It’s best if Y/N keeps her pregnancy a secret, at least… until it’s undeniably noticeable.”

“But… why, dad?” you asked. This was a moment of absolute joy, to be treated as such! So why did he intend to keep it a secret? Was he… disappointed?

No. Never. He was nothing but happy to see you happy and become a grandfather himself for the first time in his life!

But as a man of his years, he’s learned to be cautious of how said blessings are to be celebrated, as well as seen his fair share of happiness turn sour… things that Eiichi would rather take upon him than allow them to ever befall you.

“Because there’s people out there that might try to hurt you—or the baby.”  He’d explain. “Naobito cannot not deny this, but if anyone hears that you’re pregnant with the Zen’in heir’s baby, those that want to hurt the Zen’in clan, or our family, will see this as the perfect opportunity to do so.”

“I’d never allow such thing, rest assured, there’s no safer place than—” Naoya quickly interjects, wanting to reassure your father, but Eiichi was set on his warnings.

“I wouldn’t have said this if I didn’t see it myself.” Eiichi reminds him, Naoya swallows. “We live in a highly competitive world due to the nature of our families; I’ve lost my wife because of this! And I’d be damned to allow it to happen again to my daughter.”

He hated to remind you of the harsh truth; hated to see how your face would sadden, the excitement for your first child, his first grandchild, quickly disappearing…

“Why would someone do that?” you murmur, frowning.

“They wouldn’t dare—I’ll make sure of it.” Naoya hisses.

Eiichi remained silent, sad for you and your husband. Because even if you’ve experienced first-hand what it is to lose someone through these matters, both have yet to fully understand the extremes those supposedly loyal to them can go to if properly incited. Especially for someone who had so much to lose, just as the elite members of prestigious Zen’in clan.

Even then, your father would not allow such pain to reach you, not the same way it almost did to him and your mother, so, he insisted you keep these news secret from the world—and if you must, only if you must, reveal it to your most faithful ones; the rest could learn when your stomach was too big to deny.

If you do so, keep your baby hidden from the world, safe from those that harbor nothing but pain and sorrow… all will be fine. Eiichi promises so.

…

Or so, that’s what everyone hoped would’ve happened, because if there’s one thing to be learned from this incident, is that no matter how cautious you were, word of your pregnancy still managed to land in the wrong ears, and now, were actively against it.

The question no longer pertained as to how, but rather, who; who was the author of this terrible act?

The notion that someone of Naoya’s relatives, indirectly informed through Naobito’s… drunken rambles, soon crosses the minds of your father and husband. If so, it would make sense as to why they’d use an innocent staff member to do the deed, keep their hands clean of the whole situation, instead of going to bigger extremes.

It’s the most probable of the theories, but they could not annul the following: jealousy from the servants.

Naoya considered that statement to be the most delusional one your father could’ve gathered, but he’d be wise to remember how others perceive him—or more like what he represented. It wouldn’t be too far-fetched that others would desire what he had, or him, in some cases. And naturally, you’re an obstacle to that goal, your baby even more so…

It wasn’t fair, but it was your reality.

Nonetheless, Eiichi and Naoya will still do whatever it takes to keep you safe.

“It’s just for a few days, pumpkin.” Your father would say upon seeing the sadness in your face, which remained even when reassured that Naoya would be with you as soon as possible. “Besides, you’re going to see your brother and sister too—they’ve missed you very much, you know? They’ve been wanting to spoil you and their future niece, or nephew!”

You smile, it’s good that even when in the storm, your family is still able to exude happiness. You could only imagine how enthusiastic they’d be when the baby was finally here.

“I know… I missed them too.” You admit, before looking over to Naoya one last time. “Well… I hope that whatever is keeping you here is quickly dealt with.”

“You won’t even notice I’m gone.” Naoya promises, placing a kiss on your forehead. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about anything—before you know it, you’ll be back at the estate, with me.”

That’s a promise he unfortunately, doesn’t know if will become true inside the promised timeline, but will do anything in his power so it does.

Either way, it’s safe to say that Naoya did manage to keep one part of his promise—and that would be the one where he reassured you wouldn’t even notice his absence, done through sending you endless amounts of gifts, every day, effectively filling your room to the brim with all things he’d knew you’d like, and some for baby too: from clothes for you, to cute onesies he’d like his baby to wear when she was finally here.

“You still think the baby is going to be a girl?” you’d ask through one of the many videocalls he’d make—one daily, at the very least. “Wait a minute… you better not have spoiled me!”

“I just know” He reiterates with shrug; you roll your eyes. “If not, then I’ll have lots of things to return.”

“Well, if it’s worth anything, I also feel like our baby is going to be a girl.” You smile, warming up Naoya’s heart. “I can’t wait to meet her—I just know she’s going to have your eyes!”

“Or yours, I hope.” He longs, you blush. “Have you been eating well, my love?”

“Yes; and no allergies yet.” You explain, Naoya feels relieved—at least the problem didn’t follow you there. “Maybe I was just unlucky that day, Naoya… Are you sure I can’t return to the estate yet?”

“Not until I’m sure you’re going to be safe here.” Naoya responds, and while his words are meant to be comforting, you can’t shake off the sense that something worse happened; that something far bigger than a simple allergy had struck you, specially with the way your staff and family would act around you, going as far as denying you of any information pertaining to the Zen’in.

But… if your husband had a reason to not say anything now, then the best you could do is trust him. The truth will come out eventually, you suppose. So instead you could focus on other pressing matters.

“Well, at least don’t send me too many gifts.” You continued. “While I appreciate them, between you and my father, I don’t think my house has enough room to store all the things you’ve both given me.”

“Who’s given you more things? Me or your dad?” Naoya nonchalantly asks, you gasp.

“Naoya! That’s not the—take it seriously! Control yourself with the gifts, ok?” you say, he chuckles, but ends up agreeing; at least until the topic has quieted down, because there’s no way in hell he’s going to let your father win the upper hand like that one day ever again. “Or at least save them to when I’m back at the estate… which I hope is soon.”

“Almost there.” Naoya says. “Just a few more things, and we’ll be together once again.”

… even if the answer was to be the same, you still needed to ask.

“Is… everything ok?”

Not precisely, not when he has yet to find out the one responsible for all this…

But he’s gotten a lead, an idea of where to start, of who to hunt—which he knows he’ll find in record time thanks to the fury he harbors, further motivating him to do this as quickly and precisely as possible just so he’d have you back home, with him.

“Nothing you should worry about.” He reiterates. “Just keep focusing on your health, the baby, and not doing anything strenuous.”

“I’m just pregnant, Naoya… nothing extraordinary. I still want to help around., you know?”

“I know, and you’ll be able to do that and more in due time, but for now, keep safe, for me, ok? And our little mochi.”

“When will I see you again?” you ask again, hoping that perhaps this time around, the answer will be different.

“Soon.” He promises. “Soon, my love.”

Once he deals with the bastard that hurt you.

Naoya will give them nothing but a glimpse of the sorrow and pain they’d put you through, his fury—make their life a living hell, make them regret the foolish idea that they could ever get away from it; and still, he doesn’t think he’ll be satisfied with his revenge.

He’d want more, he’d want everyone to know that his family are not ones to mess around with.

He’d burn the whole world to set the message across if necessary—and that would only be the bare minimum for you, the love of his life, and now, his baby…

His home.

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

[heartfullofleeches]

hungry for titus & executioner reader. insane even. i bet my left lung titus was lying nude in the table with his cock hard in all its glory. was it the anticipation of potentially being brutally defiled by his "angel" executioner? or was it the cold air hitting his body? who knows.

do you think his fantasies of being violated by executioner interfere with his work? or is he diligent enough to not let it get in the way? would he let down an entire nation/empire just for his darling? did he fall head over heels before or after employing his darling?

i also love the concept of executioner with HUMONGOUS amounts of bloodlust, it's as equal and if not more than titus' libido. just straight up sadistic executioner — who relishes the screams, the cries, and the whines of their victims — it's music to their ears. and you wanna know what? they're also hysterical & weird. laughing out of immense satisfaction of violating their prey, drooling at the thought of skinning & carving their next victim. and they giggle — so much — when they present their bloody gift to titus. "i got'cha a little gift, master!"

speaking of their master, they are eternally grateful for them — for granting them the liberty to fulfill their selfish desires. it's two birds with one stone to them, harming people in the name of their desires, and harming people in the name of titus. despite their gratification and loyalty to the great tyrant, their view of each other is still not equal. like our cold executioner, they will do anything for their lord, but titus' offer of allowing them to ravage them, it's over the line.

i love them a normal amount your honor

That's a fun idea, but I wanna stick with cold Executioner Reader for the time being. I'm all for sadistic darlings, but I like what Executioner has going on now. An emotional stunted, husk of a person. Killing comes as natural as breathing to them. They can't sleep without the sound of screams to keep them company, they can't eat or accept gifts without their prize feeling earned. They hold more loyalty to their post than their ruler which is why they willfully follow Titus after he slaughtered their previous employer.

Titus develops a bit of a savior complex when it comes to them as he hopes to break this mentality at least to the point where they are accepting of his love. Dresses them in the finest attire, feeds them foods that are probably a shock to their senses compared to the bland filth their former ruler fed them. Tried to give them their own bedroom, but after finding Titus in their bed one night they solely stick to the dungeon floors. Really only uses the autonomy he gave them to reject his advices.

did he fall head over heels before or after employing his darling?

I'd say he fell for them somewhere between their imprisonment and their eventual promotion to Executioner. While other members of their ruler's guard attempted to fight against Titus hostile take over, Executioner Reader sat back and watched as Titus beheaded their master. He found them a little dull, but upon being captured is where they got interesting. If there's one thing the Executioner despises it's being in chains. Took out a fair chuck of Titus' fleet for the crime of attempt to put them in chains.

Titus figured they'd be an excellent pet after realizing they'd follow along obediently on the condition they weren't strapped in iron. He began to fall for them after barring witness to their expertise with a blade and their closed off nature. He thought it'd be fun to break them out of their shell. The executioner's rejection was the first he faced in some time and while he'd normally have anyone who refused his generous offer killed - he saw them as a challenge. Overtime his kind gestures to get them to warm up to them became more genuine as his curiosity got the better of him. Had his Executioner ever truly smiled? Had they known the joy of laughter and other similar feelings? If they hadn't - he wanted to be the only one capable of giving them such wonders. That was a prize of its own. One of the greatest he could possibly obtain. It took him a while to realize and understand his love for them, but his guard caught on quick.

do you think his fantasies of being violated by executioner interfere with his work? or is he diligent enough to not let it get in the way? would he let down an entire nation/empire just for his darling?

This is Titus we're talking about. Bro will drop entire events so he can take care of himself because he got horny over a memory of Executioner Reader bringing him the heart of a traitor. If the matter had dire importance he'll try to hold off on his urges, but he'll be grump about it all the way through and immediately seek Executioner Reader's warmth afterwards. It's less of a matter of would he let down something else for them and more when he'll do it.

#yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere blurb #male yandere #yandere emperor #Titus my oc

[crimsonbubble]

the flower shop owner au is so so cute pls expand on it i love the concept so much

cw. fluff, gn florist!reader, strangers to lovers *not proofread, just pure brainrot

[IM SO GLAD YOU ASKED NONIE IM SO EXCITED ABOUT THIS]

the reference post

in my version of this au

the flower shop is nearby to the school his daughter (Gabriella) goes to

miguel is a biker as well

so he drops her off and picks her up on the bike

i personally hc that Gabriella loves blue/blue-violet flowers bc they remind her of her dad

so she stops by the flower shop and just admires and smells the flowers

she started stopping by the shop so often that miguel took notice of it

one day he stops by the shop bc he couldn't find Gabriella when he came to pick her up from school

and bc he's so fucking buff, he knows you looked at his arms and chest before you looked at his face

and he's just that bit smug before he looks at his daughter that just ran up to him

he sends her out to wait by the bike while he has a quick chat with you

the way he flirts is effortless, it's like it comes to him naturally

hes a sucker for romance, so hes pulling out all the stops for you

he asks you out to dinner when you're both free and writes down his number on the notepad you use for flower orders

he throws his jacket on while walking backwards and def throws you a wink as he walks out the shop

and when you do go on that dinner date

he's so kind and sweet, such a gentleman

and you treat his daughter so gently, making her smile and teaching her about flowers, how to make bouquets and how to care for plants

miguel loves how you try to include his daughter every time you go out

like buying small presents or getting her a treat or two

and when he talks with his daughter, she accidentally called you 'mom' but it felt so natural that it took miguel a second to realize what she said

his heart is full of you and his daughter

you make both of them so so happy, they adore being around you

and once you and miguel officially start dating, Gabi takes the liberty to call you mom any time she can

I think she'd also run to your shop when it's raining while waiting for miguel to show up

I can imagine that miguel would try to leave work early so he can stop by your shop and drop off maybe some lunch or talk and wait for Gabriella's dismissal bell

omg going on bike rides with him

just enjoying the wind and being close with him

miguel def takes a pic of you and Gabi so he can make it his lockscreen

omg I think I rambled for long enough but lmk if you want more bc I would love to share more for this au !!

#bubbly speaks <3 #ash answers #bubbly writes <3 #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader smut #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara imagines #miguel o'hara imagine #bubbly flower shop au

[megistusdiary]

Hi again LMAO

Can i request a gentle dom sampo eating out reader to help her destress from her studies??👉👈

i hope he comes home to you soon😔😔

With love, Cait Someone you dont know

omg hey ~ 🤭 sorry i disappeared for a few days there, everyone. chemistry is hard ‼️

i also hope sampo comes home. i saw his attack recently with the chocolate box or whatever and also his wink....panties? dropped.

wouldn't it be nice to have someone come relieve all the stress from studying... also this turned out long bc plot

gentle-dom!sampo x fem!(anatomy/pronouns) reader

warnings: 18+ content, minors dni!

oral (reader receiving), praise, sampo asking natasha for sex advice, gripping the hips (real), sampo is stronger than reader (enough to hold you still 😏), fluff and some after-care at the end!

"guess who's here?~" sampo called out, pushing the door closed with his hip and kicking his shoes off to the side.

when you didn't respond immediately, sampo tossed his hair to the side, taking in a deep breath. "i said, 'guess who's here?' it's a real surprise!" sampo grinned, sneaking around the corner towards the couch.

he jumped out, eyebrows furrowing when he realized you weren't sitting (even sleeping!) there. aeons...

sampo called out again for you before he heard frustrated paper crumpling from your room. "aha!"

sampo came barreling in, pushing your door open and scaring the shit out of you when you saw his shadow before you saw him.

the way you nearly jumped out of your skin had him doubling over. "that's right! it's me, the amazing, sampo koski! and i brought you," he paused to reveal a singular ruby-red rose, "a gift!"

it took him a moment to realize what was going on before he faltered, seeing crumpled up papers at your feet and books stacked a mile high on your desk.

"you're still studying? it's after dinner time. have you eaten yet?" sampo suddenly kneeled down next to you, laying the rose on your desk in favor of taking your hands instead.

"sampo, it's fine, i'm fine! really-"

"not acceptable!" he shook his head, wagging a finger in your face and pulling you up.

"i'm really not hungry, i just need to finish this."

you could see sampo pouting as you slumped back into the chair.

"won't you at least take a break and spend some time with me?" sampo whined when he sat back down by your feet, leaning his chin on your thigh.

"you're not a puppy."

"but aren't i as cute as one?" he gave you the biggest eyes he could manage, watching your lips quirk up as you shook your head at him.

"okay, okay." you turned to gather all your papers in a stack, standing up and kicking your failed notes into a pile. before you could pick them up, sampo was already collecting them in his arms.

"allow me!" he smiled up at you, dumping everything into the bin beside your bed.

"helpful and sweet, how did i get so lucky?" you mused, sitting on your bed, patting the spot next to you.

sampo, taking liberties, of course, flopped onto your bed on his stomach, rolling to rest his head on your lap. you carded your fingers through his hair, feeling him snuggle further into your thigh.

"what's got you so worked up anyways?" he questioned as you sighed deeply.

"school stuff. i've been studying some of these concepts for hours, but it doesn't even matter. i still don't get it."

"why don't you let me take your mind off of it for a little?" sampo suggested, looking up at you with a cheeky smirk as you scoffed at him.

"don't even-"

"i'm being one-hundred percent serious!" he rushed to sit up, almost knocking you in the jaw. "come on! let me make you feel good~"

"okay-" within seconds, sampo had you resting against the pillows on your bed, already peeling off your shorts. "woah, someone's eager."

"i've been thinking about this all day. you know, i was asking natasha about this stuff and i really think i've got the hang of it now."

your eyes widened, processing exactly what he meant. "sampo, have you been telling natasha about our sex life?"

sampo froze, fingers hovering over the waistband of your panties. "...was i not supposed to? you don't have anything to worry about! miss natasha is a doctor, after all."

you groaned, covering your face with embarrassment.

"i promise it'll feel good." sampo tugged your underwear down. you watched him fling the piece of cloth somewhere across the room, spreading your thighs and holding them down against you.

you felt shy, face heating up as he exposed you completely. he leaned down, hair tickling your thighs as he kissed your clit tenderly. your hands moved down, gripping his hair when he slid his tongue across your pussy.

little noises slipped out from your lips as he circled your clit, sucking on it gently every so often. mumbles of his name and whines came out as you shifted around, though to no avail beneath sampo's iron grip.

"good, so good-" sampo groaned into you, feeling you shiver from the vibrations.

you felt his tongue prod at your hole, circling around and collecting the slick, pressing in and feeling you clench around his tongue. your thighs trembled beneath his hands, feeling him holding you down firmly.

he moved back up to play with your clit, using the tip of his tongue to trace out the letters of his name and then yours as your soft moans turned into more breathy whimpers and cries.

he pressed you down further, exposing your pussy more for him as he breathed heavily against you, fingers twitching against your skin. "you're pretty like this. i like it when you're relaxed and enjoying yourself. you deserve a break." he cooed into you, trailing wet and messy kisses across your thighs.

"you think so?" you laughed, wiping the tears from the corners of your eyes.

"mhm," he nodded against you. "working too hard."

