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teez-the-time · 4 months

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Choi San, Wolf Warrior

Pairing: Warrior! San x Chief's daughter! Fem! Reader

Genre: fantasy, action, romance, angst

Synopsis: Ten years ago, your best friend San promised his eternal love to you. Now, the danger of his oath creeps through the both of you, and he has to bear the weight of his words. No matter what his fate will be, you must remember that he is the Wolf Warrior.

Warnings: Blood, wounds, death (animals die, I'm so sorry), weapons, cursing, San is fucking RIPPED, reader doesn't do much (sorry again), way too much flashbacks and monologuing (sorry x3, but I do not know how to stop), sappy af.

Wc: 7.8k

Taglist: @darkdayelixer

A/N. Well, it's finally here. This is officially my first fanfic posted here. Do I believe this is my best work? No. Do I care? Maybe, but I appreciate any feedback that you might have (please take into account that English is not my first language, so I rely in grammar checkers and that stuff). I'm not sure if I should keep the second person format, but you tell me what you think. Again, I'm open to suggestions and kind criticism. If the story sucks, sorry not sorry.

Once again, I'm eternally gratefull for the support I've received in this platform. Whatever you need, my DMs are always open.

XOXO -May

A little treat for those who liked the story.

Your tribe had a sacred tradition.

The first hunt is the most sacred; dedicated to whom you thank your life for.

The best hunt is the most important; dedicated to whom you’d die for.

That is why you couldn’t help but tremble while looking at San down below.

Even if he had clearly announced his decision to embark on the journey no more than a couple of months ago, nothing could have prepared your heart.

Not even kneeling alongside your father and your mother at a higher ground, far away from where he stood, could you escape the power radiating from his stance. Even his posture was perfect; perfectly still and elegant, like a wolf just like the one he had marked with ink on his chest. His eyes looked up, and you knew your Sanie was long gone.

He was Choi San, the Wolf Warrior.

The drums started beating in an ancestral rhythm; one you had heard in too many unsuccessful attempts. Men and women below hollered and twirled their bodies to the music, almost in a spiritual trance brought by the excitement of the hunt. The sound got louder and louder in your chest, so hard that it felt like a second heart. Your hands were shaking and you couldn’t help the shivers that ran several times through your spine. You just kept praying for it to be over.

And just as they had started, the drums ceased as your father rose as the chief of the village. He, too, didn’t feel like your father anymore, his hierarchical title far outweighed the one of father right now. You couldn’t decipher his expression, no longer familiar to you.

“Choi San”, his voice boomed through the whole village, “why are you here today?”

To you, San didn’t look intimidated one bit. “I’ve returned to fulfill my promise made sixty-two days ago, in this very place.”

This was all part of the ceremony, nothing more than a formality, but your heart fluttered with San’s words. But still, you knew he was wrong. No, he didn’t make that promise sixty-two days prior. He had made it way before that when you both were young kids.

He had promised to marry you ten years ago, at age twelve.

But your father didn’t find it that endearing. “An oath like that can’t be made by anyone. Are you sure you will be able to keep it?”.

San didn’t fall for the taunting. “Absolutely, sir.”

“Are you sure? Do you even know the consequences?”

Everyone knew them, even more San. “Yes, sir. I know them.”

“Are you willing to go through them then? Even if it means your death?”

With that, San let out a grin. “Especially if it means my death…sir.”

Then, the chief let go of the mocking stance he had tried and became solemn again. For the briefest second, you had hoped San stepped down, but you also knew him like the back of your hand. You knew he never backed down from a challenge.

Your father cleared his throat. “Very well, then. Seeing your determination to proceed, I’ll remind you once more of the rules.”

The few whispers and hushed voices that had been going around since the start finally came to a halt. The newfound silence made your head spin and your palms shake even more.

Gods, you prayed, don’t let harm come to my San. Please give him my strength and my will if he needs them.

“Rule number one. You have only one chance. If it’s lost, it’s lost. Gone forever.”

“Rule number two. You will not receive aid from anyone or anything. The village will only intercede if the hunt doesn’t finish with the beast’s death.”

“Rule number three. You will only carry one weapon of your choice and no armor. Any of those will deem the attempt failed, and you will lose your only chance.”

“Rule number four. The hunt only stops after one of you is dead.”

While your father talked, San seemed unfazed. Even if he already knew the rules, it made you uneasy to not know what he was thinking. You felt the urge to run to where he stood, grab his hand, and smooth out the crease on his brow that always popped up when he was thinking hard.

You yearned for nothing more than to be by his side.

“Choi San,” now your father spoke in a warning tone, “dare to break the rules, and you will face consequences bigger than what you can imagine. I will make sure of that.”

Not once had San looked intimidated, and that put your heart at ease (just a tiny bit, if you are being honest).

“I understood perfectly, sir.” San had always respected your father as a chief, so he always tried to keep his composure despite the adrenaline in his veins making him want nothing more than to begin with the hunt. But he had to remain polite, especially now that he was trying to become his successor.

“Good,” the chief stated plainly. “If there’s nothing else to say…let the hunt begin!”

The drums resumed in a frenetic rhythm, making your heart race once more. Nevertheless, below where you sat, San seemed pumped by it. He let the thick fur coat he wore fall to the ground, exposing his naked torso and ripped pants. You knew he did it to prove he wore nothing to protect him, but you couldn’t the blush that crept to your cheeks.

“Holy shit, that was hot” you murmured unintentionally. You looked to your left to see if your parents heard. Your father didn’t appear to have listened to you, concentrated on his duty as referee, but your mother let out a snort. You shot her a glare and she tried to suppress her laughter.

Trying to appear unfazed, you looked back at San. He was now holding a beautiful sword, which you knew like the back of your hand. The hilt was golden and decorated with flowers and power symbols. A short inscription written at the butt.

Choi San, the Wolf Warrior.

It was barely more than his name, but San had spent a fortune having it engraved in the shape of your handwriting. You smiled at the memory of a sixteen-year-old San running to show you his new possession.

“Y/N! Y/N!” you heard your name being shouted from behind you. When you turned, it was San running towards you at full speed, holding a piece of fabric in his hands. He finally reached you, showing his dimpled smile. “Geez, why do you have those ears if you can't even listen when one is shouting at you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, shut it. Not my fault you are so out of breath that I couldn’t understand shit of what you were shouting.”

“I was not-!” He looked like he wanted to bicker, again, with you, but he cut himself short. “It doesn’t matter, look what I got!” He proceeded to remove part of the folded fabric, exposing a shiny object. The blade of a sword. You let out a gasp and he chuckled. “Beautiful, isn’t it? But there’s more.”

He uncovered the rest of the weapon, and your eyes fell on the golden inscription. The letters were masterfully carved on the metal, so much it took you a moment to realize it was written in your handwriting.

“Is this…?” You didn’t even finish your sentence, and San already knew what you were trying to say.

“Yes. Custom-made from the best welder in town. It cost me a fortune, but it’s worth it.” San was grinning like an idiot at what he thought was an accomplishment.

Nevertheless, that didn’t sit right with you (even though you couldn’t deny that your heart was racing like a horse). “Are you dumb?! Why are you spending your money on dumb things like this?”

Your heart broke a little when you saw his smile falter. “What are you saying? Of course, it’s not dumb!”

“Yes, it is!”

“No, it 's not!”

“I said, yes it is!”

He frowned and grabbed your hand. “No, it’s not. Wanna know why? Because every time I wield it and see the hilt, I’ll be reminded of what I have back home. That I have someone waiting for me to come back. My treasure.”

His words from back then still made you feel warm, and after that, you always felt proud seeing him carry that sword.

Your gaze is torn away from the weapon to San himself. He was pacing around the makeshift arena planned for these occasions, warming up his limbs. His eyes seemed to wander through the place, not focusing on anyone, until they fell on you. Despite the seriousness that had ruled his behavior up until that point, he gifted you one of his characteristic smiles, which turned his eyes into two small crescents. Even with the loud music coming from the drums, you heard some girls squeal from his gesture, and you laughed at that.

San always knew how to lighten up the mood of every situation.

He kept walking until his back was turned from you, which you took as a chance to admire his sculptured figure. While he had always made clear to whom his heart belonged, that didn’t keep people from falling in love with his god-like looks. His chiseled torso was littered with tattoos, going around his arms, neck, and ribs, in addition to the big wolf head on his chest he had gotten when he was nineteen (when he had absolutely begged you to come with him for moral support).

His body was also covered in scars, mostly from battle wounds and hunting accidents. Some looked old and faded, while others appeared more recent. You knew each of them fully, seeing that you were the only one San let tend to him during those times. When he lowered his arms, you got a glimpse of his most famous one, which he bore on his left forearm. The one that earned him the title of Wolf Warrior, back when he was just twelve.

You stood waiting, just a few meters from the edge of the forest the boys had gone into a few days prior. Many of them had already returned and were celebrating all around you. But, still, there was no sign of San’s return.

You had accompanied San’s parents to wait for San to return from his ritual first hunt. For your people, this marked the beginning of manhood; a rite of passage from boys to men. It was the first time each of the boys would go hunting on their own, and they wouldn’t be allowed to come back without a prize. This ceremony was reserved for only the closest people in the boy’s life, but San’s parents had asked you to come since you were his best friend (and practically their niece, being their best friends’ daughter).

“It’s getting late, again,” San’s father said, and he was right. The sky was turning red and purple with the last lights of the day. Another day without San. “It’s only been three days, so it might still be early for him to return.”

“But most of the boys have come back,” his mother noted. She bit her lip, looking at the forest. Then, she looked at the grass and let out a sigh. “I guess you are right, we can wait another day.”

They moved to leave but stopped when they saw you hadn’t gone with them. “Y/N, let’s go home.”

You wanted to wait just a bit more. Just to be sure San wouldn’t come back that day. “I want to wait a few more minutes. If you want, you can go ahead and I’ll go back when I’m done. There are plenty of other parents here, so don’t worry about me!”

They didn’t look convinced, but they still let you. “Fine, but come back running to us if something happens.”

You waved them goodbye, but before long had passed, you saw some bushes rustle. You squinted to make sure your vision didn’t betray you, and a large figure emerged from the last line of trees. A scream rose to your throat when you saw the thick fur, but it soon died down when you saw the person carrying the furry mass.

“It’s San! It's San!” you shouted back at the distant figures of San’s parents. Thankfully, they had heard you, and they were sprinting back to your position. You ran behind them but stayed back when you saw them embrace their son.

“My son, my son is alright!” his mother repeated while holding him in her arms. Her husband embraced both of them without saying anything, but his face showed the relief he felt.

He is supposed to have returned a man, you thought while looking at the sweet scene, but they will still treat him like their baby.

“San is back!” you heard another boy say, “San came back from the hunt! But…what did he bring back though?”

That seemed to return San and his parents to reality. The ceremony wasn’t finished, as he still hadn’t presented his prize. They untangled themselves from their son and stepped back, allowing him to regain composure. It was then that you could finally see San clearly for the first time. He was soiled in mud, part of his clothes were tattered, and he had several scratches on his face, neck, and arms, but he didn’t seem bothered by them. He looked exhausted, on the verge of collapse even.

“San, my son,” his dad called out to him, “what have you brought from the hunt?”

San looked back at the big leather bag he had dropped with his parents' hug attacked. From the opening, a lot of fur spilled out without a clear form. “My prey was difficult to catch, that’s why I’m late. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Sanie,” his mother reassured him but, to you, she looked nervous. “It doesn't matter what it is, just that you are here. Have you decided who you will offer it to?”

You smiled at your friend. Even if you had stood back all this time to let the Choi family have their moment, you were overjoyed at seeing your best friend take part in one of the most important challenges in his life, and you would have given anything to run to his arms. Nevertheless, you stood back and contented yourself with giving him your usual reassuring smile (also, you couldn’t deny that you were madly curious to see to whom he would give his hunt, although knowing him, it was probably his parents).

Somehow, when you caught San’s eye, he didn’t relax. On the contrary, he stepped back from his parents' embrace and clutched his bag, never releasing tension. “Yes. Yes, I have.”

Mr. and Mrs. Choi held hands, seeing their now-grown son make an important decision. You also squealed in delight, cheering on your friend as he threw the bag over his shoulder with effort. He walked towards his parents and…ignored them?

Your confusion grew as he walked past his parents in your direction. You looked behind yourself, just to see no one. San kept approaching you until he stood merely two feet away. At that distance, you had a better view of all his injuries, especially the gnarly cut on his left forearm.

“Oh my god, Sanie!” you let out, closing the distance to grab his injured arm. “You need to get that treated immediately. It’s going to scar!”

Tension seemed to lift from his shoulders as San heard your typical nagging. He grabbed your wrist back and unlatched your fingers from his arm. “That’s not important right now!”

“What do you mean-!”

“It’s not,” he cut you off. Stepping back a little, he put the bag back on the ground, letting it fall with a loud thud. “This is what’s important right now”.

He opened it completely, a gray furry mass spilling out partially. San kept grabbing and pulling, freeing the animal from the cramped space. Once it was completely out, you let out a scream.

An enormous wolf was looking back at you.

“San, what the hell!” you stumbled back from the shock. “You brought a whole ass wolf?! Are you allowed to give that thing to someone?”

Sanie beamed his boyish smile. He grabbed the animal by the scruff, not raising from his kneeling position, and offered it to you. “I’m not giving it to ‘someone’. I, Choi San, from the Choi family, present my most sacred achievement to you, whom I most treasure and thank for in life”.