"oh- i'm sorry!" your hands pulled at his hair, hips jumping up against his grip when he played with you just right, pulling you closer against his lips.

your hearing began to turn fuzzy as you stared up at the ceiling, eyes fluttering shut as he mumbled something against you again, feeling vibrations course through your body as your orgasm built. "please..." you muttered, moving one hand up to grip the sheets as he sped up his actions.

sampo kept going, doing exactly what miss natasha told him to. he trusted her fully, glad that he went to her for guidance as you trembled underneath him now. he liked seeing you like this, away from your work and enjoying yourself for once. you were too cute, he thought to himself.

as soon as your orgasm hit, you twisted your fingers into your hair, riding it out as he collected the dripping slick from your hole.

you relaxed onto the bed, twisting your body when he continued to lap at your pussy. "sampo- hey, no more, ah-" you lightly batted at the crown of his head, feeling him pull away reluctantly.

"so...was it good?"

you laughed, feeling exhausted as your eyes closed against your will. "yeah...really good.."

sampo grinned, leaving briefly to grab a damp cloth, cleaning you up before depositing you into your bed. "a little nap is good once in a while." he decided aloud.

he tapped your shoulder quickly, watching you tiredly open your eyes. "i'm going to go get you something to eat. you stay here and sleep a little, okay?"

"don't have to tell me twice." you mumbled, rolling over and burying yourself into your blankets, drifting off into a peaceful, dream-filled sleep.

#honkai star rail smut #hsr smut #hsr sampo #sampo x you #sampo x reader #sampo smut #fem reader #hsr sampo smut #˗ˏˋ꒰ 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘴 ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡) ꒱ #*ੈ✩‧─𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘬𝘢𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦 #✎─𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 ❛ ༉‧₊˚ #💌─𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘭! ༊*·˚

[in1-nutshell]

RAN BERE AS SOON AS I GOT THE NOTIFCATION, LOVE YOUR WORK BRO 😭

I had a VISION, a EPIPHANY…. Liaison human reader (with any characters, just the Idw continuity though) BUT PLOTWKST: they’re somehow the Allspark!!!!! CUE RHE DRAMA!!!!!!! THERE IS NO PEACE OF MIND, EVER! I WANT PROBLEMS, ALWAYS!!!!!!!!!

This is a funny concept! I took some liberty to create this... Super powerd Buddy if you will. Not too many shenanigans all around, but Buddy is asking the real question here. Now they aren't exactly the Allspark, but that thing certainly made it seem that way!

Hope you enjoy!

Human Buddy and the Allspark

SFW, platonic, slight angst but things turn up in the end

MTMTE

The Lost Light had recently come across a strange artifact while on their travels. The artifact was brought to the lab for further inspection.

Rodimus accidentally activated it when his chassis came close to it. Preceptor and Brainstorm believed it was because he was a holder of the matrix and that's why it opened to him.

A stray blue light came out of the relic and began bouncing around the room before escaping into the halls of the ship.

It didn't make it too far from the lab.

Because it hit Buddy.

Because apparently exciting things happen when they take a break from their work.

They had been on Drift's shoulder when a blue light filled their vision and then they blacked out.

When Buddy regained consciousness they found themselves in the medbay with a group of worried faces.

Ratchet is the one who breaks the news.

That light they saw had somehow cyberformed half of their body and now had levels of energy that rivaled that of the matrix itself.

There was one thing Buddy needed to know at that moment...

"Do I look cool though?"--Buddy

Drift

Drift feels like part of this was his fault.

He feels like he should have blocked it or something. Ratchet has to literally knock some sense into him.

He is just as shock as everyone in the room when Buddy's condition is revealed. Even more worried for them when they let their little comment go.

"Buddy, I don't know how to word it. Maybe worrying about how you look isn't your main priority right now."--Drift

"But do I look cool though?"--Buddy

"Yes you do--"--Drift

"Then that's what matters right now."--Buddy

"..."--Drift

Drift is concerned over the origins of the relic and the energy source.

He has a theory that the power source chose Buddy to use it's power.

That theory however has earned him more dents in the helm via Ratchet.

Drift helps Buddy keep their new power in check with their regular meditation session.

Rodimus

Rodimus feels like this is his fault.

If he hadn't gone into the room, he wouldn't have activated the relic and then it wouldn't have gotten to Buddy.

That being said, he laughs at Buddy's comment.

"You sure do look cool Buddy!"--Rodimus

"Really?!"--Buddy

"Absolutely!"--Rodimus

Rodimus does take the new conditions seriously though. His friend just had part of their organic body turned into part bot body. He understands that this is a serious situation.

He can get behind Drift theory about Buddy being chosen for this Allspark like power. He has also been the victim of Ratchet's wrenches.

He makes sure to watch over Buddy and tries to help them in whatever way he can.

Feeling suddenly overwhelmed by the crowds?

Rodimus is now driving Buddy away to their room

Buddy getting tired of walking around?

Rodimus has them in his servos walking to the next designation.

He helps Buddy with their new found powers by giving some tips that help him with his flames.

Perceptor

Perceptor is extremely concerned over Buddy's new transformation.

None of this should be possible, in fact they should have been dead from a logical view point.

Not that he's complaining though.

He facepalms at Buddy's comment.

"Buddy, with all due respect, that is not what you should be asking!"--Perceptor

"But do I look cool?"--Buddy

"What-How-you... Nevermind."--Perceptor

He has to stop Brainstorm from wanting to experiment on Buddy immediately.

Don't get him wrong he also wants to study this new found power source but one thing at a time.

Perceptor watches over Buddy from time to time collecting data to study further. He has also joined Ratchet in hitting the others with wrenches as soon as he heard about Drift's theory.

Drift is his friend and all but he has to draw the science line somewhere.

He helps Buddy with their new power source by offering them a place to wind down and sleep.

#transformers #transformers x reader #maccadam #idw mtmte #mtmte x reader #human buddy #mtmte rodimus #mtmte drift #mtmte perceptor

[iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin]

𝓲𝓶𝓾𝓰𝓲 𓆗༒︎𓆘

wc: 2.9k reader: afab (no pronouns at all used to refer to reader) warnings: smut 18+; MINORS DNI!!! -- specific warnings under the cut -- swearing, angst, violence (very little depicted and no graphic descriptions), also happy? ending? love? something along those lines. summary: in the case of his failure, the serpent god imugi chooses two new vessels every one hundred years. the primary vessel is raised in isolation and the spirit god awakens in this body. the ultimate vessel lies in wait until it's finally time for the merge. you're so close you can taste it. if only this generation's primary vessel wasn't such a pitiable, loveless creature. modern dark fantasy AU. find other works here ੈ✩‧₊˚ yep it's a 𝓻𝓲𝓬𝓴𝔂 fic. bit the bullet and went for it. though a lot of lore describes imugi as a dragon/lizard king, this version of him is based on the imugi character in the tale of the nine tailed. he's more like an elegant, tortured serpent-human villain? i just think ricky is perfect for this concept and it was fun to write tbh! i took a lot of liberties with the lore lmao. lemme know what you think xx

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: experienced!reader and touchstarvedvirgin!ricky, both of them are subby and dominant at different points that's just how imugi rolls y'know, choking (reader and ricky receiving), oral (ricky receiving), p-in-v penetration, cumming inside w/ no protection (i literally don't care if you don't use protection i'd nevershame you just thoroughly research the consequences babe), angsty and dark but also love there's love that's kind of really sweet in this EW so be warned.

𓆗༒︎𓆘

a young, icy blonde man walks purposefully down the dark, ornate halls of his estate. one would think he was a prince. and they’d be right. just not the kind of prince that first comes to mind.

“ricky, sir,” you beg as you rush after him, grabbing his silk-sleeve covered arm when he’s finally in reach. “please.”

his head whips around, serpent eyes glowing as his pupils contract and expand. you know you’re not allowed to touch him under any circumstance and the palpable rage in his eyes almost makes you regret breaking the long-respected rule.

almost.

“let go,” he huffs, gaze so white-hot it could melt you to a boiling puddle on the marble floor. when you shake your head, he shoves you down, forcing you to your knees in front of him. “let go or i’ll kill you.”

you don’t. you can’t.

not when you’ve seen what happens if he rushes into battle with the gumiho before the merge. not when you know this decision leads to his servants laying him to rest in the garden every time.

not when you know you could wait a hundred years for his return. for the merging process to begin again. 

a patch of scales appears across his neck, glowing green and unnatural in the dim light of the hall chandelier. you know he means it: he’ll kill you. 

he’s done it three times before. perhaps it’s inescapable this time, too.

so you tip your head back. expose your jugular. wait for him to slice his lizard claw through you like you’d seen him do to so many of his enemies before you.

your friends. your family.

you were only sorry they’d have to die in their next lives, too. all for some prophecy they had nothing to do with.

he brings a hand to your throat, engulfing it in his palm and tilting your head side to side as if examining where to make the incision. he looks you over for another moment, before realization hits him. “you saw something, didn’t you?”

your eyes water with frustration, wishing you could just tell him. even if it meant having to sugarcoat things. if only your own curse didn’t make things that much more difficult. 

his awakening happened at eighteen, the power of imugi coursing through him at an uncontrollable frequency. that’s when it always happens: the destruction of the town and everyone that inhabited it. 

knowing what was coming, you hid— lying in wait until it was over. this time, you’d approached him right after the disaster. though many primal vessels didn’t recognize you after their awakening, you could tell in his contracted serpent eyes that, to some extent, ricky did.

ricky, of course, being the new “fashionable” name imugi chose for this vessel. imugi was always one who wanted to appear cool. whatever the trends were of the time, you could bet his vessel would be following them.

he was an interesting god in more ways than one.

when ricky demanded to hear how you’d somehow known to hide from destruction that left every townsperson dead except for you, you’d stuck with your usual explanation: you were a clairvoyant.

it was a guise you could easily keep up, since you already knew everything that would happen between now and your own awakening. it proved useful enough to each primal vessel and ricky took you in: letting you stay as his guest (prisoner) in his secluded mansion estate. 

there were two little problems though: the first being that you weren’t allowed to tell him his own fate. or else you’d both die. learned that one the hard way. 

most times, you could figure a way around this. you were incredibly clever after all and wise with knowledge beyond your years (literally). but with something so direct as life or death, you always found yourself in a bind right about now.

the second little problem was that imugi always liked to present his ultimate vessel with a charming challenge every rebirth cycle. that challenge was that the catalyst for the merge was different every cycle. 

and you still haven’t figured out what it is this time.

“what did you see?” he demands, tightening his grip around your neck. “tell me.”

biting your lip, you nod dutifully. “just kill me.”

“at this point, i should,” he seethes, throwing you further to the ground as he lets go of your neck. “fucking pathetic waste of investment.”

he spits on the floor beside you before turning around and continuing towards the door. it was beyond time for desperate measures.

“quanrui,” you breathe. the name he’d worn in youth before the birth of imugi had ripped through the weak vessel and torn his human self to shreds. the name his keeper used to call angrily when she’d catch him outside playing with you as a child. through the wrought-iron fence... exchanging pretty-colored stones.

he freezes, body stiffening at the sound of his real name. his jacket falls from his arm to the floor.

“i love you.”

he turns around slowly, lips parted in shock. the patch of green scales around his neck dissolves back into pale skin and his eyes turn a deep, chocolate brown.

“i love y—,” you begin to repeat before realizing you’ve chosen the wrong word. “i mean... i need you.”

“need me,” he repeats softly, full lips pouting as the words fall from them. the primal vessel to the dragon king, born without parents and raised without friends, seems to understand this concept more than that of love. he was used to people needing him, even if it was only to keep themselves alive.

you blink back at him, eyes swimming with desperation. are you getting through to him? will he stay here with you?

“show me,” he orders, closing the door and taking a few slow steps toward you. “show me how you need me.”

you force yourself up to your knees as he closes the distance between you, standing in front of you and waiting for your demonstration. you look up at him, eyes locking as your fingers reach for his belt buckle. it’s nothing you hadn’t done before with other, albeit less powerful and handsome, men.

but he hesitates, flinching back as if he’s afraid of your touch. 

“would you prefer to undo it yourself?” you ask calmly, thinking he might just wish to keep your grimy hands off his expensive clothes. 

“it’s... i don’t—,” he stutters, suddenly avoiding your gaze as if his life depends on it. if only he knew. “i’ve never...”

you feign a gasp. of course he hasn’t. he’s touch-starved and brooding and tragically beautiful. a broken man carrying the soul of a god. like every primal vessel before him. “but how can that be true? you’re so desirable, ricky, sir.”

“shut up,” he barks suddenly, a quick smack across your cheek to put you back in your place. “i’m... i’m sorry, just—... just keep going.”

you fight the urge to smile. this vessel had far more heart than the others. maybe that’s why you’d grown quite fond of him in the years since you’d met him.

your fingers connect with the metal of his belt buckle, unclasping it and pulling it through before discarding it with a clank on the marble floor. he jumps at the sound, swallowing hard as his attention returns to your hands on his black dress slacks. 

“may i undo this, too?” you ask quietly, tapping on the clasp and zipper. he nods slowly, glancing over his shoulder as you make quick work of the fastenings. 

pulling his slacks down with his black, satin boxers, he inhales sharply when the cool air hits him. for a different reason, so do you.

you’d be lying if you said your mouth didn’t water at the sight.

looking up at him through your lashes, you wordlessly ask for permission to continue. he breathes in and out shallowly before nodding just once. so you wrap your hand around his length gently, steadying him as you take him into your mouth.

swirling your tongue around his tip before pushing him in even further, you watch as his head lolls back— tattooed neck exposed as a large patch of scales works its way up his body. 

“feels good?” you ask, unable to help the smugness in your voice as you pop him out of your mouth. you pepper kitten licks around the head of his cock as a strangled moan falls from his lips— a clawed-hand moving to cup your jaw, brushing your cheek cautiously.

you notice the young prince continues to avoid eye contact, no matter how much he’s enjoying what you’re doing to him. you suppose it makes sense. he might fear being vulnerable. he probably never learned how to.

“look at me,” you encourage softly, hand pumping him steadily. “want to see your eyes...”

you’re reminded violently to always be careful of what you ask for as you’re tackled to the ground, glowing, serpent eyes no more than an inch from yours. 

“you think you’re worthy of the gaze of the imugi prince?” ricky hisses— hands pinned beside each of your shoulders as he hovers above you. 

he reaches one hand down to the designer pants that he’d bought you for you last year. you couldn’t wear rags in his presence. dragon claws tear through the fabric, ripping them and pulling them off of you. he doesn’t even have to use a claw to rip through your underwear, discarding them as a patch of scales flashes across his right hand. you should’ve expected such theatrics from imugi’s vessel. the smile that is forming on your face is completely erased as he promptly buries himself inside of you— a moan escaping both of you.

he meets your gaze, pompous smirk accompanying his yellow eyes as he starts to thrust into you. this new skill is undoubtedly the effects of imugi’s extensive spiritual well of muscle memory. “are you happy now? are these the eyes you wanted to see?”

truth be told, they were not. perhaps you’ve just had too much experience already with having imugi inside of you...

“quanrui,” you mewl. “wanna see your eyes...”

he doesn’t respond and instead averts your gaze— continuing to thrust into you, silent and detached. you’re fairly certain this will begin just as it started, until...

“is this what it feels like?” he asks suddenly, chocolate eyes full of innocence once more as he looks at you uncertainly. “love?”

the question shocks you, only able to cry out when he thrusts even deeper into you— cock hitting the fleshy wall of your cervix. you recall what you’d said to get his attention. to keep him from storming out of the door and into the clutches of premature death.

of course, you’d been manipulating him. it was your duty to imugi. how sick you are growing of your eternal duty to that snake.

but you nod. you lie. if you wanted a human life free from the serpent king, you shouldn’t have ever picked that flower from his castle garden.

“then i must love you, too,” ricky breathes, emotion emphasized by a collapse to your chest— deepening the angle of his thrusts until you’re begging for release. “i must’ve loved you even through the fence.”

you gasp, partially because of the desperation in his pace and partially because the last thing you expected was for him to utter such a sentimental confession. you could always tell that he recognized you, but you had no idea until this moment that he remembered from where.

“i’ve never met another person outside of my house before,” the little boy said solemnly. “you’re the first. i’m six. i like your socks.”

“thanks,” you replied with a smile. you’d found him again, even faster in this life than the last. the imugi prince. “my name’s (y/n). i’m seven. my mother owns a bakery in town. she gives free bread to all the children.”

“my name’s quanrui,” he returned, corners of his lips upturning softly. “i wish i could go. i’m not allowed to leave. bad things could happen to me. i guess that’s what happened to my parents, anyway.”

with every rebirth, you felt more sorry for the primary vessel. always so confused about their identity until the truth was revealed: they were never meant to have one in the first place. 

“i like rocks,” quanrui said suddenly, digging in his pocket and pulling out a beautiful emerald stone. “i picked this one up by the fountain. it’s pretty. you should keep it. also i like you.”

something as pure as that had never happened before. you begin to smile now, thinking of it.

a familiar sensation in your stomach begins to bubble abruptly, but it’s not the one you’d normally feel during this act. it’s painful. and the intensity of that pain swells rapidly until you’re screaming in its wake.

“what’s—...” ricky stutters, palpable fear in his eyes. “what’s wrong!? am i hurting you?”

scales, green and eerie begin to patch across your skin; vision blurring as your human eyes are replaced with that of a serpent. vicious claws sprout from your fingertips, so sharp you accidentally cut a small slice across his cheek.

he pulls out of you, clambering back as the frightening transformation occurs before his very eyes. he doesn’t have time to worry for long, as a screeching sound rips through both of your skulls. covering your ears,

you count the seconds until it stops— the heinous noise suddenly replaced by something else.

what the fuck...

you hear it: ricky’s thoughts tickling the back of your brain. 

can you hear me? is the merge complete?

his eyes widen as your voice rings through his mind, blinking as if he’s sure he must be hallucinating. no, no, no. this—... i’m dreaming. i just need to wake up! that will end this nightmare and—

oh, i don’t think so, gorgeous. i think we’re finally getting started.

his jaw drops as you crawl towards him, body stiff and cautious as you slink your way closer. your hand reaches to cup his cheek, thumb ghosting over the small incision you made.

“i know this is a lot to take in, but... i’m actually supposed to dispose of you now. it’s unwise for two imugi vessels to be running amuck,” you hiss, fingers running through his long, white hair. “so i’ve had to make a habit of... retiring the weaker one.”

he gapes at you, eyes shifting back and forth from yellow to brown. “you—... you’re the second vessel? that’s why you could predict the future... you knew all along what would happen? since... since—”

“since the fence, yes. i know. what a shame,” you coo mockingly, wrapping your hand around his neck as he’d done to you earlier. you shove him to the floor, flat on his back as he looks up at you. he doesn’t struggle. “and i’m called the ultimate vessel, thank you very much. it’s so tiresome... always having to be the one to step up and educate you primaries. but then again, telling an innocent child he was born to die is a bit grim. even for imugi.”

ricky stares at you, brow furrowed pensively. what triggered the merge?

his question is a good one. i don’t know. what happened immediately before? 

ricky’s eyes widen. “i—... i said i love you.”

love? could that have really been the catalyst that imugi chose? for his vessels to fall in love? there was one glaring problem with that...

i was lying.

“you didn’t mean it?” he asks after your thought permeates his mind. sadness is visible on his face, but there’s something else much more dangerous underneath it. something like suspicion. and you simply can’t have that.

you smile at him softly, starting to roll your hips against his. he inhales sharply at the sensation, involuntarily grinding against you.

“if you walked out that door, the gumiho would’ve ripped you apart,” you assert, hand reaching to his still-hard cock and lining it up with your entrance— sinking down onto him with a satisfied sigh. “imugi can only win that fight after the merge. i tried my best to allude to that, but you primaries always go and—”

“i’m not them,” ricky yells, causing your lips to part in shock. “stop referring to me as the primary vessel. i understand: you knew all along what would happen to me. you manipulated and lied your way into my life. into my home. my body. and i know now that not one of those things belonged to me from the start. but... my heart does.”

your serpent eyes fade as his human ones bore into you. 

“and the only time i ever felt like it even worked was when i was with you.”

could it really be true? was the reason you were so fond of ricky, more than any other primary vessel before him, by design? had you always been meant to fall in love with him in this lifetime?

a love strung up and puppeted by imugi himself. doomed to end in tragedy.

but this boy beneath you couldn’t see that truth. part of you wished you couldn’t either. part of you wished you could be him for once.

“this never happened before,” you say softly, running your free hand across his chest as you slowly start to lift yourself up and down on his cock. even if this is the most brutal end yet, you might as well make the most of it.

“w-what do you mean?” he asks breathily, voice raspy as he grapples with the renewed pleasure.

“in the previous lifetimes,” you respond with a smile. “this never happened in any rebirth cycle. i think we got close to it once— during a battle so hateful that six servants perished... alongside the both of us.”

you feel him gulp under your palm. 

“but maybe this makes sense,” you continue, speeding up your pace. “in every lifetime, you never learn to love. in every lifetime, you rip love from me. we’re a sorry doomsday pair.”

he moans under you, biting his bottom lip as you milk him between your walls. “fuck...”

“i wonder what would happen if we tried to be partners this time,” you say, high rapidly approaching as the head of his cock hits the sweet spot of your upper wall. “maybe we have what it takes to cooperate with each other. not to mention, we could do this whenever we wanted...”

“but... but imugi wants you to kill—.”

“oh no, the killing you part is all me,” you say with a laugh, the vibration making him whimper. “i really hate competition.”

“fucking— please,” he whines, hands rushing to your hips and guiding you up and down as you start to lose yourself. “kill me if you want, just... let me cum before you do.”

you oblige. he moans sweetly, another few thrusts and he’s spilling himself inside of you. as you feel yourself fill up with his warmth, you reach your climax— back arching as you ride out your high.

you look at him. why are you the only one burdened with eternal memory? you’re astounded by the way he grows more beautiful in every life. 

thank you. he smiles, one eyebrow raised. “does my beauty save me from death?”

you capture his image in your mindseye for another moment, leaning down and connecting your lips to his. it’s a tender thing. in no lifetime have you deserved it. 

when you pull back, you smile and shake your head. “i’m afraid i still desperately yearn to kill you.”

“i don’t believe you,” he says suddenly, hands helping him upwards to a seated position. almost-human eyes meet almost-human eyes.

you blink back at him dumbly. what?

“i don’t believe you, because... i found them,” he says, claws tracing up your incandescent, scale-covered thighs. “in your top dresser drawer. in a blue velvet sachet.”

no. wait. don’t say it. please, don’t say—

“the stones,” he says, a charming and devastating smirk on his perfect lips— eyes flashing yellow just for a moment. quanrui. ricky. imugi. no matter how hard you fought it, you loved them.

all of them.           /              all of them.

#zb1 smut #zerobaseone smut #zb1 #zerobaseone #zb1 fics #zb1 imagines #zb1 x reader #zerobaseone fics #zerobaseone imagines #zerobaseone x reader #shen ricky #zb1 ricky #shen ricky smut #shen ricky x reader #shen ricky fics #shen ricky imagines #ricky smut #ricky x reader #ricky fics #zerobaseone ricky #shen quanrui #shen quanrui smut #shen quanrui x reader #iwnfyshb #zb1 hard hours

[silverhart-makes-art]

Pretty sure I have a good guess as to this week's Bestiary Posting animal, so I'm just gonna go totally off the rails for this one.

My thought process was as follows: Three rows of teeth means it must be a shark. And it would be fun to draw a fish, since I haven't done one for this challenge yet. But oh no, it has 'powerful feet'. Fish don't have feet. You know what does have powerful feet though? Mollusks. Mollusks have feet. It's described as having eyes though. What mollusks have eyes? That's right. Cephalopods!

Hence, the Mlekragg is a cephalopod.

Yes, it is a stretch, but sometimes with this challenge I like to imagine I'm an alien illustrator with no concept of what animals humans would regularly encounter. While most humans would probably assume this is a terrestrial mammal, there's no reason an alien would. In fact, considering how many more invertebrates there are then vertebrates, it makes sense for an outside observer to assume any animals described by humans is an inveterate, unless it says otherwise. It's all very sound alien logic, and not just me making wild leaps because I want my imaginary bestiary to have some more variety beyond my favorite birds and mammals. I'm really trying to use this challenge to be more imaginative and crazy with creature designs, and think outside the box when I can.

Anywho, the cuttlefish and nautilus were my main points of reference, though I did look at some reconstructions of prehistoric cephalopods for inspiration. Then I simply took all the elements of the Mlekragg and slapped it onto that body form. The triple row of teeth can't be seen in my drawing, but it is located where a cephalopod's beak would typically be. The 'face of a man' is actually a pattern on it's hood it uses to fool predators. Behind the hood flares out a 'lion's mane', which it uses for display and also to disorient it's prey when it snatches it up. It has a pointed "tail" with a stinger. It doesn't look much like a scorpion's tail - took a bit of artistic liberty and decided it just stings like a scorpion's tail, rather then looks like it. I've decided to interpret 'powerful feet' and 'good jumper' as two different traits. So it's 'powerful feet' are it's tentacles, but it uses it's stinger to leap. Why does a sea creature need to leap? Well, I imagine they live near coasts and occasionally get stranded in tide pools or on land and use their stingers to propel themselves back into the water. It kind of works like a springtail's little 'tail'. Much like the description says, no obstacle can keep the Mlekragg in!

On the bottom right I've drawn a picture of one using it's stinger to leap, and on the left I've drawn a cartoon version of it that accentuates the lion shape/human face idea. With it's tentacles and mane laid back and it's fins hanging down it does look like a little leaping lion. I also gave it a little grin in keeping with the cartoon tradition of putting cephalopod mouths on the mantle, which we know is incorrect. It does make him look like a very personable little gentleman though.

I feel if I were a bit more confident in drawing cephalpods and knew more about mollusk anatomy I could've maybe taken this in an even wilder direction. Maybe I'll revisit it in the future.

#maniculum bestiaryposting #mlekragg

[yourdoseofapple]

I think there should be a building game show for Minecraft. Like Lego Masters, most cooking shows, etc. Like listen. I think fighting is cool and all, and I myself was raised on watching bed wars and Minecraft hunger games and all that, but like also… builder are insane? Like I love watching, Empires, Hermitcraft, other big builders (and redstoners for that matter) because I’m so fascinated by how their brains work???? Like you’re telling me Bdubs took some dirt and made a literal mountain as a BACKDROP for his build in a season??????? Bro????? Like I want some builders to go head to head in a building challenge.

Like, okay hear me out, each week their “building themes” could go from mimicking IRL architecture styles - medieval, French colonial, minimalism, etc - OR could rely on game mechanics. Like you gotta make a build, but it must include five red stone functions - could be as simple of auto lighting and stuff - all the way to farms included into the make of the build!

Judging wise, I think that would be the hardest thing to pin down, because the issue with Minecraft building is that there are a lot of factors when it comes to the concept of building because every builder has an inherent “style” they have and so to compare isn’t necessarily fair???? Because what one person likes may not be the same as another person, so I don’t believe you can judge inherently on how a build looks, but more so if it fits the criteria - did you do your research and keep to the prompt 100% or did you take some liberties in the favor of making it seem stylistically “better” - also, while I am inclined to be like “hey look we could have it audience choice” I am aware that in previous Minecraft events - every tournament event live-streamed like ever - every YouTuber is gonna have bias on their side, and if there is someone with a larger viewership that others, there is of course going to be favor towards them. The ONLY way I could see this being different is if it was all pre-recorded and episodic, but I still believe there would be a heavy amount of bias if someone was on the show with more viewership than others. We would want it to be fair. I do think audience participation is important though, and should be a major inclusion! Like, before an event is to occur I think it would be fun to choose the prompt of what they’re building that week, but the contenders just can’t tweet/say/promote one they wish to do, so it is STRICTLY up to the audience without bias.

Also, I think everyone should come out a winner, not in the “No one came out on top because we are all equal” way - because while that is important it is still a tournament, and as we’ve seen in literally every competition show ever there is always a first place winner - but more so in the, while you didn’t win, let’s reflect on how you are still fantastic and getting something out of this. I know it sounds a little basic, so I do think it would need to be extrapolated on. But I wouldn’t want anyone who “loses” to just go away with “you got clout” award. You were featured on the show, that’s inherent, you deserve more than that, again this can be fleshed out later, but they deserve more too, somehow.

Also for the finalists - I’m thinking either 3 left or 2 left - it should be a mega build level prompt. Could be something like “build a city!” Or just “build a mega base with x block being the main block” and, again, not sure how it would be judged, but winner comes out, with second/third place having some reward as well, not as good, but still considerably great. I also think it would be fun to have prior contestants come on and have to participate in the “here is your block that I got to choose for you” to add some spice to it. IDK what the prize would be, I know it is normally money, and while it could be that, I think it would be more fun to have something a little different that would still be fun and a true “winners” item. Again, not sure what it could be, but it would need to hold to the truth of “oh, hey, this is a true prize and its still fun and I’m getting something out of this!”

Anyhow, enjoy the strange thoughts of my brain and if any streamers/youtubers are out there reading this, lemme know what you think cuz I’m curious. Do I think I could ever do this? Probably not cuz I’m an opera singer doing my masters so time is bet a dream to me at this point, but like. I think it is interesting and would love opinions on it just from the standpoint of discussion. I streamed at one point, maybe I’ll start back up again one day if only to have fun. I feel like that should be what it is, fun, that is the most important thing at the end of the day and builders should have some competitive fun too!

Also, I will admit that I am obviously not knowledgeable on everything - again opera singers not full time Minecraft anything - so I don’t know if something like this has been done before, and while I think it would be cool if something like this existed, it may already exist and I quite simply don’t know! Thoughts, opinions, anything else?

Anyway, if anything, have a good day!

#minecraft #mcyt #mcytbr #hermitcraft #hermitblr #empires smp

[bookishdaze]

Anyways, I wish to ramble about Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes and the new trailer because these next 3 months are gonna be excruciating. Here we goooo.

Okay when I first saw this shot, the first thought crossing my mind was "Wow. Those eyes." These movies will once again have apes with prettier eyes than me, lol. They're blown so wide open here. It's so detailed and I love that the apes' expressions are more human-like. And I wonder why Noa is looking more visibly upset than his friends.

The way he rubs the little chimp's head is so cute! I love this. Sweet older brother vibes.

I just know Noa is thinking "this guy's not right in the head." This is the face I make when I want to crawl away from a conversation with someone making me feel really uncomfortable.

He's shouting "PULL!" here. Later in the trailer we see apes pulling at chains at the same time. Are they trying to build a ship? (Noah's ark, anyone?) Open a bunker door to access tech? What are they doinggggg?

Took me way too long to realize the mural is depicting an astronaut.

People are saying this is her Statue of Liberty moment. I personally don't even think she is an astronaut tbh. I notice she is crying while looking through the telescope. I don't think it's because she is learning she is stuck hundreds of years into the future. I think she could be sad about humanity's downfall. Or she just thinks the stars are pretty and is overwhelmed. Or she's got dust in her eye, lol. I think in this scene Noa and Mae will share some fascination with the cosmos or something.

This scene is so sweet! He's shyly giving her a blue sweater here. I cannot wait to see their dynamic play out.

Anyways, I'm putting on my tinfoil hat and calling it now, I think there is a SLIM possibility we'll get weird romantic undertones. But like. That's it. I'm not saying anything explicit. But likeeeeeeeee this idea has been toyed with since the 60s in the novel between Ulysse and Zira. I recently read the book and rewatched all 9 movies and I'm surprised at the unusual amount of romance. So there's a precedent. That's all I'm saying. Alrighty carrying on, lol.

I think the ape elder Noa speaks with (Koro, I think?) dies here while Noa is falling off one of those phone towers his clan lives in. Rip.

We are FINALLY getting more female apes. Two at the forefront, and I think I see a few in the background. Which was my one nitpick in the Caesar trilogy. I expected the lack of girls in the originals, but in the more modern ones? Cmon.

Now I'm just waiting on a female orangutan and gorilla, please 🙏

Also, remember the blue sweater he gives Mae? I think I see it on the ground. What happened here? I notice Noa is caught in a net trying to reach his spear. I think Mae fell in the water because of the concept art we've been shown. Can apes swim? I sure hope so.

And there's so much more I wanna talk about, but I'll let my thoughts rest and go to bed. It's getting late.

#planet of the apes #pota #kotpota #kingdomoftheplanetoftheapes #kingdom of the planet of the apes #planetoftheapes #mae #noa #proximus caesar #soona #wes ball

[kanmom51]

This needs to stop

I really contemplated if to put these words down, but I am so angry and disappointed and sad at this point that I felt I had to vent.

Disappointed. I think that's the key word for what I am feeling right now.

I understand that people are upset/angry/enraged by the shit that followed JM's release of his first solo album Face. I understand because I am enraged as well.

I have no doubt in my mind that he was wronged.

He succeeded beyond anyone's dreams and probably kind of ruined certain dreams some of these people had of their own.

But to take that anger and to turn it on the one person that supported and supports JM beyond any of us is infuriating to me.

Turning on JK?

Because of what? A shithead called Scooter Braun, who has his own personal agenda and history shows us has zero real interest or care in the actual artists he is pushing?

Do people forget who JK is?

Do they need a reminder course here?

I guess I will have to give them one.

JK is JM's favourite person in the whole world.

And a full masterlist to show it:

JK is JM's number 1 fan and showing it to us whenever he just can, with or without the company's permission.

JK is one of the most artistic and creative people there are.

Suga about JK

And maybe read what one of the stylists working on the Seven concept had to say about JK and the concept.

JK's concept. He came ready to the table. He knew what he wanted to show, what message he wanted to send.

He was given option, other concepts, other ideas, and he chose what he chose.

JK didn't steal JM's ideas. He didn't utilize them for the lack of coming up with original ideas of his own. Don't believe me, believe JK's talent, his artistry.

JK CHOSE this. This is what he wanted us to see.

It's not about copying. It's about showing us who inspires him.

It's about showing us, not only telling us, who his catalyst is.

He CHOSE the EXACT same leather pants that JM wore.

Do you see the scribble at the bottom of the jeans?

JK CHOSE the jeans with the mud.

He CHOSE.

He did not copy or plagiarize.

He took artistic liberty to mirror JM's photoshoot to an extent.

Sending us all I'd say more than one message.

First one is what I mentioned above. JM is his inspiration.

Second is connecting himself to JM, to Face, to Like crazy.

Perhaps his way of showing us he's that person that stood by JM's side when he was struggling. The one that tread mud with him. The one that tried to wake him up, save him, but JM wasn't ready for that just yet at the time. The one that let JM embrace him while trying to escape reality.

And instead of seeing what JK is trying to tell us, his fans, Jikookers as well, are turning on him?

Making JK out to be someone that doesn't have an original idea and goes and steals JM's is disrespectful to both JK and JM, btw.

This coming from people that supposedly love and know JM and JK?

JM is a 27 strong willed young man. And evidently, JM has no issues with JK of late.

JK is a 25 yo creative artistic young man, who adores and admires and lives for JM, and would NEVER steal something from JM, never take something of JM's and pass it on as his own.

Do they not understand that JM is joking when he calls JK his copycat? Has been for years now.

Did they not see the joy and love in his eyes when JK said "I'm hyung's copycat"?

He knows that JK looks up to him.

He knows that JK is inspired by him.

He lives for that.

And to go and to make it into something ugly it's just so infuriating.

JM was wronged. We can agree on that. The COMPANY could have and should have done better.

THE COMPANY.

Not the other members.

Not JK.

I get the anger and frustration. But do we take it out on the one person that did right by JM? Do we take it out on the one person JM loves more than anything? The person that JM will stand by and support and root for to succeed? How is that loving JM?

Since when did two wrongs make a right?

Don't go around saying you won't support JK's single.

Support him all while continuing to support JM's songs.