Your memory was shattered by the piercing shriek that resonated through the arena, making you clutch your necklace (made from the wolf’s teeth) in fear. It sounded like straight out of your nightmares.

The rumble of heavy steps only confirmed your worst fears.

San was looking directly at the forest line, where the noises were coming from. He stood his ground as a couple of trees fell and many shook with violence. The shouts of other men could be heard as they came closer and closer. Finally, before the whole tribe appeared a creature that left you nauseous.

Four enormous green and scaly legs carried an even bigger body; as tall as the tallest building in your village. The scales shone under the harsh sunlight and were thick enough to compare to an iron armor. Its talons tore through the hard soil like it was mere sand. Its lack of wings didn’t make it less intimidating; on the contrary, it warned its prey of its prowess on land. But it wasn’t the size, the fangs, the talons of the scales that paralyzed your body.

It was the eyes.

For the briefest moment, your gaze connected with the dragon’s. Its eyes glowed red with a primal fury you had only seen on a cornered animal, waiting to fight back if only to cause damage to its hunter before its ultimate demise. That look raised every hair on your body.

The dragon continued to shriek and thrash against the chains that the men, whom you recognized as San’s best friends, held tightly. They were being overpowered by the creature’s brute force, but they still held on for their friend’s chance at having the best prize the village would ever see.

All for you.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” San had turned to the crowd, “let the best hunt our people have ever witnessed in our long history begin!”

The sound of chains hitting the ground was almost drowned by the roar of your people. Once the beast was free, it lounged at full speed at San, forgetting about his other captors, hissing and letting its venom drip on the floor. An involuntary scream was ripped from your throat as you stood from your kneeling position.

“San, run!” you screamed moving forward, but a heavy hand on your shoulder stopped you from going further. It was your father’s.

“No, you stay here,” he demanded.

“Father, you have to stop this,” you pleaded at him. “This is madness! San can’t fight on his own against that!”

But your father was unmoving. “No, this is the challenge he chose, and he must accept his fate.”

“You don’t believe that,” your tone was dark, “at least not with San. Do you want your best friends’ child to die a stupid death? Do you want my best friend to die a stupid death?! Because I wi-!”

While he had remained emotionless during all the ceremony, now he looked furious. “(Y/N), compose yourself for gods’ sake!”

“But-”

“Your feelings do not matter right now, only San’s. He is down there, risking his life only for you to look at him. He chose this, no one else, and what he needs the most right now is your support. Do you understand?”

You understood, and those were the words you needed to sober up. Regardless of your feelings, whether you thought he was being reckless or not, San was fighting for the acceptance of your love in the eyes of your village. He didn’t need you to doubt him, he needed you to be by his side. Not to mention that he would be upset that you doubted his strength.

Until that moment, San had managed to evade all of the dragon’s attacks, opting for taking a defensive stance. The strength and size difference between them was abysmal, so the fate of either would be reduced to who could endure the chase for the longest. A battle of attrition.

The dragon charged at full speed once more, and San stood his ground, sword in front of him. The beast had almost reached him, when San dodged at the last second, managing to slash the tendon of one of its talons, but his arm brushed against one of its scales. Blood began to gush out of the wound, but he paid no mind to it. The battle was far from over, and he was determined to be the last one standing. He owed it to himself, and you.

For what seemed hours (and probably were), you saw San run around the arena, dodging attacks and inflicting more on his opponent. He was visibly injured, having been hit numerous times by the sharp weapons of the dragon, and caked on blood and mud. Nevertheless, the dragon itself wasn’t in a much better state; San had managed to slash open the tendons of three out of the four legs, and it had trouble moving at a fast speed. The sturdy sword of San had also pierced the thick armor of the beast, leaving big wounds on its sides and belly.

Dragons were magnificent creatures. They were perfectly designed to withstand almost all types of damage, being covered in those solid scales that rivaled metal. Some had enormous wings that they used to soar the skies of their vast territories, some breathed fire and ice. Many explorers even claimed that some races could even understand human language. From those many tales, it was expected to believe these beasts were invincible. However, what not many knew was that dragons did have a weakness, a physical one even. Under the sturdy chunks of armor on the chest, just at the area where the heart would’ve been located, the scales were more fragile, soft enough to let a blade penetrate the skin and kill the creature. Not many knew of this weak spot due to the difficulty of even getting close to a dragon, let alone surviving the encounter. Not many knew of it, except for San.

He could see that the dragon was getting tired from constantly playing the offensive. The blood loss was weighing it down, making its attacks slower and weaker, and San wasn’t easy prey to catch. He had been getting closer and closer to the one spot that would lead him to victory. The plan was to make the dragon bleed as much as possible, before ending it all in one move. He wasn’t much fan of making his prey suffer, but neither he was of getting his head bit off (leaving you practically widowed).

San kneeled for a moment, taking a breather as the dragon hissed at a new wound he made near its tail. His own injuries were also slowing him down, although the adrenaline kept him moving. He knew he couldn’t keep up much longer, and it was time to put an end to the battle while he still had the strength to continue.

It was time for the last act.

You saw San muster up the strength to stand up. You had lost count of how many times he was close to finally hunting down the dragon, so now you prayed that he just kept inflicting cuts on the beast until it finally died from blood loss. However, something was different in San. He seemed more confident this time, and you knew what it meant. San was now playing the offensive.

In half a second, San had banished from where he had been standing. Your eyes found him again a few meters closer to the dragon, sprinting at full speed directly towards him. The animal had taken notice of your friend, and stood firmly on its four legs, waiting to rip his head off his body. When San was directly in front of it, the dragon raised on its hind legs, as if to gather full force to strike down on the man and end the fight. You let out a gasp.

It was a fatal mistake.

Instead of stopping as the dragon had expected, San slid underneath it, raising his sword as the creature threw itself down full force. You blinked. One moment, the dragon had been roaring in victory and, in the next one, it was shuddering as it had impaled itself directly into San’s blade. The last remnants of life escaped in convulsions from the body of the beast, and it collapsed unceremoniously into the ground, a mere carcass of the magnificent animal it had been before. The crowd went quiet for the death of a splendid being.

You couldn’t care less for the animal. You couldn’t see San, so you were beginning to be worried that he had been crushed under the weight of the dragon. Your eyes frantically searched for him, until a figure emerged from beside the dead body. San was drenched in blood and struggled to breathe. He had never let go of the sword.

It was the true sight of a legendary hero.

San raised his hand and tried to wipe away some of the blood off his face, which made you chuckle as it was also covered in blood. Realizing the futility of that, he desisted and, instead, looked down on his weapon. He smiled at the inscription and grabbed it with his two hands. In one swift movement, he stabbed the chest of the dragon once more. You frowned in confusion as he kept stabbing and cutting through the body of the beast, as it was already dead, leaving a carnage behind. Behind you, a couple of old men were discussing the useful properties of all the organs and parts of the dragon and how they would have used them, but you couldn’t care less about that. At last, San seemed to find what he was looking for and dropped the sword. He plunged his hands into the hole he had made (which made you gag a little if you were being honest) and pulled out something. Everyone around you let out a collective gasp.

San was holding a dragon’s heart. A heart made out of pure gold.

Your jaw went slack. The heart was huge, as it belonged to a huge creature, and probably weighed a considerable amount. Nevertheless, San held it with the remaining strength he had. You couldn’t start to fathom the value of such rarity, much less the fact that it was now yours. The crowd cheered as he raised the piece over his head; a sign that declared him the victor.

Having basked in glory long enough, San secured a grip on the golden heart and began the ascent towards where you still kneeled beside your father and mother. It wasn’t that long of a distance, but carrying a heavy object after hours of battle sure was harsh on his body. Despite the ache, he continued to advance.

Your mother reached out for you, smiling as she grabbed your hand affectionately. "He did it! He did it! Finally, you can marry San!"

Finally.

You glanced down at San once more. The grown man that just killed a dragon looked nothing like the kid from ten years ago.

"Marry me". San blurted out of nowhere. The sudden request startled you, making you accidentally press on his wound. "Ouch! Be careful, you idiot!"

You felt offended. "Me? An idiot? You are the dumbass that proposes to someone while they are cleaning your wound. I should let your arm rot for being an idiot and reckless on your first hunt!"

He glared at you. "You wouldn't dare…"

"Try me."

He didn't reply, and you fell into a comfortable silence. San had dragged you away from the banquet his family had prepared on account of his newly acquired "manhood", complaining how his arm hurt from not being properly treated and he needed you to do it for him. Now you sat on a small hut next to his house, illuminated by a small candle, jars of ointments and gauzes lying on the floor beside your forms.

San watched as you applied another cream to his arm. "You didn't answer".

You didn't look at him, focused on treating him. "You didn't ask anything". Before he could hit you with a reply, you added "Besides, we can't get married".

That seemed to upset him. "Why not? We know each other perfectly, and our parents as best friends. I'm sure they would accept it".

You laughed at his naïveness. "It's not about approval. Marriage is for people that love each other".

Now, San just seemed confused. "But we love each other. We say it all the time".

"We love each other," you conceded, "but we aren't in love with each other". San's expression remained confused, so you tried to explain it in another way. "You and I love each other as brother and sister, and we act as such. People that get married treat the other as…well…lovers. They spend time together, they share stuff, they hold hands, they kiss. They swear to be with each other until death. They take care of each other. Forever!"

Your explanation didn't convince San. "But, don't we already do that? Minus the kissing, of course. Wouldn't that mean we are in love?"

The mere thought of being in love with San sent your prepubescent brain into short-circuit. It repulsed you in some way, as you had only looked at him as a brother, but you couldn't deny the butterflies in your stomach.

"No, it doesn't," you exclaimed. "Also, people that get married first become girlfriend and boyfriend! You can't be my boyfriend!"

San also looked repulsed at the sound of that word. "Ew, no! I don't want a girlfriend".

"See, that's why we can't get married".

"I don't want a girlfriend," his eyes burned holes in your head, "but I still think it would be nice if we got married. We already promised to be in each other's life forever and I care for you, so I don't think it'd make much difference".

You briefly looked back at him and rolled your eyes, grabbing a roll of gauze. "Why are you even thinking about that, Sanie? Marriage is an adult thing. We are twelve-year-old kids!"

"Speak for yourself! This proves I'm a grown man", he pointed at the wound, grinning. You shot him an amused look, opting for saying nothing and continuing with your job. It didn't take much time for San to break the silence yet again. "I guess all this new 'adulthood' stuff got me thinking about this new chapter of my life and-"

"Mhm"

"-all the things I can do now. Somehow that ended up in my thinking about marriage and how would it feel to get married to someone you like, you know?"

"Yes, yes".

"Then I thought of who I would marry, and I thought of you. Since all that best friend shit is basically the same shit you described, but if you say it's different, I guess it is. Either way, we should wait a little more before that, to think matters better and decide if-"

Oh, no. San had started rambling. "Sanie! What on gods' sake are you trying to say?!"

"What age do you think is the most appropriate to get married?" He looked dead serious now.

You finished dressing the wound, and threw your tools on the ground, exasperated by San's strange behavior. "I don't know! I already said that marriage is for adults!"

"Well, then at what age did your parents get engaged?"

You loved the story of how your parents go together, so it was an easy question. “Oh, my father proposed to my mother when he was twenty-two and she wa-”

San beamed as he interrupted you once more. “Perfect! Then my proposal will be suspended until then. I will ask you again when I turn twenty-two. That way I’ll give you time to fall in love with me, or whatever it is that you need.”

All the previous conversations had proven fruitless again and again, so it was better to leave things as they were, hoping that soon San would move to other subjects.

“Fine, whatever. We’ll probably have forgotten it by then”.

Except, he did not. And neither did you. On the contrary. With time, you had grown fond of your best friend, leaving behind the innocent affections of childhood to make place for the blossoming feelings of romantic love. Where you were hesitant to express these feelings, he openly did to anyone and anything willing to listen. He wanted you and only you. It wasn’t only the grand moments of expressed admiration that made you fall for him, but the quiet moments of thoughtfulness that instilled your devotion for him.

When he carried your things without a word, even if he knew you were perfectly capable of doing it on your own. When he held your hand as you walked through more deserted parts of the village. When you would silently work on the injuries he would bring home, never asking how he got them. When you would hold each other, letting the other shed their tears, just basking in each other’s comfort.

All those moments paved the way for the unspoken transformation of your relationship. You were neither friends nor lovers. No words could describe the depth of your understanding of each other. So, for you and the rest of the world, you were simply “Y/N and San”.

And you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

As usual in any other important celebration, San had dragged you away from everybody. This time, it was his birthday and, although he loved being with his friends and family, he wanted to spend time alone with you. As you both grew, so did your responsibilities, yours as the daughter of the village chief and San’s as the strongest member, so there were periods where your time together was limited.

As soon as you were decently away from the rest of the party, San had taken you in his arms in a warm embrace. You inhaled his scent. He smelled like home. You didn’t question what was up with the sudden display of affection, you knew he would let you know in time. He was never one to keep quiet for much time.

“Marry me”.

He hadn’t forgotten. San was a man of his word.

“Today I turn twenty-two,” he told you, as if you weren’t currently celebrating that fact, “it’s the day I’m finally asking you to be mine”.

Your heart threatened to escape your ribcage from pure glee. “I’ve always been yours, Sanie. Since the day you first asked.”

You felt his smile as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. “Thank you, thank you. You know that I belong to you too. I’ll take care of you, so good. Every day, all day. And you won’t be able to get rid of me”.

You chuckled. “I don’t know about that. You can barely take care of yourself”.

“But it’s different since I don't care about myself, only about my treasure”.

For longer, you remained like you were. Many breaths passed before any of you said anything.

“I’m leaving the day after tomorrow,” he announced, shattering the moment, “it won’t be for too long and the guys are coming with me”.

“Leaving? To where?” you asked, confused.

“As much as I’d love to stay with my beautiful fiancée,” you loved how the title sounded coming from him, “I have to bring her a pretty hunting trophy, so she can boast to the whole town about having the strongest boyfriend to ever live”.

You stayed silent. Even if you wanted San to forgo tradition and stay with you, you knew he wasn’t in an easy position. As the chief’s daughter, you didn’t require him to only fulfill the role of the husband. By marrying you, he would automatically become the next in line for the position of chief, as you had no male relatives that could assume it. Thus, he needed to prove himself worthy of you and the whole village.

The very next day, he announced to your community his intentions of marrying you and becoming head of the village. The day after that, he was gone.

Sixty-two days had passed since you last felt his warmth, so when he stood before you, still covered in blood and grime, holding his heart (well, not his in a strict manner), you itched to extend your hand to his cheek and wipe the exhaustion away.

Once more, the ceremonial drums stopped after hours of incessant banging. It was time for your father to speak.

“Choi San,” he called out to your lover, “Ten years ago, when you were barely a man, I bestowed you the title of ‘Wolf Warrior’, which has been reserved for the strongest of our kind, in hopes that you would use it to protect and serve our people. Despite that great honor, you have used that same title and strength to recklessly endanger our home by bringing a dragon for mere spectacle. Had things gone askew, it wouldn’t have been just your life that we would have lost, but many others”.

After the little speech he gave you about trusting San, you were surprised by the harsh scolding your father was giving San in front of other people. Nevertheless, you understood his position as responsible for the village.

“However, on this day you have achieved a feat none of our ancestors could compare to. The tale of the man who single-handedly slew an adult dragon with just a sword will be told by many generations to come, under the title of ‘Choi San, the Dragon Warrior’; title I am to bestow you and will only belong to you. But I’m afraid names and merits would be meaningless if the intent behind them isn’t honored”.

Your father paused briefly before resuming. “Time and time again, you have proven your worth as a man beyond the power of his sword. Your contributions to the safekeeping of our people speak for themselves, and any reward would be in order as compensation for your service. However, I know you seek not money or fame, but something deeper than that.

“Choi San. I’ve seen you and Y/N grow into the splendid adults you are today. I’ve seen your care for each other and your understanding of each other. After today, I do no doubt that there is no better man for my daughter, and no better one to succeed me when I am no longer able. Therefore, I declare successful your attempt and bless the union between the two of you”.

Your heart soared higher than the sky above you. You could have broken your neck with how fast you whipped your head to look back at San, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

San. San. Sanie.

He was on one knee on the ground before you. The golden heart sat on the floor in front of him, displayed as an offering to you. He held his hands open, waiting for you to take them. You did so, standing up and grabbing his fingers, not caring one bit that they were still covered in grime. San looked at you intensely, wanting you to look at him and only him. Now and for the rest of your lives.

“My treasure,” he spoke so softly as if you were going to shatter if he spoke any louder, “from my very first breath, everything I’ve done has been for you and only you. My first thoughts in the morning and my last ones before bed are of you, and even in my sleep I see you next to me. Every beat of my heart is for you, until the last of them. But, even then, there are no words to describe how deeply I love you”.

Your lips quivered, but you broke into a teary smile nonetheless. “Oh, Sanie. If you keep going, I’m afraid I will cry for real”.

“Don’t worry,” he gripped your hands tighter, “I will be here to wipe away all of them”. San planted a kiss on your knuckles before continuing. “Ever since I was a child, I knew it was you who I wanted to be with for the rest of my life, even if you disliked the idea of that. I knew it had to be me who had to be there in your moments of joy, as well as your moments of sadness. It had to be me who cared for you when you weren’t able to care for yourself and be by your side when you didn’t want anyone else. It doesn’t have to be me, but I want it to be me”.

You swore you could hear some girls sigh behind you, and you couldn’t relate more to that.

“Today I, Choi San of the Choi family, offer you the best of me. I present to you this prize as an offering of my heart, my body, and my soul, which from now on are yours to dispose of. If you wish to accept it, and therefore accept me, I’ll belong to you for the rest of eternity. If you let me be by your side, I’ll do my best to care for you, and not even water will touch your hands. These words will be true, whether you accept my offerings or not since it’s only to you I wish to lay my life for”.

With a last kiss to your hands, he brought them up and rested his forehead on them. The tips of his ears appeared slightly red and his own hands trembled. You knew your Sanie enough to recognize he was equally nervous and embarrassed (which he had nothing to feel shame for, as he had said cheesier things under the influence of liquor).

You rubbed your thumbs on the back of his hand, hoping to soothe his nerves. “Rise, my young warrior. A man like you should be kneeling for nobody”.

He didn’t stand up. “But you aren’t ‘nobody’, my love. You are my strength and my will”.

This man will be the death of me, you laughed to yourself.

“And you are the most stubborn man I’ve ever encountered,” you poked at him. You tugged firmly at your intertwined hands, signaling that you needed him to get back on his feet, “and I’m afraid that you won’t be able to hear my words properly from down there”.

That made him look up to you once more, and finally stand up from the ground. This time, you didn’t hold yourself back from letting go of his fingers to remove a piece of hair from San’s eyes. Your own ones lingered a while longer, just to find themselves cupping his cheek. San snuggled up to your palm instinctively, reminding you of a cat.

“My love,” San closed his eyes and sighed at the name, “you have fought so bravely for the both of us. Not just today, but for a very long time. It is me who should be thanking you for brightening my life with just your presence, and for never giving up on me. We’ve had our highs and lows, but there’s no time of my life that I can remember without you being present. You too have had full ownership of my heart since the very beginning, and it is not my desire for you to relinquish your rights to it”.

“I too want to be the one who cares for you when you aren’t able to fend for yourself. I too want to be who you come to when you have wounds to heal. I want to be who you wake up to every morning, and who you sleep next to every night. I want to be the source of your strength and your place of rest; to protect your heart from harm and your mind from turmoil.”

“My Sanie, for as long as you let me, I will be yours, and even further than that if you decide you love me no more. Everything I have, I will share with you. Where you go, I will go. Whom you love I will love, and whom you despise I will despise. There’s nothing that will give me greater joy than to be yours. So I, Y/N, accept this prize as a symbol of my love and the union that will bind us from now on”.

You had barely finished when you found yourself spinning in the air, San’s hands grabbing you firmly by your waist. You finally let out tears of joy and looked down to see that he was crying too. San put you back on the ground, but never let you go. On the contrary, he pulled you towards him in the biggest hug. One of his hands held you by the waist, while the other rested on the back of your head. Your forehead hid on the crook of his neck, and your hands moved restlessly across his broad back. The drums now played a happy beat and people danced for the new couple. From the corner of your eyes, you could see your parents and San’s embracing each other, finally together as a family.

“My love, my love, my love,” San whispered in your ear, unable to stop repeating those words.

“My Sanie,” you whispered back, “I’m sorry I made you wait for so long”.

“Nothing of that matters now,” he reassured you, “I could have waited longer if it meant I’d have you at the end.”

“You always know what to say,” you joked. “Always the hopelessly romantic idiot”

“You are right. But now I’m your idiot”.

“No, you are my husband”.

San stopped all movement before slightly pushing you away from him. He held your gaze for a couple of seconds before grabbing your face with a smirk adorning his lips. “Hell yeah, I am”.

He leaned down and captured your lips in a heart-stopping kiss. Your brain melted to mush and you could only think about him, surrounding every part of you.

San. San. Sanie.

The world could have ended at that very moment, and neither of you would have cared. Not when you had each other in every sense of the word, cause that is all that mattered. You and him.

Y/N and San.

Follow @teez-the-time for more!!!

Do not use without permission from the author.

#ateez #teez-the-time #ateez fanfic #atiny #choi san #san #san x reader #san smut #san fluff #san angst

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bisexualhomelander · 3 months

Text

F O R C E D F E M I N I S A T I O N | B U T C H L A N D E R

Billy runs his mouth.

Part of Billy should have known the joke would come back to bite him in the arse sooner than later. He shouldn't have invited the supe in at all, but definitely not with the offer of watching him have a wank. Homelander felt he had a foot in the door now, and if Billy had put that kind of depravity past him, he's probably dumber than he thought he was.

The sonic boom woke him up, and as much as he simply wanted to close the blinds on Homelander, curiosity did get the better of him eventually, and he opened the balcony door.

Before he had even asked to what he owed the pleasure of the late-night company, the supe had already pressed a few banknotes into his hand, and Billy instinctively tightened his fingers around them despite his bewilderment. "You said ten dollars to watch you jack off. What do I get for a hundred?"

Billy huffed in amusement, even if there was a bit of sound behind the huff. Shock that he couldn't quite conceal. Was he being propositioned?

Homelander had a smirk on his lips. "I'm serious. William. I can feel your blood pressure, you know? That includes knowing where your blood is, right now. Had I stayed last time, who knows how we'd have ended up."

Billy swallowed all the other choice words he had for the man and stared down at the money in his grip. "If you think you can buy me, cunt, think again."

"If it hurts your pride, fine." The supe plucked the dollars back out of Billy's fingers and threw them into the air. Billy watched them sail over the balcony and out of sight. That would make some lucky bastard's night. Not his problem. He didn't have to pay that out of his pocket.

Alright, supe wanted to play. He could have that, surely. Billy could almost feel the moment his brain turned itself off. He'd feel the consequences of his actions some later date; for now, he didn't want Homelander to think he won by flustering him. Sure, he was half-hard. Why not go all the way and hate himself for it once he was alone again? So he put on his most charming, shit-eating smile and replied: "Shitty pickup line there, luv."

Homelander's face was wiped blank for a moment before he could reign in his emotions at the sudden pet name. Point for Billy.

"See? That's how it's done. Now come in. Freezin' my bollocks off here, and I'm of no use to you if that happens, hm?"

Homelander had his bearings again and gave him an amiable smile, hiding his teeth. Why did the cunt always seem like he had something with an unpleasant taste in his mouth? Was that jaw ever slack?

"Not really that into cocks, if I'm honest."

Homelander chuckled. "And? Neither am I. Will that stop you?"

"Nah, it won't. But we're gonna do it my way."

"Fine by me." Homelander came inside and closed the door with his gloved hand. He even cleaned his boots on the door mat. "Bedroom's this way, I assume," he said and began to saunter off in the correct direction. Fucker had clearly x-rayed the apartment before, and Billy prayed it had been when he'd been here last and not right before he'd swept in to watch Billy sleep.

"We ain't goin' to the bedroom here, luv." It was likely impossible to actually surprise the supe. Last time, Billy had not even seen him fly off. Homelander moved at the speed of light, and so he must have seen the assault coming from a mile away, but it spoke to how much he wanted this that he let it happen anyway. Billy had him up against the wall in one smooth movement, and Homelander's legs were riding high on his waist like it was natural. "My way, remember?" Billy smeared the words against the supe's lips like spit and greedily drank down the answering whimper. "And if I say cock isn't what I'm looking for tonight, that's what goes, a'right?"

"You can fuck me if you want to," Homelander panted. He was lighter than Billy had imagined. Holding him up cost little energy, and Billy wasn't even properly awake. For a split-second, he wondered if he was still dreaming.

"Not into cocks, my arse. You're downright begging."

"I'm not begging for anything." The hand around Billy's throat had crept up so suddenly that it did shock him into silence for a second. "I won't beg on my knees for the right to see my son, and I will certainly not beg you to fuck me. I chose you for tonight because you are a disgustingly filthy excuse for a man who has no dignity left for his sorry life, and I knew I could get you if I wanted you. And here you are. So if you want me to leave your body intact, you better get your ass in gear and get me off."

With every ounce of willpower, Billy forced a swallow against the fingers pressing down. The grip loosened. They still held eye contact, and neither of them blinked first. Homelander was giving him a way to get his piece in. Well. Why not.

"You babble on like a woman, you know?"

"Hm?"

"Goin' on and on about things I don't wanna know. Gnawing my ear off here, mate." He leaned forward a bit, happy to see the supe's eyes dart to the left and right in an attempt to focus on both of his eyes. It made Homelander break the unblinking eye contact, lids fluttering rapidly. "Like a girl."

They were pressed together from the tips of their noses, to their chests, to their bellies, so it was easy to actually feel the way the cunt's cock throbbed at Billy's verbal abuse. "Yeah, that's right, hm? You wanna be my girl for the night? Daddy's girl?"

Up close like this, he saw the laser lights spring forth from Homelander's pupils first, slowly filling out the rest of his eyes. It looked fascinating from this perspective, even as the intense light immediately burned bright white spots into Billy's retina that he had to blink away. To anyone, it might have been threatening, but Billy was too worked up now, and he called the supe's bluff easily. "Bitching like you're PMSing, luv." He leaned his face into the heat emanating from Homelander's eyes to force his mouth open in a kiss. "Just from a bit of talking."

"Shut up-" The hand that landed over his mouth could have broken his jaw or taken it clean off, but Homelander knew how much pressure to use. Billy didn't think about how the supe had learned this. Or tried hard not to.

It wasn't difficult to pry the hand away and let the supe see his sly grin. "Gettin' shy already? Why you wanna shut me up so hard?"

"Nothing of value comes out of that mouth of yours," Homelander said.

"Oh, come now." Billy made certain to school his face into a disappointed frown. "You gonna lie to me? I can see you getting wet in that suit of yours."