#jikook #kookmin #minkook #Jungkook #Jk #JK Seven #Jimin #JM #JM Face

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 43: Katherine's Advice

Prev > Masterlist > Next

September 1925

TW: conditioning, discussion of abuse, panic attacks

Oliver put the finishing touches on a set of egg-salad sandwiches, neat triangles with the crust removed, and set them on a platter along with an assortment of tea cookies from a local bakery. Truthfully, he didn't know the first thing about entertaining -- with no friends or family and a tiny bookshop apartment, it wasn't anything he'd ever had to do. Alexander had some helpful suggestions for things he'd seen other thralls do, and had procured the supplies Oliver would need for a light midnight lunch (or whatever one might call it.)

In fact, Alexander had been hovering around Oliver a great deal since their fraught conversation a couple of nights before. He'd bought a bounty of foods he supposed Oliver might like, and seemed to be popping up around every corner of the library to show Oliver interesting books.  It was as though his master thought he needed to win his favor all over again -- despite the fact that Oliver was still very much enthralled, his thoughts often going hazy and filling with imagined echoes of siren song.

Oliver didn't really need the attention, but he did appreciate the advice on entertaining. Embarrassing as it was, Oliver really did want to impress his guests. So much had happened over the past few weeks, his entire life and conception of the world turned on its end. The only people who might really understand were vampires' thralls. Miriam hadn't seemed quite lucid enough for a true conversation, but Alexander had told him that Miss Ruth's thrall, Charlie, was quite intelligent and together.

It'd be nice to talk to someone else who had gone through... this. That was all.

He had just finished up in the kitchen when the doorbell rang and his master rushed to greet the guests. "Hello hello!" sang a voice that Oliver would never forget: Miss Lily. She brought both of her hands to her face in a dramatic mock gasp. "Lex? No, it can't be. You don't look like you just clawed your way out of a grave. Who are you, and what have you done with Lex?"

"Mm. Nice to see you too."

"And look at you!" Miss Lily ruffled Oliver's hair. "You look like you're adjusting quite well! Are you the one responsible for Lex's shocking good health?"

Oliver blushed, not certain how to respond to the praise. She seemed different from how she had been in the auction house, more relaxed, but something about her voice and mannerisms still made Oliver feel a bit dazed and eager to please. "I'm just glad I was able to help him, sir."

"Of course you did. I just knew a thrall like you could do him a world of good. Speaking of which..." She pulled her thrall Miriam through the front door, and she looked at Oliver with her usual clouded expression. "Miriam, you remember Oliver, don't you? Lord Alexander's new thrall?"

She looked confused for a moment before her face lit up a bit in recognition. "Oh, yes! From when we were staying at the auction house. It's good to see you again."

"It's good to see you, too." Miriam's uncertain mental state made him a bit uneasy. If Lily and Alexander were anything alike, would he end up similarly entranced? Would he even realize if it happened? Was it happening already?

"But Miriam's not the only person I've brought along. I took the liberty of inviting one of our old friends that Lex has been avoiding."

Alexander looked confused. "Ruth? I haven't been avoiding her."

"Ruth's on the way, too, but no, not her."

"Oh -- you don't mean --"

A sophisticated-looking older woman, gray hair tucked in neat curls, stepped out from the porch. She was wearing an old-fashioned, dark blue flannel dress with a high collar. Behind her was another older woman, also wearing an old-fashioned flannel dress, hers covered with a ruffled white pinafore.

"Edith! It's been ages!" said Alexander.

"And whose fault is that?" she said, in the tone of a worried mother. "You kept turning me away when I called on you, and I'd hear all about it from Lily -- how you refused to take a thrall, and were drinking bottled blood --"

Alexander looked uncharacteristically cowed by the scolding. "And I'm sure she's told you that I have a suitable thrall, now, so you needn't worry about my health."

"I'll stop being worried about your health when you start taking proper care of yourself," she said. "But I'd like to meet this thrall of yours. Is this him?"

Even with his master and Miss Lily around him, Oliver could still feel the pull of this new vampire's aura on his mind. It was soothing, almost numbing, and he had the odd thought that she must be a good master. "My name is Oliver Pines, sir, and I am indeed Lord Alexander's thrall. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Oh, what a polite and charming thrall," Miss Edith said with a smile. She shamelessly took Oliver's chin in her hand to examine his face, and Oliver was surprised that his master didn't seem to mind. "Healthy, and his blood smells very nourishing."

"As you can see, I'm taking care of myself just fine," said Alexander defensively.

"I suppose this is a better state of affairs than your usual. But where are my manners? I haven't introduced myself properly." she said, and then turned back to Oliver. "You may address me as Dr. Edith. I'm a doctor who has served the vampire community for over a century. If you're ever sick or injured, no doubt your master will call on me to help."

"You're a vampire... doctor, sir?"

"There are very few health ailments that can afflict vampires, so I primarily take care of their precious thralls. After all, healthy thralls are necessary for a healthy vampire," she said, with a pointed look at Alexander.

He rolled his eyes with a smile on his face. "Yes, yes, your point has been made."

"And this is Katherine, my faithful nurse," said Dr. Edith, gesturing to the woman who had accompanied her.

Katherine delicately shook Oliver's hand. "Good to meet you." She looked bright-eyed compared to Miriam, but her hand was warm, and she clearly was not a vampire.

"Are you a..."

"Dr. Edith's thrall, yes, and her nurse and assistant and whatever else is required of me."

"I see," he said with relief. He was looking forward to having a chat with a thrall who seemed to still have her wits about her.

While the group was still exchanging pleasantries, hanging up coats and hats, when the doorbell rang once again. It was Miss Ruth, the vampire lawyer who had sized up Oliver's suitability for a clerk at the auction house. She was followed by a tall, broad-shouldered man.

"Do you remember me, Oliver?" she asked.

"Yes, sir, I remember you very well. You asked me to recite state capitals. I'm glad to see you well."

Miss Ruth looked at him with longing. "Oh, I do wish I could have afforded to buy you," she said. "But no matter how hard I work, I just can't compete with Lex's fortune."

The broad-shouldered man was named Charlie, and he was one of Miss Ruth's thralls and law clerks. He favorited Oliver with a stoic nod, and between him and Katherine, he couldn't help but feel a bit self-conscious. Now that he was fully enthralled and owned by a vampire, it was strange to be around other humans, even those in a similar boat. It made him more keenly aware of his situation, and he wondered how he seemed to other people, all too aware that he was under a hypnotic spell.

"Now that all of our guests have arrived, Oliver, why don't you get your tea and refreshments and show the thralls into the second-floor sitting room?" said Alexander. "We'll be meeting in the parlor, and I would prefer not to be disturbed."

"Yes, sir," said Oliver, feeling more than a bit like a child being shooed off so the adults could talk. But even though he'd love to hear what the vampires were discussing -- especially since he seemed to be of particular interest to them -- he was also eager to have a chat with the other thralls.

A few moments later, and he'd enlisted Katherine and Charlie's help in carrying trays to the sitting room. The curtains were open wide, offering a pleasant view of the gaslit city streets and the waning moon. Miriam settled into a plush chair and pulled a knitting project out of a small bag as Oliver poured tea for the four of them.

"Please, help yourself to sandwiches and cookies," he said.

"You're a lovely host, Oliver," Katherine commented. "And so lucid, as well." 

"Um --"

Charlie glared. "An awkward thing to say to a new thrall, don't you think?"

"At my age, I don't see any point dancing around the bush. I've seen hundreds of thralls, after all, and I'm well aware that we're some of the more fortunate ones."

"How long have you two been thralls?" asked Oliver.

"Six years for me," said Charlie.

"I've been with the doctor for nearly thirty years now."

"Thirty years!" said Oliver. "I didn't know... well..."

"Didn't realize that a thrall could last so long in the service of a vampire?" said Katherine, amused. "It's understandable, but it's more common than you might expect. I'm particularly lucky in that my master is a doctor, and so I'm kept very healthy."

"Do you like your master?"

"I do," said Katherine. "I'm under her spell, of course, but after all these years, that's practically background noise. But after having met so many vampires, I'm glad it was the doctor who enthralled me. I meet lots of interesting people and vampires, and I get to help them. I'm never bored. And she's always treated me well."

"I'm also happy to serve my master," said Charlie in a tone that sounded a bit strange. "I mean, I do miss my old life sometimes, and it's hard work to be a clerk, but my living conditions are so much better than when I was working at the factory, that's for sure. My math and reading have improved, too."

"And how about you, Oliver? What's your first impression of serving Lord Alexander?" said Katherine.

Oliver's mind swirled with thoughts, of his master's siren song and his feeding and his need, of the library and the comfortable bed and generous food, of his tiny apartment above the bookshop that used to be modest but his, of the threat of his master's sire.

"It's been good so far. Lord Alexander will be a good master to me, I hope," said Oliver carefully. "But... did you two know his previous thralls?"

Katherine exchanged a look with Charlie. "Ah, yes, Henry. I remember him. He was more... subdued. Like Miriam." 

"Like Miriam," Oliver repeated, his fear of having his mind fade away from him renewed.

Miriam looked up from her knitting. "Hm?"

"Nothing, dear," said Katherine. "I believe that Lord Alexander has, for the most part, always treated his thralls very well. He's a gentle vampire, and he's always treated me with more respect than is due a thrall. But..."

"But?"

"Well... I have had to treat a number of mysterious injuries on Alexander's previous thralls. Miss Lily's as well. I assume you know what those two have in common."

Charlie looked impatient. "There's no need to beat around the bush. Our vampires won't mind us talking about this. They're probably talking about the same thing," he said. "Oliver, what has Lord Alexander told you about the Maestro?"

"The Maestro?" said Oliver, his eyes widening. "Is that... his sire?"

"Oh dear. Yes, he is," said Katherine. "So he's told you very little. It's the way of vampires, unfortunately. Even my master barely tells me anything."

Oliver gripped his chair. "I need to know. Please, tell me."

"I'm afraid I don't know that much myself. He's notoriously reclusive. But I have had to visit his manor to attend to thralls on a number of occasions. Even my master would prefer not to go there, but she says it's too dangerous to defy him."

"What was he like?"

Katherine leaned in close, as though the subject of their conversation might somehow overhear. "His power lets him control people's bodies utterly. His thralls are like toy soldiers, moving to a drum only they can hear. I'm used to all kinds of thralls, but his were uncanny." Katherine shuddered. "Even though he didn't lay a hand on me, he was glaring at me the entire time, and I could feel his influence pulling at my mind. A feeling as though I had to fall in line immediately, or something terrible would happen. Like I could barely think without him hearing it. I've rarely wanted to flee a manor so quickly as that one."

"That does sound... unpleasant," he said, trying to keep his hands from shaking as he sipped his tea, unable to stop his imagination from conjuring visions of himself being used as little more than a puppet. "And his thralls were injured?"

"My master complained that he hadn't called until they were practically bleeding out -- afterwards, of course, not while we were there. Malnourished, too, with a haunted look about them." She put a hand on his knee with a sympathetic look. "But these were the Maestro's own thralls, not Alexander's. You have far less to worry about here. As I've said, I've always found him to be a very gentle vampire."

"Convenient," huffed Charlie. "A vampire with a reputation for being gentle and honest, who gets to blame all his thralls' injuries on his notoriously cruel sire."

Katherine looked alarmed. "Charlie --"  

"I'm just saying that I find it hard to believe the apple falls that far from the tree."

Before Katherine could interject again, Miriam unexpectedly looked up from her knitting, fear written on her normally placid face. "But it is true," she insisted. "Lord Alexander has never hurt me. Neither has Miss Lily, except when she has to leave me there, and --" Tears began to roll down her face. "I can hear it. I can still hear it. Miss Lily told me I could forget, but I can't, I can't forget or he'll punish me --"

"Miriam, oh dear, Miriam, it's okay," said Katherine, pulling the sobbing thrall into an embrace. "It's all right, Miriam. No one's going to hurt you here. You're safe with us, dear."

"I can dance. I can do the dance perfectly, I promise, just let me try, I can do it." Miriam's anxious mumble was barely intelligible between her crying and the way she was pressed against Katherine.

"Miriam, you aren't there. You aren't anywhere frightening. You're having tea at Lord Alexander's house, remember?"

"I'm at...?"

"Lord Alexander's house. His thrall Oliver is being such a gracious host. It's perfectly safe. See?"

Miriam seemed to wake from her terror almost as quickly as she'd fallen into it. "Oh, of course, I don't know what I was thinking!" she said, glassy-eyed as she lifted her head from Katherine's shoulder. "Oh, I always enjoy when my madam visits Lord Alexander. He's very kind to me."

"Of course he is, dear," said Katherine, patting her back. "We really shouldn't bring up such awful topics around Miriam. She's a sensitive soul. Charlie, how's your baseball team doing?"

Oliver wanted to hear more, even though it terrified him, but he also felt awful that his questioning had thrown Miriam into a panic, so he eagerly went along with the topic change. "You like baseball, Charlie?"

"Love baseball, always have," he said, also looking relieved at the conversation switch. "My master gave me a great radio set, so I can listen to all the games. But my team's doing awful this year -- bottom of the league. They never shoulda traded their star pitcher..." 

As Oliver listened to Charlie rant about blown games and poor referee calls, as Katherine discussed birdwatching and a new bread recipe she'd tried, he could almost forget the fear of his situation and feel a little bit normal.

It was only later, after Charlie and his madam left and Miriam was engrossed in her knitting, that Oliver was able to pull Katherine aside. "Katherine, will you please hear me out?"

"Certainly," she said in a motherly tone. "I know how hard it is, the first few weeks of being a vampire's thrall."

"What you said before..." He glanced around as if he were afraid his master would pop out of the shadows at any moment. "Am I safe here? Will I be all right? I've been conditioned to be unable escape..."

"That's normal, yes. I assume Miss Lily was the one who handled your conditioning?"

"She was."

"Then no, I don't expect you'll be able to escape," she said. She put a hand on Oliver's shoulder. "I can't promise that you will be safe. What I said about the Maestro was all true, and while I do believe Alexander means well on the whole, you're among vampires now. We live in their world, and they do what they will with us."

Oliver felt his gut twist. "So then..."

"I've met so many thralls in my life. Hundreds, probably. Most in worse situations than you, and some in better," she said. "Would you like to hear my honest advice about surviving this?"

"Yes, by all means."

"Find happiness wherever you can. Find joy outside of your master's enthralling and feeding. Hobbies, food, art, education, anything that brings you pleasure -- indulge in it." She smiled warmly. "You'll need these pleasures to keep your mind sharp and keep your soul from despair. When you're permanently a prisoner, you need something tangible to look forward to, even if it's simply a warm drink or a beam of sunshine. You seem like the sort of man who can appreciate the mundane."

"...I like to believe so, yes."

"That's a skill that will serve you well, Oliver," she said. "Even if Alexander and his sire are cruel to you, you'll still have something to hold on to during your darkest moments."

"Something to hold on to..." 

"I think you will figure it out. With how much Lord Alexander seems to prize you, it wouldn't surprise me to meet you here twenty years from now, looking back on our lives with our vampires."

She seemed to mean it, and that gave Oliver hope.

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I really enjoy Edith as a character and hope to write at least one side story with her.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot @cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree

#whump #whump writing #vampires #vampire whump #mind control #vampire whumpee #rare bookseller #oliver #alexander #lily #miriam #edith #katherine #ruth #charlie

[didhewinkback]

Something Old

Written for @harry-on-broadway's fic challenge.

Written prompt used: "What's this, then?"

Watching your childhood best friend (& the man you've been in love with for half your life) get married proves to be harder than you thought. Will you be able to make a quick getaway to avoid further heartbreak? Or is it finally time for the truth come out?

A/N: the pic represents more of an overall vibe rather than a definite representation of what he is wearing. but the vibes of the pic are absolutely accurate. some liberties have been taken with accurate chronology of his dating life bc this is fiction town usa baby. takes place during the fine line era, in a world with no covid. dream world. please let me know what you think!

-----

There was a huge water fountain, right in the middle of the hotel courtyard, making criss-cross patterns into the pool below and you couldn’t take your eyes off of it. It was soothing, in a way. Or at least you were trying to force the concept of being soothed upon yourself, trying to focus in on the sounds of the water and the lights reflecting off of it. Anything to not think about the background noise of the party, of the clinking glasses and what that sound would mean, to think of him – nope. Back to the fountain.

Your mother cleared her throat. Her eyes had been burning holes into the side of your face but you couldn’t face her or that look of pity in her eyes. Your fingers tapped against the handle of your suitcase as you kept your eyes on the water. Just keep staring at the water.

“Did you call an Uber or…?”

“I’m just going to take the rental back to the city and go from there.”

“You could always take it back to the house. Bit of a drive but…”

The thought of walking into your childhood home, alone, while his own childhood home sat right next door was too much to bear. “I don’t,” you cleared your throat as your voice caught, “I don’t think I can be surrounded by all those memories. God, Mum, this is so embarrassing –”

“Oh, baby, no. Come here” Your mom rushed over to you and wrapped her arms around you in a death grip as you let yourself collapse into her arms, feeling 8, 15 and 26 all at once. The tears which you had been trying to save for the drive poured out of you, your mum shushing you as you buried your face into her shoulder. She stood there and held you tight, letting you release all the emotions you had pent up since you got here. You had never had an explicit conversation with her about your true feelings for Harry but with the way she was holding you, you knew you never had to. She knew. The thought made you tighten your arms around her, burying your head a little deeper as the tears flowed. Just a few more minutes.

“I’m getting your dress soaked,” you said, trying to pull your head away and pull yourself together before your mum tightened her arms around you, holding you in place.

“Could give two shits about my dress.” “Mum!” “I’m serious, I don’t care. Not when my baby is weeping in my arms.”

“Okay, I’m hardly weeping,” you huffed a laugh as you took a step back and wiped your face, looking into your mum’s kind eyes, glassy in their own right.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk to him? Tell him what’s on your mind?”

You shook your head before she even finished her sentence. You had tried that, years ago. Winter break 2013. He had been gone almost two years, touring and traveling the world while you watched from afar at uni. You had walked down your stairs, rehearsing your big speech in your head while smoothing down the new skirt you bought for the occasion, only to look up and find him in your living room with the most famous pop star in the world in his arms. He had brought her home to “meet the family” he said. Which included you. You were just family. And he dated pop stars now. A gut punch that you quickly healed with copious amounts of tequila. And a drunken hookup with a boy from sixth form. It was fine. You were fine.