It wasn’t wrong, exactly. There was a distinct dark spot where the head of Homelander's cock pressed into the fabric. Billy decided, however, that he liked the ambiguity of this game of his and wanted to see how much he could push the supe.

"Must be like a slip 'n slide between those legs."

"Don't-" Homelander began, but his body took over halfway into speaking, had him rub up against Billy like the mere mention of his arousal had reminded him of it. "Don't you ever shut up?"

Billy leaned forward to bite Homelander's ear. "You love it."

"I don't." Those baby-blue eyes tried to find Billy, and find him they did. Up close like this, he looked pretty. Innocent, somehow. The line of his mouth was still angry, but somewhere in the depths of those eyes lay something that wanted to give up and surrender to Billy. It was hypnotic.

Billy leaned forward and breathed his next word onto Homelander's mouth. "Liar."

Homelander whimpered when their mouths met, but he parted his lips readily and began to suck on Billy's tongue as soon as he had access, ashamed at his body's reaction and ready to shut Billy up. The supe tasted like absolutely nothing, not even toothpaste. It was almost unsettling, were it not for the wet warmth of his mouth that was like any other. What a weird thing to discover this fucker's humanity through.

Billy decided he'd had enough of the stalling and went to his knees. The supe's legs slipped from his waist in the movement; they were unsteady when holding up his weight.

Homelander willingly pushed his hips into Billy's hands as he began to open the belt holding the outfit together. He'd never seen the ins 'n outs of that. The suit wasn't one piece. It was a top and trousers that could be pulled down like leggins. Skin-tight and stuffed full of foam to give the impression of defined abs and pecs. Uncovering a bit of skin between the top half and the bottom half of the outfit felt like a forbidden pleasure, and Billy's mouth descended on an exposed hip bone before he even had time to plan out his move.

"Thought cock wasn't what you were looking to get," Homelander mumbled.

Billy huffed a laugh against the skin under his teeth and felt an almost nauseating flutter in his abdomen as shaky fingers held on to his shoulders. "Nah. I'm here for that pretty cunt you got hidden away." The fingers flexed and spasmed; Homelander's hips ground forward of their own accord.

Billy was so hard he felt dizzy with it, and he blinked to get his wits about him. He couldn't forget his mind completely. This was still none other than the monster who'd destroyed him - or the parts that were worth destroying anyway.

He pulled the ridiculous trousers of the outfit down to Homelander's knees and was met with...

"Red panties? You on the rag?"

"You're disgusting," Homelander commented, but he sounded so out of breath Billy considered the comment flattery.

"Gets you wet enough." The front of the supe's briefs was almost black with precum in the low light of Billy's living room. "Why give you pretty words when this gets the job done just fine, eh, bird?"

"Please." And oh, if that word didn't go straight to Billy's dick.

"Please what?"

Homelander squirmed, and Billy didn't help by blowing air on the wet spot where the cunt's cockhead was seen straining through the cotton. "Eat me-?" Shame clogged his throat, and now Billy did help out by leaning forward and rubbing his beard against an exposed thigh, earning something that came close to a mewl and finally got the answer he desired. "Eat me out. Daddy."

"Good girl." He pulled the briefs down to the rest of the way and went on to unzip the ridiculous red boots. The supe toed out of them so quickly he nearly tripped, and Billy made quick work of the rest of the clothes by pulling on them to let the cunt step out.

Half-naked, the masculinizing effects of the costume were visible. The clothed half of Homelander still looked imposing, but his naked legs were literal sticks. His ass round, but not nearly as firm as the outfit made it seem. Billy slid his hands up the back to cup the cheeks. "Leg on Daddy's shoulder, girl. Come on. Giddy up."

Homelander obeyed without complaint, like he was beyond words. Maybe Butcher had him where he wanted. And where was that even? In what universe did he want him? And was there still a remote chance he'd wake up hard and full of self-loathing?

Not much time to think about it when the current position spread the cunt's ass so deliciously and allowed Billy a good look at his hole. Fucker was shaved everywhere, it seemed, not a single hair more than necessary on him.

"Brazilian? Fine choice, princess."

"God, fuuuck." Homelander shivered, a foot pressing into Billy's shoulder blade with an amount of pressure that bordered on abusive. He'd get a bruise there. It drove him forward, though.

"Got the prettiest cunt I've seen." As if to prove a point, Billy lapped at the hole, huffing a laugh when he saw the muscle contract. "Look at that. Pinker than a virgin. Or is that it, huh? Anyone ever been where I am now?"

The silence was damning.

"Never had a man before." He held onto Homelander's thighs for leverage and pulled himself up again, shoving his face in for real this time.

Homelander's hand found his hair and pulled with surprising gentleness. It was an interesting contrast. Billy'd have sooner expected him to push him forward and not try to pull him backwards, but the cunt probably was lost to the pleasure and didn't remember how to move in any coordinated fashion. And they'd barely started.

He lapped at the furled muscle, relishing in the way it spasmed against his lips. As much as Homelander kept complaining, this he could hardly deny. This was his body talking.

No denying it; Billy'd always been an ass man. Something about getting his tongue in there had been appealing since a young age. The filth of it, sweat and musk. The embarrassment of his partners when they realized how much he loved inhaling all of it. Like a bloodhound.

Not with him. He was clean, no sweat, no smell. But aroused all the same and opening up to Billy's ministrations. The thighs around his face quivered. The hand in his hair went from insistent to demanding. Homelander's body was putting out heat like a furnace, and it drove sweat to Billy's brow.

"Fuck," he could hear a muffled voice from above. Was the cunt covering his mouth to keep in his noises? Afraid there were fans in the apartments around?

There was definitely movement happening, and Billy just knew without looking that Homelander meant to touch himself. He pulled back immediately, licked his lips where Homelander could see and looked up at him with disappointment.

Homelander's hand around his own cock went still, and his eyes were wide. He's scared he's been bad, Billy realized, and the thought made his neglected cock throb. Fuck, he'd have to get out of those trousers. The strain against the zipper was gonna kill him.

Billy gently pried the supe's hand away from his erection. "Pretty birds like you only come from getting their snatch eaten."

Homelander let out a wet sound that might have been a gasp or a sob. His eyes were teary, and- was that a red gleam or was Billy just suffering the first effects of hypoxia from spending minutes between those cheeks?

"You're close anyway. No reason to abuse that pretty lil' bean of yours."

"My-"

"Your clit, luv." Billy dove back in.

He tried not to get too smug at the gasp that Homelander let out when he managed to work his tongue in again. He knew it wouldn't do much for this one, but he rubbed his face sideways against an inner thigh anyway. At least give the notion of a notion of beard burn to a cunt with impenetrable skin. Felt soft to the touch, though. Real lifelike.

His own drool dripped down his chin and onto his sleep shirt, but he didn't plan on wiping it off. Half the fun was getting dirty and besides- "Fuckin' dripping, babygirl. Gonna squirt all over Daddy? Is that it? You gettin' close."

Homelander's head fell back against the wall; Billy could hear the small thud. How he still had enough of his wits to not slam it back so hard he went through the wall was beyond him. Cunt's self control was so ingrained it was a downright sad business. Though Billy really preferred to live, most days.

He gave it his all, tongue-punching the cunt's hole until his jaw ached because he needed to feel him break, he needed it more than he needed to come. He grinned when he could feel the first small contractions in the muscle, the way Homelander's body began to seize. His muscles started trembling where Billy was holding on.

"Come for Daddy."

"Fffuck!" The supe broke above him. Billy was wise to pull his tongue out before that happened, but did push his thumb into Homelander's perineum for some extra stimulation.

There was a hand in his hair again, but it felt downright weak, barely grasping.

Homelander's leg slipped off him tiredly, and the supe blinked at him with mild confusion, glassy-eyed and dopey, but apprehensive. Billy was almost sure he mirrored the expression.

He hadn't even orgasmed himself, but there was a sort of mental clarity barreling towards him like a train, and he really, really wanted to close his eyes before the headlights of that thing hit him.

Homelander took the decision from him because when Billy did blink, the pile of clothes on the floor and the entire supe had vanished into thin air.

He sat on the floor for a good half an hour before his aching knees forced him to get up and he managed to wipe his mouth with fingers that were just a bit too unsteady.

#billy butcher #homelander #butchlander #my writing

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kaisers-house-of-desires · 9 months

Note

I'd like to request some spicy time with a rough, yandere Malleus. Pretty please? 🥺👉👈

Oh, dear guest. This was so much fun to write~ I do hope you enjoy!

Title: The King’s New Toy

Characters: Yandere!Malleus x m!Reader, Lilia Vanrouge

Contains: Dark Themes (Yandere), rough sex, bondage/restraints, toy usage(vibrating dildo), sinful magic usage, orgasm denial, orgasm control, Diasomnia has a dungeon, Malleus has two dicks

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Full request below the cut

All characters are 18+

MINORS, FEM ALIGNED, AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI

Reblogs > likes

Rain gently pelted the tall windows of the castle dorm, keeping Malleus’s attention from the book in his hands. The fireplace he sat by was crackling with flame, warming him and the area with its faint glow. He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting like that or how he ended up so distracted. It was Lilia bringing him a nightly cup of tea that shook him out of his thoughts when it was placed onto the table beside his chair.

“How long as it been?” Lilia asked, gazing over at the clock as he wrapped his arms over his chest. “I hadn’t seen you return.”

Malleus checked the same clock, noting the current time while reaching for the tea cup. “Almost two hours. An hour and a half it seems.”

“Kheehee~ My, he must be an absolute mess by now.” A playful smirk resided on Lilia’s face from the mere thought.

“I’ll pay him a visit shortly,” Malleus explained, sipping the warm liquid. “It’s a punishment after all. He will learn that his actions have consequences…”

———

Another thirty minutes had gone by before Malleus descended the dark stone steps of Diasomnia’s dungeon. Reaching the floor, a row of cells were before him, empty and gathering dust and cobwebs. A faint sound echoed toward him, and a sinister, teeth bearing smirk grew on his lips. It sounded like whining, whimpering. Anyone else may not have understood what it was, but Malleus was well aware. Walking down the hall, the sounds only grew until he reached the last cell, and inside was a lovely sight.

Near the back wall sat you, on your knees and riding an enchanted toy that Malleus had conjured himself. Your arms were behind you, wrists shackled with a chain leading to the wall. Your head hung down as the toy vibrated deep inside, your mouth slacked open as your weak moans bounced off the cell’s walls. Malleus gazed over at your twitching erection, how it stood full mast and ached for release. He chuckled darkly, catching your attention.

Your head shut up, and a look of desperation filled your eyes as you leaned your body forward. “M-Malleus! Malleus, please, I can’t take it anymore! This toy, i-it kept stopping when I was about to…p-please just let me finish! I need to cum!”

The toy was something Malleus concocted himself, having taken a standard vibrating toy and projecting a magic onto it that would sense when a person’s body is about to release. It would increase in strength ever so often, only to shut off when it felt the body about to cum. Such a toy drove you wild, as it not only denied you, but has also given you ruined orgasms as well.

Malleus pulled out a ring of keys, deliberately checking each one slow and precisely just to watch you squirm more on that toy. When he found the key he wanted, he opened the lock of the cell, letting the door open with a creak. “Do you think you’ve learned your lesson?”

Ah, that’s right. The whole reason you were in here was because he suspected you of seeing the other students behind his back. Though as false as that was, he was adamant on you not choosing him, so he resorted to other methods, methods he were sure would persuade you.

You nodded quickly. “Y-Yes! Yes I’ve learned my lesson! I won’t see the others anymore! I promise! I-It’ll just be us s-so please! L-Let me cum, and I’ll be all yours!”

Malleus raised his palm up and slowly lifted his hand. The toy followed the hand placement, increasing in speed and strength. Your moans followed, increasing in pitch and volume as your hips rocked back into the device.

“Y-Yes, yes yesyesyesyesyes!!”

You were so close. So very close—

—until it stopped.

Realizing once again you were robbed of your orgasm, you let out a frustrated cry, leaning forward and tugging at your restraints.

“Malleus! Malleus, please!”

“You poor thing. So desperate for release.” His voice was dark, sounding like it was laced with poison. “What makes you think you deserve it?”

“B-Because I’ll behave! I swear I-I’ll listen!” Your voice was full of panic and desperation. Your body needed to release or you swore you’d go mad.

As Malleus approached you, the sounds of his shoes clicking felt like heavy lead in your stomach, but your heart fluttered when he knelt down and grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Do you speak the truth?” he asked coldly. “Do you swear to abide by my wishes?”

You swallowed dryly, nodding. “Y-Yes, Malleus. I swear. I-I swear.”

He paused for a moment before looking at the chains restraining you as he stood. With a single flick of a finger, one of the links broke, sending you forward and resting your torso on the ground. Your ass hung in the air, the toy sticking out as if it was begging to be grabbed.

Malleus would do just that, grabbing the base of the toy before slowly moving it in and out. “Two hours of such torment. I’m surprised your body has lasted this long.”

You couldn’t answer. The only you could do was moan into the ground, the friction so much more delightful than the intense vibrating. You gently rocked your hips back, attempting to get more, but Malleus scowled, gripping your hip with one hand to still you before pulling the toy out.

“N-No! P-Please…” You whined into the stone floor. You were about to beg him to put it back when you felt something hot prod at your ass.

“One more time, dear…whose wishes do you abide by?”

You gulped once more, having to wrack through your recently clouded brain. “Y-Yours. Your wishes.” Then, as a, hopefully, bonus, you added, “I-I abide by my king’s wishes. I-I serve King Malleus Draconia.”

That seemed to do it, much to your surprise, as you felt your hole stretch to an unbelievable size. Such an action caused you to let out a shriek as your eyes rolled back, your body visibly trembling from the sensitivity of being played with for hours.

Malleus leaned down over you, his chest flush with your back as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“O-Oh yes,” he breathed. “Th-This was definitely ready for me~ S-So tight~ Great Seven, I should have grabbed you s-sooner~”

Having waited until you were a bit more adjusted until he began to thrust, his dual cocks grazing all the right spots deep inside of you and riling you up more than you already were. His thrusts, at first, were slow, using the movement to stretch you more before or lost himself to his own desires. Your stomach bulged from his dicks stretching you internally, the stretch of your skin moving in tandem with his movements. Everything was enough to make you scream, which you did when he hit a special spot deep inside.

“There!! Right there!! Please!!”

He didn’t need to be told twice, as when he finally hit that spot, it was all he hit, making your mind turn to mush as you became nothing but a mere toy for the king.

“W-Wanna cum…please…! I-I wanna come, Malleus!”

Having you in that held position, he hoisted you up, one arm around your waist and the other on your neck, supporting your weight as he never once stopped fucking you. His cocks swelled with anticipation, throbbing with his own climax approaching.

“Who do you belong to, child of man?”

“M-Malleus Draconia! I-I belong to the G-Great King, M-Malleus Draconia!”

Satisfied with the answer, Malleus growled in your ear. “Cum, child of man. Cum for your king…~”

You didn’t need to be told twice as almost immediately, ropes of your seed shot out in streams as your mouth hung open in a silent yet strangled scream, body twitching and spasming as it finally saw the release it had been yearning for for so long. White clouded the edges of your vision, until your eyes shut, your body falling limp in his arms as your chest slowly rose and fell.

The guilt that Malleus should have felt was instead pride as he gave your cheek a gentle kiss, feeling more than proud with himself for having ruined you into exhaustion like this.

“You’ll be the best little toy for me, (y/n)~” he said as he gently brushed your hair from your face, giving you a kiss on the forehead before magically breaking the rest of the restraints and carrying you toward the steps.

#kaisers house of desires #x male reader #x reader #twisted wonderland #x male smut #x male y/n #twst malleus #twisted wonderland malleus #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #malleus x y/n #yandere malleus #malleus #male reader #top malleus #bottom male reader

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inbloomwriting · 10 months

Text

Everything to me - Chapter 1

Chapter one - Apple seed

Story Masterlist

Plot: Jamie Tartt is a lot of things: professional footballer, the island's top scorer .... sexually, extremly handsome. But one thing he never saw himself as was a dad. Too bad he has to deal with the consequences of his own actions. This fic follows reader and Jamie as they navigate life and turn from practially strangers to parents. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Pregnancy, swearing, mentions of food and alcohol, slight mention of sexual intimacy (nothing graphic), strained/toxic parental relationship Notes: 5.8k words. I do not have a set uploading schedule. Please bear with me as I work on this story. I know hardly anything about pregnancy, all my information comes from google. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

"You never understood you're everything to me I just hope you know, the future in your heart Is just about to start"

The universe must be mocking her, (Y/N) is sure of that. This is all one big elaborate joke and any minute now Ashton Kutcher is gonna jump out from behind some bushes and tell her that she has been punkd.

She had a plan, all neatly laid out and organized. Blue ink on white paper in a fancy leather-bound notebook. Like a professional adult would do it who has their life all figured out.

Renovate the store and get it back up and running

Sell it for profit

Pay back Mum and get the fuck away from everyone and everything that has ever made her feel unworthy

That was the plan and she was so fucking determined to stick to it for once in her life. So this must be a prank. This must all be one big misunderstanding.

But it’s not a prank, is it? It’s the consequences of her own damn actions.

Her heart is racing as she climbs the stairs up towards Rebecca Welton’s office. Her legs and feet are heavy, like concrete. Why is being honest with your friends so damn hard?

It’s not just any friend either. It’s Rebecca. Rebecca who has always been in her life ever since (Y/N) was just a kid. Rebecca who is the only person (Y/N) ever looked up to. Why is being honest with her so terrifying?

You know why!

Yeah, (Y/N) knows why. Because she doesn’t know what she’ll do if Rebecca hates her for what happened. Of all the people in the world, she needs Rebecca on her side.

As she lifts her hand and knocks on the door of the office, (Y/N) wonders if this is what death row inmates feel like. Knowing the end is inevitable and it’s all your own fault.

“Come in”

Taking a deep breath, she opens the door and steps into the room. 3 pairs of eyes look back at her but really, the only ones that matter belong to the beautiful blonde sitting by the desk.

“(Y/N), Hi. What are you doing here? Did we have plans? I thought you went back — “

“Yeah I — no, we didn’t have plans.”

It almost kills her, that smile that Rebecca sends her way. The one that’s so warm and loving and that’s been a constant in her life for most of her childhood and teenage years coming from Rebecca. Rebecca living in that lovely white house next door with the rose bushes and the big windows. Rebecca who taught her how to do the perfect eyeliner wing, who passed down her coolest leather jacket to her, who held her hair the first time she got wasted and threw up in those very rose bushes. Rebecca who was the older sister she never had.

She loves that smile it used to bring so much comfort to her. Now it makes her want to die. The girl she used to be, deserved to be on the receiving end of that smile. She doubts she still deserves it.

“Can we—” (Y/N)’s eyes dart around the room towards Higgins, then towards the other man. He’s the American trainer, Ted. She’s talked to him once very briefly and he seems so — nice. Genuinely nice. Not for the sake of being perceived as a good person but because he just is. “— do you think we could talk privately?”

There’s a flicker of concern in Rebecca’s eyes and (Y/N) hates that she put it there.

“Oh, of course. Ted, Leslie, would you excuse us?”

Everything’s a blur. They leave and (Y/N) thinks Ted makes some kind of pun but she doesn’t really recognize anything but the racing of her heart and the sour feeling in her stomach. Oh, fuck.

Rebecca sits her down on the big couch by the window, the one that’s meant for personal talks, not business. She’s so nice. Oh, she's too nice.

“Are you dying?”

“I — uh, no.”

“Okay, good.,” Rebecca says letting out a sigh of relief. “Now that that’s out of the way, can I offer you some tea?”

(Y/N) shakes her head.

“Coffee?”

She repeats the motion

“Champagne?” Rebecca asks, a perfectly shaped eyebrow raised in question.

God, wouldn’t she kill for a glass of bubbly right now.

“No, I’m good. Can you just come sit down, you’re making me nervous.”

Not only does she sit down, Rebecca’s hand immediately finds (Y/N)’s, holding on warm and tight. It almost pulls an ironic scoff from (Y/N)’s lips. Mum doesn’t know but even if she did, she’d never offer this kind of comfort to her. She never did. So for a second, she lets herself relish in the affection. Just one second.

“Okay, now out with it.”

She’s rehearsed this conversation so many times in so many different ways. Like a school presentation. Meticulously planned. Even added in pauses for questions and shit like that.

All of that has vanished, her brain is empty, her tongue made of lead.

“I uh — look um. Do you remember when your dad died?”

Of all the ways she could’ve started this talk, this is probably the worst of them all. Who says things like that?

Rebecca seems a little taken aback for a moment before nodding her head and suppressing a slight smile, one brought on by the absurdity of the question, not by joy. “I do, yes. Hard to forget if I’m being honest.”

“Yeah, I would know.”

“Yeah.”

“So that night I was obviously very emotional because it reminded me of my dad and all of that bullshit.” Tears are already threatening to roll down her face, sitting on her waterline waiting for the right moment to strike. It’s impressive she still has any left to cry since that’s all she did the last few days.

“That’s understandable. Oh, please tell me you didn’t force yourself to come and relive all of your pain just because you felt like I expected you there? If I knew it was so hard on you I —”

This, all of this, is twisting the knife so much deeper. Leave it to Rebecca to search for a fault of hers in all of (Y/N)’s mess.

“No, Rebecca, it's nothing like that. I — I fucked up. I let it all get to me and because I’m, well — me, I got a little tipsy. Went outside to get some air and there was this guy. God, Rebecca, he had the saddest eyes. I just felt this weird connection so I sat next to him. We talked and talked and then ended up going to a bar and then to my place and then to my bed and well yeah.”

She giggles. Rebecca really has the audacity to giggle at that. In her defense, she tries to hold it in but it does slip out eventually.

“It’s not funny.”

“Is this why you’re upset? You slept with someone at, no wait, after my father’s funeral. That’s okay.”

“There’s more.”

"Oh, what is it? Was it a footballer?”

At the lack of a vocal response, Rebecca connects the dots.

“Alright. That’s — that’s not so bad. I was seeing a 21-year-old footballer. I don’t see what’s making you so upset about this.”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Oh shit.”

Getting Rebecca to swear was always something (Y/N) found a silly sense of pride in. Rebecca with her perfect hair and outfits and manners. It felt like something so alien to her and yet that was (Y/N)’s favorite version of Rebecca. The one that’s as messy as you and me even if it’s just for a second.

“Yeah, shit.”

It’s the first time she said it out loud. Rebecca is the first person to know, except for (Y/N) herself and her gynecologist. Her mother doesn’t know.

The father of the baby doesn’t know.

Just her and now Rebecca.

“And I don’t know what to do. This wasn’t the plan. Fuck — please don’t be mad.”

“Why would I be mad? ”

There is an infinite warmth in Rebecca’s eyes. A warmth she always longed for coming from her own mother but never received. A warmth that seems entirely misplaced right now.

“I fucked your employee. I used your dad’s funeral to make the shittiest of all shit decisions and now I come here unloading all of this on you because I, once again, don’t know how to get myself out of the hole I dug.”

Soft hands wrap around (Y/N)’s shoulder and pull her in. Rebecca smells like expensive perfume and hairspray. All comforting and familiar. It’s nice, (Y/N) thinks, that despite everything falling apart in and around her, there is at least one constant in her life.

“Were you really afraid of telling me or are you just afraid?”

She’s so smart and so observant, sometimes it’s infuriating.

“I’m so scared, Rebecca.”

Life doesn’t ask if you’re ready. It doesn’t ease you into things, slow and gentle. There are no training wheels, no floaties. Life happens whether you’re prepared or not. It’s nice to know that there are arms wide open for you to fall into, a hand to pull you out of the roaring sea as you’re just about to drown.

“You can always unload on me, you know that right? That’s what family is for.”

All the willpower to stay brave and collected and not cry, all that vanishes with Rebecca’s words. Family. They’re family. Maybe not by blood but definitely by fate. By choice.

Mum would’ve told her to suck it up, to stop crying, and to face the consequences of her own actions. Would’ve probably had an “I knew this would happen” or an “I told you so” on the tip of her tongue. There is none of that with Rebecca. She just accepts the tears soaking through her, no doubt, expensive blouse and softly strokes (Y/N)’s head.

For a long time, there are no words exchanged. Some moments ask for calmness not conversation. There’s something deeply therapeutic about crying on the shoulder of someone you deeply trust.

“Can I ask?” Rebecca inquires with a gentle voice just barely louder than a whisper.

She doesn’t have to elaborate. There are only so many questions people have after you told them you had a one-night stand and ended up pregnant.

“You’re gonna hate the answer.”

A laugh falls from Rebecca’s lips, her breath tickling the top of (Y/N)’s head. “Don’t tell me It’s Jamie.”

“Okay, I won’t then.”

“Oh, (Y/N).”

Where there should be disappointment in her tone, there is understanding, there is slight amusement but above all, there is deep and honest care.

“ Can you blame me? Look at him. He’s sculpted by the gods and something about that silly little accent does it for me. I hate to admit it, I truly do.”

“Does he know?”

(Y/N) shakes her head, guilt and fear coursing through her veins.

“I don’t even have his number. I know hardly anything about the guy other than that he’s a footballer, that his ego is huge, and that he likes to cuddle after sex.”

Rebecca’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “Does he? Huh.”

“Yeah, it was really cute actually.”

For a moment she almost gets lost in the memories of that night, however hazy they might be. Jamie was fun and to an extent he understood. And there’s nothing quite as sexy as a man who is just as sad and messed up as you. Is it healthy? Absolutely not but (Y/N) never claimed to have a particularly healthy view on anything.

“He works here, you know. In this very building. You can just pop down and tell him.”

The way Rebecca says it makes it sound so easy. Like it doesn’t come with a shit load of guilt and fear and embarrassment.

“Wait, I didn’t even ask and I just realized that’s very presumptuous and maybe a little rude of me — do you even want to keep the baby?”

That’s the big one. The question of all questions. It’s the second thought that came to her head when (Y/N) saw the two lines on that fateful plastic stick. The first one being “Oh fuck.” It’s the question her doctor asked. It’s in all of the leaflets and informational reading she’s been handed.

“I’ve never thought about it before. I mean sure I thought about some hypothetical future but those dreams always changed depending on my mood. Now I’m here and I need to make a choice and It’s — It’s terrifying.”

“But?”

“But I think I do want it. I think I want to be a — a mother.”

It’s a word that feels strange on her tongue, bitter and sharp. Like biting down on your cheek and tasting blood. Mother was never the warm comfort of a home. It was the cold hand on her shoulder, the icy glance of disapproval.

Maybe mother can be something else. Maybe she can turn it into something sweet.

“I’m just scared. This wasn’t the plan, not right now at least, and not like this. I’m scared of doing it alone.”

“What in the world does that mean? Alone?”