You had been best friends since you were 8, neighbors since you were 6, and for years you brushed off your crush, chocking it up to an extension of affection for your first male friend - the boy who made you laugh until you cried, who always needed help with math homework, who dragged you onto the dance floor when everyone else was too nervous to at that first school dance. The boy who stood in front of you in his bedroom, nervously singing along to a Youtube track before asking you if this was something you thought he could do, for real. The boy who invited you to join him a few weeks each summer, riding bikes through muggy Colorado streets for late night froyo or hiking those Hollywood hills. The boy growing into a man who called you when you were studying at the library, in the middle of the night halfway across the world, feeling overwhelmed by the pressure and needing a piece of home to slow his exhausted, racing mind.

This crush was something you thought you would grow out of. Except you didn’t. His life had become drastically different than the one you two had shared in your small hometown but whenever you were together, it was like no time had passed. After that fateful winter break, you had tried to keep your distance but each time you saw him, you were sucked right back in.

There had been more moments - falling over yourselves during a drunken McDonalds run, or during a screaming match in the middle of a very competitive round of charades, or when he bounded off stage after that first solo night at MSG, wrapping you in his arms and holding tightly - moments where the words were about to burst from your chest, overwhelmed by the love you felt for him. But you knew it would never work - he wasn’t interested. And, even if he was, you were nowhere near his league. Even his one night stands were straight off the Forbes 500 list. Not that you were ashamed of yourself or who you had become, you just knew, for many reasons, that there was a disconnect there. He wasn’t interested. You were family. You had to keep it that way.

You steeled yourself to get over it, to be okay with just being his friend. And you had convinced yourself it worked. You had met his girlfriends over the years; no longer tearing yourself apart in comparison as you blossomed into that confidence that comes with getting older and finding your place in the world. Falling into relationships with some really great guys, guys that you really cared for, who made you laugh and met your family on your birthdays. But no matter how hard you tried, those relationships always seemed to fizzle out because you never felt that spark. That once in a lifetime spark. That spark you felt the second you saw him yesterday - a smile blooming across his face as his arms lifted up in a cheer when he locked eyes with you. All that hard work shot to shit in an instant.

You snapped back to reality, shaking your head more fiercely, desperately trying to get those memories to fall out of your head forever. “That’s not how he sees me, Mum. It’s not - this is just something I have to get over. But I can’t do it here.”

Her face fell, before she took a deep breath and steeled herself. “Okay,” she said, looking at you with new determination. “So, what’s the story? Work emergency? Appendicitis? Stomach virus? Uncontrollable pooping?”

“Mum! Oh my god!”

“What?!” she shrugged, her eyes glowing with a playful twinkle as she watched the smile grow on your face. “I just feel like the more details we provide, the more believable it will be.”

“Whatever you have to do,” you said, rolling your eyes as you pulled her into another hug.

“It’ll be okay, lovebug,” she whispered in your ear. “This pain won’t last forever. He’s not the be all, end all.”

“Why does it feel like it then?” you said softly, tightening your arms around her, unable to stop yourself when more tears began to fall. “I really have to get going, I don’t want anyone to see -”

Suddenly, the sounds of the party got progressively louder as the doors swung open. Your stomach sank as you heard the last voice you wanted to hear. “There you are! Been looking all over for you two. Ang? - Oh. ”

“Yeah?” Your mom turned to face him, blocking you from view as you furiously wiped away your tears.

“Mum’s been looking all over for you. Something about a bet involving tequila shots…”

“Ah, was hoping she’d forget about that. Tell her I’ll be in in a bit, just need to help this one -”

You cleared your throat, keeping your head down as you nudged her forward. “No, Mum, it's fine. Go in. I’ll be okay.”

She turned to look at you, eyes searching. “But you’re not feeling. well.” She emphasized her point by placing her hand on your forehead. Oh, god. No Oscar in her future then.

You looked at her, feeling his eyes on you, shaking your head. “It’s okay. Really. Have fun”.

“Love you.” She kissed you on the cheek as she squeezed your hand, whispering, “Be brave”.

You kept your eyes to the ground as you heard her walk inside, closing the doors behind her. Enveloping the two of you in silence. You looked up, taking him in for the first time all night. He knocked the wind out of you.

His white suit was tailored to perfection, the dress shirt open in a deep v down his chest, revealing the smattering of tattoos that you swore he’d regret one day, but that only looked perfectly in place as his muscles grew more defined. His hair, curls tousled just the way you liked it. The smattering of scruff along his chiseled jawline, held tightly as he took in the scene in front of him. He looked good.

You can’t imagine what you looked like. Tear tracks streaking down your face and hair messy from how often you had been nervously running your hands through it. Dressed for a cocktail hour while wearing your sneakers for the quick getaway. You had to get the fuck out of here.

“Thought only the bride was supposed to wear white.” The words slipped out of your mouth before you had the chance to stop them. This was not the time for banter. You should be in the car already, leaving all this behind you. You snuck a look at his face, his green eyes locking with yours, his brow furrowed in confusion.

He looked right at you, his deep voice rumbling as he shot back, “Wanted to be dramatic. It’s my day too.”

“Classic H.” you said. You could not get your feet to move. Your car was no more than 10 paces away and yet here you were, frozen under his questioning gaze.

“What’s all this, then?” he asked, as he took in your suitcase, the car keys fiddling around in your hand. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah. Uh, a work emergency came up.”

“Bullshit.”

“No it’s not -”

“Your mum just said you weren’t feeling well.”

Shit. “Both things are true. H, please just - I have to go.”

“No, I think I have the right to know why my best mate is leaving my wedding weekend early. Why you’re standing out here with your mum and - are you - were you crying?” He looks desperately confused, eyes searching your face. “Need you to talk to me.”

He takes a few steps towards you when he notices your hands visibly starting to shake. “Hey, hey…” He reaches his hands towards yours as you quickly put your hands on your suitcase, pulling it towards you. You take a few steps back and try to take a few steadying breaths.

“Please,” your voice was barely a whisper. “You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

“I always notice when you're gone. Haven’t been able to find you all night, I’ve been trying to hang out with you. Wanted to spend time with you.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the look on his face, trying to not think too hard about those words. Trying to be casual, nonchalant. Trying to be anything but the crumbling mess you were in front of him. “C’mon, I’m not even in the wedding party it’ll be better -”

“Is that what this is about? You knew we were keeping it small on purpose, didn’t think you needed to be in the bridal party to know how much y’mean to me but I guess–”

Anger suddenly swirled in you, turning your cheeks warm, eyes blazing. As if you’d be out here having a full mental breakdown over something so trivial. You scoffed, “You think I’m out here crying because of some arbitrary fucking title? You know that’s never mattered to me when it comes to you.”

“Then WHAT is going on with you?”

“Can you please just drop it and let me –”

“It’s my fucking wedding, you’ve been avoiding me ever since you got here. I need you here and you’re just standing outside with your car keys and your fucking suitcase like it’s nothing. Like I’m nothing–

“Oh my god, how can you even say that – ”

“Well, what am I supposed to think? I’m flying blind here you won’t TALK to me–”

“I CAN’T WATCH YOU MARRY HER!”

The words were loud, louder than you meant them and out faster than you could stop them. Fuck. This was. Not. How This. Was supposed to go. You shut your eyes. Your mind was racing, mouth trying to move to make an excuse but you couldn’t think of anything and then you hear a derisive snort, your eyes flying open to see his, suddenly colder, taunting.

“‘S that what this is about, then? Never did like her, did you? Always wondered when we’d have this conversation. Thought you may have been a little more fair and try to do it before my wedding weekend but hey, guess I’m not the only one who can be dramatic.”

You stood there, gaping at him, tears pricking your eyes as he glared back at you.

“Let’s hear it, then. What’s so wrong with her?”

Oh, he misunderstood. You could let him think this is the truth, that you’re just some bitchy childhood friend who never approved of the fiancée and waited until the last moment to make a dramatic exit. You could leave right now and let him think that. But he needed to know the truth, as painful as it may be. You began to shake your head, the tears seconds from pouring out.

“No, that’s not - you’re not understanding me.”

“Am I not? Seems pretty clear to me” His tone was still taunting, angry. He had every right to be. This was supposed to be the biggest weekend of his life and here he was, out here with you, instead of partying with all of his loved ones mere feet away. The thought of it made the tears spill over, a small sob escaping you. Through the tears you saw his face drop, his brows furrowing.

“It’s not her. She’s lovely. She’s so lovely and you should be in there with her. You could be marrying fucking Beyonce and I wouldn’t be okay with it. I … I can’t watch you marry someone else without - without wishing it was me instead.”

You watched as he froze, his eyes widening. In shock? Anger? Pity? You weren’t quite sure.

You took a deep breath and kept going, continuing to dig yourself into the grave of your own making. Every part of you was screaming at you to stop, but now that you got started, the words kept coming, “I’ve been in love with you since we were like 15. You’re my best friend in the whole world and I…god, I can’t breathe when I look at you sometimes. You’re the first person I want to make laugh with a new lame joke, the first person I want to share good news with. The first person I want to do anything with. You’re kinda it for me. Always have been. You’re just my favorite person in the world. And I –”

You shook your head, cutting yourself off. Your heart was about to beat out of your chest, your cheeks burning. You stand there, slightly panting, watching him watch you, his own eyes glassy, his own breath coming in fast spurts. Neither of you dared to move.

You stand there, watching as your confession explodes between the two of you, helpless to do anything but stand in the carnage. It is deadly silent. A minute passes, then another. It could be five, it could be twenty. What did you just do?

“Fuck, fuck, I’m sorry.”, you said frantically, your brain finally catching up to your mouth. “You should go back inside. I’m –”

He inhales sharply, head shaking in disbelief, “Y’think - y’think I’m going to go back in there right now? After–? Fuck.”

He drags his hand down his face, bringing his other hand to meet it and standing there with his head in his hands. You wish you could get a good read on him, to tell how he’s feeling, but you just stand there, heart beating wildly, in disbelief of what you have done.

“I’ve got a reception hall full of people here.”

“I know.”

“People traveled for this.”

“I know.”

“Why - why now? I had no fucking idea. Why’d you never tell me before?”

“I tried, but the timing was never right – ”

“Yeah, well, your timing right now is impeccable,” he deadpanned.

You rolled your eyes, though his sense of humor reappearing made a zing of hope run through you. Maybe he won't hate you forever. Maybe, one day, the friendship could be salvaged. Maybe you didn’t just embarrass yourself beyond belief - though your burning cheeks indicate otherwise.

He clears his throat, pulling you out of your racing mind. “This whole time…you’ve felt this way? This whole time?”

You had been expecting to confess and run. For him to smile politely at you, let you down easy. You had spent your whole life believing this was a one sided thing. But here he was, looking utterly wrecked, his green eyes never once wavering from yours.

“Yes, H,” you told him. “I’ve loved you this whole time.”

You watch as his face crumbles slightly. He brings a hand up to his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, a mumbled, shaky “fuck” leaving his lips.

You clear your throat and wipe at your eyes, praying your waterproof mascara is doing its job. As much as you want to live in this fantasy of possibilities, you can’t let yourself make more of a mess of this than you already have. He was getting married. Tomorrow.

“H, the last thing I ever wanted to do is ruin this for you”, your voice shakes the more you look at him, “I will be fine. You should go back inside. I’m going to go.” You grab your suitcase and keys and start to make your way to the car. The sound of his voice calling your name stops you in your tracks.

“Don’t,” he says, his voice cracking.

You turn to face him, finding him staring right back at you. His glassy eyes ablaze, his jaw set. You don’t make a sound.

“Please.” He closes the distance between you in a few quick strides. Hesitantly, he lifts his hand to your jaw. You’re sure he can feel the warmth there, blooming at his touch. You lock eyes with him, both of you barely breathing. After a second, his thumb caresses your cheekbone, his eyes fluttering closed. He leans his forehead against yours and you can feel his hot breath on your lips, the smell of mint and tequila filling your nose. You might pass out.

“This is a lot to process,'' he whispers.

“I know.” You try to pull your head back a bit to give him space, but he holds you steady in his grip. His other hand falls to your waist, both of you inhaling sharply at the contact.

“I have to go back in there. Supposed to get married tomorrow,” he whispers as his thumb starts to draw circles on your hip bone. You’re sure even he can hear your heartbeat at this point, the way it’s thundering in your ears.

“Y-you don’t owe me anything, you know”, you whisper back, his brow furrowing as he feels your breath on his lips. “Just because I told you. There’s no pressure or anything. I know, like… I’m not….I’m not expecting - I should -”

He takes a step closer to you, pulling you flush against him, effectively cutting you off. “Don’t. You can’t. ‘S not pressure, I just - I don’t know”, he takes a deep breath, “I need time. Please. Don’t leave. You don’t have to go back in there but don’t leave tonight. Please.”

He kisses you on the cheek.

“Please.” His words fall across your lips as he moves to kiss your other cheek.

“Fuck. I wish…just - please don’t go.” He leans in slowly, kissing you once on the neck, right below your ear, inhaling deeply. His forehead falls to your collarbone, resting there. “You can’t go, not yet. Not until…Please. I need time to think. I don’t know. Promise me you’ll still be here later tonight.”

He lifts his head, holding eye contact with you until you nod, bringing your hand up to wrap around his wrist, moving your thumb in soothing circles. He stares at you, eyes dropping to your lips, then back up to meet your eyes. His grip on your hip tightens, his eyes dropping to your lips once more.

You hear glasses tinkering, calls of his name. Shit. You take a step back, his hand sliding from your jaw to your wrist, holding a loose grip. Your cheeks burning at how caught up in the moment you got, head reeling at what this could all mean.

“I have to -” “I know.”

He leans in, presses his lips to your forehead, not once letting go of your wrist.

He steps back, his glassy eyes flitting all over your face before meeting yours once more and holding your gaze. “You’ll be at the hotel later tonight? You promise?”

“I promise,” you say, squeezing his hand once before letting go.

He nods sharply, walking backwards towards the door, eyes never leaving yours. He stops right before the entrance, quickly wiping at his eyes, shaking his head. You can see him physically brace himself as he pulls the door open, a tight smile on his lips as he gets pulled into the party once more.

The doors close, once again surrounding you with silence. With your own thoughts. The feeling of his lips on your neck playing over and over again in your mind.

Holy. Shit.

#harry styles fan fiction #harryonbroadwayficchallenge #harry styles angst #would u believe this was supposed to be posted 3 hours ago but i got so hung up on one detail that i couldnt iron out #i am a gal who loves run on sentences with commas and for that i will not apologize #fic rec #babys first fic #cant believe we are here #harry styles fic #i have read this so many times i started to hate it thats when ya know its time to post #just losing it in the tags over here #something old

[megamindsecretlair]

Be My Little Darling

Masterlist Chapter 2

Pairing: Loki x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. One shot. There is some making out, unresolved sexual tension! Mentions of private parts. Cursing. There's violence with weapons. Established relationship.

Summary: Loki is the exclusive owner of the hottest club in New Asgard. Dubbed the Nine Realms, each of the nine rooms represent a different realm. You are his second in command, working the floors and ensuring everyone is having fun. At least they will be after you stop a creep from bothering one of your waitresses. And Loki has to stop the fight with you. He takes you back to his office to set some things straight.

Word Count: 3,826k

A/N: Ever since hearing that the Loki show had an early concept of Loki running a 70s dance club like the show Lucifer, I couldn't stop thinking about it. So I knocked this out. It was fun to write LOL. I conceived it as a one shot, so enjoy. Not beta'd or proof read, so all mistakes are mine. While likes are awesome, please consider commenting and reblogging to support writers!

“Hands. Off. Now,” you snarled. You looked up into the ugly mug of some random person who had too much to drink. He stank of ale and dried sweat and something faintly oily.

He sneered down at you and looked you over. You wore the same thing as the other girls, except you took liberties with yours. The skirt was a little shorter, the cleavage a little tighter, fishnet tights, and fingerless gloves. You wore all black like the other waitresses complete with a fresh black rose pinned to your lapel. 

He saw you no more than background noise, blending into the decadent atmosphere. So, in his mind, he could do whatever he wanted. 

“I don’t hear her complaining,” he said, with a heavy accent. You couldn’t place it, but then again, you were still getting used to New Asgard. Between the Asgardians and the humans native to this part of the world, there was an eclectic mix of voices, accents, and dialects. 

He held one of your girls by the arm and from the looks of it, it was none too gently. She was a pretty brown haired girl, a little mousy and pale, but this room preferred the look of a doe-eyed innocent. You nodded to her, to give her reassurance that everything would be okay.

You turned your scowl back on the idiot. “She’s told you no a few times. Clean out your ears and let her go. I won’t ask again,” you said. 

“And what will you do?” He asked. He looked around the room at his buddies who laughed along with him. You looked around, committing each idiot to memory. They were definitely banned after this. 

You licked your lips, trying to keep your cool. You were so over this bullshit. You weren’t a bouncer and you resented the extra load Loki dumped on your shoulders. As if managing nine fucking rooms in a club was an easy task. 

He chuckled some more, getting his cronies to increase their mocking laughter. The Alfeim room was supposed to be one of the most relaxing and ethereal rooms. You didn’t know where the meathead came from but you made a mental note to deal with the front house staff in the morning. 

You moved forward and conjured a defense baton, bringing it down on his arm at the joint. There was a faint crunching sound and he yelled as he dropped the girl. She grinned and backed away, using her tray as a shield from the other cronies. They stood up and you slowly unveiled a conjured sword, waving it about.

“Ah ah ah,” you tsked. “Play fair.” 

The meathead wailed like an unruly child and you curled your lip in disgust. So pathetic. 

“Out, all of you. And I never want to see you here again.” 

There were five men who encircled you, each remaining in place. You glanced around the room. There were log tables set up with stumps to sit on. There was fake moss on the walls and floor, fake branches overhead, and a cave facade built onstage for the performers. The girls in this room wore leafy, flowy skirts and loose peasant shirts. Flower crowns were woven into their braided hair and they wore sandals on their feet. 