“I don’t expect Jamie to step up. I’d appreciate it, of course. But he has a brilliant career and so much going for him. Getting me, a one-night-stand, pregnant could ruin so much for him. I don’t ever want that.”

“No,” Rebecca says and cradles (Y/N)’s face between her warm hands “I mean, you’re not going to be alone. No matter what Jamie says. You have me. And I can guarantee you that there are at least 10 other people in this building right now who will also have your back. Whatever happens, I can promise you that you don’t have to do this alone. And don’t sell yourself short, you have a career too!”

Maybe the universe isn’t mocking her after all. And maybe this isn’t a punishment either. Maybe this is just life pushing her into the deep end. Thank god she has people to help keep her afloat.

(Y/N)’s eyes wander from the clock on the wall towards the door then back. Over and over again.

Every time the door opens and someone leaves the locker room, her heart speeds up. Maybe if she dies of a heart attack right here and now she won’t have to talk to Jamie. That sounds like the most reasonable reaction. Anyone would agree. Right?

The boys all regard her with a sense of cautious familiarity. They know her face, know they’ve seen her before but can’t recall where much less put a name to her.

Well, all of them but Sam. He greets her with that big signature smile of his, so full of joy and sunshine. Calls out her name and asks her about her day. Rebecca might have a point that there are more people here that care about her. Their conversation is brief but there is no doubt in her mind that if she were to call him any time of the day, Sam would drop everything and help her out. That’s just the kind of person he is.

She wonders if that’s the kind of person Jamie is.

Another glance at the clock. 2 minutes pass. The door opens once more.

Jamie is smiling when he steps into the hallway. His hair is wet, probably from the shower, and held back by that silly little headband of his. He’s wearing a ridiculously bright orange hoodie and obnoxious colorful sneakers. Everyone else would look absolutely ridiculous in this get-up. Jamie makes it work. It must be some kind of superpower.

Or maybe he’s just so unfairly fit that it doesn’t matter what he’s wearing. Even naked he looks phenomenal.

Stop thinking about him naked, that’s what got you into this mess.

“Oh, hi!”

He’s so nonchalant, so casual when his eyes meet her’s across the hall. And really, why wouldn’t he be? What they had was casual. A one-night thing, no strings attached. Just two slightly broken people finding solace in each other. That was all it was supposed to be at least.

(Y/N) feels the weight of the secret resting so heavy on her shoulders, she’s sure she’ll collapse underneath it any second now.

“Jamie, hi. Uh — can we talk?”

“Sure, ‘bout what? Are you pregnant or something?”

He says it with a smile, not giving a single thought to the fact that his joke might be no joke at all but the honest to god truth.

(Y/N) on the other hand, feels like someone doused her in ice water, just poured it all over her. Her hands are clammy, breathing shallow, heart racing. Maybe she’ll get that heart attack after all.

When she doesn’t answer, doesn’t laugh, Jamie’s eyes grow wide in return. Though his reputation might make you believe otherwise, he’s quite quick in putting two and two together. At least in this situation. He doesn’t look happy, that much she expected, but he doesn’t look upset either. He just looks shocked. There is nothing but pure disbelief on his face. The cocky smirk has dropped, now his mouth is opening and closing trying to produce words as his head is trying to process the information he just figured out.

“Do you want to go discuss this somewhere more private?”

Of all the places to tell someone they got you pregnant, the hallway at his workplace might not be the more desirable.

A pale-faced Jamie nods his head, his eyes distant and glassy. She knows the feeling, has been there just a few days ago. That’s his whole life playing like a movie in his head right there, now with added scenes of a small child with his eyes. Oh god, she hopes the baby gets his eyes.

Jamie drags her into a small room off of the main hallway. Cubicle cupboards line the walls, filled with shoes and boxes. Orange and bright green and yellow. Every possible color of the rainbow, they have a pair of shoes to match in here. The smell though? The smell has her gagging. Sweat and cold cigarette smoke. It’s disgusting.

“Oh god, Jamie. This is disgusting.”

“It’s the boot room. ‘s where we keep the boots — and people come here to smoke.”

“They come here to smoke? On purpose? Like they chose to spend time in here?”

Jamie absentmindedly nods his head. He’s so pale-looking (Y/N) fears he might just pass out any minute now.

“Jamie, are you okay? Do you want to sit down?”

His eyes start to focus again, looking straight at her. He’s terrified and quite honestly, she can’t blame him. Confusion and fear are all she’s felt for the last few days. A bit of excitement too, sure. But mostly the first two.

“Yeah. No. I mean yes. I guess? No. I — fuck.”

Nervously he combs his fingers through his damp hair as if to calm himself down. Is that something his parents did to him when he was a kid? A motion of comfort? There is so much she doesn’t know about this man. If he decides that he wants to stick around, can this ever work? Can you raise a child with someone you hardly know and not completely fuck them up?

“Is it mine, then? Are you sure about that?”

“No, I just like going around scaring people into believing they got me pregnant. Yes, Jamie! I am 100% certain.”

His hands fly up in defense “Jesus, sorry. I don’t know your sexual history. You had sex with me after a funeral, don’t know how much you get around, now do I?”

She had expected him to ask if it’s his, hell anyone probably would, but there’s something about his tone that is just so off-putting. The accusation that swings along with his words. The judgment. As if he is in any place to talk.

“Oh get off your high horse, dickhead. We both made that decision after the funeral. Didn't hear you complain. And out of the two of us, It’s not me who fucked a girl in a hot tub on national television. Eurgh”

“You alright?”

“No, this room is making me gag. I assume this is bad under normal circumstances but this pregnancy situation has my sense of smell going through the roof. This is killing me.”

“Well, why didn’t you say nothing?! We could’ve gone somewhere else.”

“I just wanted to — eurgh— I just wanted to get this over with.”

“Let me get you out of —”

“No, let me just say this real quick and then I’m off.”

She’s prepared this speech a million and one times in a million and one ways. It always worked out fine but then again, her audience was just her cat and the mirror. Having Jamie look at her, a mix of concern and shock still on his face, that’s a whole different story.

“I am having this baby and I would like for you to be a part of their life, but I accept if you say no. Just know that whatever you decide, that’s final. I can’t have you running off and then coming back in a few years regretting your decision and wanting to be a parent after all. And I most definitely will not allow you to say you’re in and then give up on the baby halfway through. I had a parent like that, I will not have my child go through the same thing. I don’t need your decision now just — make up your mind and make sure you’re 100% certain. Here uh— “

Trying to hold her breath so as to not breathe in any more of the foul smell, (Y/N) rummages through her purse before pulling out a small piece of paper.

“They don’t usually do ultrasounds that early but I made friends with the nurse as I was waiting and they allowed me to get one and see the baby. Don’t really see shit on here if I’m being honest but apparently that blob is our child.”

Jamie takes the picture, his eyes moving between the image and back to her, down to her stomach then back to the picture. It’s like his head and his eyes are trying to cope with the fact that there is a real baby growing inside her. His baby.

“I just thought you might want to have this, if not just throw it away. I’m not trying to manipulate or guilt you into anything. Let me know when you’ve made a decision. You know where I live and Rebecca has my number just ask her for it — I gotta get out of here. Eurgh.”

And while an overwhelmed Jamie sinks to the floor of the boot room, ultrasound picture clutched in one hand while the other nervously combs through his hair, (Y/N) throws up in the bin by the front door.

There are 3 things (Y/N) knows for certain. One of them is that Michelle Pfeiffer as Stephanie Zinone in Grease 2 is the coolest person in the world. The second one is that decaf coffee kinda sucks. And 3 is that whoever is knocking on her door at 9:15 tonight, disrupting her rewatch of Grease 2 better has a good reason to do so if they want to keep their head attached to their body.

Slowly she’s dragging herself towards the door. Today was exhaustion enough both physically and mentally, she really doesn’t need the stress of an unannounced visitor. Not when she’s dressed in an old, oversized Hardrock Cafe shirt, bike shorts, and those ridiculous yellow slippers she got on her last trip to Disney that look like Minnie Mouse’s shoes.

“I’m coming, Jesus — “

“I don’t know shit about babies.”

Jamie looks different as he stands before her on her front steps, hair messy and flat against his head, wearing a big grey sweater. Gone is all the charming confidence and the mischievous smirks. He’s all sad eyes and shy smiles. He reminds (Y/N) of a sad, beaten puppy. She almost feels bad for him. Almost. That’s until the words that just fell from his lips really register in her mind.

“You could’ve just texted me you’re not interested. Didn’t have to come here, really.”

“What? No, I am! “

“You just said —”

“I said I don’t know shit about babies. Cause I don’t. But I’m not gonna run off.”

“You won’t?”

Jamie has never looked so genuine, so serious as in that moment and it sends a weird feeling through (Y/N). She didn’t have any expectations in him. You can’t really have those if you don’t even know the person. Sure, she hoped he would take interest in her and the baby but things truly could’ve gone either way. To hear him say that he wants to step up and be there, that’s a feeling she can’t really put into words.

“Can we uh — can I come in? Your neighbor is staring at me.”

(Y/N) opens the door to let Jamie pass before leaning outside and facing the house next door. Sure enough, old Mrs. Hartley is standing by her window, eyes trained on (Y/N)’s front door. Jesus fucking Christ, do these people not have their own lives?

The small pink couch looks even smaller with Jamie’s broad frame perched in the corner. He’s holding onto the fluffy white pillow as if he needs some kind of buoy to keep him afloat.

“Do you want tea or something?”

“Do you have beer?”

She only raises an eyebrow in response and points to her stomach.

“Right. Pregnant. Forgot about that for a second, sorry. “

Oh, the privilege of getting to forget about that.

“I have water, ginger ale, and apple juice.”

Jamie screws his face in repulsion. If there is one thing she’s learned about Jamie Tartt in the limited time they’ve spent together, it’s that his emotions are always so clearly reflected on his face. She’s not sure he knows exactly how expressive he really is.

“I’m good. Here, I actually brought you some stuff.”

As she sits down on the couch next to him, Jamie holds out a Tesco bag to her filled to the brim with stuff.

“What’s all this?”

He looks bashful, almost shy as he shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly.

“Just some stuff for your nausea. Google said anything ginger helps so I got these lollies. Also sour candy and crackers. Not sure if it works but I felt so bad seeing you earlier and knowing it's kinda my fault, innit?."

It's such a sweet sentiment that (Y/N) can feel the tears gathering on her waterline. Maybe Jamie is the kind of person she can call when in need. Maybe he can become that person.

"That's very sweet Jamie, oh there's more."

It's a small box with two even smaller socks, so tiny it almost seems impossible that a human being can have such small feet.

"Saw them and couldn't stop thinking about how cute they were and then I couldn’t stop imagining our baby being so tiny and wearing them and, yeah.”

“They’re adorable, Jamie. Thank you.”

His words wrap around her heart like vines. Taking root. Blooming.

“Our baby”. The thought of having a baby is still so foreign to her. Her own baby, her child. Hearing Jamie call it theirs sends a flutter of feelings through her. Their baby. Part her and part Jamie.

“So what I meant earlier is that I don’t know shit about babies. None of my friends have babies, I have no siblings and all my cousins are around my age so I never really had experience with babies. I know they’re cute and I know they poop a lot. “

“They are pretty cute.”

“Yeah, and our baby?” he says and motions between the two of them “‘s gonna be the cutest fucking baby of all time. It’s genetics.”

The matter-of-fact tone in which he says it pulls a laugh from (Y/N). He does have a point though.

“I am not going to lie, I'm extremely unprepared for this. For being a — a dad.”

There’s a bitterness there, a heaviness. Maybe Dad is as sharp and as cutting a concept to Jamie as Mum is to (Y/N).

“Don’t have a dad. Well, I do but he’s right asshole, isn’t he. So I got no idea how to be good at this, had no one to show me. I’ll try though. I want to be different. I need to be. Promised myself when I was a kid that I was not going to be like him, ever.”

“I understand that, trust me Jamie I really do. But I need you to be sure that you want that. I don’t want you to stay around because of some misplaced sense of duty. I want you to want this.”

"Didn't think I did. When you told me and you gave me an out I wanted to take it. But then I kept looking at that picture, can’t make out anything on it by the way but that doesn’t matter, I kept looking at it and that part of me. That's my baby and I couldn't live with meself if I gave up on it. On you. A lot of people have given up on me in my life and I resent them for it. I can't be the one giving up now, can I? I'm better than that."

She doesn't even realize the tears have found their way out until Jamie's face fills with concern. "Oh no, I didn't mean to make you cry or nothing."

"They're happy tears, I think. I'm really scared, Jamie. Knowing that I don't have to do this all by myself, that helps a bit."

"I promise I'll try to be the best at this. I'll even rub your feet if they're hurting and I fucking hate feet."

Leave it to Jamie to put the humor back into even the most serious and tense of conversations.

"You don't have to rub my feet, that's okay. I do think we should get to know each other better though, now that we're gonna be raising a child together. I know hardly anything about you."

"Uh, you know plenty about me. You know I'm fit, obviously. You know I have great hair. I'm good at football, fucking ace actually. Also sexually."

That little shit has the audacity to wink. it should be annoying. It's weirdly charming though.

"And now you also know that I'm gonna try my best to be good at this. Hey, when the baby is here can I get one of them kangaroo pouch thingies and take them to training with me?"

"Kangaroo pouch? You mean a baby carrier?"

"Yes, that! Strap it to my chest while I do my warm-up."

"You are not taking our baby to training with you, are you insane?"

"I'm joking, Jesus. Would look fucking cool though, maybe get us matching sunglasses. Hats too. Baby icon."

"Oh my god, you know what, maybe this is a bad idea after all."

But it's not, she doesn't mean that. Jamie knows it and (Y/N) knows that he knows. For the first time since those two lines appeared, it feels like she can breathe easy again if even just for a moment. Things will be hard, no doubt but at least she can share it with someone. And it's just an added bonus that someone never fails to put a smile on her face.

"What are you watching there anyway?" Jamie asks, nodding his head towards the tv.

"Grease 2."

"They made a second one? Is it good?"

"No, it's terrible. I love it."

"See," Jamie chimes up, a small genuine smile.on his lips "learned something new about you. The mother of my child loves bad movies. This getting to know each other plan is going so well already."

And while it is a joke, there's also a flicker of truth to it. It's the little things that make us who we are. Like our love for bad movies or our desire to be better than our parents before us.

"Do you wanna stay and watch it with me?"

"Can we start from the beginning?"

"Obviously"

"Then yes! Give me one of them ginger lollies please."

They spent the next few hours watching Grease 2 followed by the first because - well it's just right to watch them both, really. It doesn't feel forced or awkward. This is not two strangers trying to bond for the sake of their child. This is a genuine friendship in the making. It feels wonderful. They exchange numbers, birthdays, favorite colors. It’s all very superficial information but it’s a start and it’s easy. This whole situation is hard enough, sometimes easy is just what you need.

The clock says 12:03 when Jamie decides it's time to go home.

Just as he is about to leave, one foot already out the door, he turns back with curious eyes.

"Do you know how big the baby is?"

"Uh, no. Pretty tiny I think."

"They didn't tell you what fruit size?"

"Fruit size?"

"Yeah like, it's as big as a strawberry now or something."

(Y/N) shakes her head in response "I think they mostly do that in American movies."

Jamie looks deflated for a fracture of a second before he lightens up again and one of those rare smiles takes over his face. The one that makes him look so boyish and excitable. Like a fucking golden retriever.

"That's okay. I'll find out."

"You do that. Let me know what you find. Have a good night Jamie."

"You too!" Then his eyes move to her stomach "And you too baby."

God, he can be so adorable it's absolutely sickening.

As she lays in bed, (Y/N) thinks back to just the night before. To the anxiety and the fear. To all the what-ifs that ghosted through her head. That seems like a whole lifetime ago and even though a lot of those fears are still present, they get overshadowed tonight. By the knowledge that she's not alone. And by the absolute sunshine that is Jamie Tartt.

Just before she closes her eyes, her phone dings with a notification.

Her hand comes to rest gently on her stomach. There’s no change there yet, absolutely no sign of a baby growing in there at this very moment. And yet she knows and that makes all the difference.

In a voice, soft like silk, she whispers “Daddy says goodnight”. It’s cheesy, outright sickening but in the dark of the night, who is there to judge her for it? Sometimes you have to let yourself be ridiculous and cringy if your heart demands it.

That night she doesn't fall asleep to fear and anxiety. That night she falls asleep with a smile on her face.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x female reader #jamie tartt x f!reader #jamie tartt x fem!reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt imagines #everythingtomefic

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cheeekycharchar · 8 months

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"Shame and guilt have followed humanity since Adam and Eve disobeyed God in the Garden of Eden."

Good Omens; a story of an Angel that can't accept love because of shame and a Demon that can't accept forgiveness because of guilt.

"It'd be funny if we both got it wrong, eh? If I did the good thing and you did the bad one."

An in-depth analysis of an Angel suffering from shame and a Demon wracked with guilt.

Let's dive deeper below the cut!

[Now I'm going to lay down a lot of facts, definitions and minimal psychological babble and I want you, as the reader, to view this through your GO nerd glasses. Also, I want to express that I am not a therapist or religious in any way- this was all done as academic research for the fandom's sake cause I can't shut my brain up. I tried to organize it the best I could. ..sorry it's so long but I swear it's worth the read through! ;)]

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• Shame is the painful emotion you have when you perceive that you are not good enough in some way. Entirely self imposed and only known to you, shame can be an unpleasant self-conscious feeling often associated with negative self-evaluation. When shame is chronic, it makes you believe that you are fundamentally flawed, defective, dishonorable, immoral, or improper.

• Guilt is a negative feeling of worry or unhappiness that you get because you have done something wrong. It's a moral emotion that occurs when a person believes or realizes- accurately or not- that they have compromised their own standards of conduct or have violated universal moral standards and bear significant responsibility for it. When guilt is chronic, it can be a toxic emotion that could cause a person to take on unjust responsibility if things around them go wrong. They are quick to accept that everything is their fault even though it isn't.

While guilt is about wrong actions, shame is about being wrong as a person.

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In academic psychology, shame is associated with avoiding failure and its consequences while guilt is connected with forgiving and improving one's self, along with making amends.

Guilt and Shame are often confused for each other but there’s a big difference between the two. Guilt can help you understand how your actions impact others, but shame is an inward-facing emotion that reflects how you feel about yourself. (And I do realize that Aziraphale may, at times, feel guilt and Crowley can also feel a sense of shame. But the main motivation behind majority of their characterizations and actions throughout the series are both coming from these two different feelings.)

Guilt can help you move forward while shame keeps you stuck in the past. [such as the "We could have been.. us." and "You go too fast for me." scenes] And the only way to rid themselves of these negative emotions is through recovery with unconditional love and forgiveness.

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• How Aziraphale represents the concept of shame •

Shame tricks you into believing that you aren't good. That you are worthless. Not that you've done something bad, but that you are bad. Ever since Aziraphale gave away his flaming sword, he started to question himself. But it wasn't until he outright lies to his fellow Angel's about the true fate of Job's children that he truly believes he has fallen- that he violated God's word and lied (again). He believes there must be something truly wrong with who he is as an Angel. He's a flawed creation of God and he feels a dreaded sense of deep shame from this.

Feelings of shame can also present itself in different types such as, Chronic Shame (negative emotions all the time that you aren't good enough), Performance Shame (feeling as though you are inferior compared to others) and Shame from Unrequited Love (this is a feeling of not being good enough for another person T^T).

Shame is a harmful, negative emotion that when internalized enough can result in an overly harsh evaluation of oneself.

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Next, let's take a closer look at what defines shame and how it operates through Aziraphale:

• Being Defensive is a way to avoid taking responsibility for our behavior.

"I don't need you." "And the feeling is mutual!"

• Perfectionism is the unrealistic desire to be perfect and is often a defense against shame. If we’re perfect, no one can criticize us; no one can shame us. We keep up a front that looks good to the world. We may spend a lot of time attending to our dress and looks.

"I do have standards."

• Apologizing constantly. Shame can prompt us to be overly apologetic and compliant.

"I did the 'I was wrong' dance in…"

• Procrastination can occur from a deep hidden shame. If we consider pursuing something and it doesn’t turn out well, we might be paralyzed by that feeling. If we never try, then we don’t have to face possible failure and subsequent shame.

"You go too fast for me, Crowley.."

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Next are the four category behaviors resulting from shame:

• The Hot Response These are things you do when you feel ashamed and defensive, such as lashing out in anger or attacking the other person to deflect attention from yourself.

"I don't even like you!" [always resorts to being defensive in any argument]

• Behaviors to Cope With or Conceal the Shame These behaviors include doing things to make yourself feel small, trying to avoid being the center of attention, or not sharing your thoughts or feelings. Concealing yourself is a method of self-protection.

[always awkward and can't speak openly around other Angels]

• Safety Behaviors to Avoid Shame or Being Discovered This category of shame behaviors might be things like apologizing, crying, or avoiding conflict. People who have a tendency toward being emotional or avoiding conflict may be more likely to engage in safety behaviors.

"Why? What's wrong? I mean.. if there is something wrong.."

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The Impact of Feeling Shame:

• Makes you feel like you are flawed or there is something wrong with you

"I'm like you now. A demon. I'm a fallen angel.." • Can lead to social withdrawal

[spends most of his time in the bookshop alone] • May cause you to become defensive and shame others in return "I'm an angel! And you're a demon!" • May cause you to inflate your ego to hide the belief that you don’t have value

"Well, I am a great deal holier than thou. That's the whole point." • May leave you feeling empty, lonely, or worn out

"But I thought you said it wasn't [lonely]?" • May lead to lowered self-esteem

"I'm.. soft." • May make it harder for you to trust other people

"Obviously, you're lying. You're a demon. That's what you do." • May lead to perfectionism or overachievement to try and counteract your feelings of shame

"If I can just reach the right people and resolve all of this-" "That's not going to happen! How could somebody as clever as you be so stupid!?" • May cause you to engage in people pleasing

"Doing good again, Angel? "Oh, hardly counts. Purely for selfish reasons." • May cause you to avoid talking because you are afraid to say the wrong thing

[trying to explain to Metatron in S1 without revealing too much] • May cause compulsive or excessive behaviors like overworking, excessive cleaning, or having too high of standards in general

[non stop research all day and night to look for the antichrist by himself]

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• How Crowley represents the concept of guilt •

Guilt is what you feel after committing a specified or perceived offence/crime/bad action. It's typically attached to a feeling you experience when you do something wrong on purpose or accidentally and can regret that action. Guilt can be morally ambiguous.

"Well, maybe there is something to be said for.. shades of grey?" "..Shades of dark grey."

Signs of guilt are unique but these are the most common (again there are many but these I thought related to Crowley the best):

• Low self-esteem

*sighs* "Don't bother..."

• Excessive attempts at reparation [Crowley always trying to secretly help humanity when he can]

• Being unable to meet someone’s gaze

[Covering his eyes not only hides his snake eyes but also his guilty feelings]

• Anxiety "We are fucked!" [and we all know TV!Crowley is 100% more anxiety ridden than Book!Crowley is lol]

• Trouble sleeping [Sleeps too long (100 year nap from book). Or can't get comfortable sleeping (from S1 deleted scene)]

• Depressed mood

"What's even the point.. everything seems.. pointless.."

• Avoidance of people, places, or events linked to the cause of guilt "I'm not going to be joining their team and neither should you!" [doesn't want to return to Heaven or Hell and is "on his own side" to avoid them further] • Shifts in energy levels [can be giddy/jumpy one second to morose/moody the next, etc]

• Emotional outbursts

"I'm just so angry!"

• Appetite changes

[took up drinking alcohol even though its unnatural to]

• Making amends [spends every moment since Eden trying to secretly do good despite the hellish consequences]

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Defense mechanisms against feeling guilty can become an overriding aspect of one's personality. (These are also related to trauma response.)

• Displacement is a defensive tool that may take the form of blaming the victim or taking your feelings out on others.

"You know what you've done. You've disappointed me."

• Projection is sharing the unacceptable feelings/qualities onto others, thereby being less alone with it.

"But that sounds.." "Lonely?"

• Self-harm may be used as an alternative to compensating from one's past transgression. Not just physical self-harm but not allowing yourself to enjoy opportunities or benefits as a result of uncompensated guilty feelings.

[always holding himself back for 6k years from saying what he truly feels and won't allow himself to be with Aziraphale the way he really wants]

• Repression is subconsciously blocking or forgetting harmful/traumatic memories. "Right.. looking at where the furniture isn't.." [doesn't remember his time in Heaven in detail- whether from trauma response or just had his memory wiped]

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Behavioral responses to guilt can be associated with the moral of their character. Feelings of guilt can prompt virtuous behavior.

"You shouldn't test them to destruction.."

People who feel guilty may be more likely to: • Exercise restraint [holds his true feelings back for Aziraphale for centuries]

• Avoid self-indulgence [only really has his car and plants in the end]

• Exhibit less prejudice [is more open and accepting of other's sins - such as helping during the Scottish bodysnatching scenes]

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Guilt can prompt reparatory behaviors (actions to make amends) to help alleviate these negative emotions. People tend to engage in these reparatory behaviors toward the persons they wronged. Some religions theorize that forgiveness of sin (even those committed by accident or ignorance) is exclusively through repentance.

Crowley, being the wily serpent that tempted Eve to eat the forbidden apple of knowledge and subsequently getting her and Adam kicked out of paradise on Earth- and thusly creating the first sin of humanity. Right away, Crowley feels guilt from this.

After all, he was just told to stir up some trouble and had no idea the consequences of his first temptation on the future generations of human existence. Ignorantly doing something considered wrong and getting exiled.. this mistake would forever haunt him. He knows the pain and trauma from unwittingly doing something insignificant and being punished severely for it (such as asking questions or eating an apple) yet he accidentally made the first of God's new creatures "fall" in their own way from Eden. It's because of this guilt that Crowley spends the next 6000 years secretly rebelling against Hell to help humanity in any way he can to redeem himself.

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That's why their first conversation (post Fall from Heaven) on the wall of Eden was SO important to their relationship with each other and themselves.

"Oh, I do hope I didn't do the wrong thing." "It'd be funny if we both got it wrong. If I did the good thing and you did the bad one." "No. No! It wouldn't be funny at all!"

I think the reason Crowley always seems to be one step ahead of Aziraphale (in more ways than one) is because, in a sense, guilt is easier to resolve from than shame.

If you acknowledge your mistake and the person chooses to take the steps to improve and change for the better, then they can recover from those negative feelings. They can work through the guilt by repairing the transgression or learning from it.

Whereas shame can only intensify inwardly and be harder to face because your mind is telling you that you are the bad thing, that you are the mistake. This makes it harder to overcome. And the only way to truly recover from shame is unconditional love and forgiveness- for yourself.