The patrons in this room needed that bit of fantasy to escape for a bit. For now, they were content to watch the fight unfold. They weren’t freaking out, so you decided to keep the mood light. 

The meathead in charge stopped crying long enough to struggle to his feet. “You will regret that,” he said, low and menacing. Well, at least he thought so. But once you saw a man sniveling on the floor with snot running down his face, you kind of lost all respect. 

You swung the sword towards him until it was flush against his neck. “Care to try me? I haven’t had a good fight in a good while,” you said. 

The meathead scoffed. He suddenly thrust his arm up, moving your sword out of the way. But it still nicked him across the neck and cheek. A red line opened up on his skin and bled freely. He paid it no mind as he got in close, using his good side and broad frame to crowd into you. 

You stepped in close as well and used the hilt of your baton to hit him in the abdomen. You stepped in, turned, and used the momentum to bring the baton across his face. His face whipped to the side but then turned back to you with fire in his eyes.

Finally, a good fucking fight. He yelled and ran at you, picking you up and slamming your back against the nearest table. You dropped the sword and conjured another baton and began wailing on any available body parts you could reach. You rained down holy fire on his back and arms until he finally leaned back far enough for you to land a solid kick. 

He stumbled back, cursing at you and calling you out of your name. You hopped off of the table and bent low to bring your batons down on his kneecaps, ankles, and shins. He yowled in pain before grabbing your arm with a snarl.

“Let her go.” A deep, rich voice called out into the room. The faint faerie-like music slowed to a stop. The lights seemed to dim in his presence. 

You sighed. This was the last fucking thing you needed.

“I got it,” you said. You twisted in the man’s hand making him twist in an unnatural way. He could either let go and save his hand or keep going out of spite. He cried out as his wrist twisted too far. You grabbed it and twisted it behind his back. You elbowed him in the back until he was bent over and back to crying. You applied pressure until his knees buckled. 

“All of you, out. And you already know what I will do if I catch you here again,” Loki said. His breathy baritone commanded all the force of a prince. The eggheads who stayed out of the fight looked to their pathetic leader. He looked between you and Loki, trying to determine who was the real threat. You with the weapons, or the owner of the club and his former prince.

The meathead nodded and you let him go with a final shove. He stood up and one of his buddies came to help him stand. He glared daggers at you as they were escorted out by a team of bouncers. 

You weren’t even out of breath. You released your constructs and set about setting the room to rights. You didn’t want to look at him. You already knew that he’d be scowling at you. As if the disturbance was somehow your fault. 

Loki approached you on silent feet. While you were looking down, his shiny black dress shoes came into view.

He called your name and you suppressed a shiver. His voice made music out of your name, pronouncing all of the syllables in his own unique way. Every time felt like you were discovering your name for the first time. 

You dragged your eyes along his all black suit that hugged his frame, accentuated his small waist, and broad shoulders. He wore a black on black suit, with a black tie, and a black rose on his lapel. His hair draped down to his shoulders. He was letting it grow out again and gods it was glorious on him. 

His signature scowl was on his face as he regarded you. 

“I had it covered, you didn’t have to do that.” You hated that even from across the fucking club, word spread so fast that he always spoiled your fun. 

“It shouldn’t get that far,” he said.

“How about you trust me next time?” You snapped. You weren’t a fucking child that he could scold. He raised an eyebrow at you.

Perhaps you really had lost your mind, because you didn’t care this time. “You can’t expect these people to trust me, let alone my girls to trust me, if you swoop in and command people about. They need to fear me, not you,” you continued. 

“He had his hands on you,” Loki said as if it explained everything. 

“He had his hands on Sugar, or did you not see that?” You asked. Loki gave every waitress a name. Sugar, Sweetie, Honey…

“Darling,” he said, with a slight smile. “There’s nothing that goes on in my club that I don’t know about,” he said. 

You rolled your eyes. Yes, you’ve heard the speech. He is the lord and king of the club and no one could tell him different. 

You finished righting the tables and stumps. You grabbed the towel hanging from your back pocket and wiped down the table. The couple who had been sitting there had stood up in the commotion to avoid being trampled. They nodded their thanks. You gave them vouchers for a free drink on their next visit. 

“I don’t need your fucking help, Loki,” you said. You brushed past him but he dug his fingers into the fleshy parts of your upper arm. 

He raised a finger into your face. “Have care how you speak to me,” he said.

His dark eyes bored into yours. Oh he was angry. If he had the ability to burn you with one look, it’d be this one. His jaw flexed as he clenched it and his eyes were so narrow, he looked like his eyes were half closed. 

You yanked your arm out of his grasp. He reared back as if you had slapped him. “Fuck you,” you said. 

Instead of rising to your obvious bait, Loki chuckled. He clapped slowly and turned around, getting others to clap along with him. “Let’s thank the lovely Darling for keeping us safe.” 

The room clapped awkwardly before Loki nodded to the band. The music resumed, the soft and ethereal music floating through once more. Waitresses floated in and out carrying full trays of drinks to go with the forest theme. 

Loki smiled and waved to patrons. He leaned down to speak to a group of women who giggled at his words. Giggled. You dry heaved. 

Loki turned back to you and his smile disappeared. He stepped closer and leaned towards your ear. “My office. Now,” he demanded. 

You sucked your teeth but his expression told you that he wasn’t in the mood tonight. Whatever. If he wanted to fire you, you’d welcome it. You didn’t sign up for this shit. 

You whirled around and exited the room. The common areas were decorated in velvet and revolving lights that switched colors and swirled on the walls. Waitresses dressed in regalia from all over the nine realms marched to and from the various kitchens and bars, carrying drinks or finger foods. 

Your high heels clicked on the floor, despite the thumping music from various rooms you passed. You were all too aware of Loki stalking behind you. He didn’t make much of a sound. If it weren’t for his shoes, you wouldn’t be able to tell he was there. Well, besides the overwhelming presence of him. 

His disappointment and anger were like thick blankets around you. Suffocating you. Your skin was overheated and oversensitive. You wanted a fight but now you were left unfulfilled. Your denied release made you antsy, eyes flicking across the assorted artwork and sculptures in the labyrinth hallways. 

You led the way to his office. Smack at the back of the club, Loki had a spacious and elegant office. He was done in his signature black and emerald. Deep, plush couches he probably fucked people on. 

He had a dark mahogany desk that was large enough to dominate the room. Two chairs were in front of it. File cabinets, boxes, and random sculptures made up the room. He had a private bar in the corner with the best liquor according to his tastes. 

He entered behind you and slammed the door shut. You hated that you jumped. You hated it more that the sound of the door locking didn’t scare you. It excited you. Your pitiful crush on your boss was embarrassing. All of the women loved him. Half the men did too. He had a unique way of making you feel like the only person in the room, despite being surrounded. 

You crossed your arms and faced forward. He stalked towards you, way too close for comfort. You shifted as he trailed a finger down your exposed arm. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes.

“If you don’t respect me out there, the other girls will stop listening. So instead of running a club, I’m now stuck with the task of hiring and training a completely new staff. Do not disrespect me out there,” he said. 

You faced him. “Then don’t disrespect me. I had the situation under control,” you said.

He laughed at you and shook his head. He dropped his hold on your chin. “I’m sure breaking his knees and arms was a controlled situation,” he said.

“He would’ve healed,” you said.

“That’s not the point!” He yelled. Fresh arousal flooded you and made your stomach flip. This was so fucked up. His yelling should not excite you. But it did. Gods, it did. Every single time. 

“There’s no fighting in my club. Ever,” he said. 

“You embarrassed me out there. How can people respect my position if you don’t?” You asked.

“I wouldn’t have given it to you if I didn’t respect you. I know you can do a good job. Itching for a fight will drive customers away. What’s going on with you?” He asked.

You blinked at him. “What? Nothing. Can’t a woman rage without there being a reason?” 

“Not you, no. What is it? What happened?”

“Nothing,” you said through gritted teeth.The hell did he truly care anyway? Maybe you were in a shitty mood because you wanted to be. You were stressed out to the max. The highlight of your day was managing the club. Outside of it…it wasn’t pretty. You preferred the dark interior of the club and its nine rooms to the sunny and bright world outside. It was all so sad. 

But you weren’t about to tell your boss that. If you broke down, he’d be more than justified to replace you. And you didn’t want to think about what would happen if you didn’t have the club anymore. 

He approached you, crowding into your personal space. You backed away until your round ass hit the top of his desk. Still, you tried to get out of the web he weaved. His entire being made the room feel tiny. 

“Tell me or we’ll have to find a more constructive use for you,” he said. He looked down his nose at you, eyes raking over your plump brown lips. 

A sigh escaped you. “We’ve never crossed that line, Loki,” you said. 

“I can’t fathom a reason why right now,” he said.

You chuckled to try to dissipate some of the tension in the room. “You couldn’t give me what I want,” you said.

You and Loki had flirted plenty of times over the years, but you both respected your positions. You didn’t need anyone thinking you got this job on your knees. Some of the girls liked to still gossip and call you Princess when they thought you couldn’t hear them. But no one thought you two had a relationship.

How could they? Loki had a different woman or man or those in between on his arm every night. He made no secret of the type of people he liked. And safe to say, you did not fit the bill. You weren’t ugly. You knew that for a fact. You were gorgeous with real curves and a real tummy. 

Loki seemed to go for the weak willed, bland people whose personalities came from a quiz online. He liked to boss people around and you made sure that he knew that he couldn’t do the same to you. 

“You think you’re so hard to figure out?” He chuckled and looked over you as if you were nothing. “Darling, I know what you need.” 

You jutted your chin out and crossed your arms. He poked your side. You slapped his hand away. He poked your other side and you slapped his hand away again. What was he playing at? 

He scooted closer, molding his body along yours. You felt the unmistakable imprint of his dick straining against his trousers. You inhaled sharply, not expecting that at all. You looked into his eyes. He had a downright devilish grin on his face. 

He dragged his fingers from your tummy, up and over your chest, in between your breasts, and then wrapped them around your throat. 

You prayed he couldn’t feel your heartbeat increasing. He smelled like wood and smoke, like sin. 

“Tell me to stop,” he said. He kept eye contact with you as he leaned down and kissed the tops of your breasts. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips. 

“Shove me away,” he said. He increased pressure on your neck and you whined. His free hand roamed over your thigh before pulling it up and wrapping it around his hip. It pressed his dick closer to you and your pussy throbbed. 

He moved his hands higher, lifting your skirt. He went so agonizingly slow, giving you enough time to reject him. To shove him away. To tell him to leave you alone. Yet…what if this is all you got from him? What if this was your one chance to experience Loki’s attention directed at you? 

“My poor, overworked Darling. So many responsibilities I gave you. I have no doubt you can deliver. But so little time for a proper release,” he said. His breath fanned over your face, smelling of whiskey and mint. 

His fingers slid up to your jaw, running his thumb over your lips before pushing in. You suckled his thumb as his other hand drifted closer to your pussy. He played with the outline of your panties, lighting running his fingers back and forth. 

You shamelessly moaned. You wiggled your hips, trying to get him to do anything else. He couldn’t stand here teasing all damn night. Surely, you would recover from his rejection after this. You weren’t the first to hold out on him but it was a game to see how flustered you could make each other. 

Once he had you, there was no reason to continue the game. 

“Eyes on me,” he demanded. 

You snapped your eyes to his. His magic must extend to his eyes, because you were lost. Pulled in. Fuck it. Heartbreak was worth whatever he was about to do to you.

“No funny remarks? Is that all it takes? Playing with your needy little pussy?” He asked.

You nipped at his thumb but he didn’t pull it away. He grinned. “You don’t know what I need,” you said. But your comeback was weak to your own ears.

“You take care of so much, but who takes care of you?” He asked. 

“I have a trusty vibrator. Better than any man,” you taunted.

Loki grinned. “Don’t stand there and lie, Darling. Shall I prove you wrong?” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, daring him to. He hooked his finger under your panties and cooed at the amount of wetness on the gusset of your panties. “Quite a mess you made.” He leaned his head down and nuzzled your cheek before resting his nose against your shoulder. He took a deep whiff. 

“Divine,” he said. 

His knuckles brushed against your slick folds and you whined, moving your hips to get him where you needed him. “You’re so used to being in control, aren’t you?”

He took his thumb out of your mouth and grabbed your chin. He brought you close, close enough for your lips to touch. He licked his lips and the movement caught some of yours. 

“Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll stop,” he said. 

“Fuck you, Loki,” you said. 

He chuckled and started to rub his knuckle back and forth with increased speed. You bit your lip to keep from moaning on his knuckle. There was no way he was playing you this well. It was embarrassing. 

He kissed both of your cheeks and hovered his lips over yours. You wrapped one arm around his shoulder and the other around his tie. You yanked and he fell forward, giving you a quick kiss. 

You dug your hands into his scalp, pulling his hair at the roots. He growled but still didn’t take the hint. He bit your lip and you cried out. He licked away the sting. 

“Ask nicely if you want me to kiss you,” he said.

“Fuck you,” you breathed. 

“Say the word and I will,” he said. You mashed your lips together, refusing to give him the satisfaction. 

His knuckle stilled and you cried, rolling your hips forward. He withdrew completely and you groaned. You were nearly there. He kept eye contact as he licked his knuckle. You could smell yourself on his fingers. It was obscene. And it was fucking hot. 

“If you want this cock, you’ll have to beg for it.” His voice weaved a spell on its own. You sighed at his filthy words. 

“Like hell,” you said.

Loki chuckled and shrugged. “Until you beg, you’ll stay like this. You’re not allowed to cum or let anyone else touch you.” 

He backed away from you, dropping you unceremoniously. Your leg hit the ground and your knees slightly buckled. You caught the desk behind you to keep you upright. You hadn’t known that he held the majority of your weight. The bastard took all the heat with him. Your hands shook with overwhelming need. 

“You can’t tell me what to do,” you scoffed. 

“I know I can. Go home. Think of me. Curse me. Whatever you need to do. But I will be very angry if you cum without my permission.” 

He nuzzled your neck again before planting a soft kiss to your neck. He caressed your cheek before fully backing away. He rolled his shoulders. His pants were tented. Surely he was in pain as well. 

“Don’t worry about me, Darling. I can last longer than you,” he said. Oh, now he activated your competitive side.

You smiled sweetly and fixed your skirt. You took your time fluffing it around your hips and thick thighs. Two could play that fucking game. You stood up and sashayed past him. 

“We’ll see. But you’re not allowed to touch anyone else either,” you smirked. You trailed your hand along his chest as you passed him. His dark chuckle followed you out of the room. This ought to be interesting.

Masterlist| Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

#marvel smut #loki #loki x Black!reader #Loki x black reader #loki x reader #loki x you #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki of asgard #new asgard #fanfiction #fan fic #fanfic #loki fanfic #loki fan fic #The Secret Loki Files #Megaminds Secret Files #loki x female reader #loki x fem reader #loki x plus size reader

[stories-and-chaos]

Tarnished

[Helluva Boss AU where Blitzø’s childhood theft from Stolas’ palace is discovered and major consequences ensue for everyone involved. Concept inspired by this AU, Push. Trying to stick with established lore but taking some liberties to make the drama work. Multiple headcanons from various sources I’ve come across included as suits the story. Starts roughly five years before Murder Family, I’m making assumptions about the timeline]

[18+ rating for language, implied sexual content, violence, alcohol consumption and general Hellaverse-ness]

[Part 1/?? Word count: 3761]

———————

Moxxie’s back slammed into the rough wooden bed frame as he heard the distinctive clang of prison bars rattling shut. He still couldn’t believe Chaz had just left him there. Grabbed the goods and ran. The imp realized his boyfriend was just as shitty out of bed as he was in it. He started tearing up as he climbed on the bottom bunk. Moxxie knew his dad wouldn’t bail him out or anything. He might have been the boss’s only (legitimate) son but he was also the most junior member of the family. And Crimson was not a sentimental imp.

Moxxie had been caught red clawed too, pinned by the security gate. No need for any formalities like a trial in the Greed Ring. A mugshot, strip down, and forced into a jumpsuit before the cops tossed him in a cell. Of course, Greed’s police force was basically a mafia on a wider scale.

“Soooo, what���re you in for?” A voice drawled from the top bunk. Moxxie hadn’t realized he had a cellmate. Oh crumbs, had the other demon heard him crying?! If there was a way to ensure you didn’t get out of prison in one piece, it was letting others know how weak you were the moment you were locked up. His tail reflexively whipped closer, as if trying to hide himself.

“Okay, not much of a talker, are you?” The voice almost sounded jovial. In prison? A squeak of the mattress and the other prisoner launched himself to the floor with theatrical flair. Before he could do more than sit up and blink the tall imp gripped his hand to shake. Not the vice-like grip his father used, hard enough to make claw shaped indents into the other’s hand. It was a firm, friendly shake.

“I'm Blitzø, the "o" is silent. I'm sure we're going to get along just fine. So, what's your deal? What'd you do? Who'd you diddle? You look like someone good with a gun. You look like someone who could shoot up an office-“ Moxxie tried to interject, but the other imp plowed on.

“-and I hope you are 'cuz I got a plan to get us out of this dump but I'm going to need some help, you think you can give me a hand? I need to get out to my daughter. The babysitter will kill me if I don't get back soon. Also I got some business scheduled in Pride that I gotta get back for. Do you like kids? 'Cause lemme tell 'ya. They're a-fucking-dorable.” Moxxie felt his eyes warming up with more tears but his lips were forming a shaky smile. He realized he hadn’t smiled like this since… well he could barely remember. At first he thought since Chaz ditched him, but really it was since his mom “disappeared.”

It took a couple of days for the cellmates to enact Blitzø’s plan. Moxxie had to learn the complex’s layout and they had to make sure they could get to a weapon cache. Their escape was successful, both of them got banged up, and Moxxie’s body count tripled as a result of the escapade.