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“Instead of your shame, you shall have double honor, and instead of confusion, they shall rejoice in their portion. Therefore in their land, they shall possess double; everlasting joy shall be theirs.” (Isaiah 61:7)

And in S2.. we can see they both hold regret for their actions at the end of episode 6. If you look at every choice, ever misstep, every argument and their occasional confusion in understanding one another, you can see how Aziraphale was written with shame as a main part of his personality and Crowley written with guilt.

Two feelings that are often confused for one another but differ slightly in their own ways. The motivation behind every word they utter and every action they make throughout the series is built on the foundation of these two fundamentally negative and often traumatizing feelings.

There is a possibility to recover from shame and guilt and I have a feeling that S3's plot line will be all about recovery.

And that's what the concept of that Second Coming storyline might be all about. The New Testament says, "In Jesus Christ, God took upon Himself the sins of the world and died on the cross to pay mankind's debt" (Rom 6:23). "Those who repent and accept Christ's sacrifice for their sins, will be redeemed by God and thus not guilty before Him. They will be granted eternal life which will take effect after the Second Coming of Christ" (1 Thess 4:13–18).

A second chance. Forgiveness and Recovery from Sin.

And what is the story of Adam and Eve if not about humanity's Original Sin?

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Remember, after all is said and done, the antidote for shame is love, and guilt is cured through forgiveness.

Two things a certain Angel and Demon struggle with accepting from each other but are more than willing to give to one another.

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[…There! I made myself sad again, lol. Thank you for reading this far! Sorry it was crazy long but I really enjoyed putting this all together into semi-comprehensible words (though stupid tumblr made me delete a bunch of pictures I had as examples…). Also, on a final side note- if you are ever experiencing overwhelming shame or guilt in anyway (which can result in depression or worse if not dealt with) please make sure you reach out to someone or seek professional help in some way. Take care, everyone! ^-^]

#Good Omens #Good Omens meta #Good Omens theories #Good Omens speculations #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #Crowley #Aziraphale #sorry it's so long.. it was longer #and had more pictures #but stupid tumblr restricted me lol #give me season 3 or give me death #good omens analysis #Neil Gaiman #Terry Pratchett #david tennant #michael sheen #I THINK I CRACKED THE CODE lol

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thecagedsong · 8 months

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So one take on TOTK’s ending I’ve seen quite a bit of is the idea that it deprived all dramatic weight from Zelda’s sacrifice and that she should have suffered the consequences of her choice (I.e. stay a dragon forever or come back as a dragon human hybrid). This strikes me as a shallow reading of the text and another example of how some people think punishment (or in this case “dying for a cause”) is the only viable ending for someone who made the choice Zelda made. It really rubs me the wrong way given all the development and tragedy she faced in both games. What are your thoughts?

There is something beautiful and tragic and meaningful about the stories etched upon our skin by powers beyond our control. I don't think the people that wish for Amputee Link or Dragon Zelda think that 'dying for a cause' is the only reward for sacrifice. It comes from the truth that most of us don't get to recover from the consequences of our actions the way characters in a story can. Which I absolutely get (one of my earliest fics was written to call out anime fanservice). To escape with no scars or signs that anything awful happened can feel unrealistic or like cheating in a world where we must bear the consequences of our actions. But is that really what happened?

First off is the Doyalist framework the story has to exist within. This is a video game for a major franchise that, while they are excellent at re-writing and ignoring their own canon, still needs to be available for future stories to be told through it. After all the emphasis botw placed on the 'goddess bloodline', if they were to kill Zelda, or even render her sterile, that puts a huge shadow over any future games they could make. You don't kill Harry in the Order of the Phoenix. The stories of Hyrule are far from over, even if this would be a satisfying end point for the timeline. Heck, there's no guarantee Link's not going to wake up in his underwear in a damp cave a third time, tbh. That's the reality of why Zelda had to return to her old body.

But does that mean that totk is a bad story? Does it render Zelda's sacrifices meaningless? Do these sacrifices only have meaning if she came back visibly changed?

I don't think so. Because the sacrifice was never about her body, it was always about her sense of self. "To become an immortal dragon is to lose ones' self" was the sacrifice that was demanded and that Zelda offered.

Guess what? She did have to leave Link to face Ganondorf without her. Zelda did lose all sense of herself for uncountable years. Zelda's memories, her sense of self, was stripped away from her and scattered across all of Hyrule.

It was only because Link loved her enough to collect the pieces of who Zelda was, only because he was able to understand them through the gift of Rauru's arm, and only because both Sonia and Rauru consigned themselves to living as spirits for as long as Zelda was a dragon, that Zelda's sense of self was returned.

It may feel like cheating, or maybe unearned, that Zelda got her body and sense of self back with no visible changes. But how many times have other people stepped in to help shoulder the consequences of your actions? How many times did your parents step in when you made a mistake, to give you another chance?

You ever leave the fridge open as a kid, and accidentally spoil all your food? In a family where money is tight, Mom and Dad might have to sacrifice eating full meals for a while so that their children can eat. That sacrifice is a form of love. If the neighbor hears about it (thin walls) and brings over some casseroles they took from their food stores, that took a few hours to make, does that diminish the parent's sacrifice for their kids? The consequences of that sacrifice, going hungry, have gone away because someone else stepped in.

The mistake was Rauru and Sonia's, letting Ganondorf in and not being strong enough to stop him. The sacrifice was Zelda's, her mind/memories/self. The intercessors are Rauru, Sonia, and Link, unwilling to let Zelda bear the full weight of her sacrifice.

Yes, we live in a world where we often do not get to walk away from the consequences of our sacrifices/choices unscathed. But we also live in a world where, every once and a while, we do get to walk away with only internal changes. Almost always because other people were willing to sacrifice too. Your parents? your siblings? Your friends? Your god?

Zelda's hylian body is a reflection of the sense of self she regained. Of her agency as a character instead of as a mindless dragon/a living sacred site. Zelda's character arc ends with her accepting the sacrifice demanded of her by reclaiming her responsibility towards the people of her Hyrule, taking up the mantle of power and leadership once again. The fact that other people step in to blunt the weight of that sacrifice does not degrade how Zelda changed to get there or what she went through.

It's actually the conclusion of Rauru, Sonia's, and Link's arcs that they also sacrificed to support Zelda. Her arc pulls all the others to their conclusions. Zelda is the narrative gravity of totk. I can't call that bad writing.

#ask thecagedsong #totk meta #totk spoilers #loz #loz totk #Zelink #light dragon #tears of the kingdom #totk zelink

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belit0 · 9 months

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Would you be willing to write angst where Madara and indra (separately) finally broke the last straw and they and their lover have a heated argument. It escalates to the point where she threatens to take off her ring. How would they react. (The argument was their fault.)

I am convinced Indra is one of those persons who says hurtful things without feeling it just to make the other one angry, and no one can change my mind.

Indra

He knows the argument is his fault, he is aware of how he pressures (Y/N), and how she feels lesser for not being able to give him a child. It is no one's fault really, only the Otsutsuki's impatience and helplessness for not being able to control nature itself.

Indra is mighty in every way, the most powerful man in the world, but he is failing at the one fundamental task of his present time: to conceive an heir and start a clan with his own blood.

He does not know where the failure lies, he has no idea if it is because of him or (Y/N), all he cares about is how he fills his wife with his seed every single night, hoping for an immediate result that never comes. It is frustrating, having achieved the most difficult goal of his life, conquered everything he wanted, and not being able to achieve the most common and ordinary task of any man.

An afternoon of problems is when he explodes against his beloved, bearing the pressures of his followers and resolving situations within the village he managed to create after his victory. Everyone counts on him, everyone needs him, and the pressure of authority becomes exhausting.

(Y/N), worried about her inability to grant him an heir, seeks validation and reaffirmation from him. She just needs to hear everything is okay, that they will get through it together, and that patience will be the greatest virtue for them both to get through the predicament, finally getting a child. The woman goes to her husband's private training camp, where she always counts on being able to find him. The man senses her arrival and stops his practice to give her his attention. "It's nothing urgent, my love, I'm just worried."

With a cold stare, Indra hides his concern, refusing to let his wife see the worry is shared. Unable to show he feels fear about it too, he chooses a distant stance, kicking the problem down on her, "You should be, it's been a while since we started trying."

"You talk like it's my fault...we have no idea what's going on and-" (Y/N) is interrupted by curt words, throwing responsibility on her actions, as if she doesn't want to have a family with him.

"I'm not certain about that, and I'm afraid consequences must happen soon." The Otsutsuki glares at her, red-eyed from his height, inwardly regretting not knowing how to put his feelings into words without hurting her in the process. He knows his position will only lead to trouble, but he can't do anything about it, riding a train with no brakes.

"Consequences...would you risk all our years together for a stone in the road...? Indra, I've been with you from the beginning, long before everything that happened..." There are tears in (Y/N)'s eyes, threatening an early free fall down her face. The woman stares at him in disbelief, genuinely mortified with every response she receives. Does her company mean nothing to him, the unconditional love she gave him through all their moments?

"My life was built upon losing people I believed to love. If I had to lose you for this, it wouldn't be news, (Y/N)." His sentences are like many kunai burying themselves in different parts of her body, and the woman can do nothing but rethink everything until now.

"You should probably keep this then." She throws the gift he gave her on their wedding night, a beautiful ring engraved and embedded in red gemstones, at his feet. Pain is visible on her features, and the anger with which she turns away from him is palpable.

Worst of all, Indra does not feel any of the words he said. He would never abandon her, even if it meant not being able to bear children of his own blood. He cannot control the image he pretends to have in the outside world, even if that includes hurting those he truly cares about.

(Y/N) has been with him since before his curse, was with him during his eternal fight with Ashura, and helped him build the place he now calls his. She is his safe space, his little home, but he can't help the awful unreasonable words flowing out of his mouth in frustration, anger, and rage. She knows him, and understands he's usually a pain in the ass to argue with, but this time she seems to have been truly affected by his statements.

Maybe he took it too far, without even meaning to.

He picks up the ring at his feet and puts it in his pocket before deciding to run, get away from the place, and find a distant and remote village to kill every single one of its inhabitants. Indra lashes out at the life of all the innocents he finds in the tiny town, destroying children, women, and fathers alike.

His anger is directed at himself, raging at his inability to control and suppress his reflex to hurt others. Of course, ironic to analyze his own self while dismembering humans left and right.

Madara

It is in the early evening when Madara decides to leave in search of (Y/N). Having arrived earlier than usual, he wanted to surprise her at home, but she was nowhere to be found. He opted to go to Izuna and ask about her, his brother always being everywhere and nowhere, knowing the whereabouts of every person in the clan.

The younger Uchiha recounts how he saw her walking a while ago, presumably towards the local Uchiha market, intending to buy something to make Madara some dinner. How Izuna knows so many details is none of his concern, yet he is grateful for the information.

Arriving at the market, he scans the place for her presence, too tired to use the Sharingan and deciding to do it the old-fashioned way. He walks among the stalls and greets every person who dares to speak to him, being stopped many more times than he would like at this hour.

As he talks to a little old lady, he sees her in the distance, having a very animated conversation with a man he recognizes from his army. He is an average warrior, one of the many Uchiha who never managed to develop a Sharingan, and he is too close to his wife for his liking.

Quickly excusing himself, Madara frees from the old woman to get closer to where (Y/N) is, without revealing himself to her but close enough for the man to notice. Behind his wife's back, the Uchiha stares at him with eyes full of hatred and menace, causing the warrior to flee in terror without even saying goodbye to her. Confused, (Y/N) turns around to see what spooked the man, caused him to be so horrified, and meets her husband face to face.

Judging by his expression, it looks as if he has just met Tobirama, and the woman is extremely embarrassed when he lifts her over his shoulder, abducting her from the market and concluding her shopping moment.

"Madara what the fuck! Put me down now!" She yells angrily, slamming a fist into his back and trying to lift her head to keep all the blood from going to that area. He doesn't comply with her demand until a few minutes later when they are in the privacy of their home, and away from any prying eyes.

"What got into you?!" (Y/N) exclaims indignantly, trying to understand what could have affected him enough to not even say hello.

"Who the fuck was that man and why were you conversing so cheerfully with him?" He asks with both loathing and resignation, expecting a terrible answer from his wife. Maybe it was her lover, maybe it was the person she would want to replace him with, or maybe she already had.

"He's one of the guards you assigned to take care of me today, you idiot! He was with me all day, under your own orders! Don't you even register what you decree, all day locked up in your office?!"(Y/N) is overcome with indignation, being indirectly accused of unfaithfulness wrongfully.

The Uchiha is speechless, not knowing what to say about it. He deals with so many things per day and at the same time, he tends to forget one or two matters. He feels disgusted for having assigned such a weak warrior as his wife's bodyguard, but even more so for not being able to remember it. The stress was consuming him to such an extent he was beginning to forget important things, skipping some and erasing others altogether.

"Even if that hadn't been the case, seeing me talk to another man doesn't give you the right to freak out like that! Interacting with people of the opposite sex doesn't mean I'll be looking to cheat on you, Madara! Grow the hell up, and learn to respect me as your wife, or it ends here!"

Enraged, (Y/N) storms out of the house, leaving a stunned and shocked Uchiha in the middle of the room. The only thing Madara is thankful for is the fact she didn't take off her ring, which could mean two things: either she didn't notice, or she doesn't see it as serious enough to genuinely leave him. Either way, he feels terribly guilty, and can't understand how he lets himself be driven by jealousy like that.

Unfounded jealousy, even worse.

The Uchiha is left pondering in solitude before he goes off to find her, determined to apologize on his knees if that's what it takes to get (Y/N) not to be angry at him anymore.

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