A few things they learned about each other: Blitzø’s circus background made him extremely agile and prone to acrobatic feats in a fight. He was batshit crazy once the ichor started flowing but he kept his eye out on his partner. The scarred imp backed up Moxxie more than once when he floundered while they fled for the Pride Ring. His plans were grandiose but he was quick to adapt and quicker to protect his cohort.

On the other claw, Moxxie was even better with firearms than Blitzø thought. So long as the kid kept his composure, he didn’t miss a shot. It was almost magickal and he saw more magick than most of their kind. The kid seemed quiet and well mannered for the most part. He could get absolutely fucking feral in a fight, becoming an even better shot if that was possible. But he was insecure and desperate for approval. The pure shock on his face when Blitzø told him “nice work Mox,” after they got out told the older imp that he’d probably never been praised in his life.

One bonus to no trial before you were thrown in prison? No one was too keen on dragging you back if you got out. Especially if you massacred 80% of the guards on your way out, traumatized 18%, and awakened some very interesting feelings in the final 2%. It wasn’t worth spending hard grifted money chasing down someone who would just do the same thing even if you managed to catch them. If they’d run off from Mammon, the escaping prisoners would be hunted down. But otherwise, even the police mafia didn’t give that much of a shit.

The duo had snagged a couple of overcoats so their bright orange jumpsuits would stand out less. The plan was to get to Blitzø’s apartment, check up on his kid, grab some cash to rent Moxxie a room for the night and change before Blitzø had to be at his appointment.

Except once they got to the Pride Ring, Blitzø started freaking the fuck out. “Shitshitshitshitshiiiiiiitfuckingdammit.” A stream of profanities just kept coming out of his mouth as Blitzø picked up his pace.

“Um, sir?” It was drilled into Moxxie to address superiors as sir or ma’am; Blitzø had taken charge during their escape and didn’t seem to mind being called sir. “What happened, you started panicking once we got here.” This was presumably the older imp’s home turf, yet he was more off balance than at any other point in the past three days.

“FUUUUUUUCKokay Mox, change of plans.” He spun around and grasped the shorter imp by the shoulders. “I lost track of the time and I can’t miss this appointment. Do you know anyone in this ring that can put you up for the night?” Blitzø doubted it. It seemed like the kid had stayed in Greed up until now. A quick head shake confirmed that. “You got two choices, cause I don’t have time to get you someplace first. You can head off alone and we’ll meet up tomorrow or you can come with me, play along, and hope it’s not worse than prison.”

Moxxie was taken aback; first off that was the most words in a row without swears he’d heard from Blitzø. Second, “Where are you going that’s worse than prison?”

“A Goetian estate.”

Moxxie’s jaw dropped. He might as well have said he was meeting up with Lucifer. Yet… Blitzø had an appointment to be there. And it was important enough that he couldn’t even check on his kid first. Not to mention, wandering around an unfamiliar area wearing a prison jumpsuit was next to suicidal. “I’ll stick with you sir.”

“Ballsy! I knew I fucking liked you Moxxie.” He whirled around and started loping toward the fancy ass side of the city. “Keep up Mox! We gotta go!”

It took about half an hour of running and weaving through crowds but they made it before…whatever time Blitzø was so intent on outrunning. He had started running even faster about halfway, his desperation more than apparent. Once he passed through the gates, all the tension left his body. He slumped to the ground; Moxxie hesitated as he gaped at the ornate fencing. The gate and elegant fence had the symbol of the Goetia family (a crowned heart) emblazoned every few yards.

Moxxie had grown up a privileged life, especially for an imp. Servants, tutors, a well stocked manor. But the building in front of him was on another level. It was more of a palace than anything; multistoried with heraldic banners hanging, multiple manicured gardens, statues strategically placed and the master’s sigil glowing prominently on the wall. And that was just what he could glimpse in the full moon’s light. This was the difference between money and royalty.

“Last chance Moxxie. C’mon in or head off somewhere and I’ll meet you at my office at noon tomorrow. If you’re still standing around here in a few, those fuckers will drag you with me anyway.” He gulped and stepped onto the grounds next to the other imp. “Still ballsy.” Blitzø’s grin was back.

“Here’s what’s going to go down. Any minute now some beefy hellhound fucks are gonna show up to haul me in. They might grab you, might let you walk. Either way, keep your mouth shut and just back me up if I ask. Hopefully we won’t see that overdressed bitch tonight but if she’s around don’t make eye contact. And-“ whatever he was about to add was cut off as four hellhounds jogged up.

Blitzø wasn’t kidding about them being beefy. They were all different breeds but they all had biceps as big as his head, wrapped in artfully ripped suits. The matching suits, earpieces, sunglasses, and crisp posture gave them an air of professionalism that was a sharp contrast to his dad’s goons.

“Oh look, it’s the Chucklefuck squad and the Douchenugget duo. Who’d you piss off to land the night shift?” Blitzø taunted the Hounds, seemingly indifferent to the fact any one of them could snap him in half. Two of them grabbed Blitzø by the arms, grinning sadistically at the thought of manhandling the smaller demons.

“Lady Stella specifically requested we escort you in, Blitzø.” Blitzø winced “Satan fucking dammit.” Apparently Lady Stella was the overdressed bitch he’d mentioned. “She’s got a party tonight so she doesn’t have to hear your scrawny ass getting pounded. But she knew how much you’d like friends to bring you home.” The Hellhound punctuated his words with a sharp snap of his teeth.

Home? Moxxie backpedaled in confusion, only to bump into the leg of another security Hound. Said Hound grabbed him around the torso, easily pinning both arms and leaving Moxxie’s hooves dangling far from the ground. He struggled, trying to at least get back to the ground. The size difference and Moxxie’s lack of weapons meant he didn’t stand much chance at the moment. The pair with Blitzø took the lead, not caring that his dragging hooves were tearing furrows into the lawns or creating sparks on the paths.

Blitzø let them, worn out from the prison break and subsequent dash back to Pride. He was too tired to try to keep pace with his “escorts.” He kept glancing back to Moxxie, trying to reassure him. The younger imp was clearly terrified. He couldn’t really help the kid at the moment; the bulldog faced Hellhound carrying him lifted his lip whenever Blitzø looked back.

Fuck this fucking farce and fuck Paimon with a rusty crucifix for doing this, Blitzø thought to himself for the ten thousandth time in his life. Best to go through the motions as quickly as possible. The group arrived at one of the drawing rooms and Blitzø was dumped unceremoniously on the thick carpet.

The whirlwind trip through the estate proved to Moxxie that royalty had a whole different definition of luxury from what he knew. Paintings, mosaics, sculptures, exotic plants were just the beginning as they rushed through hallways wider than his bedroom at his dad’s. He’d lost count of how many doors they passed before they reached one in particular.

Blitzø was thrown to the ground but the one holding Moxxie didn’t loosen his grip. Blitzø glared back at the Hellhounds, hissing. The Hounds responded with low growls. Everyone went silent when a lithe figure snapped the cover of a book shut and unfolded itself from a lounge by the fireplace. This had to be one of the Goetia, presumably the master of this estate.

His extreme height was the first thing Moxxie noticed. Moxxie was about average for an imp in height; the glimpses he’d seen of imp servants in this maze were all much smaller. Blitzø was on the taller end of the spectrum but the Hounds were easily double his height. This royal demon towered over them all. You could stack Moxxie, Blitzø, and even one of the small servants on a Hellhound’s shoulders and they still would barely be eye level with the demon’s glowing eyes.

At least the bottom set. He had two sets, a large bottom pair and a thinner set above that could have been mistaken for elegant eyebrows if they hadn’t been glowing red. Glowing eyes weren't unusual for hellborn, but the deep red pupil-less aura was still intimidating. The white facial disc only enhanced that aura with its contrast.

What could be seen of the demon’s form was covered in smooth grey feathers, sheening in the firelight. The plush robe he wore was lightly cinched at the waist and barely clung to the shoulders, showing the feathers covered the majority of his body. He stalked deliberately to where Blitzø was climbing to his hooves, features set in a stern expression.

“St- Master Stolas,” Blitzø stuttered as the avian demon loomed above him. Master?! Oh crumbs, what in Satan’s name is going on?! Was all that talk about a daughter, starting up a business, growing up in the circus, everything just a lie? “I got back as quick as I could, I didn’t even have a chance to check on Loonie first…” Stolas cut him off with a gesture. Apparently the daughter talk wasn’t a lie at least.

Stolas glanced at the Hound carrying Moxxie. “Put the little one down,” he ordered in clipped, cultured tones. “I’ll deal with them from here.” The Hounds exchanged glances and grins. Suddenly Moxxie was on the ground when his captor opened his arms. “As you wish, Prince Stolas.” The imp was getting serious mood whiplash. Stolas wasn’t just a member of the Goetia but one of the princes. Maybe Blitzø was right; this was worse than prison.

The guards hadn’t left the room before Stolas leaned over Blitzø, foreheads nearly touching. “What the FUCK were you doing in the Greed Ring that landed in you prison!” The Hellhounds grins grew wider as they shut the doors and Moxxie was sure he heard the slap of a high five. “Are you not being careful enough in the other Rings? You know if you get in trouble I have to get you out of it. And we don’t want that, do we my itty bitty imp?” Stolas punctuated his words with taps between Blitzø’s nostrils. His words were furious but Moxxie could see his expression softening once the doors clicked shut. He had plenty of experience being berated and threatened by Crimson, but he was getting so many mixed signals he didn’t know what to do.

“A job went bad, Master. It won’t happen again.” Despite just having a royal yell at him, Blitzø’s smirk was back. Without guards around he was able to give his companion a double thumbs up while replying. His voice sounded utterly defeated but his posture had perked up.

“Luckily for you, what passes for authority in the Greed Ring isn’t likely to give a shit about a couple of escapee imps. Speaking of which,” four dazzling red eyes locked onto Moxxie. “Who is this that you’ve dragged along?”

“Moxxie got tossed into my cell, I couldn’t just fucking leave him there. He’s a crazy good shot, figured he’d be a good candidate for that project we talked about.”

“Hmmmm,” Stolas seemed to be looking the young imp over. It was hard to tell without any pupils. “We will discuss this later. For now,” the prince continued in a haughty tone, “we need to establish the punishment for your little slip up during your extraneous activities. Both of you, follow me.” Stolas turned, his robe and tail feathers swirling dramatically around him. Moxxie looked nervously in Blitzø’s direction. There was a faint glow under the older imp’s shirt collar as he replied “Yes Master Stolas.” He gestured for Moxxie to follow, not at all concerned about what Stolas might have planned as “punishment.”

Apparently the room they’d been delivered to was the first and most public in the master suite. They entered what looked like a well appointed bedroom with a huge canopied bed adorned with blankets and a nest of deep cushions. There was a bookshelf inset in an alcove next to a chaise lounge and chairs, a small desk, and hints of a bathtub on a raised dais shrouded by curtains. Candles and moonlight made the Goetia emblem glimmer wherever it was stamped or embroidered.

The door locked shut behind them, nearly making Moxxie jump out of his skin. As soon as the door was shut, Stolas swooped down to Blitzø, cupping the imp’s cheeks with a tenderness that made his yelling in the drawing room seems like a hallucination. “Are you alright dearest?” the prince cooed as he stroked Blitzø’s head. “Mmph, I’m fine Stolas, really.” Blitzø’s voice was muffled from Stolas’ talons smushing his face. “Just tired from that last sprint. Almost didn’t make it in time. Fucking Cinderhella bullshit.”

“I’m sorry darling. I’ll keep working on it. I’ve been so worried the past few days.” Apparently satisfied that Blitzø was unhurt, the owl demon moved to nuzzling and preening the imp’s particolor skin.

Blitzø gasped at the soft feathers brushing his neck. “Stolas, if you wanna fuck as part of my “punishment” I’m on board, but I don’t think Moxxie wants to watch.” He looked at the other imp over the prince’s head. His face was flushed and a lazy lascivious smile spread across his lips. “Unless you wanna watch Mox. I’ve always liked an audience.” He waggled his eyebrows; Moxxie couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

Stolas’ eyes jerked open. He let out a surprised hoot before shooting up to his full height. “Ah! Um, yes, o-of course! We can pick this up later Blitzy.” Blitzy? Within moments Stolas had shifted from a pissed off royal yelling at his property to a flustered loverboy using pet names. “Apologizes for not properly introducing myself earlier.” He bowed with a deep flourish, putting his face eye level to Moxxie. “My name is Stolas, Prince of Ars Goetia.”

Blitzø stretched, popping vertebrae all down his spine and tail. “Didn’t your daddy tell you not to bow to imps?” The same jovial tone Moxxie heard when they first met was back in his voice.

Stolas snorted. “My father, the shit eating bastard that he is, can go fuck himself. Preferably with something full of splinters to join the stick up his arse.” The prince was just as foul-mouthed as Blitzø, with the addition of a fancy vocabulary. He guided Blitzø to the lounge and offered a nearby easy chair to Moxxie. It was built for a Goetia, meaning any imp had to jump to climb up and their feet would dangle childlike once seated. However Stolas produced a step stool from the book alcove, so he could seat himself with more dignity.

“Hi, I’m Moxxie Knolastname.” Hopefully neither of them would recognize the name of one of the Greed Ring’s crime families. “Sir, what the fuck is going on? You didn’t mention any of this before we got to the gates. What was all that about?” Moxxie gestured wildly to the rest of the palace, hoping to indicate everything that had just happened.

“Eh, guess you deserve some explanation. Not the best time but fuck it.” Blitzø rubbed at his forehead, specifically the All Imp Circus brand in the middle. In the space of a blink it changed from a black skull faced heart to a white heart topped by a crown, flanked by decorative lines. “Short version, my dad fucked me over and sold me to the Goetia. His dad,” he jerked a thumb at the lanky owl reclining next to him, “decided to add to the jackassery and bound us.”

“And I am not about to copy his example so I give my darling Blitzy as much free reign as I can manage.” Stolas wrapped his arms and legs around Blitzø with a look of glee. It was simultaneously tender, protective, and possessive. “Unfortunately, members of both my family and staff are quick to spread word to my wilted prick of a father and other members of Ars Goetia, so we maintain a semblance of the master/slave dynamic outside my chambers. Hence, all that.” Stolas vaguely waved in the same direction as Moxxie had before latching back onto Blitzø. “Eugh, Blitzy, you smell awful. That prison cannot have been sanitary. Please get cleaned up dearest, you and… Moxxie, was it? Hopefully we have something clean that will fit you; you’re a bit taller than much of my household staff.”

“I’m sure we’ve got some of my old stuff that’ll work. But seriously Stolas, I couldn’t check on Loonie before this. Can I pop out real qui-”

“Loona is fine.” Stolas interjected with a comforting tone. “I had one of the maids check up on her and the ‘babysitter.’ She let them know you were delayed and offered overtime pay to the young lady.” The maid, one of the few who was loyal to Stolas and Blitzø, relayed that the imp girl, while possessing a distinct country charm, was “thoroughly pissed” at having to watch over an angsty teenager without pay. She’d been all smiles again when informed of the extra money she was being advanced.

Blitzø took a deep breath of relief. He’d adopted the nearly adult Hellhound just a few months ago and they were still getting used to each other. He didn’t know what she’d do on her own yet, hence the babysitter. She was an imp from Wrath he’d gotten to know during the Harvest Festival Stolas had to officiate. She decimated opponents in the Pain Games so Blitzø knew she could handle just about anything.

“Thanks Floof,” he gave Stolas a quick frenching before heading through an inconspicuous door near the bed. He pushed Moxxie along and heard Stolas’ trilling voice call out. “Make sure you put those jumpsuits in the laundry hamper. I look forward to having a little prison bitch around later.” All of Blitzø’s spines stood up at the thought and a tingling warmth raced over him. Not about to let Stolas get the last word, he shot back through the closing door, “I’m sure Mox’s will fit you like those slutty rompers you like to prance around in.” He could hear hooting chuckles from the other room while Moxxie clapped his hands over his head.

—————

Moxxie blinked as the lights flickered on. As if one suite of rooms wasn’t enough, here was essentially an apartment sized for imps. It was much like a studio apartment with one large area for sleeping, eating, relaxing, and a mini kitchen. The furnishings weren’t a match for the rest of the palace, but decent and sturdy. There was a closet and one other door leading to the bathroom. No windows. The only exit was through the master suite. Moxxie started breathing hard as he realized this was basically an upgraded cell.

“Yeah, I know it’s kinda freaky. But it’s one of the safest places in the building.” Blitzø opened the closet and started tossing clothes on the bed. “We set this up after Stolas married that bitchy feather duster. Only people that can get in are me, Stolas, his kid, and one of the maids. Oh, and the people I bring in.” He took the pile of clothes and dropped them on Moxxie. “These are all too small for me now. We could raid the servant’s closets buuuuuuuut…screw that. Now let's see if there’s anything to eat.” A quick look in the fridge produced beers and a comically large cheese wedge. “Oh fuck yes, that woman deserves a raise! Or a good dicking if she wants it again.” Blitzø had the cheese in one hand, a beer in the other hand that was unzipping the prison wear and his tail wrapped around another beer. “You wanna eat before you clean up? There’s more beer, some fried chicken, and I think a salad if you want it.” He stuck out a forked tongue at the thought of vegetables. “Maybe a good enough fuck will get her to stop putting salads in here.”

Food, real food not prison slop, sounded great but a bit of time alone sounded better. “I’ll wash up first sir, I can’t stand this thing anymore.” Blitzø chomped away while giving him another thumbs up. Moxxie caught a glimpse of white scars covering patches of the other imp’s neck, arms, and torso, and what looked like a gold choker at his throat. He closed the bathroom door and dumped the clothes onto a bench. The bathroom wasn’t ostentatious like what he glimpsed in Stolas’s room. It had all the basics in a reasonable size. One thing he did notice was the horse decor. Horses and horseshoes everywhere. The rubber devilduckie was even a cowboy.

It was probably more polite to take a quick shower. Moxxie needed some time to regain his footing though, so he soaked in a bath. He’d been off balance since crossing the gates. Of course, nothing could have prepared him for anything he’d come across here. From everything he’d picked up Blitzø and Stolas were in a shitty situation and trying to make the best of it. It didn’t mean Moxxie had to stick around though.

Yeah, the older imp had broken him out of prison and talked about hiring Moxxie at his new startup. But he also hadn’t mentioned anything about being connected to Hell’s royal families.

Then again, Moxxie hadn’t mentioned his mafia family. He really didn’t want to either. He’d be just fine if his dad thought he died in the prison riot they’d caused during the escape. He could disappear in Pride and leave his own fucked up family behind. Blitzø and presumably Stolas were grateful for his help. Even if he didn’t want to work for them in the end, they probably wouldn’t just kick him to the curb. He wasn’t good at making deals. Crimson hadn’t let him join any important talks yet. But maybe he could leverage some cash out of the pair before finding his own way.

That would have to wait for the morning at earliest. From the sounds of it, Stolas was very enthusiastic about keeping their “appointment” tonight. With at least a glimmer of a plan, Moxxie finished washing and started digging through the clothes. There were a lot of t shirts, tanks, and leather pants. Skinny fit pants at that. Almost all the shirts had some sort of horse design; from one that said “Wild Horse” in messy red letters to one with a trio of sparkly pastel horses rearing under a full moon. Eventually he found a button down with a tailcoat that was pretty close to his normal clothes. It wouldn’t be tailored perfectly but it would do for the morning. For the night he found pajama pants with a horseshoe pattern that he didn’t mind sleeping in. He wasn’t about to sleep nude in a room with a horny couple he barely knew one wall away.

“All yours sir.” Blitzø was flopped on the couch, having finished both the beers and cheese. He was working his way through beer number three, which he took with him to the shower. Moxxie rummaged through the fridge, finding not only what Blitzø had mentioned but the makings of sandwiches and a container of soup. A little more digging around the miniature kitchen and he found various dry goods that would make a decent meal. By the time Blitzø came back he was plating the spaghetti with cheese sauce he’d made. He topped it off with some chopped up fried chicken for some added protein. He made a sizable batch; he doubted a cheese wedge and beer was enough for Blitzø.

Blitzø himself emerged from the bathroom, dressed in horse print boxers (which didn’t hide his slight erection) and a fitted black tank. “Thank fuck, Stolas was right about the stink. Laundry’s gonna have fun with those jumpsuits.” His nostrils flared suddenly. “What the dick? Where’d you get all this Mox?” His eyes were shining at the food and Moxxie could swear he was drooling.

“In your kitchen sir. There’s plenty of dry ingredients for easy meals, probably so you don’t have to disturb the main kitchen during your… ‘appointments.’ I would have liked some mushrooms or fresh herbs for flavoring, the ground and dried ones just don’t quite measure up but I can understand the maid not wanting to have too much perishable food here if your stays aren’t consistent. In any case making a bechamel sauce is fairly simple, it is one of the mother sauces after all and the cheese was perfect for melting into it. I did cheat with the chicken and used the microwave but it works out since there’s not too much cookware here either-“

“Wait wait wait. You made this?” Moxxie nodded. Blitzø yanked open the door and yelled “FLOOF CHECK THIS SHIT OUT MOXXIE CAN COOK!”

There was an undignified squawk before the owl demon cleared his throat. “I hope this is more impressive than the ‘ghetto nachos’ you presented me with.” He had to dip his head to enter the room but once he was in the ceiling was high enough that he didn’t quite brush it with his crest feathers. “Oh! Oh my! That looks delightful! And it smells excellent.” He closed his bottom set of eyelids and inhaled deeply.

“Hey! Ghetto nachos are damn tasty.”

“I’m not saying they aren’t but microwaving processed cheese slices onto tortilla chips does not count as cooking. This on the other hand,” the prince opened his eyes, a pleased expression that had nothing to do with sensuality on his face. “This is incredible. Do I detect some mustard added to the bechamel?”

Moxxie hadn’t expected anyone to notice. “Yes, your highness. With the chicken already being breaded, I felt it would compliment nicely.” He’d never been able to talk to anyone about cuisine before. Everyone at his father’s house had laughed at him. Maybe his mom would have liked to talk about it…

“Please, call me Stolas in private. Might I try a taste?” Moxxie twirled noodles around a fork, making sure both meat and sauce were included. Stolas savored the bite, his eyes closing and his feathers fluffing up. “As delicious as I hoped. As I’ve had dinner already, I won’t keep you from such a well made meal.” He nuzzled the base of Blitzø’s horn before bowing out of the room. “I’ll be waiting Blitzyyyyy.”

Blitzø was already diving headfirst into his plate. “Christ on a stick Moxxie, this is amazing. And that’s not just a week of prison food talking.” How he could taste anything shoveling his food in his mouth that fast, Moxxie didn’t know. He did notice that Blitzø was eating with more enthusiasm than at any other meal they’d shared.

Before Moxxie had more than half his portion, Blitzø was slurping down the last noodle.”That was great, thanks Mox.” He dumped dishes into the sink. Stifling a yawn, he headed back to the master suite. “Make yourself comfortable. Sheets should be clean.” That lascivious grin came back. “Unless watching is the kinda shit you’re into. Stolas’ bed’s big enough for all of us if you feel like joining.” Moxxie nearly choked on his pasta.

A/N: I hope everyone enjoys this! The fic is in process and currently around 25k words so there’s a lot more coming. Next part will open up with NSFW content, heads up.

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#helluva boss #helluva blitzo #helluva stolas #helluva moxxie #blitzo x stolas #stolitz #fanfic #helluva fanfiction #helluva au #writing #hellaverse #mature reading

[bulbabutt]

so im white, lets just get that out of the way, but i wanna talk about the orientalism in windblades design.

this doesnt feel like my place to talk about but if no one brings it up then no ones gonna learn about it or second guess it. im tired of other white people not noticing this problem or thinking its fine. if anyone asian (specifically japanese) has any thoughts or personal input it is SUPER fucking welcome! its hard to find people talking about this.

so transformers has a women problem in general. they set up women in the 80s in one episode and never elaborated on it in that show. they added arcee in the movie. they put a couple in the beast wars era, but outside of blackarachnia (becoming a literal succubus) we dont really get any of those characters adapted (besides arcee) over iterations. never any new ones really.

then the comics get windblade. i havent read the comics, this isnt about anything that happens in them. this is about her design how she comes off as as shes been adapted into cartoons. i wont comment on events from the comics outside of her origin, as i know fuck all about it.

so she was supposedly a fan-voted character, but her 'fan-voted' aspects have nothing to do with the problem (in fact the fan-vote was more of a suggestion because a few things dont end up being true) the voted aspects are as follows:

autobot. jet. fights with swords. red & black. named windblade. female. valiant. telepath. from Kaon.

so here's what that ends up looking like.

so they took some liberties. there was other concepts where she was a european knight etc, but this is where they landed. she has this extremely feminine figure, complete with makeup and sculpted hair. many people immediately mistake this look for a geisha (though supposedly being kabuki) she gets little pump heels, it makes her very human woman shaped. birthing hips and all. thats classic girl robot stuff. its the specifics of it that are an issue.

so thats kind of a lot of japanese motifs. the makeup, the swords, the hair... why does it look like human hair? thats a very specific hairstyle on a character who doesnt have hair...

on its own, having a japanese inspired aesthetic isnt the problem. i mean, coding characters to be from different places is fine. having characters coded as a specific race could be fine. jazz already exists, and despite being taken by racist creators sometimes (cough michael bay cough) its not inherently bad that he is black coded, specifically when in the hands of black creators/voices. thats key.

so having a transformer who landed in japan and took on some culture from there. you could see that happening. that could work if in the hands of people who were japanese.

but thats not even her backstory. shes not even from Kaon (as was voted), instead she's from another planet entirely, a more spiritual one, which narratively makes her alienated from cybertronians. this alienation adds to the problem. "shes not from here." "shes not like us."

you'll see many people look at this design and think "is that geisha transformer?" and as the character isnt from japan and knows nothing about the culture that inspired her, the media itself never corrects anyone. no one in the text goes "no shes not a geisha shes actually based on a kabuki performer", no one says any words about it, its just how she looks, its just aesthetics without explanation or cultural background. shes not literally japanese, she just looks it. its easy to mistake without cultural context from a western perspective, so calling her a geisha becomes a rampant problem. general audiences arent looking at forum posts form 2014 where someone correctly explains what the motifs are. shes made by white people, and white people are largely the ones consuming the media. its unfortunate, and could have been avoided if the culture shes inspired by was relevant to her character.

so she's clearly heavily inspired by japanese aesthetics, which codes her as being an asian woman in this media but written by non japanese people. and then she becomes so popular that she has to start making appearances in shows.

she shows up in robots in disguise first. lets compare her to strongarm (the only other girl in the show)

having this japanese woman be far more thin and feminized than the other girl characters is the problem. strongarm is literally the first non feminized main girl transformer (not counting strika) she is much more in line with the men around her, square and broadshouldered, shes the largest car of the bunch. that was an upgrade finally. and then we get windblade. she has ruby red lipstick, human hair, heels, jewellery. on its own? thats fine. but keep in mind, shes heavily japanese coded already. then shes immediately seen as a romantic conquest for sideswipe (though he never gets anywhere, he literally claims ownership) it leans into tropes of sexualizing asian women because she stands apart from strongarm. shes the flirt, shes the very feminine one. is this on purpose? its not their fault windblade looks like that in the comics and strongarm looks like this. but side by side what is it saying? did they intend to say this about their asian woman? no, probably not intentionally. its kind of unconscious bias that tends to happen when you dont have a diverse writers room. no one notices until it hits the audience.

but lets just jump in here with the other weird problem in RID, because shes not the only one who jumped from the comics.

drift (who while being a samurai in the comics (literal?) doesnt.... LITERALLY wear a suit of samurai armour) shows up. with his two minicons who act as his children (who hes very strict with). theres a heavy overuse of the word honour. he owes a life debt, hes very humourless etc... they also never explain why he wears this armour. he came straight from space. he doesnt even turn into anything big that warrants it, hes just another sports car. bumblebee and sideswipe are sports cars too. but why is drift a sports car? tokyo drifting. drift. you get it.

so drift also is a comics original character. he, however, looks nothing like that

i will assume that drift looks different for one reason....

i mean. i shouldnt have to tell you why that was bad, right? you guys get why michael bay movies are bad? (if you genuinely dont please enjoy this series as a starter) ill just assume you do. knowing that that drift is bad, can we also say windblade is suffering from a similar problem?

this show brings in these FOUR new characters and heres how they look side by side.

so. okay the minicons are raised by drift, they share his aesthetic, okay. we dont know where he got that aesthetic but yeah they share it. windblade.... its unclear in this show if she shares the being from another planet like idw part. shes on a mission from god to be here and thats all we know. but the point is they have no similar origin. yet they all look like they could be from the same place. that they shares a (japanese inspired/coded/stereotyped take your pick) culture. meanwhile our from ep1 mains look like this:

so that feels. specific.

its not inherently bad to code robots as japanese, however its a problem when it seems to be for aesthetics alone. its stereotyping. they look nothing like the rest of the cast, everything like each other, and are from completely different backgrounds. they literally have the same colour palette? theyre not even like that in the comics.

sidenote, if you add sideswipe (who's alt mode has kanji on it and an asian voice actor so we can assume some coding there too) they look like this. yes they all have swords.... no one else does!

yes, windblade is the only character with a white face. makeup. yes sideswipe claims ownership over her to fight off one of the minicons. its not wrong to show windblade being harassed by a man, but it is wrong that no one ever says "leave her alone" you know? like thats just whats to be expected of her. it sucks. but at least her voice actress was asian! that wont happen again.

so. moving on to cyberverse, she becomes a central character. character wise? shes great. she gets to do a lot, no one sexually harasses her here, we're free of that era.

comparing her to the other autobot women, shes more in line now. if thats a good or bad thing overall is less the point (ie theres no autobots built like strongarm was, they are all just as thin and curvy as windblade is) but to me its still very apparent that shes still implying human hair. even with how simplified all these designs are.

like you can see how these red lines around her eyes get lost at a distance, same with the clips in her 'hair'. its clearly just trying to adapt her original design and im not saying thats a wrong choice they made, but i am saying its really busy in comparison

maybe thats a nitpick. but here it seems much more pronounced just how specific her head piece is because we can compare her to chromia, who is from the same place. do these two characters look like they have the same culture? not really. chromia and arcee look more alike. maybe thats just because they were designed later, but its unfortunate none the less.

even comparing her head to the seekers, what she is kind of supposed to be, they get the same old starscream mold. maybe she'd look better if they just did that? or something similar? like, give her a helmet. no one has hair. please stop implying hair. we all know what youre doing.

none of this is me saying i find these shows bad or that i hate windblade, i genuinely love her! and i love both these shows! it just feels hard to love her because of how she was designed. its not a problem with having a japanese coded character, its how stereotyped the look is. how othered it is. it leans into racist tropes. its orientalism, using japanese aesthetics to make her look interesting and different. you can tell she was made by white people.

how is it that despite being around for 10 years now, no ones tried to redesign her?

also look at the toys! look at the god damn toys!

she can take that head piece out to have a FAN. why does she need a fan?? shes got fucking WIND JETS ON HER BACK! its very obvious why they did this. shes a japanese woman, she can fight with a fan to complete the aesthetic! despite her character never having even been there! and no other transformer using a fan weapon! shes so COOL AND DIFFERENT like that isnt she?? holy fucking shit

to go back to those original voted concepts for a second? if we went back to the drawing board?

a telepathic valiant female autobot who can fly, has a red/blue/black colour combo (with yellow accents) uses swords, and maybe even with canonical asian heritage....

could they even do that? is it possible?

...

OH! wait it SUPER IS! who'd have thought!?

im NOT saying "we dont need windblade! we have a better girl with the same concept!" cuz thats stupid. do not misunderstand, theres room for WAYYYY MORE TF GIRLS! the literal 1:13 ratio is FUCKED! i know windblade had to fight to exist too and that sucks!

i just think it's CLEARLY possible to do this better, and it SHOULD be entirely possible to have windblade (who was LITERALLY holding court as the MAIN girl transformer for years) to be, i dont know, not so racistly designed? i think its entirely possible to fix, i just wish they would have tried already.

and this is just what my white ass has thought about since meeting her and not seeing anyone else bring it up. like going hunting for a real take about it just meets you with the rampant misogyny problem in fan spaces. its hard to find people talking about it in a normal way, but if they have before id love to know.

i just wanted to put my thoughts about it down, maybe get people to think about it more or talk about it more. cuz jeez, i would really like them to fix the problem. like they fixed the arcee problem in idw, right? can they fix windblade next?

#the tf binge thoughts #maccadam #windblade #transformers #tf windblade #long post

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

In Defense of the FNAF Movie…

I was thinking about the FNAF Movie again today and I wanted to go on a little tangent if that's alright with y'all lol.

I know most fans enjoyed the movie, which is great! But I did see some fans, especially some OG fans, who did not like the movie at all, saying it didn't take itself seriously enough, it was too campy, it wasn't scary enough, and it didn’t follow the lore. I can understand those criticisms to an extent. But as an OG fan myself, I think the movie captured the tone of FNAF perfectly.

FNAF at its core, is silly. The concept of kid-friendly animatronic characters that are mascots for a Chuck E Cheese type restaurant being possessed is a ridiculous concept. Granted, how they became possessed is where the horror of the franchise comes into play. FNAF was never all campy or all horror, it was always a mix of both, even in the first few games, just based on the concept alone.

I think too many people expected it to be really scary, but I believe that was the wrong perspective. There were jumpscares in the games, yeah, but I think the most prominent emotion from the early games would elicit dread, not horror. I went into the movie knowing it would be campy and goofy, but I also knew there would be some horror aspects. BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT FNAF IS!

I think if the movie took itself too seriously, no one else would, because fans know it’s not an overall serious franchise. This is the same franchise that brought in Exotic Butters and MPreg in one of their books! That’s not to say that there aren’t serious subjects in the game; a serial killer, multiple child murders, grusome deaths, loss of family members; the game is not all sunshine and rainbows.

But what I think FNAF does as a whole is mix those horror aspects with its campiness really well. You can’t have one without the other in this series. And that’s what I think the movie did a great job with. I don’t think I would have enjoyed it as much if it was too serious or if it relied on humor alone. Don’t get me wrong, this was not a perfect movie, there were definitely things that needed improvements. But I don’t think the tone was one of them.

At first I was a little disappointed that the movie wouldn’t be rated R, but now I can appreciate why they stuck to PG-13 instead. FNAF has never been bloody or gory, any deaths that would occur in the franchise would be off-screen or portrayed in the 8-bit mini games. I think the only time we see blood is during the springlock failure in FNAF 3, and again, it was 8-bit blood. Most of the horror is left up to the imagination of the viewer, which in my opinion, is a lot scarier than just outright showing you what happened. Fear of the unknown is extremely powerful.

The last point I wanna bring up is the fact some people do not like the deviation from the game’s lore. Need I remind you, this is not the first time the franchise has done this. The books have their own separate lore! Some of it lines up with the games, a lot of it doesn’t. But what all of these continuities have are animatronics who are possessed by children who were murdered by William Afton; that is the core story of FNAF no matter if you’re playing the games, reading the books, or watching the movie. They each take their own liberties in telling different versions of the story, but they all revolve around the same main focus. In my opinion, I think it would have been a little boring to see the movie play out one for one like the games, especially considering how confusing and convoluted the game lore is!I’m curious as to where they will go in future movies!

I can see why general audiences and critics would not like this movie, because they wouldn’t understand the tone that it was going for. They wouldn’t get the references or the story beats that the fans would. But it wasn’t really made for them, which is fine! I think the movie we got was really great, not a masterpiece, but just a really good adaption of what FNAF is: a campy horror game. And I’m looking forward to see where they take it next!

Also, if I hear one more person complain about the “Building a Fort” scene in the movie, I will gnaw your arm off. I’m happy we actually got to see the ghost children ACTING LIKE GOD DAMN CHILDREN!

#fnaf #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy’s movie #in defense of fnaf #tangents #ramblings #I hope I got my point across #I’m almost 28 now #I was 18 when the series came out #I’d like to think I have a pretty good understanding of the series as a whole #I’d like to hear your thoughts tho #but please be respectful!